AN: I downloaded a couple of songs off the DHp2 soundtrack in an attempt to inspire myself but just made myself cry instead. Bad plan, but it got the chapter out. I had a hard time with this one, sorry for the wait. I made it longer as an apology. Lyrics are from Oculus Ex Inferni by Symphony X.

-Ophelia

Damn the betrayers

Through twilight, I fall

Headlong flaming - I curse you all

There's no turning back

No sooner than when the door swung shut behind her did Hermione start dreading her next confrontation with the crazed warrior. Bellatrix would no doubt demand to know what Hermione had been told about her situation, and even in her weakened condition she would be a force to be feared. Bellatrix Black was, above all, a master of interrogation, as she had eagerly shown the young witch before, and Hermione had learned things that were best kept from her. She remembered the poison that secretly held the older witch prisoner and shuddered. Even now, it would be coursing through her veins, ready to kill should she escape and skip the hidden antidote. Barbaric, but effective. The very principles that the Death Eaters built their army upon.

The worst part if it all was the tiny piece of Hermione's brain that told her that Kingsley was right, in a sense. Bellatrix was, after all, a Death Eater through and through. She was a proud and high-ranking follower of an organization that tortured its own members when they fail. If she could suffer through that and hold fast to her crazy beliefs, how could the Order possibly control her with words? If the dealer of pain is the holder of power in her world, then how else were they to teach her who's in charge?

The entire situation was disgusting; perhaps killing the damned woman would be the easiest solution. She had more than earned it, but something stopped the young witch. It wasn't anything she said; she was as angry and insulting as always even as she argued for her life. It wasn't anything in her expression, there was certainly no hidden remorse or even fear in her eyes. There was only chaos in those black depths, as always. No, Bellatrix wanted to live purely for the sake of living, not out of fear of death. The problem was, what would she have to live for? Her beloved master was dead and her cause had fallen, while her only living family certainly wasn't asking to see her. If Bellatrix managed to avoid death now it would only be to languish forever in Azkaban, a breathing corpse without a shred of happiness to cling to. She had already been sentenced to such an end, even served nearly a decade and a half of her endless sentence, and had only committed more crimes since then. Why did she want to live so badly? What for?

A voice behind Hermione called her name and she turned slowly on the spot, jerked from her roiling thoughts as if from deep water. Harry and Ron approached her, their sheepish smiles telling her that they realized that they had interrupted her thinking, a dangerous act indeed.

"Who was it?" Harry asked, while at the same time Ron said,

"What happened?"

They grinned at each other before turning back to their friend expectantly. She sighed wearily. If she told them that it had been Bellatrix Lestrange who asked for her, and what Kingsley had said, they would be furious. They would keep her from talking to the demented witch again and maybe kill her too for good measure. Harry had tried to do just that, after all, in the Ministry. His hatred of the Death Eater had only grown since then. Hermione couldn't let that happen, of that she was certain, somehow. Bellatrix deserved to die, but nobody should have the power to hand her such a sentence. No human had the right to decide who should live and who should die. The war had taught the young witch that much, if nothing else.

"I can't tell you," she said, faking exasperation as best as she could. "I'm not allowed to say it. Kingsley told me not to." She let her shoulders slump and some of her frizzy hair cover her tired face. Seven long years have taught the boys not to bother their friend when she was in a bad mood, and her act convinced them to back off. Bellatrix would be safe until they talk to Kingsley and find out what he really said, but that could wait. It was nearly time for supper, and the day Ron willingly misses that will be the day he and Malfoy get married. "But…" Hermione added hesitantly, wondering if she was giving away too much. "He also said that I need to go talk to them again. Soon." In her nervousness, she nearly said 'talk to her', which would give up the game at once. The only other female Death Eater was Alecto Carrow, who she had never met.

Ron gaped at Hermione, at a complete loss for words. He didn't need them; his face has always been a clear window into his head. Talk to them again? What is she on about? Hasn't my Hermione suffered enough from them? Oh, Ron. So protective, even though she's the better fighter. So possessive, even though she'd been rejecting him for years. He thought that Lavender was clingy; yet Hermione remember him comparing her to the Giant Squid and thinking all the while how nicely that applied to him as well. Harry looked between the two and saw what she saw, a desperate boy pointlessly throwing himself in the middle of her difficult situation.

