'ESTRAGON: It'd be better if we parted.
VLADIMIR: You always say that, and you always come crawling back.
ESTRAGON: The best thing would be to kill me, like the other.
VLADIMIR: What other? (Pause) What other?
ESTRAGON: Like billions of others.' – Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

The rules of the game are as follows - the players will take turns to make their moves. Do not reveal your hand to your opponent. If you choose to raise the stakes, do not bet more than you can afford to pay.

I start awake, my breath coming in short gasps as I stare at the ceiling.

Another nightmare. They're all I seem to have these days.

This was a bad one, though. I was a child again. My hands and feet were tied, and I was trapped under my bed.

I was alone.

I press my cold fingertips to my eyelids, then sit up in bed.

'Wakey wakey.'

I jolt at the voice.

Dolohov.

He smiles at me as he places a large silver basin on my dressing table.

I pull my bedcovers up around me, kicking myself back up against the headboard.

A sneer twists his face. 'Don't bother. I don't have time to waste on mudblood sluts today.'

I let the insult go. My gaze shifts over to the silver basin on my dressing table.

'It's called a Pensieve-'

'I know what it is,' I snap. 'What's it doing on my dressing table?'

He shrugs. 'I found it last night in Lucius' bedroom. Oh, I wasn't snooping around.' He waves a hand at the look on my face. 'No, nothing like that. I simply wished to borrow some money, and Lucius always seems so abundant in galleons that I thought he wouldn't miss a couple from his room.'

I choke back my automatic shout of disbelieving laughter.

'Anyway, I came across this,' he gestures at the Pensieve, 'in his room, and naturally I decided to take a quick look.'

I frown. 'What did you see in there?'

'Oh, fascinating things, my dear. They made most entertaining viewing. But, having exhausted the memories he has stored myself, I thought that I might at least tweak the situation for my own amusement by sharing them with you. God knows, there's little else to do around here.'

What the hell is he talking about?

'I must apologise in advance for what I am about to do,' he says, taking his wand out of his robes. 'But I can't have Lucius finding out that I've been rooting through his possessions. I don't think he'd take too kindly to the idea. No, I think it would be best to let him believe that you found the Pensieve yourself.'

What?

'I wish you happy viewing, Mudblood. And I only hope that when this situation comes to a head - and it will come to a head - that Lucius has gotten in so deeply that you drag him to your execution with you.' He pulls a small silver key out of his robes, before he flicks his wand at me. 'Obliviate!'

I start awake, my breath coming in short gasps as I stare at the ceiling.

Another nightmare. They're all I seem to have these days.

This was a bad one, though. I was a child again. My hands and feet were tied, and I was trapped under my bed.

I was alone.

I press my cold fingertips to my eyelids, then sit up in bed.

A draft pulls up goosebumps on my arms. I open my eyes, looking out into my room to see what's caused it.

Nothing.

The candle on my bedside table has gone out, but the candles on my wall are lit, casting a dull, golden glow across my room.

Lucius has gone, then.

I breathe out a sigh.

What time is it, I wonder?

Time.

Oh, no.

Harry.

I leap from my bed, scrambling across my room to the door, almost tripping over the hem of my dress in my haste.

I can stop it. I must be able to stop it. Why didn't I try last night? I'm such a bitch, I'm such a bitch, how could I let it happen?

I throw myself at the door, banging my fists on the solid wood.

But what can I do?

I throw my head back and pull in a breath. 'Lucius!' I scream, pounding my fists into the door with all my might. 'Lucius!'

No answer.

I press my ear against the door, waiting for the sound of footsteps, or a shouted answer, at least.

Nothing.

I let out a scream of rage and I kick the door before I turn around and slam my body back into the wood, staring out into my room.

It'll be alright. The Order won't let him go to the Burrow. And even if he does go, he'll take the Order with him. The Order can win, they've done it before.

I let those comforting thoughts wrap me up like a warm blanket. I can't let myself think anything else. I must believe them, because if I don't…

Wait a minute.

There's a… is that a Penseive?

I walk slowly over to the silver bowl that rests on my dressing table, peering inside of it.

It's full of smoky wisps, swirling about in the bowl.

