~Year: 2011
The walls seemed to be closing in as Bellatrix moved towards you. Her height seemed to stretch to the ceiling, and the hand in which she held her wand appeared large, magnified by the horror which she could do. You felt like sinking through the floor and into the ground, but that wasn't an option at this point.
"Bella," Voldemort said in a lazy tone. Bellatrix looked at him, her chest heaving, her tongue flickering through her teeth with excitement. Voldemort's red eyes seemed to burn through your skin. "Do what you do best." Voldemort wheeled around on his heel and left the room smoothly, not bothering to close the door behind him.
And there it was, your opportunity. All you had to do was run through the door, grab Draco and apparate. You could find shelter. You would go back to Spain and you would be safe. It didn't matter how unhappy you were. Your safety was what mattered most. You glanced at Bellatrix, who was smiling unpleasantly down at you, twisting her wand around her fingers. You tensed for a moment, and then shot off the ground, wiping the smile from Bellatrix's face. You pushed past her and began to run, sprinting for the open door, but then…
Fenrir Greyback stepped in front of the doorway; his hands clasped together, his teeth barred. Horrified, you reeled backwards. The creaks of the floor told you that Bellatrix was approaching, and for the first time, you tried to apparate on the spot.
There was a bang, and then you felt something squeezing your windpipe, cutting off your air supply. And yet, you hadn't apparated.
"No, no, no, Celia. We don't do that here." Bellatrix had grabbed you by the throat as Greyback stepped in the room, his steel-toed boots making loud banging noises on the wooden planks of flooring. You tried to squeal, but you had no air and your throat constricted. You raised your hands weakly and tried to prize her hands off, but Bellatrix just tightened her grasp. The pain was excruciating now, and then Bellatrix laughed loudly and threw you away from her. You stumbled back, your hands going to your throat, and fell into the opposite wall. Weak, tired, and defenseless, you sunk to the ground.
"Please," you deplored her. "I'm sorry. I am. But I've known you my whole life, Bella. Don't hurt me." You quivered as she suddenly looked at you, her eyes popping maddeningly.
"Don't hurt you?" She cooed in an awful fake-baby voice. "Is the wittle girl scared?" Bellatrix suddenly pointed her wand at you, and you felt your body flip over, so that your back was pinned to the floor, your arms outstretched. Bellatrix suddenly hovered over you, and pulled the short, silver blade knife from her pocket. Lovingly, she caressed the blade, and you couldn't help it. You began to cry.
Was this how you were going to die? You didn't get to tell Draco you were sorry, that you loved him. You got him into this mess and you were in capable to get him out of it.
If the prospect of dying wasn't terrifying enough, you were petrified by the prospect of having your throat ripped open with the same blade that had killed your parent's murderer. Your blood mixed with his on the blade…your soul being taken the same way his had. Your legs began to flail at the thought, nearly kicking Bellatrix in the stomach.
"No!" She roared as you began to shake your head back and forth as tears dripped from the corners of your eyes. Bellatrix kneeled down by your side and yanked up your right sleeve as you continued to struggle.
Fenrir let out a low growl under his breath.
"Tell me what you were doing in the forest," Bellatrix demanded, holding the knife above your arm.
"Camping," you say truthfully, your voice shaking. "There was a tent there!" The knife came down closer to your skin and you began to scream in protest. "There was, you can look, the tent will still be there." Bellatrix wrinkled her nose and then slowly stuck the end of the blade into your underarm. The pain was worse than you had imagined, and it worsened as she stuck the blade in further, bathing your arm and the blade in blood. Bellatrix began to cut through the skin, forming a symbol. You let out a howl like a wounded animal, and in the next room, you could hear Draco shout your name. There was a bang and then silence. You sobbed and flailed, but Bellatrix continued to carve.
"Now," she said, panting as she sat up on her knees. "Are you going to tell me what you were really doing there?"
You didn't answer, but looked at the knife in her hand, which was dripping a small puddle of blood onto the floor. Bellatrix widened her eyes.
"We were camping," you beg, tearing your eyes away from the knife. "Please. We were."
Bellatrix plunged the knife into your skin again, tearing apart your atoms so violently that your hair stood on end. You arched your back and wailed as she moved the knife deep within your arm, but it didn't seem to deter her from her line of work.
"Tell me now?" She asked once more, sitting up.
"PLEASE!" You screeched, crying heavily, each letter punctuated with a gasp. "I'M NOT LYING." Bellatrix arched an eyebrow and lowered the blade into your arm once more. This continued for five more questions, until, finally, mercifully, Bellatrix rocked up onto her feet. She looked down at your arm, laughed, and then tossed her knife in the corner, splattering the wallpaper with flecks of your blood.
"Get the Dark Lord," she commanded of Fenrir, who grunted and opened the doors.
"Ah, Bella," you heard Voldemort say when the doors opened. "Any progress?"
"None, My Lord," Bellatrix spat. "The girl was tight-lipped." Voldemort came to your side and glanced down at your arm, his eyes moving rapidly.
"The boy…" Voldemort began, and you closed your eyes, as if that could block news of him from your ears. "The boy wasn't as tight-lipped."
Your eyes snapped open. Voldemort let out a small breath as he looked down at your arm.
