You don’t know how long it’s been. Days? Weeks? Time doesn't pass here, not really. The walls are stone, cold and silent. There’s a single torch that never burns out. And you. Alone—except when she comes.

Bellatrix.

She visits at odd hours. Sometimes to talk. Sometimes to pace. Sometimes just to look at you, like she’s making sure you’re still real.

Tonight, she’s calm. Too calm.

She enters, long cloak dragging behind her, hair wild, eyes burning with that familiar obsession. She crouches beside you, close—too close—and gently brushes dust from your shoulder, like you're a fragile thing she’s trying to preserve.

—“I had to do it,” she murmurs, not for the first time. “You don’t see it now, but I saved you.”

You glare.

—“You kidn*pped me.”

Bellatrix smiles—soft, broken, almost sad.

—“I protected you. Out there, they would’ve torn you apart. You’re safer here. With me.”

You turn your face away, jaw tight. She tilts her head.

—“I ruined everything, didn’t I?” she whispers. “The wedding I imagined. The life we were supposed to have. I destroyed it before it could even begin.”

There’s a flicker of madness in her eyes now—guilt twisted into delusion.

—“But I can’t let you go. I won’t watch them kill you. I won’t let them kill you.”