Whose memories are they?

More to the point, what the hell are they doing in my room?

I look around nervously.

Maybe Lucius is here after all, in his invisibility cloak. Perhaps he wants me to look in the Penseive for some reason, and he wants to watch me do it.

But why would he want to do that?

I turn back to the Penseive, looking down at the smoke that fills the bowl. Without really thinking about what I'm doing, I reach out, placing the tips of my fingers into the bowl-

A hook catches at my waist, pulling me forwards, and I'm falling through smoke that turns and swirls around me and I'm spinning, spinning…

I land on my feet in a room of stone.

It's almost like mine, but it's of much better quality. It's furnished well, with a four-poster bed and tapestries hanging from the walls.

Barely a second passes before two dark figures appear out of thin air. It's Lucius, holding onto the arm of an unconscious Dolohov. He lets go, before pointing his wand at him.

'Innerverate!'

Dolohov's eyes flicker open drowsily, and he grunts as he sits up, clutching at his head.

'Get up, Antonin,' Lucius drawls. 'Where's your pride?'

Dolohov stumbles to his feet. 'Pride, Lucius?' He dusts himself off. 'Was it pride that brought you to the little slut's rescue, I wonder?'

Lucius grabs hold of him, dragging him viciously across the room and pinning him to the wall by his throat.

'This is not a game,' Lucius murmurs. 'She's a Mudblood. If she were a witch then it would be a different matter, but a Mudblood cannot be touched, you know that.'

'Of course I know it, Lucius,' Dolohov hisses. 'Haven't you told me so many times? It's amazing how it's one rule for you and another for the rest of us, isn't it?'

Lucius takes a deep breath through his nose. 'As long as you promise never to suggest such a disgusting thing again, I am prepared to let that insult go.'

'Do I hit too near the mark, Lucius?'

'I'm warning you-'

'We know all about it, you know. Bellatrix and I, we've discussed it. She hates it, you know. Hates what you're getting up to with the little bitch. God knows why you're playing about with the Mudblood when you've got a woman like Narcissa as your wife and a woman like Bellatrix in your bed. Maybe you just want to get your hands dirty-'

Lucius smashes his fist into Dolohov's face.

Dolohov recoils, clutching at his nose as blood seeps out between his fingers.

'You're a disgrace,' Lucius says coldly. 'Don't accuse me of indulging in the same perverse practices as you. I wouldn't touch the ugly little Mudblood with a bargepole, and you know it.'

Whispers of spoke curl through the air and Lucius's words float away as the room disappears around me, and I come to land again in a room I recognise all too well.

And I'm there, screaming and shouting, my arms flailing and my face blotchy.

'So who would you suggest that I waste myself on, then? Someone like you, is that what you're suggesting?'

My stomach plummets. God, did I… did I really say that?

I watch, horrified, as Lucius puts his fingers to my lips. 'Be quiet my little Mudblood.'

He pulls me closer to him. The memory of me shivers in his arms, and closes my eyes as he moves his face close to mine-

But then he pulls my head back and slams it into the wall.

'How dare you suggest that I would even contemplate such a thing?' I can see his face this time as he whispers in my ear. It's pale and harsh with absolute fury. 'Do you really think that I'd dirty my hands on any Mudblood, let alone you… you! Good god, just look at yourself! I'd sooner throw myself off a cliff than touch filth like you.'

The scene shimmers in front of me and all at once I'm falling and spinning through smoke once more.

I emerge in another bedroom, a lot like Dolohov's but bigger, grander.

And the room's not empty this time. Bellatrix is there, sitting on the very edge of the four-poster bed, her whole body rigid and her fingers clenching into the mattress beneath her.

The door to the room bangs open, snapping her to attention. She stands up to face Lucius, who strides into the room, obviously furious for some reason.

'Where have you been?' she demands.

Lucius sighs, shutting the door behind him without even looking at her. 'The Mudblood was… creating problems. My business with her overran.'

'You've been with her all evening! You finished your questioning of her days ago. Why do you still need to spend so much time with her?'

