Her head was pounding. She didn't know what was going on, and her vision was too hazy to observe anything.

"What should we do with her, my Lord?"

She knew that sniveling little grovel anywhere. She vaguely hoped that whatever was going on was not some horrible, Lucy-esque evening of fun and frivolity.

The only things she could see in the dark were glowing masks. Couldn't he come up with another theme for his parties? A potluck would be nice.

She waited for what was going to come.

"Lock her up in Bella's room. We will burn everything in there later."

She blinked. Well, that was unexpected.

Her vision started to clear up, and she finally saw where she was. She turned to see the horrifying monster ruling over them all. He was a thin, ghastly man with no hair and, astonishingly enough for her, no nose. Someone grabbed her arm and dragged her across the floor, causing painful rug burns on her legs from the friction.

Eventually, she was thrown into a bedroom. She tried escaping by picking the lock with one of her many hairpins, but failed miserably. After half an hour, she was too exhausted to keep trying, and decided to just make use of the room and fall asleep.

She didn't know how long she was in that room. It could have been for days, or maybe even minutes. Either way, she couldn't stand it in there. The place had the same overbearing sense of gloom as Mr. T's shop, but it was not as Spartan. Actually, it was gilded to the hilt with silver all over the walls and covered in thick, dark brocade. The canopy bed took up most of the space in the room, but there was also a small, dark red bureau in the corner. She had tried opening it, but it was locked. Not a bad room at all, fit for a real lady, but could use some cheering up. A vase of daisies wouldn't hurt.

Finally, someone came for her. He dragged her once again to the awful hall and threw her into the center of a circle that the group had formed.

"It's amazing we didn't kill you off when you first got here." One of the masked people laughed.

Another agreed, "I can't believe we were willing to risk being contaminated this scum." Nellie felt her blood boil. What right did they have to insult her for being hard up? So what if she was poor, she was still human!

"I hope her screams are worth all the trouble we went through." One of them raised a long, black baton at her. What was a stick going to do?

"SILENCE!"

The masked figures stopped breathing. She could tell by how stiff their robes were. They waited for the horrible, noseless man to speak.

"We cannot kill her... yet, I will not have you fools ruining the stream of time. We must find a use for her."

She had to show them she was worth something. Her survival skills were kicking in.

"I cud clean, an' cook good too! I'll do anythin' yeh need me ta do!" She never really had much faith in religion, but right now she was praying with all her might that they were listening to her.

The Death Eaters collectively winced at the woman's accent. It was bad enough that she looked like Bellatrix, but did she also have to be so uncouth?

"Very well then. Get started." A mop and a bucket of water appeared out of thin air. Nellie rubbed her eyes a moment. That couldn't have happened.

"What about the House Elves sir?" asked one of the masked men in the grating voice possible.

"I've restricted the number we are going to keep. I can't have too many knowing where I am right now."

Another cut in, "They would not tell." The Death Eaters were stunned. Life without House Elves? Impossible!

"You think they'd know better wouldn't you? If I recall correctly, Lucius, one of your former Elves was not very discreet at all, even with your impressive use of precautions." The man didn't respond.

"Now that the matter is settled," the noseless man replied coolly, "We can get back to business."

He waved Nellie away, "You may go now." Another one of them, probably the same one who took her out of the room, grabbed her arm.

She remembered hearing something similar to a pistol go off, and feeling dizzy and in pain. She hastily looked for bullet holes, but luckily found none.

They were in some sort of tiny kitchen. How did that happen?

The man pointed at a large tub, a bar of soap, and a huge pile of bloody robes. She must be going mad, even in her nightmares she was washing bloody clothes.

"Get to work." As he glided towards the door, she couldn't help but notice that his voice sounded like the great and honorable judge Turpin.

Snape smirked a little a he closed the door. Finally, after these agonizing months of putting up with Bellatrix and her sadistic craziness, he had a small way of getting back at her. He mentally reminded himself to bring more robes to wash.