The first thing Evie became aware of was the floor beneath her. It was hard stone, so cold it was almost like lying on ice. She tried to sit up but the bite of metal into her wrists jerked her sharply back into place. She opened her eyes for the first time and looked at the shackles on her wrists and ankles, keeping her firmly chained to metal rings on the floor. She felt the first stirrings of panic, making her breath come quickly. She tugged uselessly against her bindings, knowing instinctively that it would do no good but unable to stop herself. Her struggles grew more and more violent until she was thrashing on the floor, barely aware of the damage she was inflicting on herself. It was only when she realised the amount of noise she was making, and a part of her mind still capable of logic warned her of the danger of drawing attention to herself, that she finally fell still. She listened, hardly daring to breathe, for approaching footsteps. When none came she relaxed marginally and attempted to think.

The haziness of her memories worried her. The wedding had been a few hours ago at most, she shouldn't have trouble recalling it. Had she been hit by a curse? That might account for the sluggishness of her mind.

Her thoughts flew to Harry. Had he managed to escape? She hadn't seen him after the arrival of Kingsley's message, but it had been difficult to find anyone in the rush to escape the Death Eaters. She tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that Harry's safety was the Order's priority; there wasn't a single member who wouldn't lay down their life for him. But Harry could be reckless in defence of his friends, and she knew he would have wanted to stay and fight. The task that Dumbledore had set him was important, but was it important enough to overpower his instincts and make him flee?

Then there were the others. Ron and Hermione, as Harry's known friends, were certain to be targeted. The Weasleys were all considered blood traitors, Remus little better than a dog and Bellatrix was desperate to kill Tonks. There could be little doubt about what would happen to them if they were captured.

Without realising it she had been shying away from thinking about Sirius, but unbidden an image of him frantically trying to reach her rose in her mind. He would not have left. Not to save himself, not even if he realised she had been taken beyond his reach. He would have stayed, fighting Death Eaters in the hope of forcing some useful information out of them or simply to relieve his anger and fear. Tonks and Remus were her only hope here. Remus had always been the voice of reason, acting as a restraining force on Sirius. She hoped they had dragged him away from The Burrow, that they had grabbed him and Apparated to safety.

Whatever had happened to her friends, she was no good to them chained up like this. This was not the first time she had been captured by a Death Eater, although this time there would be no mysterious power to save her. Tears welled in her eyes as hot shame bubbled in the pit of her stomach. If she had not been so weak, such a coward, she could have used the power she discarded so carelessly to help her friends.

Crying about it would do her no good. She had to do something useful. Taking a steadying breath, she raised herself as far as the chains would allow and looked around the room.

Her eyes were drawn first to the window. The sky was an inky black so her guess must have been right; unless she had been unconscious for a whole day, it could only have been a few hours since the wedding. As her eyes roamed around the rest of the room she saw that her cell was not a conventional one. It was, in fact, someone's bedroom. To her left stood a richly appointed four poster bed, piled high with pillows. To her right, too far away to provide any real warmth, was a large fire that provided the only light in the room. Everything she could glimpse through the shadows spoke of great wealth and an ancient lineage: large portraits, furniture that looked like it had been handed down through generations and an enormous, intricate tapestry depicting a family tree.

A creak of hinges drew her eyes immediately to the door. Someone moved in the shadows there. She squinted into the darkness and, almost choking on terror and burning anger, knew who watched her. She hadn't seen her in a year, but she could hardly fail to recognise her: the last time she had seen the women, she had tried to murder Evie.

Bellatrix stepped into the room, smirking and tapping her wand lightly against the palm of her hand. She moved with the same easy grace as Sirius, but she hummed with an intense energy that gave her movements unpredictability. She stalked around Evie like an angry cat, eyes gleaming malevolently in the dim light. It took Evie an enormous amount of will not to wince or tremble, constantly expecting to see Bellatrix's wand slash through the air or feel the heft of her boot in her side.

When Bellatrix finally pounced, there was no warning, no hint of what was about to happen. One moment she was standing, the next she was sitting astride Evie's stomach and yanking one of her hands roughly from its manacle. Evie couldn't suppress a cry as the metal scraped the cuts she had created struggling against her bonds, and Bellatrix's lips curved in a wicked smile.

"What's this?" she demanded, yanking Evie's hand into the air and pointing at her engagement ring. She gasped breathlessly. "Does this mean we're family now? I really should send my cousin a present to congratulate him. I know," she cooed, drawing out a dagger from her belt. "How about one of those pretty green eyes?"

A scream was building in Evie's throat that she knew she wouldn't be able to suppress. Before it could pass her lips, there was a loud bang and Bellatrix was sent flying across the room. It took her only a second to recover, leaping to her feet with a shriek of fury. "Who dares?" she roared, pointing her wand at a figure that had appeared in a doorway.

"I do," came the calm reply, and Evie's heart seemed to freeze as she recognised the voice of Severus Snape. He stepped into the room, wand trained on Bellatrix. "You are interfering in matters that are none of your concern."