He gives her a warning look but he doesn't snap yet. He walks over to the table, looking down at the glasses of jewel-red liquid that rest there. 'What kind of wine is this?'

'Who gives a damn?' she shouts. 'Do you know when I got back after going to see the Dark Lord? Four hours ago. When I got back you said you would come to see me within half an hour.'

'And I am sorry for it,' he says with exaggerated patience. 'But she's still creating problems for herself. She refuses to admit-'

'Why do you care? She's nothing - a weak, worthless nothing!'

'Bella, calm down.'

'How can I calm down when you're deliberately setting out to humiliate me?'

'No-one is humiliating you-'

'I hate you!' she screams suddenly, grabbing the glasses of wine from the table and throwing them at the wall. They smash against the stone, the shattered glass hanging suspended for a moment before falling to the floor, leaving a trail of red in their path.

'Oh for God's sake!' Lucius shouts, and she rails at him, trying to scratch at his face with spread, claw-like nails, but he catches at her wrists, holding them just inches away from his eyes.

'I know you!' she hisses at him. 'If you haven't already done it, then you will soon enough. You're too proud to admit that there's something in this world that you can't have!'

He draws back his hand, as if he's about to slap her in the face. I know that he would if it were me. But he lowers his hand after a few seconds, his face suffused in temper.

'I am a proud man, indeed,' he says quietly. 'But at least I am not insane.'

Smoke curls up, blocking the scene from me.

She's out of her mind! She needs help, serious help.

I smirk at the thought of Bellatrix Lestrange on a psychiatrist's couch as I emerge from the mist, and I'm in my bedroom once again. My bedroom in this prison that they call a house.

But I'm not out of the Penseive. I can see myself right in front of me, sleeping on my bed in the blood-stained white dress I'm wearing now. The flickering light of the candle on my bedside table casts eerie shadows across the room.

And… he's here too, watching me sleep.

So I wasn't dreaming. The evidence to the contrary plays itself out in front of me.

I'm lying curled up on my side, and he's leaning against the wall, staring down at me from under lowered eyelids.

The memory of me stretches up, with my arms around my head, arching my back up away from the mattress, and my mouth falls open and breathes out a sigh.

I look at Lucius. One of his eyebrows rises a fraction.

But then the memory Hermione's eyes flicker open, focusing on him, and his face instantly hardens.

But now it's confirmed. I wasn't dreaming, and I wasn't imagining the look on his face as he watched me sleep.

'What are you doing?'

It's like I've been punched in the gut.

I spin around to see another Lucius standing in the room. The real Lucius.

I try to turn, to run god knows where, but he's too quick. He's next to me in two strides and he grabs me by the hair, and I'm being dragged up, up through smoke and mist…

The pair of us emerge from the pensieve. He drags me up onto my feet and across the room, slamming me into the wall with his hand clasped painfully around my throat.

'How dare you?' His knuckles snap against my cheek as he slaps me hard. 'How dare you?'

'I'm sorry,' I sputter desperately. 'I'm really sorry! I didn't know they were your memories when I went in there-'

'Who else's would they have been, you imbecile? Don't tell me that you didn't believe it was mine when you stole it from my room!'

'I just… woke up and it was here, I swear!' Even as I say the words I know how ridiculous they sound. 'I didn't steal it!'

'You LIAR! Who would have moved it in here? No one even knows of its existence!'

'Well, neither did I!' I scream. 'How could I have done? I've never even been in your room!'

He holds me by my hair, holding me so close that I can see every harsh line of fury on his face.

He points his wand right between my eyes. 'Well, however you came to view those memories, you won't remember them.' His voice struggles to keep calm. 'I shall make sure of that.'

And I know then what he's planning to do. It doesn't even take me a second to work it out.

'No you will not! You will not obliviate me, you coward!'

'DON'T CALL ME A COWARD!' he shouts.

'FINE!' I scream back. 'Go ahead, obliviate me. You'll need to, I suppose, after the things I've seen-'

'CRUCIO!'

