After the Dawn

The 1st thing Bellatrix Lestrange became aware of was stiff limbs and a hard surface underneath her.
With semi-consciousness came pain... a fierce throbbing pain that seemed to echo dully around the inside her skull.
She had no energy to do anything but groan softly as various bruises made their presence known.
As far as she could tell without opening her eyes she was lying on a stone floor with her wrists chained to the wall behind her. It wasn't the 1st time she had woken to find her wrists chained to something... but it was never a pleasant experience.
When rational thought started to assert itself it occurred to her that if experience was anything to go by she must have been unconscious. For quite a while judging by the acute stiffness in her limbs.
She tried to remember how she had got into this state but her faculties didn’t stretch to memory just yet.
With considerable effort she managed to open one eye a crack. It was dark… which meant it was either night or she was underground. Probably the later she thought as she inched the other eye open enough to get a glimpse of her surroundings.
Déjà vu washed over her as she saw the small stone-walled room. With sight cave smell… a dank, strangely familiar odor that told her she was underground. With a start she realized she was at Hogwarts… in the dungeons. What was she doing there?
Vague images... memories... flashed through her mind. A battle at Hogwarts... a flash of green as her neice's body sailed through the air... her sister bending over the lifeless figure of Harry Potter... a triumphant procession through the forest... her wand flashing as she duelled three at once... her own laughter as a red headed witch sent curse after curse at her... and the shock when one hit.
Shock went through her again as she remembered what had happened. Remembered that that bitch Molly Weasley had hit her with a curse that should have killed her. How was it she was still alive?
And another thing... Potter was dead... she had seen him die... her own sister had pronounced him dead. They had won. So why was she in a squalid cell in the dungeons... chained up in the very chains Filch had so often threatened to suspend her from the ceiling with?
Suspicion crept up upon her as she remembered some rather important things about Harry's death. That it had been her sister, Narcissa Malfoy the Dark Lord had sent to check if he was alive. That her sister had been anxious to get up to the castle to find about what had happened to her son. And that Narcissa was not a Death Eater. She had no formal tie to the Dark Lord. A wizard who... in all honesty... had been less than kind to her family after Lucius's failure.
Bella grimaced. Not just from pain... but from the unpleasant direction her thoughts were taking. If Potter was alive... if he had somehow defeated the Dark Lord... if they had... lost... her current predicament would make a certain amount of sense.
But how could Harry Potter have defeated the Dark Lord... Heir of Salazar Slytherin... the greatest sorcerer the world had ever seen? The wizard who had managed to conquer death itself?
She of all of his followers had been entrusted... not only with his secret... but with one seventh of his soul. She had guarded it faithfully... placing it in her own vault at Gringotts.
Suddenly she felt as if she had been doused in icy water. Gringotts. The place Potter and his friends had broken into... to steal the cup... from her vault. Why would he do that unless he knew what it was? And why had he broken into Hogwarts. He must have known it was the most dangerous place for him to go. But if he knew Voldemort had hidden a Horcrux in the castle...
If what she suspected was true... the Dark Lord was... and it was... at least partially... her fault. No... No. She would not even think it.
She rolled slowly onto her front... groaning at the pain and effort it cost her.
After a rest and a bit of effort she was able to sit up with her back against the wall. The stiffness and lethargy had abated to a tolerable degree... which left her with nothing but her own thoughts to focus on. That and her disheveled state. I would kill for a hot shower and some clean clothes she thought miserably to herself. She had to smile though when she realized the irony of that thought.
Whether it was minutes of hours that passed while she sat there she had no way of knowing. Just as she was wondering when someone would think to check if she had awoken she heard footsteps in the hallway. She could hear the heavy bolts being drawn.
The door opened... revealing the very last person she expected. Harry Potter.
Shock was clear on her lovely features as she saw who it was. For a moment raw grief flashed over her face as she realized that he was alive then the Dark Lord was dead. Then her usual expression of haughty disdain settled back over her features.
“I thought you were dead. How disappointing” she drawled. “Just what I was about to say” he said disdainfully. “Molly be will terribly disappointed she didn’t manage to kill you” he finished.
“I’m sure she’ll get over it” Bella said dryly. “I’m guessing since you’re alive… the Dark Lord…” she went on, trying to keep a trace of desperation out of her voice. “Is dead?” he said coldly. “Afraid so” he finished.
Cold despair washed over her… but she managed to keep most of it off her face. He could see in her eyes though how much of a blow it was to her.
“And what… are you planning to do with me?” she asked, making it sound ever so slightly suggestive.
“I believe you’re going to have a trial in a weeks time. After that… well I’m sure the Dementors will be happy to have you back” he said coolly.
“If it’s all decided… what are you doing here Potter? I doubt you just came for a chat” she said in a silky, mocking voice. “I just came to see for myself whether you were alive. I think I’ve satisfied myself on that point…” he said.
A grin spread over her face and she leaned forward slightly. “Have you now…” she purred.
The sly, rather lascivious expression on her face made him rather uncomfortable. It wouldn’t do if she wasn’t so gorgeous a little voice inside his head said.

And a very small unbiased part of him had to admit that even in her current disheveled state she was still beautiful. More so than any other witch he had ever seen.
But he wouldn’t let himself think of her that way. This was the woman who killed Remus… Tonks… Dobby… Sirius. If anyone deserved to rot in Azkaban it was her.
He pushed away thoughts of her beauty and gave her his best derisive look. “You could use some soap and water” he said haughtily, fighting off a mental image of her naked. “And some new clothes. I’ll get Draco to bring you some” he finished.
She grinned. He really was being very nice to someone he loathed. And maybe her nephew would a bit more forthcoming about what had happened while she was unconscious.
He turned to go. “You wouldn’t… chain my hands in front of me rather than behind would you?” she asked almost sweetly. He turned back around and shot her a withering glance. She pouted.
He sighed and walked over to her as a smug grin slid back over her face.
Harry used his wand to unlock one while keeping the other chained.
He brought her wrists to the front… trying ignore how smooth and soft her skin was… and the fact he had an excellent view down the front of her robes. Damn her he thought to himself.
“Thanks ickle Potter” she purred as he got back to his feet, her dark eyes glittering wickedly. “Screw you” he snapped.
“Is that an offer?” she purred. “Absolutely not” he said in almost a growl…walking through the door and slamming it behind him.
Her high mocking laughter followed him down the hallway as he walked away.