Disclaimer: JKR owns everything and I don't.

Somewhere there's a stolen halo
I use to watch her wear it well
Everything would shine wherever she would go
But looking at her now you'd never tell

Someone ran away with her innocence
A memory she can't get out of her head
I can only imagine what she's feeling
When she's praying
Kneeling at the edge of her bed

--Holy Water

Big & Rich

Chapter 4

Alexander's hands shook as he poured the last of the Firewhiskey into his tumbler. The evening had started out with such promise, but had slowly collapsed around him. Seating himself by the fire, he leaned his head against his hand and swirled the amber liquid in the crystal glass. She should be here, right now, by his side. When he had risen that morning, he thought it would be the last time he would wake to an empty bed.

"Bloody Bellatrix," he roared, as he threw his glass into the marble fireplace.

"At least she's not dead," Adrian drawled from behind him, where he lounged on the sofa.

"It would probably be better if she was." Alexander shook his head in dismay. "Set to marry her Uncle…I still can't believe it."

"Nor can I. Did you see the look on Bella's face when Rabastan proposed the idea?"

"Yes, if looks could kill he would be in a million pieces right now."

"I was quite surprised at Rabastan's proposition."

Alexander had been bloody shocked when Rabastan spoke up about Ismene's fate. He calmly explained that although Ismene may look like Cassandra, she was in fact a Lestrange, and the last new blood of the family. He questioned Snape about Ismene's work while at Hogwarts to which the Professor begrudgingly admitted that she was a talented witch. Rabastan then performed a fertility spell and the Dark Lord's interest peaked when he saw the positive results.

"And what do you propose Rabastan?" Lord Voldemort inquired.

"My Lord, it seems a shame to waste what could be the last opportunity to repopulate the ancient House of Lestrange."

"What?" shrieked Bellatrix. "Sully our family with the blood of a betrayer?"

"She is not Cassandra, Bellatrix!" Rabastan bellowed. "Ismene is a Lestrange!"

"My Lord, I must protest," Bellatrix pleaded.

"Enough!" hissed Voldemort. "Rodolphus, what say you?"

Rodolphus looked thoughtful for a moment. "As much as I wish for the child to pay for Cassandra's betrayal to our family, I believe Rabastan is correct." Bellatrix yelped like a wounded dog, as Rodolphus continued, "If what Snape says is true, it would be a mistake to kill a gifted, pureblooded, and fertile witch. Rabastan is still at an age where he may get sons. The House of Lestrange will carry on."

Much to Alexander's chagrin, the Dark Lord had agreed. Thankfully, due to Ismene's poor health and appearance, the wedding would be put off for a few weeks while she recovered. With a blank expression on his face, Alexander watched as Rabastan escorted a dumbfounded Ismene from the room.

"What in Hades were you thinking Rabastan? Have you gone completely daft?" Bellatrix shrieked as she chased after her brother-in-law. Rabastan didn't pause, but continued up the staircase towards his quarters dragging his niece in his wake. "I asked you a question! How could you do this? How could you be such a bloody idiot?"

Rabastan whipped around, dropping Ismene to the marble floor like a rag doll. "Shut up Bellatrix! Not everyone answers solely to you! Ismene is still a Lestrange and I have my reasons for what I have done. If you don't like it go take it up with the Dark Lord," he spat furiously. "Get off the floor, girl," he added, kicking Ismene in the side with his boot.

She scooted up quickly and followed her Uncle, anxious to be away from Bellatrix. They arrived at a set of double oak doors and Rabastan silently undid the wards and then shooed her inside his rooms. The chamber they entered was decorated elegantly, with high wood walls, a roaring black marble fireplace, and several leather couches and chairs. Rabastan slung his robes over one sofa and called for his houself.

"Zita!"

The houself appeared with a crack, dressed in a filthy tea cozy. "Yes, master," she cowered, bowing down so low, that her snout nose grazed the wooden floor.

"Take my niece and clean her up. She is not allowed the use of a wand or to leave the castle."

"Of course, master, whatever master wishes." The houself latched onto Ismene's wrist and dragged her through a smaller sitting room, a bedchamber, and finally the bathroom. She wasted no time in stripping Ismene of her dirty clothes and pushing her into the tub. For the next 40 minutes, the houself scrubbed, washed, and rinsed Ismene until her skin glowed pink. The whole time Ismene never said a word. Her body seemed numb, a side effect of the last hour's events. She couldn't believe she had been promised to her Uncle. It had to be some sort of sick nightmare, but no matter how hard she pinched herself she did not wake up.

