Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange were walking hand in hand through Diagon Alley, and they were talking. When he asked, "What would you do if I died on one of our missions?", she quickly replied, "I would smack you back to life, then yell at you later for being such an idiot". He laughed, and squeezed her hand in his. It was funny how the past months had brought them together; from former classmates to best friends. They were the most important thing in each other's lives, aside from the Dark Lord and their cause. As each day passed and each task they were given was deftly completed, Rodolphus found himself imagining the two of them becoming a team in matrimony as well. No one could say it would be a poor match, and he liked her better than most, if not all, of the other Death Eater women he knew.
Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange's reception was very black and very high-society. Only the purest of purebloods were invited; blood-traitors expressly excluded. Even Voldemort himself would make an appearance, though not until it was nearly over, and not exactly to give the couple congratulations but rather another assignment. The beautiful bride in her ebony black gown was quite the sight and most eyes were glued on her. Her groom did not leave her side and his eyes were only for her. Well-wishers and gift-givers approached the newly-weds, and Bella was the one who did most of the talking, her husband only speaking when absolutely necessary. Always the man of few words. "'Bonded for life', Rodolphus." were the first words addressed directly to him. "Means you can only escape our crazy Bellatrix through death. Think you can handle that?" It was a joke at the expense of his wife that the man did not take kindly to, but she interrupted him before he could respond. "Oh, uncle, he can handle it. Besides…you know that if you die I will smack you back to life, don't you Rodolphus dear?" The two shared a smile, and a kiss. There would be no escaping for either of them.
"I will smack you back to life!" The elves all cowered away from their mistress's shouting; in fact, they avoided that entire wing of the Lestrange mansion. When Master Rodolphus returned from his business and reentered his home, he could hear his wife's screams, and he quickly made his way toward them. He found her in the doorway between their master bedroom and the master bathroom. The floor around her was darker than usual, wet, her face was streaked with blood and sweat and tears, and she was cradling a small bundle in her arms. He approached his sobbing wife, and when he reached her she looked up at him with a look of heartbreak. He gently pulled her to her feet and supported her, as she was weak with grief. Holding her close to him, he reached down and pulled away the black cloth around her bundle. That was the first and only time he would behold his son's face. The incompletely developed body was tiny and red and soft. Its head was loose on its neck, and there were purpleish marks growing on its skin. He covered it back up and put both his arms around her, pressing her as close to him as he could. The poor almost-mother had quite obviously been attempting to do as she had promised; she had shaken and slapped the stillborn infant in her despair. Her husband kissed her hair as she cried into his chest, their unborn child between them.
Rodolphus was both impressed and proud; Bellatrix had not stopped smiling since their sentence, and it was positively unnerving their guards. Even when they were handed over to the Azkaban dementors she smiled. She had endless hope in the Dark Lord. In fact, her husband was beginning to fear she was losing interest in him and becoming overly obsessed with Voldemort. Dedication was something he admired, but he also found himself jealous of the attention she gave the Dark Lord. They were given separate cells, deemed too dangerous to allow both in one cell. They were adjacent, at least, and could see each other in the dark of the prison. He watched her, but she never seemed to look his way. After a few days or weeks like this, he started to give up. She had forgotten him. But her voice broke through the bars between them one day. "Love, if I find out you've died in there, so help me I will break through there and smack you back to life. You're not abandoning me here that easily." Her words brought a smile to his face in this, the darkest, most hopeless place they had ever been. It would not be an easy fifteen years, for either of them, but her unfailing hope in Voldemort and his unwavering hope in her made it bearable.
The Second Wizarding War did not last long, though the Battle of Hogwarts seemed to last ages. Rodolphus fought hard, for the cause was still the same, and he still believed. His wife was not the same girl he had married, but he loved her all the same, and hoped that if they could not win this war, they would at least be able to escape a second imprisonment together. He and Bellatrix fought in different parts of the school. It was strange, seeing their old stomping grounds in disarray like this, but satisfactory all the same. Remembering Bella's old threat, that she would smack him back to life if he died on one of their missions, he kept himself sufficiently defensive. He was successful, and was able to evade curses and capture longer than most of his comrades. When the battle died down, when the duelling dispersed, Rodolphus' first thought was of his wife. She had to be okay. He murmured the incantation for a finding spell, and his wand began to lead him to hers. He had to stumble over rubble and prostrate bodies until he finally located her. She was not how he wanted to find her, and the sight of her limp, unliving body made him sink heavily to his knees. He had come out alive for her; only for her. This was not how it was supposed to end. Blinking hard, he gathered her up in his arms and held her. Her face still grinned that mad smile of hers, and if it were not for her glazed eyes, he would expect her to move at any moment, to tell him it was a joke and tease him for falling for it. But it wasn't, and she would never move again. He could not hold back the tears that fell from his eyes to her cheeks. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her cold ones. When he pulled away, he said in a broken whisper, like a broken promise, "I will smack you back to life."