((Lena, we apologize. Villains are easier to write when sleep deprived and I've been on a plane/in an airport from 6:30 am to 7:30 pm, plus an hour for time change. Blech.))

While Wolfbar and Oliver wiled away the time pondering what the Dark Lord and his most faithful servant could be planning, and Belinda helped herself to a late lunch/early dinner in the kitchen, Bellatrix sat in one of the many run-down living rooms and watched her master pace feverishly back and forth with a highly amused expression on her face. ((Wow that was a long sentence))

"They would, of course, be completely unprepared..." he muttered, half to himself.

"Well, that is the benefit of rushing the job, my lord," she replied cooly. "You gain the element of surprise- and there's no Albus Dumbledore to guess the truth in a matter of hours based on the sobbing recollection of a fourteen year old boy."

"There is that," he said with a manic grin as he whirled about once more. "Unless Draco...?" He paused in his pacing to glance inquiringly at Bellatrix.

She shrugged. "I don't think so. He's a decent sort, by your standards. The suddenness of it all might scare him into going to the Aurors, but I doubt it."

The Dark Lord made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a clicked tongue, his customary signal of mild disbelief.

"He's braver than his father was, my lord," Bellatrix said. "You caught him at a bad age, is all."

"You were his age, as I recall," he countered. "Why should he be any different?"

"Lucius' genes?" she said. "In all seriousness, though, my lord, I think we can be certain that I'm a rather... unique... case."

He grunted.

"I don't think he'll run to Potter, my lord," she said simply.

"You're sure?" He turned to stare at her with unsettling intensity. Most would have squirmed under the fierce gaze- Bellatrix merely gazed back sadly.

"As sure as I can be, given that I haven't spoken to him in eighteen years. I've been on the run, you see, in between discreetly gather all the information I could about your..." she trailed off.

"Burial."

The Death Eater nodded. "I was very unpopular with the Ministry, as I'm sure you could imagine." A moment more of watching the Dark Lord's rapid-fire pacing and she snapped, "Could you please just sit? For a moment?"

He turned to stare at her, mouth slightly open, eyebrows raised in the perfect picture of surprise.

"It's making me dizzy just watching you," she said, quieter.

The Dark Lord stared a moment longer, then slowly sat down opposite her.

"How many d'you suppose would come back... if...?"

She sighed. "I dunno. Most of them are in Azkaban, or dead... Loads would probably be too scared to come back, the Ministry- the Auror Department especially- has gotten very strong during your... absence. A few. One or two..."

"Not many."

"No." They sat in silence for a while.

"So it's you, me, Wolfbar, the girl-"

"Belinda," Bellatrix corrected automatically.

"Belinda, then. And the other one, the one who won't be any help at all and possibly a liability." He raised his eyebrows.

Bellatrix half smiled. "Yes, that about sums it up."

"It's not much," he said musingly.

"No, my lord. So an open, forcible attempt to take over is out of the question?"

"But of course. It'll have to be stealthy and involve numerous shady dealings in dark alleys."

"Mm. Sounds like fun." She grinned. "So long as I get to deal with the prisoners, at least."

The Dark Lord grinned in reply, and rolled to his feet. He crossed to her and swept around behind her chair, leaning over so she had to tilt her head back to see him. "Of course." He brushed her cheek very lightly and then disappeared into the hall.

Bellatrix sat for a long moment, stunned.