She was dried and dressed in a thin gauzy pink nightdress and matching robe. It took the elf several spells to unsnarl Ismene's long hair, but soon it cascaded down her back in loose, shiny waves again. The elf returned Ismene to the main parlor, where Rabastan sat eating supper at a small cherry table. The look on his face as he took in a clean and fresh Ismene was one of pure shock, but quickly he shuttered it behind his usual, indifferent demeanor.

"You must be hungry, my dear. Please, sit and eat," he said, offering the chair across from him.

Ismene sat precariously on the edge of the chair, glancing uncertainly at the elaborate spread. Carefully, she dipped her spoon into the soup and raised the hot liquid to her lips. Blowing on it, she sipped it cautiously, slowly drinking in the wonderful, full flavor. They ate in silence and occasionally Ismene caught Rabastan staring at her with mixed emotions.

"You look so much like her you know," Rabastan remarked. Ismene coughed and choked back a mouthful of broth. "You mother and I were good friends. We met our first year on the train to Hogwarts. In fact, we shared a compartment together. At the time, I was trying to avoid my older brothers…you see, me being the baby of the family, they used to pick on me. I hated it when they would make a fool of me in front of the older students. Your mother understood. She had several older siblings and they used to do the same to her. Cassandra never mocked me. She was my best friend for many years. I even fancied myself in love with her," Rabastan chuckled and drew his long fingers through his dark hair. "But by then, I had already made the mistake of introducing her to Reduald. I never thought he would be an issue, being almost four years older, but he was smitten with her from the beginning." Rabastan paused and smiled at Ismene. Reaching his hand out, he beckoned for her to come closer. As if she was in a trance, Ismene pushed back her chair and soon found herself standing next to her Uncle's seat. He took her small hands in his and brushed his fingers lightly over the bruises and cuts that marred her alabaster skin. "I told her once, you know…that I loved her. Reduald had graduated the year before and I thought he was out of her life for good. What a fool I was! I knew they corresponded, but I convinced myself that it was nothing serious, that she loved me, so I told her. Do you know what she did Ismene?"

Ismene shook her head dumbly. Rabastan smiled and stroked her cheek and then moved his hand down her neck where his nails sunk into her tender skin and his hand tightened, shutting off her air supply. "She laughed at me! Can you believe it? I pour my heart out and the bitch laughs at me! She told me she could never love someone like me…someone that gave themselves to the dark side without even a thought."

Ismene's eyes bulged and she choked trying to draw in a breath of air. Rabastan shook her by the neck and then dropped her to the floor where she lay gasping. "What your mother told me next, I could never forgive her for. Cassandra told me that Reduald had proposed and she had accepted him, but had made a condition. She had made him promise not to become a Deatheater! Ignorant Ravenclaw harpy! Always prattling on about finding a happy medium through knowledge…absolute rubbish if you ask me! I should have known better…I should have known she would betray me. She tore our family apart!"

Ismene glanced up through bloodshot eyes and began to scuttle across the floor after she saw the frightening look marring Rabastan's features. He rose and strode quickly after her. Lunging, he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her onto her feet. "She got what was coming to her though, didn't she Ismene? Did you watch them die? Did she scream? Oh, how I wish it had been me that found them and not Lucius. I used to dream about every night when I was locked in that shit hole, Azkaban. I dreamed about strangling Cassandra and seeing the fear in her eyes as she stared death in the face," he hissed, his eyes alight with malice. Rabastan paused trying to regain some composure, his free fist clenching and unclenching while he closed his eyes. Dark blue met amber and a sinister sneer crossed Rabastan's features before he spat in Ismene's face and dropped her to the floor again.

Ismene tried to choke back the sobs that were threatening to overwhelm her. She guardedly watched as Rabastan summoned his robes from the sofa and headed towards the double doors. Glancing back, he smiled cruelly and smirked. "Dinner was lovely my dear, but I'm afraid I have to be off. I have much more important matters to take care of than you. Make yourself comfortable on the floor. I really don't wish to sully my sheets with the likes of you until it is absolutely necessary. Oh yes, and try and escape, and I will let Bella have her way with you," he chuckled darkly and exited the quarters.