Harry, bless him, cut Ron off before he found a way to articulate his rage. "If that's what Kingsley said then it must be important. We'll see you later." With that, he dragged Ron from the corridor, leaving the Gryffindor to brace herself and head back to the Room of Requirement. The journey had never seemed so short and in no time she found herself facing the newly appeared door again with dread settling heavily in the pit of her stomach.

The chained prisoner jerked herself to her feet when the door opened, ready to defend herself until she saw that it was just Hermione; sweet and harmless in her eyes. There was still light in the room despite what Kingsley said about the Order keeping them off, and Hermione took that as a sign that she was the last person to leave here. She found herself viewing this as something positive, another sign that she truly did not want the evil witch hurt again. Her stomach still churned at the prospect of being in the same room as the other woman, but she felt comforted in having made some decision about what she wanted from this situation. "Oh, just the Mudblood. I thought…" Bellatrix's voice trailed off as she slumped tiredly back down the wall. She smiled that broken smile at the younger witch, evidently forgetting – or at least ignoring – her earlier rage. Her eyes lit up with a sudden excitement. "So? What did they say?" She struggled for a moment to sit up expectantly, confident that Hermione had good news for her. She did, but she decided not to reveal that just yet.

"I talked to Kingsley Shacklebolt." Hermione took a seat on the floor across from the Death Eater, just barely too far for her to reach in the chains. She felt for a moment like a cat in a Muggle cartoon taunting a chained and vicious dog, but couldn't help herself. She could already imagine Bellatrix lunging at her with fury, only to be stopped short with her fingers an inch from her neck. The thought brought a grim smile to the Gryffindor's face, which the older witch interpreted as something good for her. Her grin widened, blood dripping down her chin from her split lip being stretched, vivid red against her unhealthily pale skin. The sight was gruesome to say the least, but Hermione forced herself to look her in the eye. This is who you're saving, Hermione. If you protect her, you will be accountable for all her actions. Do you really want to have anything to do with this monster? If she was being honest, the answer was no, but the only thing worse than being responsible for her worthless life would be to be responsible for her cruel death.

The gory smile faltered as she waited for the younger witch to continue, but she seemed to be trying to keep her anger in check. She had learned, doubtlessly much to her dismay, that losing her infamous temper will now result in her own pain rather than that of the person making her angry. The famed and feared Death Eater was powerless here, but Hermione could not bring herself to find the situation humorous any longer. She watched the older witch as calmly as she could, struggling to make her decision as Bellatrix attempted to contain herself. Long minutes ticked by as the two women squirmed in their respective discomfort. I am not ready to choose yet, she thought desperately. She did not want to kill the pitiful witch before her, nor was she ready to release her in society, nor was she ready to send her back to Azkaban. Oh, how lofty and virtuous her convictions had been earlier, when they had been all talk and no action. Hermione needed to share what Kingsley had said, to bear the bad news and to decide whether to deliver justice or mercy. Almost desperately she searched for a way to buy some time.

"He – he doesn't like you," she blurted out. Bellatrix rolled her eyes derisively.

"No shit, girl. I noticed that when he was chaining me to the fucking wall. Did he say anything useful? Something that isn't very, very obvious? Something we don't already know?" She leaned forward and spoke slowly and clearly, as though Hermione was some particularly unintelligent child. Hermione felt her cheeks flush despite herself.

She swallowed, trying to hide her nervousness. She knew that the once powerful witch could not hurt her here, but that did not mean that she didn't want to. Even in her broken and wounded state, malice rolled off her in waves; there was more cruelty in her pinky finger than there was in the entire Order. So why do I keep thinking they're the enemy? Hermione tried to speak again to distract herself. "You shouldn't swear so much. It isn't ladylike." Merlin, was she turning into her mother now?