Oh god, I can't take it… burns and claws and rips, a huge MONSTER tearing me apart, eating me alive - never ending, all encompassing pain! Fire, and ice, and more fire BURNING through me, white hot wires slicing through nerves, bones, skin, muscle, please, please, pleasestopplease, burning alive, got to finish, I can't TAKE it - never ending, never ending, blood boiling, I can't, oh god, please, just let me die, need to die, need that release, let me die, PLEASE!

Crumpled in a heap on the floor. Heartbeat roaring in my ears.

Everything hurts, still. The memory of pain hurts.

Got to breathe…

Breathing hurts.

He's never gone that far before. He's never, ever lost it like that.

Fingers hook into my chin, pulling my head up from the ground.

And I know that I don't care. He can obliviate me, because I don't want to fight him, not again, not anymore. I would do anything and everything before I go through even the slightest breath of that pain again.

'Go on, then,' I whisper weakly. 'Go ahead and obliviate me. I don't care, just do it.'

A muscle goes in his jaw, and he stands up, kicking out at me. I coil in on myself, crying out on pain as his boot crushes my ribs.

'Get up!'

'I can't,' I whisper.

I keep my eyes shut tight, and a huge, engulfing silence swells up between us, a silence full of unspeakable words.

I can't do this anymore.

'How did you manage to get hold of it?' he asks eventually.

I shake my head, although I don't know what difference it'll make.

'I didn't,' I say weakly. 'I promise you, I just woke up and it was on my dressing table.'

'And you expect me to believe that?'

'How could I have gotten hold of it? Just think about it. I've been locked in here ever since you left me.'

There's a look on his face that looks very much like fear.

He strides over to me and grabs me by the hair, wrenching me up and pinning me against the wall.

'Please-' I whisper.

But he just hooks his wand under my chin, placing the cool wood against my neck.

'What did you see?' he asks quietly.

What did I see? Good god, what didn't I see?

'Nothing important,' I reply.

His face is mere centimetres away from mine.

He knows.

He steps back, slapping me so hard across the face that my head snaps backwards and I slide down the wall, down and down until I reach the floor.

'Damn you!' he murmurs in a savage undertone. 'Damn you to hell!'

He turns around and summons the penseive to him before he disappears with a flick of his cloak.

I curl up into a tight ball, waiting for the shivering to subside.

'I know you. You're too proud to admit that there's something you can't have.'

My body shrivels up with the memory of Bellatrix's words, and all the implications they have.

His contempt and his hatred have become, in some perverse way, the only things that protect me. I can't let them be taken away from me, I just can't.

So you want him to hate you? You needn't worry about that. He probably hates you more than anything else in the world.

All too soon, he's back. His snarl of fury remains in place.

'Get UP!'

I scramble to my feet, and I stand shaking in front of him.

'What you have done today, I am prepared to ignore,' he says with forced composure. 'Neither of us will ever speak of it again, do you understand?'

I nod gratefully, beyond caring about his false accusations.

He narrows his eyes at me. 'In any case, in light of recent events a few memories matter very little, wouldn't you agree?'

I gulp. 'Recent events?'

He nods.

A stone sinks in my stomach. 'Harry?'

He rolls his eyes. 'He's alive, if that's what you're wondering. Alive and… free.'

'Free?' I repeat the little word breathlessly.

He shakes his head in irritation. 'He wasn't there, Mudblood. He didn't turn up. Either he's managed to close his mind off to the Dark Lord, something I find highly unlikely in a boy of his age, or he chose to leave you to your suffering.'

But I'm smiling. I'm smiling because I'm not selfish like Lucius is – I don't see my own needs as being more important than the greater good. Harry is alive – that's all that matters.

'Don't you dare smile,' he says violently.

I push the smile off my face. Harry's alive. I could almost dance!

'You have little reason for merriment,' he drawls. 'I have been ordered to provide the Dark Lord with some more incentive for Potter to come and rescue you.'

A hot-cold rush of fear sweeps over me, dispelling the little joy I have.

'Please,' I say desperately, grabbing his hand. 'Please, don't torture me again, I beg of you-'

He shakes my hand away, rewarding me with a stinging hex across my cheek. 'Don't touch me, mudblood. Besides, whoever said anything about me torturing you?'

I look at him, hardly daring to breathe, hardly daring to hope.