Ismene slept on the floor that night and every night after that. Her huddled form shivered against the coldness of the marble floor and she barely got a wink of shut eye. Not that she could with the noise either. Rabastan seemed to have a thing for whores and often brought one with him to bed. Ismene spent most nights, covering her ears and trying to keep from vomiting as she listened to her Uncle bed a different woman. Most days he left her alone with the houself as her only companion. Ismene would sit on the window ledge gazing at the golden rays of sunshine until the day would slowly fade away. She was utterly desolate. Other days, however, he would use her as a punching bag, frequently taking his aggression out on her. Because of this, her injuries never seemed to heal and her little body retained that beaten and bruised appearance. Rabastan would often find her hours later, after a beating still lying in the spot where he had dropped her, covered in dried blood. It gave him great pleasure to see Cassandra's only daughter so belittled.

Three weeks into her captivity, Rabastan announced he was leaving on a mission with Bellatrix and Rodolphus. When he returned they would be married. Ismene tried to maintain her composure at this statement, but she could feel the steady rise of bile in her throat. Her lack of response only provoked Rabastan into abusing her in such a vicious nature that even he was not sure she would survive. Chuckling, he called out as he was leaving, "Better get some beauty rest, my blushing bride!"

"The Dark Lord sent the Lestranges on a mission."

"So, who gives a fuck?" Alexander slurred.

Plucking the crystal glass from his friend's unsteady hand, Adrian drawled, "You know you really need to stop drinking so much of this shite."

"Who are you…my bloody mother?" Alexander growled as he buried his head in his hands. Wiping the cobwebs from his eyes, he asked, "Why are you here anyway? I don't recall inviting you."

"I just thought you would be interested to know that Flint has been given the task of babysitting Ismene while her fiancée is off gallivanting." Adrian smirked as he watched Alexander's head fly up, his dark eyes questioning.

"Marcus Flint?"

"The very same."

"The man's a bloody moron!" Alexander stood and reached for the fireplace poker. Jabbing the flaming logs in the fireplace, he asked angrily, "Are you trying to torture me with this information, Adrian? Is this some sick scheme of yours?"

Adrian smirked and crossed the Oriental rug towards where his mate stood. "Knowing that Marcus has the aptitude of a troll, I thought you'd be hanging around the castle more, maybe sneak a peak in on Ismene."

"Even a troll values its life, Adrian. Marcus isn't bloody likely to go leaving Rabastan's quarters unwarded."

"You never know…stranger things have happened." Adrian watched his friend internally debating with his thoughts. After a few minutes, Alexander swore under his breath and headed for the library door. "Oy, where you going?"

"To the castle, you wanker."

Pain surged violently through Ismene's right leg and she struggled to remain upright. Clutching the paneled wall, she caught her breath and peered cautiously around the corner. The long, dimly lit hallway was empty. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Ismene creped down the passage, praying that no one would happen upon her. One of her head wounds had reopened and blood dripped down her neck and stained the already filthy nightgown she wore. She clutched her shoulder to her, trying not to jar it too much.

What a stroke of luck that Rabastan had left her in that stupid oaf's hands. Every night, Marcus had stumbled into the suite, drunk as a pig, and passed out on Rabastan's bed. The first two nights, Ismene had waited to observe how deeply he slept and where he kept his wand. On the third night, she knew she couldn't wait any longer, as Marcus was extremely intoxicated. Stealthy, she had stolen his wand and dismantled the wards on the doors. Now she found herself, wandering aimlessly, attempting to discover a way out of the Dark Lord's lair.

Voices echoed off the walls and Ismene hurried to find a place to hide, but there was no where to run. A thin strip of light attracted her gaze and she hurriedly pushed in the door she had not seen. Tumbling into the room, she closed the door, and uttered a locking spell.

"What the devil? Ismene?"

His voice shot through her like an arrow piercing her heart and Ismene turned to see Alexander seated in an armchair. He rose and advanced on her rapidly. The emotional weight Ismene had been carrying suddenly became too much for her to bear and her legs collapsed beneath her. Alexander caught her right before she hit the floor and stared at the beaten and bruised body of his only love.

"What did they do to you?" he cried in anguish. "Ismene, please my love…oh gods, I have to get you out of here!"

No! Her mind screamed over and over again, but the words wouldn't form. She was so tired from running, so tired of being beaten. She wanted nothing more than to leave it all behind.

Seeing the resignation in her eyes, Alexander nodded. Casting a silencing and disillusioning spell over Ismene, he wrapped her in his cloak and gathered her in his arms. It would appear to anyone else he was just carrying an armful of cloaks. Making his way quickly out of the parlor, he headed out towards the courtyard. As the night wind blew softly through the surrounding trees, he disapparated, taking Ismene with him.