Bellatrix in azkaban and eventually her getting out.
This fanfic is about Bellatrix Black-Lestrange from JKR's Harry Potter books; I do not own this wonderful, wonderful wicked woman, much to my dismay and am not making any money from this so for merlins sakes do not sue.
This starts out during what would be the timeline for 'Prisoner of Azkaban' and ends in the middle of 'Order of the Phoenix' and thus may contain spoilers/or not so much for those books. This was originally written for the LJ community 30_hath for the June 13th - madness is more interesting prompt.
Please read and review, I do read every review I get and critique is welcome, but please remember this is a one shot.
I would like to thank my friend serenityrae22 (on lj) for beta'ing this, even if I did have to explain to you why I phrased certain things as I did =P
Not her manic, joyful laugh that lit her eyes and made her victims quake. A quiet laugh, a private joke between her and her cell walls. Dementors would sense her joy; she knew it but didn't care. Bellatrix had never let them feel her joy before, there was no joy for her, her lord could not be gone, even if Rodolphus and Lucius had told her so.
Her laughter echoes off the walls, a faint impression of what it had been twelve years ago, her mind was vague now, wandering at its own will and whim. One thing that had never faded was her memory, not so much it had been lost to her.
Huddled alone in the corner of the dark cell, torn clothes and a hollowness about her, she grinned. Azkaban would not hold her; the Dementors would know soon, they would catch on. Rodolphus... yes he would know by now too. She pulled up her sleeve, faint impressions of knife scars from years before, oh how she loved blood, but that was not what she sought now.
Her fingers traced her left arm and she laughed again.
He hadn't forsaken her, Rodolphus was wrong and she had known it for all these years.
'Rodolphus you bastard, I tried to tell you!' she shrieked to the grey stone's deaf ears, it echoed back like an insane chant but none bar herself would ever hear it.
Raven hair fell limply about her face, bedraggled and blinking she awoke and rose out of her cot she had hated these last twelve years... no it was thirteen now, it must have been, she never could remember clearly in here though.
She watched the door of her cell, almost wishing it open, knowing that it would remain closed.
'Not today,' she murmured disheartened and threw the old pillow she had at the door, anger simmering under her dusky skin.
'I TOLD THE DARK LORD THE DEMENTORS WERE USELESS!' she cried shrilly at the door, for a moment she looked mad in her rage, but the gaunt hollowness yet again made mockery of her once terrible beauty and anger.
Her memory was hazed again and she shivered, it was winter again, Bellatrix was so cold, alone in her cell, nothing but her faith in the Dark Lord keeping her alive, aware as well as she could be. The dark mark on her arm now burned strong and true, her last hope.
'He will come for us, and then they will pay, they will all pay,' her voice rumbled in the dark chill of the place, her eyes half closed as she lay on the bare cot, far too tired and worn down to want to move, she had been in the same spot for days, it seemed.
At first, it had been just a whisper through the haze of dreams, quiet like a memory, a recognized but unnamed voice.
'Bellatrix!' it exclaimed from the darkness, she struggled to see through the dark and the fog in her mind, no one had spoken her name so long.
Just a dream, she though to herself closing her eyes and drifting again, barely sure she had heard anything at all.
There were footsteps, she ignored the constant and insistent calling of her name, unknown to her was that it was even real. Then she heard the door creak open and she opened her eyes slightly again and jumped, startled to see a mans figure walking towards her, she shrieked.
What had happened to her? She was Voldemort's most feared torturer, she was what people feared in the dark, his Bella would not do this, she Voldemort's dark little doll, and she was fearless.
Warm arms wrapped around her and she struggled, not recognizing the man for who he was, not recognizing Rodolphus though the torn clothes and unkempt beard and hair.
'Shhh, my Bella, hush.'
She remembered the voice, but who owned it was not coming to mind quickly.
'Wh... Who are you?' she questioned, all the curiosity of a child written on her face.
Hugging her close for a moment, silence bounced off the walls again and he smiled faintly.
'I'm here to get you out,' he whispered, kissing her dry chaffed lips and tasting her for the first time in over a decade.
'Rodolphus,' she murmured quietly, she recognized that taste, she was sure, even in such a state that she could never forget that taste.
'What do you mean Rodolphus, I know not of any prophecy,' Bella asked raising an eyebrow at her husband. What was with all the concern of late over the Seers and the like anyways; The Dark lord would never fail, he would never die. Terror had been instilled where it rightly belonged once more and Bellatrix and Rodolphus both hummed with the magic they had been deprived of for so long.
'Either way, there is a prophecy at the ministry concerning Potter and the Dark Lord or we need to get it,' he urged, watching his wife pace. Azkaban had been bad for her, but her beauty was returning, and her bloodlust was stronger then ever.
Her eyes twinkled deviously; sadistic thoughts making her aura hum with pleasure and need.
A fellow death eater had told Rodolphus some time ago that it was beyond him how he could live with such a woman, she never is placid; it was a wonder to the death eater Rodolphus could keep his hands off her. Bella, his Bella was exciting to be with, she was the very definition of energy, and there had been times he could not keep his hands off her.
'We'll get the prophecy, and perhaps be rid of Potter,' she said quietly though her words had venom laced towards the end.
He chucked, she still wanted her pound of flesh, and rightfully so.