A/N: Oh gosh, I'm so sorry it's been so long, and also that this chapter is so short. Truthfully, I've had complete writer's block on this, which is why the chapter is so short. I could not for the life of me get round it! However, I have now plotted out the ending and there are only a few chapters left! Anyway, thanks for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy this short filler chapter... (I will try to update the next chapter quicker than the two years it took to get this out!)
Ariella was sat in the kitchen of the Lestrange Manor House, a plate of steaming chicken, potatoes and vegetables in front of her.
"Go on, tuck in," Rodolphus encouraged her as the girl looked hesitant. "It's not poisoned."
Tentatively, Ariella picked up the knife and fork and stabbed a potato, raising it to her lips. Carefully, she took a small bite, the buttery softness melting in her mouth and suddenly, the hunger that she hadn't realised was there overtook her as she quickly finished the first potato and tore herself a chunk of chicken.
Satisfied she was eating, Rodolphus turned to Narcissa, Ariella keeping a wary eye on them both.
"She's going to need some new clothes," he said. "But it's too dangerous to take her out of the house and I don't want to her to be left alone with Bella. You're going to have to go. If we get her measurements – "
"Do you really think it's safe to keep her here?" Narcissa interrupted. "Isn't she better off with the muggles for now? She'd be away from my sister until she calms down."
Ariella saw the rage flash in the man's eyes before he reacted. "No! How dare you even suggest such a thing!" He slammed a fist down onto the table, making Ariella's plate clatter. "I will not let my daughter mix with that filth!"
The girl tried not to show her alarm, focusing on the food before her, as internally her mind was screaming. She could never get complacent. No matter how much kindness they showed her, they were still dangerous and she could not afford to trust them if she were to ever have a chance of getting out of the place.
Staring into her now empty plate, she pushed the stray pea with her fork and thought of her friends, of her sister and of her parents. Well, the ones she actually thought of as parents. Were they worried? Were they looking for her? Were they forming a plan to rescue her?
Lottie and Arcturus were inconsolable, and had been ever since Ariella had been kidnapped. They spent every day in their dorm rooms or the common room, only coming out for food and lessons. Madame Pomphrey and all the teachers were keeping a close eye on them.
Hermione, on the other hand, was in the library every day, researching every spell she could and not leaving until she was kicked out by Madam Pince when the clock struck ten each night. Harry and Ron were worried about her, and kept her company constantly, wrapping a blanket around her whenever she dozed off in the common room, book by her side.
Mr and Mrs Granger could do nothing by anxiously pace the room they'd been given in Hogsmede by the friendly Madam Rosmerta, waiting to hear from Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. They barely slept, barely ate and barely spoke, communicating with each other through comforting touches and concerned looks.
Downstairs, McGonagall, Dumbledore and the rest of the Order were pouring over plans filled with dozens of lines and crossings out, mugs of butterbeer sitting untouched next to them.
The girl had been gone 48 hours and the chance that she was still alive was slim. However, the Order had ruled that, as long as there was a sliver of hope, no matter how small, that she was still alive, they would attempt a rescue.
Snape had informed them of what happened at the meeting and where she had been taken afterwards, but he hadn't known more than that. The news, however, that she was a Lestrange, had rocked them to their very core. Mr and Mrs Granger had been informed, but the children had not.
Professor McGonagall sighed, and rose wearily from where she had been sat at the head of the table.
"I think we need to rest," she said, gripping the back of her chair. "We are no good to this child exhausted."
"But Minerva, how can we leave her in the hands of the Lestranges any longer than we already have!" Mrs Weasley's voice piped up.
Her husband placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Molly dear, there's nothing we can do. We're not even certain we know where she is being kept. We can't just launch an attack on a household in the hope that she's being kept there. Even Fudge won't be able to explain away that one, and now that Voldemort's back, we have to keep our own safe. We're doing the very best that we can."
"I know, I know, it's just that poor child. She must be so frightened. Oh, I just can't bear it!" Molly pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose loudly.
The rest of the table looked on sadly as Mr Weasley pulled his wife close. The unsettled fear was evident in the room. All of them had lived through the First Wizarding War, and all of them knew the pain and suffering it had brought to everyone.
The panic. The abductions. The deaths.
And now, now it seemed as though it had already started again.