He smirks. 'Or perhaps you do not yet find the incessant torture as tedious as I do. If you're so eager for me to revert to old habits then I have no objections. I just thought we might like to probe some more… interesting options.'

Damn him. Why does he have to twist everything? Every conversation I ever have with him just gets tangled like a blood clot until I can't make sense of it anymore.

I shake my head, swallowing my pride. 'I don't want you to torture me.'

He looks at me for a long time. 'You'd do anything to avoid going through that again, wouldn't you?'

I press my lips together, not knowing how to answer.

'Tell me, has your dear friend Harry ever met your parents?'

I narrow my eyes. 'You know that he has. Why do you-'

My words stop.

My heart stops.

'No.'

'You disappoint me, Mudblood. I expected you to be quicker off the mark than that.'

'You can't-'

'I think you'll find that we can. Of what importance could two muggles be to us? They're perfectly disposable, as far as we're concerned.'

I'm numb with horror. Can't breathe, think, feel…

I just stutter out words of pure fear and desperation.

'Please.' I grip at the front of his robes. 'Please don't hurt them. I beg of you, please, they haven't done anything to deserve it!'

He laughs with pure malice. 'They brought an abomination like you into the world, didn't they? Besides, you needn't worry. We have no intention of hurting them. The Avada Kedavra curse is designed to be as painless for the victim as possible.'

The ground disappears from under me.

'Avada Kedevra?' I whisper.

He nods, and I taste vomit.

My entire world is being ripped apart. It hurts like no other torture ever has done before. The cruciatus curse is sweet in comparison to this.

'Please don't kill them. Do anything, I beg of you. You can torture me, kill me instead, I don't care, but please, please don't kill them-'

'But why would we want to kill you while Potter still lives?' he asks. 'Why would we throw away such a prime piece of bait? We could kill your parents to show Potter just how serious we are about killing you, and no doubt he will then come running.'

His pale, evil face swims in front of me. I think I'm going to faint.

'Please.' My voice cracks. 'Please, you don't have to do it!'

'Actually, I do. These orders come from the Dark Lord himself. You are my responsibility, therefore it falls to me to deal with your family.'

The tears come thicker and faster in pure panic. I can barely breathe for it.

'Please, if you have any compassion, any pity for me… if you feel anything for me at all-'

'Feel anything? For you?' He sneers. 'You don't even exist to me!'

'That's not true, and you know it!' I know I should shut up, but I can't. I've got to save my mum and dad. 'If I meant nothing to you then you would have killed me when you had the chance-'

He draws back his hand to slap me but I fall to my knees before he can do anything.

'I'm begging you on my knees, please don't do this!' Sobs tear out of me, despite my best efforts to keep them down. 'I'll do anything, but please don't kill them!'

He smiles down at me with eyes as hard as stone. 'I told you this would happen in the end, didn't I? I told you I'd make you beg-'

'Well, I'm doing it! I'm doing what you want. I will grovel by your feet every moment of every day if you just let them live, please, I beg of you!'

There's a small twitch in his cheek before he answers.

'They're only muggles.'

Something in me shatters.

'WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?' I scream. 'For god's sake, I'll do anything-'

He grips me by the shoulders, wrenching me to my feet and pinning me against the wall.

'And what do you think that you could ever offer me to make me disobey my orders?'

I swallow sharply, my tears drying on my cheeks with a new, sudden fear.

My mouth falls open stupidly as I try to say something, but words won't come.

'Lost for words for once, Mudblood? Has that infernal tongue of your been stopped, finally?'

What can I say?

He trails his finger down my cheek, down my neck, and I can feel a scorching, burning blush creeping across my face.

He sees this, of course; his eyes never leave my face.

'You arrogant little muggle,' he murmurs.

I turn my head away, tears welling up in my eyes.

Merciless fingers hook into my chin. 'Look at me.'

He trails his finger up and down my neck. Up… and down…

'You thought to make an exchange, then.' His fingers creep down my neck, and brush over my bare shoulder. 'And not for the first time, either. You threatened to kill me once, remember? You offered me my life in exchange for your freedom. And look at where you poor skills of negotiation got you then.'