"The old man takes too long," she hissed. "A few minutes with me and she'll be begging to spill her secrets."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand this, Bellatrix, but some problems require something subtler than brute force."

Bellatrix kept her wand fixed on Snape but raised her other hand to point the dagger at Evie. "I'll show you what brute force can do."

"By all means," drawled Snape. "When she lies dead and her secrets have gone with her, you can tell the Dark Lord it happened because you thought you knew better."

It lasted no longer than a few seconds but for a moment Bellatrix was unmistakeably scared, and in the darkness she looked almost like a child who had disappointed her parent. Then she fell back into her customary sneer. "I'll be taking this up with the Dark Lord."

"As you wish," said Snape, stepping aside and nodding pointedly at the door.

Bellatrix stepped delicately over Evie, as if fearful of dirtying her boots. She paused in the doorway next to a man Evie hadn't noticed before, and hissed what sounded like a threat in his ear. He was as unperturbed as Snape, sparing her a single disdainful look before turning his gaze away. She stormed away, muttering darkly under her breath. Snape waited silently until he heard the distant bang of a door, then said curtly, "Take care of your charge."

Without so much as a glance at Evie, he strode from the room.

The other man came to kneel at her side. He flicked his wand and her manacles sprang open. The moment she was free she tried to rise, to scramble away from him, but she fell straight back down again, overcome by an unexpected weakness.

"Don't struggle," ordered the man. "I have no intention of harming you, but if you try to resist in this weakened state then you will hurt yourself."

"Where am I?" she demanded, and was shocked by the faintness of her voice.

"All reasonable questions will be answered in due course, but not tonight. Tonight you must rest, try to regain some of your strength."

Ignoring this, she said, "My friends – what happened to them? Do you have them?"

"Tomorrow," he said firmly. "I will tell you of your friends tomorrow. Tonight you must not tax yourself."

"Thank you for your concern," she spat.

He slung her arm over his shoulders, ignoring her feeble attempts to swat him away, and pulled her carefully to her feet. He paused, allowing her to adjust to the change in her position, before beginning to slowly lead her from the room. The weakness that had prevented her from rising now made her stumble on every other step. Disgusted with herself, she clung to his shirt to remain upright.

They entered a long corridor, lined on either side by more portraits. It seemed like they struggled down it for hours, Evie stumbling and keeping up a torrent of questions, the man steadying her and refusing to answer. He finally brought them to a halt in front of a door and nudged it open with his foot. Evie was not sure what she had expected to see – a cell, a windowless dungeon – but this was not it. She was standing on the threshold of a room every bit as fine as the one she had just left, albeit it was a lot smaller. Like that room, it was dominated by a four poster bed and lit by a small fire. Something was not quite the same. The detail nagged at her until she finally placed it: there were no portraits here.

"This will be your room for as long as you stay here," said the man as he guided her into the room, depositing her carefully in a large armchair.

"Does You-Know-Who treat all his prisoners this well?"

"For the Dark Lord's plans, it is imperative that you remain in good health."

"Why?" she demanded, panic fluttering in her chest. The news that she was to be singled out, to be kept alive and healthy when so many others were killed without a second thought, was somehow just as frightening as if she had been thrown into a dungeon. "Does he want to use me to get to Harry?"

"As I have already told you," he said, with the slightest hint of impatience, "I will answer some of your questions tomorrow."

"I need-"

"Tomorrow," he interrupted sharply. "Now, there are clean robes at the end of your bed, and someone will arrive shortly with food. After you have eaten, I expect you to rest." He stared at her for a long moment, as if expecting her to promise that she would indeed rest. When she said nothing, meeting his patient gaze with a hostile one, he made the slightest shrug and left the room, the door shutting with a click behind him.

The moment the door closed, Evie was on her feet and moving as quickly as she could. She stumbled and fell against the door. Recovering quickly, she straightened and tried the handle. Locked, as she knew it would be, but she couldn't help the sinking feeling of disappointment. Without a wand, she had no hope of opening it. She was not like Fred and George, who didn't need magic to open locks. Perhaps she could wrest a wand from whoever brought her food, or smash a window and drop to the ground if she wasn't too far up.

As she turned around to investigate, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror hanging on the wall and froze. Her dress was dirty and shabby, torn in several places. Her face was smudged with dirt, and when she glanced down she saw that her hands and arms were the same. Apart from the obvious shabbiness, there was something wrong with her appearance that she couldn't quite place. It took her a moment to realise that her hair seemed slightly longer than it had been when she looked in the mirror that morning.

Before she could even begin to wonder what all of it meant, a flurry of movement at the window caught her eye. She walked slowly over to the window, unwilling to believe what she was seeing. It had to be a trick of her eyes. She was exhausted and frightened; it was not surprising that she was confused. But the closer she got the less she believed her own assurances, until by the time she stood with her hands pressed against the cold glass there could be no denying reality. Even though it was August, and only a few hours earlier she had danced in glorious sunlight, snow was falling thick and fast from the sky, and a white blanket rolled out in front of her as far as she could see.