“Time to wake up, blood traitor.”

At the sound of the scornful female voice, Cho Chang jolted out from her unwilling slumber, the Ravenclaw beauty giving a start that was immediately halted by the ropes holding her in place. Above, the nighttime clouds parted, letting the light of the full moon wash over her surroundings, and chocolate-brown eyes widened in horror at the stark granite shapes looming all around, the epitaphs engraved into the stone betraying she’d found herself in a graveyard. “Mmmppgghh?” she groaned, her words left oddly stifled by the awful taste of leather filling her mouth. Realization cut through the fog clouding her thoughts, and she came fully awake, wrists flexing helplessly against the ropes binding them behind her back, the sensation of additional coils around her lithe body guaranteeing she would not find escape easily… or at all. “Mmmmpppgggghhh!”

What happened? the twenty-year-old Chinese woman questioned, and like any Ravenclaw worthy of the title, she began thinking it through, the application of cool, rigorous logic serving to keep the panic at bay. She’d just finished a Charms exam, part of Hogwarts’ new post-secondary curriculum, and was walking back to Ravenclaw Tower when… Someone stunned-- no, I was drugged, she realized, recalling strong arms seizing her from behind and clamping a sickly sweet cloth over her nose and mouth. The waning light of afternoon had been replaced with the night’s darkness, so she’d been unconscious for at least a few hours, and in that time, her abductor had not been idle. Stout ropes kept the dark-haired Ravenclaw lashed to a wide, flat headstone, looping beneath her perfect breasts so that her back was pressed firmly against the carved marble, while more bound her long legs in front of her at the ankles and thighs, her knee-high black leather boots squeaking against one another with every movement. Though the end of the war had seen Hogwarts transition into becoming a magical university, the dress code was still much the same, and Cho had been left in her school uniform: a white cotton blouse and blue and silver Ravenclaw tie, beneath a close-fitting black sweater with blue Ravenclaw trim along the wrists and waist, black pleated skirt and dark nylon pantyhose—hardly the ideal attire for being outside in the dead of night with the chill October winds swirling about her. Her wand, of course, had been taken from her, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran along Cho’s spine, sending her glancing about for any means of escape. There has to be a way out of this, there just—

And then she stopped, gazed fixed firmly upon the open grave to her left, and terror gripped her heart in claws of ice as she saw the name carved into the headstone, her leather muzzle gag barely containing her horrified scream.

HERE LIES HARRY POTTER, THE BOY-WHO-LIVED.

“Do you like what you see, my sweet?” the voice called out from the surrounding darkness, and Cho’s fair, beautiful features went pale with fright as a black-robed figure stepped out from behind one of the nearby gravestones, teeth bared in a cruel smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll fill it before the night is done,” Bellatrix Lestrange crooned, cackling at Cho’s horrified astonishment. “After all, what better bait to lure ickle little Potter into a trap than one of his favourite tarts?”

“MMMMPPPGGGGHHH!” Cho screamed, fear sending her bucking and thrashing against her bonds like a trapped animal, desperate to escape. Of all the followers of the now-dead Voldemort, few had a darker reputation than Bellatrix Lestrange; fanatic, torturer, sadist, a woman for whom You-Know-Who had been a god, and she his greatest and most ruthless worshipper. Two years earlier, she’d perished at the Battle of Hogwarts, yet here she stood, alive and well and with the same terrible beauty, dark curly hair reaching down to the small of her back, her deathly pale face blanched yet further by the glow of the moonlight. It took all of Cho’s remaining courage not to break down and plead for mercy, that conviction tested as Bellatrix knelt in front of her, a long-nailed hand reaching out and running through her long raven-black locks. “Mmmppggghhh!”

“Aww, does the pretty little bird not like it when I pet her?” Bellatrix mocked in a sing-song voice, before suddenly seizing Cho’s jaw in an iron grip and turning her face towards her, lips pulled back in a furious snarl. “As if I care what a blood traitor whore thinks! You stood against the Dark Lord and watched as he died, and like your precious Boy-Who-Lived, you’re going to suffer for it.”

“Mmmppggghhh! Nnnggghhh, mmmppppggghhh!”

“Do you like your accommodations, my sweet? This is the very graveyard where the Dark Lord was restored to us during the Triwizard Tournament,” the Death Eater proclaimed, observing the grim landscape around them with pride. “It seems only fitting that his murderer receives his final punishment here. Tell me, didn’t that boytoy of yours die here as well? Diggory, was it?”

Before Cho could stop herself, she was leaning forward as far as her bondage would permit, a stream of muffled insults escaping past her gag at the dismissive mention of her first love Cedric, rage burning away the fear. Her life had fallen apart at his murder, the guilt and grief and regret a lingering wound from which she’d never fully recovered, driving her to depression, shattering her confidence… even ruining any hope of being with Harry. Even now, two years after the war ended, she found it difficult to shake off the sadness the thought of Cedric provoked, and above her leather muzzle, brown eyes shot daggers at her captor for daring to invoke that pain. “Such defiance!” crowed Bellatrix, free hand fondling the Asian beauty’s breasts. “Don’t worry, I’ll cure you of that soon enough.”

“Mmmppppggghhh!”

“And what shall I do with you after Potter lies dead in his grave?” the Death Eater mused aloud, hand darting beneath Cho’s skirt to caress her thighs. “Sell you off, perhaps? No doubt there are many who would pay for a pretty pureblood like you, even used. Or maybe you’ll become the start of my collection. Potter has so many lovely associates, after all: Granger, Lovegood, the Weasley girl, the traitor Greengrass-- it would be interesting to see how many I can capture.” The hand withdrew, and tears blossomed in Cho’s eyes as Bellatrix drew forth her wand, a sickly green light emanating from the tip. “Or maybe I’ll just figure out how best to make you scream…”

“MMMMPPPPPGGGGHHHH!”

Then the whipcrack of someone Apparating into the graveyard cut through the night, and instantly, Bellatrix was on her feet, wand raised to do battle. “It seems the game’s afoot,” she purred, licking her lips at the thought of the kill. “You just sit right there, my sweet. This won’t take long at all.”

“MMMPPPGGGGHHH!” Cho gave a final scream as Bellatrix disappeared into the forest of gravestones, leaving her alone and helpless beneath the moon’s glow, ropes creaking in her frantic struggles. Merlin, if Harry gets hurt again because of me… Please, please keep him safe. I’ve already lost one man I love in this horrid place, don’t make me lose a second!