Dear Bellatrix,

Only a moment ago, I was informed you were killed in action. Here I am now, sitting in my prison cell alone and supposedly reflecting on my sins. I asked them where you were - I thought that perhaps you escaped and were on the run. 'No,' the Auror had told me, surprisingly sympathetically, you were dead.

What a shock this is. I had never expected you to be the first to go. I can only imagine that had someone predicted this turn of events you would have thrown your head back and laughed.

So here I am...in my prison cell, with a scrap of parchment and a quill...here I write you a letter that you will never read.

Bellatrix, my Bellatrix. We have been through a lot together, and yet as I sit here I cannot help but think of all the things that I wished I'd told you. Perhaps I am sentimental? Yes that is what you would say – but you are not here to say that...are you, Bellatrix. I can say, whatever I like and you can't say a word.

No Bellatrix, I am not dancing merrily on your grave, I am not criticising you, I am not releasing my pent up anger at you. Our marriage may have been trying but I know that I knew you better than anyone else on Earth. I never told you how I felt, you had no time for that – you didn't need to tell me, I already knew, but you reminded me all the same.

I remember you at Hogwarts, Bellatrix. Did you remember me? Of course you did, but it was inconsequential. You were the year below me, a small girl, pale with long tresses of black hair – rather more than your frame could carry. Then two years later your sister Andromeda joined the school (yes I know you can't stand to mention her, neither can I, but what good does the denial of history do now?). Following Andromeda was your youngest sister, Narcissa. Unlike her sisters, she grew up to be everything that was expected of her...or so we thought...

I never paid much attention to you at school. You grew up to be a very attractive young girl, as did your sisters, but that is typical of the Black family; you are all known for your good looks. I admired you, as all the boys did, but you never had boyfriends; the Black sisters were untouchable – you especially. I sometimes imagine, in hindsight, that I paid you more attention than I did – but no – you were a good looking girl, talented (but nothing to write home about), and kept yourself to yourself and your sisters.

I remember when it all changed though. It was when I was in my seventh year, you were in the sixth. Rabastan and I, and a few other friends (I can't recall who), were discussing the dark arts and the dark wizard that my Father followed, he was featured in the newspapers so regularly now. You had been sitting on the other side of the common room, you must have been listening, for you stood up and joined us without invitation. Immediately you began to add your own opinions and articulate your point of view so beautifully – you cared not that we were practically strangers – you spoke to us almost as friends. You always loved talking politics.

"Well said, Bellatrix." I told you, intending it to be a compliment. You, however, looked at me as if only just noticing I was there. You did not smile, neither did you scowl. Your eyes seemed to look through me.

After that, I confess I was fascinated by you. I watched the way you spoke to people; to your sisters, your friends...your enemies. I watched you read and do your homework, I watched you walk through Hogsmeade with your sisters. Narcissa, and even Andromeda always seemed to be looking down their noses at whatever was around them, you however, could have been the most arrogant of all – but you looked at everything the way you looked at me that day. You looked through it. Nothing was important enough to make an impact on you. I decided then that one day you would look at me with a different expression; I would not go through life without making an impact.

But I left Hogwarts, never having completed my mission. I remember meeting the Dark Lord for the first time, taking the Dark Mark and my thoughts returned to you once again. I realised; here I was, doing something that matters. In only a year, the concern of how a school girl looked at me evaporated like mist over a lake, I was facing something so much more important – so far removed.

But within only a few short months, I received a letter from your Father, inviting me to your house. My Father told me there was talk of my marrying one of the Black sisters, Now, Narcissa was far too young; still at school and...I think she was dating Lucius Malfoy by then? I can't remember, sorry. Andromeda was also still at school, so that only left you who had just finished your year. Needless to say, despite my lack of concern about how you looked at me, I was eager to visit you. I cannot say I was desperate to marry you but I was curious. I could not help it, I found you fascinating.

You looked older, out of your school uniform and Hogwarts setting. You were dressed in black robes with a lot of lace - I think; your face looked more mature – perhaps it was the make-up, and your hairstyle was fashionable. I assume your mother picked out your clothes for I don't think I have ever seen you so dressed up since then (except perhaps our wedding).

I was surprised however, to discover it was you who had asked your father to contact me. I was not even sure you knew my name. I know why you wanted me though, you had heard I had become a Death Eater, and you wanted to meet him. It was the first time I saw your eyes light up, when you slipped the subject into the conversation. Who was I to deny you the opportunity?

