Bellatrix opened her eyes. The colors were all cold and cruel, but not to the degree they usually were. A visit? It couldn't be... Not officially... for there were sounds coming from above, footsteps and words, and they would have passed by her cell to get up there if it was a Watchman. She strained her ears.

Again, words, too quiet to hear, maybe feminine. But then, a responding voice she recognized well: "I shall never!" it said, raspy but loud. It was her husband's voice. And then before she could think more on it, a green light flashed in the giant room beyond her bars. Bellatrix's heart skipped a beat.

This time Bellatrix could hear what the unknown woman was asking: "Do you regret anything, Dolohov? Now's the time to say it, if you do."

Bellatrix's heart felt like it had been twisted dry and hung out in the cold. She knew that voice. She knew that voice — another green light flashed, this time brighter — and now she was next, next to be killed by that fucking cunt of a blood-traitor whore.

How? How did she break into this place?

Then, at long last, the killer came down to her cell, stepping out of the shadows with the air of someone taking a pleasantly slow walk to observe the flowers. The wand in Lyra's hand was pale like her Master's, and it hung just as loosely in her hand as his. For one wild moment Bellatrix thought it was her Master, come to free her, perhaps unsatisfied with the answers the others had given. Her silver hair and cold eyes were barely illuminated by a faint glow coming from underneath her cloak, where two chains hung — one gold and the other silver.

"Anything you'd like to pass on to your sisters?" said Lyra. "They're the only people left who still care for you, after all you've done."

"Are you going to kill me?" Bellatrix whispered, unable to entirely hide the shock in her voice.

Lyra cocked her head. "Of course I am. Why would I spare you?"

"Lyra…" Bellatrix licked her lips. She hated to debase herself, but… "I am kin. I am of your blood, and you would kill me?" Lyra only raised her eyebrows, so she continued: "Do you not have any love for family? I know you do, of your mother, despite her faults… Would you not extend to me that same opportunity?"

The edges of Lyra's lips curled upward, and the cold amusement made Bellatrix snarl.

"I asked you last time if you regretted anything," said Lyra. "Did you already forget what you said?"

Bellatrix remembered well enough, but she hadn't been under the impression that she'd be murdered for those words. A rising fear began to turn into panic. She couldn't die here. She still had her mission, her unfulfilled tasks, and she couldn't die without a wand in her fingers, certainly not at the hand of her own niece. A cold fear gripped her heart, distinct from the cold she was so familiar with in this place. Everything was becoming cold, so cold, colder than Azkaban had ever been.

She had never truly believed that she might die here.

"I remember little," Bellatrix said quickly. "Yesterday, the day before, ten years ago… all of it is the same in the company of darkness and misery. Please, Lyra. Do you remember, when you were still so small? I held you in my arms, and Narcissa made me change your nappies. It's one of the few things I am still able to hold dear." Bellatrix gave a weak effort at a chuckle. "You were a terror then."

"Oh, I remember."

"Forgive me. I was… I was not the best with children." Bellatrix tried her hardest to lift the muscles in her cheeks to give any impression of a smile. "I could not have my own, you see, for the Dark Lord was cruel to those who failed him… were I not trapped here, I would have treasured you, my beautiful niece."

"You're lying," said Lyra with the sure tone that the Dark Lord always used when someone lied to him. Lyra sighed. "Before I came here, Bella, I went over what you did. Names, places, dates, methods used. You are evil beyond comprehension. The only mercy I'm giving you is a quick death, and even that's still only a consideration."

"Please, Lyra!" Bellatrix gasped, feeling her heart constrict in her chest as Lyra raised her wand. "I will change! I will do as you wish! I shall be your slave, your pet, anything, but please, please just don't kill me, I beg you. I do not wish to die!"

Lyra's cheeks pulled, her nostrils flaring slightly in a grimace. "You're pathetic."

Bellatrix was forced to agree. She hated the tears that were running down her cheeks, she hated the way her hands shook with something other than the cold, and she hated that she felt awe and terror towards anything that was not the Dark Lord. Had she fallen so far, during her imprisonment? She had so often fantasized about the Dark Lord's return, him reaching his hand out to her to join him at his side once more, praising her for how loyal she had been… but now, she couldn't help but wonder if her Lord would even want her back.

Lyra took one last deep breath, and said, "Say goodbye to your whore niece, Bella."

"You…" Bellatrix curled her hands into fists, feeling her unkempt nails biting into the skin of her palms. A brief flicker of rage sparked in her heart, but was quickly snuffed out by the all-consuming fear of death. Was there a paradise, or was there a hell? If there was, it was clear enough which she would be destined for — and if there was neither, she would be destined for the cold emptiness of the void, where she would simply cease to exist, all her relationships, her memories, her fears and triumphs…

Bellatrix snarled, peeling her lips back to reveal her teeth.

"Do it, then, Lyra! You —!" she said, her voice shaking. "Kill me!"

The tip of Lyra's wand lit scarlet.

I should've killed you, Bellatrix thought, I should've smothered you in your crib, I should've killed your mother, I should've