A/N: Definite plot now, so things should move a little faster. Does this one feel kind of forced, to you? Written in one day, so that could be why. Already working on the next chapter, though. Attempting to make them decent-length, but rather failing.

Warnings: Same as previous. Violence, in this one, perhaps.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, ect. Nor do I own Bellatrix or Voldemort (I don't think I really need to say that, but just in case). I do own Mel, Antonia, Jezebel, the manor, ect.

"I heard something down this way," a cold voice muttered, echoing down the hall. It sounded female, and relatively far away, but I couldn't be sure on either count.

I held my breath, as a shadow appeared at the end of our corridor.

"I found the sneaking brat!" the voice called again, though it was more of a snarl this time, motioning to her companion. I would have been offended, but somehow, I didn't think she was talking about me. "Well, come on!" she called down our hall. To my surprise, the little girl, Annie, was the first one to move.

"Keep your hair on, we're coming," she answered, stepping from behind me, her voice vaguely familiar, and certainly not the high squeak I'd expected.

Melody shoved me from behind. "Well, go on, you. She knows what she's doing."

Meanwhile, Annie had almost reached the end of the tunnel, and the figure there was lighting her wand. Even more surprising than events this far, the little girl fell to her knees. Whatever she said sounded like, "My lady—forgive me—I did not realize you were here, as well—" and things made even less sense than before.

Then, however, I recognized the face revealed by the wandlight. The hooded eyes and long hair, from memories of several years ago—the photographs in the Daily Prophet, and that night in the Ministry.

Bellatrix Lestrange stood at the end of our tunnel.

"Stop that childish nonsense, or I'll tack you up on the wall next to them." she snapped, her lip curling as she looked down on the figure crouched before her. "Crucio!" The sound of the incantation bit through the damp air of the dungeon, quickly punctuated by screams from the woman who was now writhing in place of the child.

"I'm sorry, my lady!" she nearly sobbed, when Bellatrix let up.

Bellatrix, however, was ignoring the prostrate form at her feet, instead looking off down the other corridor. "About time, Bel," she was saying, as though merely bored.

"Forgive me—I was in the other wing." The new voice had a slight lilt to it, which subtly reminded Ron of his sister-in-law (1). "You have them all, then?"

"I think so. The Dark Lord will be pleased." She flicked her wand at me, once, almost as an afterthought, and I felt my body moving toward her against my will. "Well, if it isn't one of the blood-traitor brats from the Ministry. I'm certain Annie and Mel here are delighted to meet you, Weasley. Did you know their father killed your uncles? (2) That's right. Dolohov, what in the name of Circe do you think you're doing?" Her tone had gone dangerous now, and Ron's attention shifted to the woman, who was trying to sneak off down the hallway.

"N-nothing, my lady. Just going to prepare proper bindings for him, next to the other one." She sounded sheepish, and even I didn't believe her—Bellatrix certainly didn't, and there was another Cruciatus Curse ringing through the dingy passage.

"Always the helpful little bitch, aren't you? Well, let me tell you, as soon as the Dark Lord's finished these two off, you're done as well, so don't get any ideas! You are still expendable—"

As the shrieking continued, a sinking feeling was growing in the pit of my stomach. I had a feeling that I was going to die very soon.

There was a cold hand on the back of my neck, and my hands had been tied while watching Bellatrix and Annie. My wand had been taken from me, and the tip of another had been placed against my throat. A chill whisper in my ear beckoned.

"Come on. Bella has a grudge she wants to settle. We'd better leave them to it. The Dark Lord is waiting. Don't speak—no one here will help you." With that, she led me away, leaving the three women to finish their quarrel amongst themselves.

I was silent. For a moment, while she led me down passage after passage, I even thought my life was passing before my eyes. Then I realized that this couldn't be the case, because I wasn't dying. Yet.

Nevertheless, I realized that, for the first time in my life, I was truly alone. There was no one by my side, to help me out of this scrape. Harry was probably already dead, Hermione was Merlin knows where, and no one else had the foggiest idea where I was. In this same realization, I knew that, this time, I really was going to die.

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(1) Of course I mean Fleur. I'm too lazy to write Jezebel in dialect, and her accent isn't as heavy as Fluer's, anyway. She only married into the French, and picked up a little of the inflection from living with them for years.

(2) Antonin Dolohov is noted as one of the wizards who murdered Gideon and Fabian Prewett (that part's canon). Molly used to be a Prewett, so I'm just pretending she was the kid sister (rather like Ginny), too young to have really gotten involved and put on the Dark side's hit-list yet. Bella's just ranting, really—she's kind of gone 'round the bend, as you can see when Antonia sets her off a bit. Voldemort just doesn't care—she's still perfectly able to torture others.