Yes, look where they got me. Voila. What results I achieved for that one moment of idiotic naivety.

'Now.' His fingers trace along my bare shoulder. 'What do you propose to offer me today, seeing as it's not my survival that's on the table?'

I try to stop myself from shaking. 'I…'

He circles his thumb over the gentle curve of my shoulder. 'Well?'

No, I'm not going to play this game with him. He'll have to force me if he wants to… wants to… oh god.

'I'll admit that I'm a muggle,' I say desperately. 'Once and for all, I'll genuinely admit it.'

'And what difference would that make to me? I know your blood status already, I don't need you to confirm it.'

His thumb skates tiny figures of eight over my shoulder. He moves in closer, if that's even possible. One hand on my shoulder, the other on my waist. And one knee gently nudging between my own…

Too close, always too close.

'I… I'll serve the Death-Eaters.'

His eyebrow flicks upwards. 'Admirable, for such a close friend of Harry Potter's. I always had you down as a definite future member of the Order.'

His fingers leave my shoulder, skating up to my face. He knots his fingers through my hair and wraps them around the back of my neck.

'But there's a flaw in that offer that you've overlooked. You're a Mudblood. Mudbloods and Muggles are not permitted in the Dark Lord's service. Seeing as one of our chief goals is to eliminate your kind, your presence in our ranks would prove to be rather self-contradictory.' His fingers shift to my bare shoulder again, pulling the neckline of the dress down. 'So perhaps you might want to enhance your offer.'

But… but why would he want me for… for that? He's always said that he would never, ever…

He slips my robe further down my arm, and I claw out with my opposite hand, gripping at his hand.

He breathes a laugh. 'Such modesty. But I thought you said you would do anything to save your parents' lives.'

I want to die.

'You said once that you would never touch me,' I say quietly, desperately. 'You said that you'd sooner die than touch filth like me.'

'Why, so I did.' He uncurls my fingers from his wrist, before he brushes his fingers onto my cheek, running his thumb over my lips. 'But this was not my suggestion, was it? It was you that suggested that you would go to any lengths to save your parents' lives. Would you let go of your pride, I wonder? Would my proud little Mudblood surrender herself to me, body and soul?'

So this is all about pride, then.

But what can I do? He's twisted it all around so it seems like it's my fault and it's not, it's not!

He looks at me from under lowered eyelids, a small smile playing about his lips. A dangerous, predatory look.

His thumb brushes over my bare collarbone.

A hot blush creeps across my face because I feel so... naked. He's seen me naked, really naked, before, of course he has, but now…

He's never suggested… this. There was never any real possibility of it going this far.

Wasn't there?

I don't know. Maybe this has been a likelihood all along.

'So what's it to be, Mudblood?'

I swallow. My cheeks and nose sting with tears. 'I… I've never…'

My words trail off, my humiliation swallowing them whole.

He smirks. 'That wasn't an answer to my question, was it? I asked whether you would surrender yourself to my will in order to allow your parents to live.'

He's so foul! He just doesn't care that he's asking my permission basically to… to… I won't think about it.

He doesn't even find me attractive. He's made that clear time and time again.

But… I can't do anything else, can I? I can't let my parents die.

Blinking back my tears, I nod. 'Alright. Yes.'

For a moment there's an ugly look in his eyes. They're… darker than their usual pale grey, somehow.

He reaches his hand out, gently tracing down the side of my face, delicately skating his fingers from temple chin. His lips part slightly as he drops his eyes for a second.

I shiver.

He pulls back his hand.

'It's just as well that I don't want you then, isn't it?'

My heart drops down to my knees and I go dizzy. 'What?'

He sneers at me.

'What? Do you really think that I'd dirty my hands on you? Did you actually believe that I'd disobey my orders just to sully myself with a filthy Mudblood?'

I can't think properly. I stutter out the only thought I have.

'My parents-' I breathe desperately.

He sneers as he walks to the door. 'They are not your concern anymore.'

'NO!' I rush at him, clawing at his arm desperately. 'Please, please-'

'Impedimenta!'

His face retreats as I fly back and back, and my skull cracks against stone and I'm thrown into darkness.