Emily's hand was stretched out in midair, pointed right at the spot where, a moment ago, all of her friends had been standing. She felt Harry's hand slip through her own. Then, she blinked, and they were gone. The dust swirled around the spot where they had been all standing. The room had gone dead quiet.

Her first thoughts were, well… shit.

Then, her head spun with complicated thoughts and scenarios with which she could use to escape this situation. She estimated that she had about thirty seconds before all hell broke loose, and Voldemort returned to the manor. Her first idea was to make it out of the house and back to the gate before Voldemort even saw her. She could break the magical enchantment and apperate beyond the bonds of the house.

Unfortunately, though her brilliant mind had been trained to think fast at times like this, it was not fast enough. The first plan was as far as she got, before she gave the wandless death eaters a pitiful glance and darted down the stairs at top speed.

"STOP HER! WE NEED HER!" Bellatrix cried out. Emily shot spells behind her as she ran, and dodged Bellatrix's knife which just barely grazed her arm. It healed instantaneously. Emily's breathing was fast and loud, as her eyes sought out a door to the outside. She sprinted down each twist and turn, not daring to waste time to look behind her. In seconds, she had located one of the doors and yanked it open. Once it shut she magically locked it, and then ran as fast as her legs could go to the front gates. She could already feel the enchantment that was keeping the house protected. It was strong. She would need time to figure it out, and time was the one thing she did not have. She desperately flung spell after spell in its direction, hoping to get lucky, and have one of them break through, but each one bounced off harmlessly. Once she finally reached the foot of the gate, she grabbed one of the bars and shut her eyes in concentration. The magic coursed in rhythm with her pulse. This was no simple protective spell. This was a curse that kept unwanted things out, and wanted things in, no matter what. No doubt Voldemort's own handiwork. Emily swore loudly, and began violently yanking at the metal. Her resistance to it scalded the flesh on her hands, but Emily couldn't care less. When she finally stopped, she stood there panting, and listened. The yard was quiet.

Think Emily, she told herself, use your head.

At that moment, her head practically split in two. She doubled over from the pain and groaned. No, she thought desperately, she could not loose control now. Not at such a crucial moment. She had to stay calm. She focused breathing through her stomach, and exhaling out her mouth.

Could she climb the walls? No, there was no footing.

She had a wand; she could blow a hole in the brick, or make her own footing.

She tried this, but it did not work. Her efforts were met with an explosion from the protective enchantment, causing her to fly back and hit the ground. In moments, she was on her feet again, her mind struggling to think of something else. She was well past her time limit of thirty seconds…

"Trying to escape? You're just wasting your time."

At the sound of his voice, Emily's entire body went ridged with fear. She could not feel her wand in her hand. She did feel, however, a generous amount of sweat gathering on her forehead. Her heart was going to collapse into her ribcage, she was sure of it.

"It's pointless," Voldemort hissed, "I made the spell myself, specifically for this occasion."

Emily turned her head to the side slightly, curiously. "You knew I would come, and then try to escape?"

Voldemort ignored her. She could hear his robes slithering across the grass towards her.

"Your friends… escaped." He said softly, toying with her. "But… left you behind?"

It was Emily's turn to not respond. She thought about running for it, but where would she go?

No where. There was no where left to go. She had come to her final option of desperation. Fight him.

"I have been waiting for this a long time, Ms. Angeline. You are finally trapped, and moments away from being in my grasp. Are you just going to stand there and let me?"

Emily let a smile tug on the corners of her mouth. She felt something inside her leap at the thought of fighting… the feeling was not human.

"I guess you're right. I should make it harder for you." Her fingers curled possessively over the wand in her hand.

"I deserve as much," Voldemort said. The slithering of his cloak on the grass had stopped. He was waiting. He wanted her to fight… but why?

Her gut squirmed in protest at the thought, as if to say, don't question it! Just fight!

She slowly did a roundabout, and came face to face with Voldemort's wand. Instinctively, she raised her own.

"I guess it would be impolite to keep you waiting." She continued. So she shot the first spell.

He was quick to deflect.

So she sent another, and another… soon, she was sending spells every hundredth of a second, spinning and twirling, leaping and dodging. Voldemort was emitting shield spells just as frequently. Emily realized that he wasn't actually fighting her. This made her even angrier. She sensed that same familiar urge to hurt him. To make him suffer for what he did to her. Her rage was unleashed through each curse, but it had no effect on him. So she reluctantly stopped.

Voldemort made no move to attack, once she had ceased her efforts. In fact, he stood there, watching her with an evil smirk on his face.

"You're beautiful when you're angry." He hissed seductively. Emily's voice caught in her throat and it stuck there like a lump of thick paste.

"You… you're not going to fight me…?" She stammered between heavy breaths. He just stared at her.

"You… You're waiting, aren't you? For me to tire myself out… For me to weaken myself…" She said suddenly. Voldemort smiled, like he was proud of her for figuring it out on her own.

"You do love to exert yourself when you have something to prove," he admitted. Emily felt tears trickle in the corners of her eyes, but forced them back. Never, would she EVER, cry in front of him. So she gave him a terrible scowl instead.

And then, she did something that surprised herself. She leaned down and sat crisscross on the grass. Voldemort's eyes widened in shock, but the bottom half of his face was smiling that horrible smile.

She couldn't escape now, it was pointless to try. And she would not waste her energy on it. She would spend every day fighting him… Every second she was here, she would fight him. And she needed to save her energy for that, because the battle would be long.

Voldemort slowly moved towards her. Emily didn't look him in the eye.

"Crucio." He finally said.

And so began the torture session that Emily had been preparing for, for fifty years.