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It had to be past midnight. The air was still. For another night, Lily was suspended in the frigid darkness of the cellar. In the daytime, she would ache and sweat in front of the sweltering furnace. At night, however, once there was not a napkin left to be washed, the furnace would go out. Lily only had the dying coals for light and heat for an hour, but once the coals were suffocated by the cold air, the cellar became the void. With no magical fire to warm her, the cellar was miserably freezing at night. She slept next to the furnace to absorb whatever remaining warmth it exuded before falling asleep; the heat would disappear faster every night leaving Lily wide awake and shivering. She attempted to sew together empty burlap sacks into a makeshift blanket. It fell apart after its first ten minutes of use. Instead, she just buried herself under whatever empty sacks she found.

Tonight, Lily couldn't fall asleep. She was going to stay up all night and listen to the drains. If her bean-mush was going to clog the pipes, it was going to be either tonight or the next morning. A lost night of sleep would potentially cause errors in her work the next day, but for a diagnosis of her chances of escape; Lily was ready to risk everything. Freedom seemed so far away, yet closer than ever before. What would it be like to be back in the world outside of this hellish castle? What would she do? Where would she go? Lily considered changing her appearance and fleeing to start a simple farm life in Australia. Perhaps she could steal a wand or two before her escape. Would they be able to track her if she stole a wand? What would they do to her if they found her again? Lily flushed her anxieties out of her mind. She wouldn't get anywhere productive if she focused on the possible hang ups.

Someone burst into the cellar and loudly tumbled down the stairs. Someone with light. They clattered to the ground with what sounded like a painful crack. The light rolled away. Illuminating the cobblestones. Quickly, Lily got out from her pile of burlap and silently moved away from the furnace. Until she knew if the intruder was either a servant or a Death Eater, the farther away she was from the light, the better off she would be.

"Clumsy, clumsy me!" The intruder shattered a jar. It was a woman.

"Who is it?" Lily emerged to confront them. If it was a servant, they wasn't familiar with the layout of the cellar. "Show yourself!" The source of light was a wand. A wand. Her initial instinct to pick it up was forced out of her mind. Touching the wand of a Death Eater or the wife of one would earn her a quick death. It was too late to hide in the black void; Lily had already made herself known.

A stocky young woman in a mauve nightgown came to her feet. Her clean face and tightly curled hair marked her as a Death Eater's wife. As she limped closer and picked up her wand, she masked her obvious pain with a smile. "Sorry about the noise, love."

Lily froze. "What?"

"Did I wake you?" The woman asked. "You look like you haven't slept in ages."

The wives were not well known for their kindness to servants, let alone other women. Yet this woman before her looked at her with genuine concern. "Who are you?"

The woman gently smiled. "You've probably heard of me. Does Rosaline sound familiar?"

"You're Mulciber's wife?"

Rosaline twitched at the word, but didn't change her tone or face. "Would you happen to have a spare coat hanger around here, darling?"

Lily went blank. This was almost too much to process. "A coat hanger?"

"Yes. You are the one who does laundry, right?"

"Erm … yes." Lily didn't know why this woman would possibly need a coat hanger at this hour. No matter what, Mulciber's wife had to be pleased or else he would hear about it. "I don't think I have any more coat hangers. All the folding and sorting has been done before bed. There might be one hanging in your wardrobe, perhaps?"

Rosaline giggled. "He took 'em all out. I think he's on to me."

Lily was beyond baffled, but didn't show it. "Would you prefer I deliver your clothes folded?"

"Oh no, please don't do that!" The woman looked panicked. "Then he'll know we talked! He can't know about any of this!"

"Alright! Alright! Is there anything I can do for you while you're down here?"

Rosaline looked around. "I suppose it doesn't have to be a coat hanger. Something long and thin perhaps? Like a wooden spoon or similar?"

"You would have better luck finding something like that in the kitchens. Is this urgent?"

"Oh! This will do just lovely!" Rosaline limped over to the barrel of lye soap. She took a big scoop with the copper ladle and swallowed it down. Lily stood in silence. She convinced herself this had to be some ridiculous dream. Rosaline limped back up the stairs with some difficulty, Lily watched her. "You should borrow another one from the kitchens for the time being, love; this one won't be returned. Oh! And before I forget, could you send someone upstairs in the morning? Our toilet's clogged with some poor soul's supper. I believe it's my husband, but he denies it. Beans always disturb his digestion."

Lily could only nod and say, "I'll send someone up right away in the morning."

Rosaline smiled. "Thank you very much, love. Now I see why Severus was so proud to have you while he did. Remember, not a word to my husband …" Her gentle whisper suddenly changed to a deep growl. "Or else." She let out one more airy giggle, and wiggled her fingers goodbye. The cellar was plunged into darkness once more.

Clearly, the pipes weren't the way out, unless Lily wanted to end up in Mulciber's toilet. It only proved to her that she would have to find another way out of the castle; and that this awkward exchange wasn't a dream. Rosaline was certainly odd, not at all like the other wives. There were rumors circulating that she was actually a muggleborn. That would explain her uncharacteristically kind behavior towards her, or she spent too much time socializing with the other wives. But that sudden threat at the end …

The whole castle was well aware of Mulciber's unfortunate habit of getting servants pregnant while his wife couldn't produce a single heir. All the wives chattered Rosaline was some sickly delicate flower that couldn't handle a pregnancy. That excused Mulciber's sadistic behavior and her infertility. Lily wandered through the black cellar until she found her nest by the furnace. This all reminded her of Evan Rosier and his horrifying proposal.

If Rosaline was the result of what a muggleborn witch would turn into after marrying a Death Eater, it was a grim future. Warming a bed, socializing with the wives over weak tea and unappetizing food, being pregnant all the bloody time. They would all know damn well she's a muggleborn. After all the torment they dragged her through, it would suddenly change overnight because she married a Death Eater. Something shifted inside of her. If she replaced her vision of her unknown Death Eater husband to James Potter, the future didn't waver. Had Lily went through with marrying Potter, she would still have to share a bed with him, play nice with his mother and the rest of his family, as well as have his children. She wouldn't dare speak up unless she wanted to land herself in serious trouble.

If she was picked to breed, it would guarantee her safety, a comfortable home, and a plate of hot food. There was also the chance they wouldn't choose her. Lily had already accidentally proven herself to be a troublemaker. If she wasn't chosen, most likely she would still be a servant and killed off later. Both promised Lily she would spend the rest of her life in slavery; either in a gilded cage, or a dark, damp cellar.

Lily closed her eyes, craving an escape from this madness. She dreamed of a cramped, dingy bedroom, parchment and dirty clothes scattered on a floor, a single window overlooking a foggy forest, and a haze of stale cigarette smoke.