The broken woman laughed again, tapering off into a wracking cough. "He's anything but soft, Potter. Failures are never cheap with the Dark Lord. Betrayal . . . you will actually live to regret it."
It was Harry's turn to arch a curious eyebrow. Not that it mattered in the darkness; the gesture was lost on the dark witch. "You, betray Voldemort? That I find hard to believe."
"Believe it, Potter. Now, why would you even care? The last time I saw you, you were hurling killing curses at me, over in Diagon Alley."
Harry remembered the battle. It had been a few months back, before major population centers had fallen under Voldemort's control. Diagon Alley had come under attack, and the Order had responded. Harry had been there. That battle had been where they lost Fred and Neville. Neville's loss had been especially hard on them all, since the boy had taken a curse meant for Harry.
At the time, the Boy-Who-Lived had been too wrapped up in his duel with Bellatrix, ignoring the din of combat all around him. "Just curious what landed you of all people in here," he said.
"Ah." The single syllable was laden with sarcasm, something that she, in her condition, shouldn't even have been capable of producing. "Come to watch the wicked witch die, eh?"
"Don't flatter yourself," Harry snorted in disdain. "I'm not exactly here by choice."
"I could tell," she shot back in the same tone. "I mean, the chains were kind of a giveaway."
"What's with the sane act today, Lestrange? Insanity and baby Bella not doing too well on the wrong end of the torture room? Or maybe," Harry gasped dramatically, "maybe Voldemort tortured you back into sanity!"
"What are you driveling about, Potter?"
Harry shrugged. "Hey, if you can torture someone into insanity, it figures you'd be able to torture them out again, right? Sort of like knocking you on the head will give you amnesia, and another knock on the noggin gives you back your memory."
Bellatrix chortled. Was that a chortle? It certainly sounded like one. Or maybe she was just choking on her own blood. Harry liked to think it was the latter, rather than believe the crazed witch was capable of humor. "Are you certain I'm the insane one, Potter?" she commented.
"Quite," Harry replied dryly. "Especially since I don't enjoy torture, unlike someone else in this room that shall remain nameless."
If he could see her, he was certain her look would have frozen him solid. "Do I look like I enjoy this, Potter?"
He shrugged again, more for his own benefit than hers. "I can't tell. You usually look insane to me, so you'll forgive me if I can't tell the difference."
"Potter . . ." Bellatrix growled.
"That's my name, don't wear it out."
"I'll kill you!"
"Get in line. I think Voldemort wants first crack at it, so you'll have to get past him to do it. And speaking of going up against dark lords, your record with that isn't doing too hot now, is it?"
Bellatrix was quiet for a minute, and Harry wondered if she had died, when a gargling sound rose from her body. In the dim light, he could barely tell that she was shaking, even as the sound grew louder, until he realized, to his shock, that she was laughing.
"If you were as quick with your wand as you are with your tongue, Potter," she managed, "the Dark ord would be dead a dozen times over!"
"Strange, and here I thought they kept me around for my charming personality and winning looks."
"Your father you are not."
"Odd, I'm usually told the opposite."
There was no response from Bellatrix. Harry was starved for conversation, so he pressed on. "So, you betrayed Mr. Dark and Ugly. What exactly did you do?"
"Nothing that concerns you," Bellatrix growled.
"Okay," Harry shrugged. "Suit yourself." There was a brief pause before he spoke up again. "But, y'know, I thought in order to be able to betray someone you'd need to be able to think first, so I'd reckon that rules you out, right?"
"Potter?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
Harry made several further attempts at conversation, but Bellatrix did not respond. Owing to the lack of light in the cell, he was unable to tell whether she was asleep, unconscious, or simply ignoring him. He decided that he may as well wait until morning. At least he would have a little more light to see and gauge her by.
It was a long night for Harry. There was no mattress or furniture of any kind, the floor was hard, and he was in chains. Consequently, he was unable to sleep for more than a half hour or so at a time without getting cramped and waking up. To the best of Harry's knowledge, Bellatrix didn't even shift or turn over. He began to wonder if she had died, or maybe if she was just used to sleeping in such conditions. The thought sent a shudder down his back.
Sunrise eventually came and revealed to Harry that Bellatrix was awake, though unresponsive. "Good morning," Harry said brightly. "Y'don't suppose they'll serve us breakfast in bed?"
Bellatrix's eyes shifted to look at Harry; however, her only response was a sigh.
Harry smirked. "Because, you know, considering how much I'm paying for this place, breakfast is the least I'd expect. Not to mention a decent cup of coffee. Maybe a morning paper, too."
When she still didn't reply, he shrugged and leaned back, the chains on his wrists clinking together. "You know, I'm trying to be nice here. I could try and kill you . . . "
"Why don't you, then? You hate my guts. I hate yours. If I could move myself off this bloody spot on the ground, I'd be at your throat, Potter."
"No point." Harry shrugged again. "We're stuck in this. Killing you isn't going to get me out of here. As much as you'd like to believe, you're not important enough to me that I'd place killing you over escaping."
"And here I thought killing me was your life's work," she muttered sarcastically.
"You clearly missed your calling," Harry replied evenly. "You should've been a comedian."
"That's your job, Potter."
"Maybe." Harry glanced from her to the barred door.
"What's percolating in that tiny head of yours, Potter?"