Pain.
All her nerves were on fire. She was convulsing on the ground, her body distorted by the effects of the curse.
Pain.
In the distance, faint cries reached her ears. Were they the desperate calls of Harry and Ron? Were they summoning her name?
Pain.
He was here. Standing behind his parents, in the room's shadowy corner. He seemed to be doing slightly better than the last time she had seen him. Almost a year ago…
Pain.
He had saved her. He had refused to identify her. She knew he was not the monster Harry and Ron had painted him to be.
Pain.
His eyes remained averted, fixed on the floor. She'd have given anything for him to meet her gaze, to see some sign that he was still himself, that he was all right, despite everything.
Pain.
She could feel a violent grip on her arm. She could feel the cold touch against her burning skin. She could feel her blood running down her arm. She could feel… nothing.
Agony.
Time appeared to have lost all sense of coherence. The protracted hours within Bellatrix's grasp had whizzed by in an instant. Then, she heard the tumult.
Harry, Ron, and other shadowy figures rushed into the room.
Ron called out her name.
Dobby, who had come to their rescue, was there too.
The influx of information overwhelmed her; her thoughts became fragmented. A friendly hand reached out to grab her, but she resisted.
She didn't want to leave; she yearned to remain here, with him.
In an almost desperate motion, she freed herself from the yet friendly grasp. Then, nothing more. The group had vanished before her eyes. She had succeeded. She was with him. A malevolent laughter jolted her out of her thoughts, then once more, the pain.
"The Mudblood enjoys suffering," Bellatrix spat. "Or perhaps she simply prefers our company."
"Bellatrix, we should call our Lord before...you spoil your toy."
"Don't worry, my dear brother-in-law, I think our guest appreciates my attention," she quipped mischievously, her voice dripping with intrigue. "Although, I dare say, the allure might be even stronger if they were bestowed by another..."
Abruptly, the tone shifted as Narcissa Malfoy emerged, her arrival marked by an eerie silence. She bore an air of majesty, her visage resolute and foreboding. It was the same expression she had observed countless times on Draco: the slightly wrinkled nose, the raised chin, the penetrating gaze.
"Bella, cease this at once. Draco, retreat to your room. Immediately."
No! He needed to stay here, with her.
"Cissy, can't you see it, as I do? It's an omen. With this, our Lord will absolve all the transgressions of your lineage. She probably already finds him irresistible. With a little assistance from me, we can surely extract every morsel of information she possesses about Potter and the Order."
"Draco is—"
"For Merlin's sake, stop coddling the boy! Our Lord won't be so forgiving with his next failure, and rightfully so. Draco must learn to wholeheartedly serve our noble cause."
"Bellatrix, refrain from speaking to my wife in such a manner." The room was permeated with Lucius Malfoy's acrid tone. "There's no immediate need to inform our Lord. If your assessment is accurate, the Mudblood presents no immediate danger. I highly doubt her "friends" would dare to venture here in search of her. We can afford the luxury of devising a strategy before His return to the Manor. Meanwhile, Bella, you may indulge yourself with her, but remember, do not break her mind."
Pain.
Again.