The older witch's head fell back as she laughed and Hermione cringed at the sudden volume. Bellatrix scooted along the ground to get closer to the blushing girl, grinning. Her laugh was a terrible sound, insane and humorless. "Isn't ladylike? I was raised to be a nice proper lady, you know. My parents wanted me and my sisters to be meek little housewives for our rich Pureblood husbands and to spend our lives raising our spoiled Pureblood sons and pretty Pureblood daughters to carry on the noble Pureblood family traditions. I'm proud to say that all three of us failed on that count, even Cissy."

Distracted by this revelation, Hermione thought of Narcissa, who had always struck her as the very model of a proper Pureblood wife. "What do you mean by that?" she ventured, but the older witch was done reminiscing as abruptly as she had begun.

"Enough of that now," she said sharply. "Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do here. You're stalling. Tell me what Shacklebolt said at once." Even sitting chained in a pool of her own blood, her haughtiness hadn't diminished a bit. Bellatrix fixed the Gryffindor with a glare and waited for her to respond. Even without her beloved Cruciatus Curse, the infamous witch was a master interrogator and Hermione felt her resolve wavering despite herself. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was aware that they had been through this before, but when Bellatrix had had her full and formidable strength. She was terrified of her then, and despite her best efforts, she could not shake that horrible memory of her own powerlessness and agony. It made her feel sick with shame: Hermione Granger, the failed Gryffindor.

Hermione was spared answering by the door opening and Professor McGonagall entering. Calm and collected as ever, she greeted the pair with a curt "Miss Granger. Miss Black." as if they frequently spent time together, leaving a tray of food on the ground beside the prisoner. She paused and raised a thin eyebrow at Hermione on her way out, and to her horror, she realized just how close together they were. Bellatrix was sitting at the very end of her chain, which was longer than the younger witch had expected. She was more than close enough to grab Hermione if she wanted; she could attack and kill her or any number of terrible things from here. Hermione jerked backwards out of her reach, looking anywhere but at her horrible smirk. McGonagall exited without another word and Bellatrix turned her attention hungrily to the food.

It looked good enough, chicken pot pie with pumpkin juice and a piece of bread, but Hermione suddenly remembered what Kingsley had said, the backup plan that they were putting in place. The food earlier was poisoned; this meal had the antidote in it. Bellatrix saw her staring and dropped her fork suddenly. The Gryffindor looked up at her and saw the sudden panic in her wide, dark eyes. "They put something in it, didn't they?" she whispered, any venom driven from her voice by sudden alarm. "That's what they told you. You know. Tell me." The command was weaker than it should have been, filled with fear. At the end of it all, she didn't want to die, not like this. She faced Azkaban with confidence that her precious master would save her, but she knew that she wouldn't be so lucky again.

"No, no. There's nothing wrong with this", Hermione assured her. Of course, she neglected to mention that the poison had already been consumed, which would surely send her into a fit of rage. Despite the assurance, Bellatrix shoved the tray from herself in disgust and the younger witch felt an unusual panic rise in her. If the Death Eater didn't eat now then she will die, simple as that. The time had come for her to make a decision, and to act on it, far earlier than she had ever wanted. If Bellatrix died because she had revealed that the food had been tampered with, then her blood would be on her hands just as much as if Hermione had murdered the prisoner herself. She would not be responsible for that, she couldn't be.

Bellatrix seemed to be considering something and Hermione hoped desperately that she would pull the tray back. She looked starved, ravenous, but gritted her teeth against the temptation of a full meal, stubbornly inching the tray towards the younger witch. "I don't believe you, Mudblood. If there's nothing in it then you should eat some. See? I'm sharing my food with you. How ladylike of me." That hideous laugh again. Hermione glanced down at the pie and bread, sitting innocently on the tray. She knew that there was no poison here. Kingsley said there would just be antidote, harmless to her but lifesaving to Bellatrix. Feeling dark and malicious eyes on her, carefully watching every move, Hermione picked up a forkful of the pie and brought it to her mouth as casually as she could.

She chewed exaggeratedly and swallowed, watching the Death Eater relax as she did so. She beamed delightedly and yanked the tray away, nearly spilling the juice. The first bite didn't reach her still bleeding mouth before blackness swarmed in front of Hermione's vision and she passed out.