She is dreaming of serpents intertwining, of a massive beast with so many fangs that they barely fit within its maw. She is witnessing a birth, the keening mewls of a thousand hungry mouths, and the lifeless gleam of pearlescent eyes. She’s not sure if this is real or imagined, a thing she picked up or unconsciously dragged along with her. She dreams of the creature and its endless infinities, yet she also dreams of the finite core of it; she sees a being with a concrete beginning but limitless endings. She dreams of soft fingers caressing her overheated core, two of them buried up to their knuckles and a mouth latched onto her breast. She dreams of Bellatrix attacking her with lips and tongue and wiles beyond measure, and she dreams of Narcissa floating beside them in the darkness, her body held high and statuesque as something else forces her movements.