"Capturing Harry Potter," he mused under his breath. "An excuse to leave my side, of course. But the intentions were honorable…of course, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Validus would have been honored beyond their dreams if they had brought Potter to me."
"My Lord," Bellatrix began in a hoarse whisper. "My Lord, are you sure of this?"
"I used Legimacy, do you not believe in me? Do you think the boy has hoodwinked me?"
"No, My Lord. Never, My Lord."
Voldemort swept down on you, so that you could smell his rotten breath. His eyes locked on yours and you wiped your mind blank, desperate for him not to see what would ruin you…and then, miraculously, he looked away. Voldemort picked up your arm, the one on which Bellatrix had used her knife. He made a soft tsk-ing noise in the back of his throat, and then pressed his finger over one of the cuts she had made. Your skin burned and your arm pulsated in a smooth, sick motion. You refused to show your weakness in front of him, and you bit down on your lip, refusing to let yourself cry out. Voldemort threw your arm away from him and stood.
"My Lord," a voice said, and you curled up on your side, shaking. "The boy has let something slip." In the next room, you could hear Draco pleading with someone.
"Please don't," he told them. "She doesn't know anything." There was some whispering, and then Voldemort appeared back in your line of sight.
"Where is Potter?" He demanded.
"P-Potter?" You stuttered. Voldemort grabbed your chin so you were unable to look away. He drew his wand from his pocket and held it under your jaw.
"Potter." He repeated.
"I don't know," you managed to say in an even tone. And then, you felt something twitch in your brain. It was if Voldemort was prodding around in your brain, flipping through files. Finally, he released you and threw you back to the ground. "She knows nothing," he declared. In the next room, you could hear Draco exclaim angrily at one of the other Death Eaters. "Take them down to the Cellar," Voldemort ordered. "The both of them. Separate them."
"But…My Lord," you heard Fenrir plead.
"No," Voldemort said sharply. "They may be the key to Potter."
Someone grabbed you by the arm and yanked you up sharply. You kept your eyes closed as they dragged you along, your legs limper then that of a rag-doll's. They walked for a few minutes before stopping. There was a sound of metal scraping against metal, and then a door swung open in front of your face, the air pushing against your skin.
"Come on," Bellatrix said roughly. She grabbed your shoulder, her nails digging into your skin and pushed you down the stairs, impatiently stepping on the back of your heels.
The cellar was not as it had been. When you were younger, it was a place where Lucius kept some of his belongings, dark artifacts he could not keep out in the opening. It was where you and Draco would hide from your parents, where you would sometimes play hide and go-seek or play on your toy brooms. But now, there were individual jail cells that lined the room. They were all empty, though in one, you spotted a skeleton and you shuddered. Bellatrix unlocked one of the cells with a tap of her wand, and the door swung open. She shoved you roughly inside and shut the door with a clang.
"I hope the rats don't bite," she said with a nasty snicker. You shivered and closed your arms around your knees as she left. You began to rock back and forth anxiously.
"I'm going, I'm going," a voice said, suddenly interrupting your mantra. You glanced towards the top of the staircase, and Draco was just visible walking down the stairs. He yanked his arm loose from Greyback's grasp and marched into the cellar, his eyes moving quickly around the room. You moved to the front of the bars and hung onto them, watching him. Draco wiped a trickle of blood from a side of his swollen eye, and nodded discreetly to you.
"In here," Fenrir hissed, opening the cell next to yours. Draco stepped inside the confined space and Fenrir shut the door and locked it behind him. Without a backwards look, he headed up the stairs and closed the cellar door behind him. The deadbolt slid into place.
"Oh Draco," you murmured, launching yourself to the other side of your cell, sticking your arms through the bars. He moved closer to yours and grabbed onto your hands.
"You're alright," he marveled. Draco stuck his hands through to your side, seized chin and pulled it towards him so he could kiss you. Lovingly, you held onto his shoulders, keeping him closer to you.
"How did you pull it off?" You ask him as he pulled away. "The legimiacy he preformed…surely it was strong?"
"He didn't know I was trained," Draco said with a small shrug. "I was able to hide things."
That's when it hits you like a freight train. Your father's diary, still sitting in the tent.
"Oh no," you said, your voice trailing off. "My father's diary. They're going to find it! They're going to know! Draco, we're going to be-"
Draco wasn't listening, but rather, pulled something from his sock. Your father's diary, covered in sweat, but still intact.
"I hid it," he said rather proudly. "After we argued, I had a feeling of what you might do. I felt angry and like I might leave, so I stuffed the diary in my sock. I didn't want to help you go to Potter, I didn't want to help him, so I hid your father's diary in case you decided to join up with him."
"As much as I want to be mad at you for saying that, I can't," you tell him with a small smile. "That's amazing. Really, Draco. You saved our lives. Incredibly selfish and big-headed, but clever."
Draco shrugged and leaned against the bars. He looked out one of the ground-level windows, through which moonlight began to flood through.
"I know you," he retorted.
"Come here," you say. You reach through the bars and kiss him one last time, and then curl up on the ground, your fingers reaching through the bars to touch his. Visible in the moonlight are the words that Bellatrix carved in your arm.
Traitor.
As you watched, the letters dripped a small trickle of blood.