You were the Dark Lord's favourite. You battled with Lucius Malfoy for the title a few years later, but you were always the winner I'm sure. It was the Dark Lord who encouraged our marriage; a Death Eater couple, to have pureblood children, raised also to serve his noble cause. I remember what you told him;

"Of course I intend to marry him," You said. It was the first I'd heard of it officially. The Dark Lord knew I was surprised. He laughed.

I enjoyed your company Bellatrix, I found you funny, beautiful and interesting and I admit that when I married you I was in love. However, I was never in denial – I knew you never loved me. I made myself forget that when I saw you walk down the aisle to me. I tried to mirror your nonchalant expression, but inside my heart was leaping.

I thought you would be cold when we made love for the first time. As eager as I was to have you, I was dreading seeing your disinterested expression. You surprised me, you were incredibly passionate. I saw your expression change in pleasure and passion and excitement. I had not expected it, but rather than thrilling me...it frightened me. Living as husband and wife; I saw a different side to you. You, who had always seemed so calm, were consumed by bouts of hysteria, paranoia and rage. It was if years of playing the perfect young lady were had imprisoned this violent person. You seemed to hate me at times, though I did everything I could to make you happy.

The only time you were calm was with the Dark Lord. His presence bent you into submission; not out of fear but something...something very different. His presence may have been calming, but after leaving it, your rages became unbearable. What had I done to anger you? What was it you hated so much that you attacked me? I loved you, yet I would wake to find you standing over me in your night dress pointing your wand at me, threatening to kill me. I remember one night, calming you, rocking you back and forth, and pressing my lips to your skin.

Then you looked at me...no... through me...as if I didn't exist. I wished for your rages again then.

I loved working with you, it was the only time you would talk to me – thus I encouraged you in your work, not that you needed much. Also, when you fought mudbloods and muggles and blood traitors, you took your anger out on them instead of me. Killing never satisfied you, the cruciatus curse alone was also not enough. You were like a fox, playing in a chicken pen.

I never forget the night with the Longbottoms. We were sent to kill them; you, Rabastan and I. We all agreed on teaching them a lesson too.

I did not imagine that we would go so far...no...that you would go so far. We tortured them for information and for fun, we watched the squeal and squirm and cry. But then Rabastan and I grew tired of their screams, we were ready to end it. You flew in front of our wands and continued pushing them further and further until they could no longer recognise each other nor themselves. The Aurors arrived and we had to escape and we never had the chance to kill them.

I don't care about the Longbottoms, what I cared about was whether or not I would be the next victim, would I end up like the Longbottoms. Your face in any of your rages...it was always the same whether directed at a mudblood or me.

Then the Dark Lord fell. I remember your hysteria like it was yesterday. I could not control you, and I even feared you would pull the whole house down upon us. I almost pity the wizards who arrested you – they thought you were resisting arrest – I almost wanted to tell them you were just upset.

When we were tried, You, Rabastan and I, there was no question about how we would plead. Denial of devotion to the Dark Lord was a travesty amongst his followers. We would stand by him, you, I believe, knew he would return, if not in your mind then in your heart. Was it blind faith, Bella? Or did you really know something we others did not?

We were arrested and sent to Azkaban, and there I never saw you for another fourteen...fifteen years was it? I lost count. As the dementors flocked back and forth over my cell I had only the worst memories of you; the uncontrollable rage and the feeling that I meant nothing to you. I had always accepted that...but in Azkaban, the truth pain it caused me rose within me.

When we were freed, I looked for you, I saw you. You were skeletal, and older and shabbier but you were still Bellatrix, my Bellatrix and you were beautiful. I reached out my arms to greet you, but you never looked around. You glanced, during our escape, to see who else was free – I saw your eyes meet mine, my heart leapt. Then you looked away. You were not unhappy, you were just counting how many soldiers the Dark Lord had retrieved.

I tried to greet you when things had settled, but you brushed me aside to return to your rightful place at the Dark Lord's right hand side. I was not free very long before I was rearrested, along with Rabastan – Lucius as well. I was correct in assuming that the Dark Lord had saved you from the Aurors. I have never felt such jealousy as I did that year in Azkaban. Knowing that you were by his side, happy with him and not even sparing a thought for me. I later heard that Narcissa visited Lucius as often as she could manage, during his imprisonment. Where was my wife? Where were you?

I planned the moment when I would be free and how I could confront you on this matter. I planned it so many times, Bellatrix. But every idea I came up with I knew would fail, one look would shoot me down in flames. I was unworthy of you.

The Dark Lord graciously freed me again, and set up headquarters at the Malfoy Manor. You stayed by his side. I could do nothing but watch you from afar as you gave your mind, body and soul to the Dark Lord. We were husband and wife only by name now – the time we spent apart took away the only connection we once had. We no longer shared a bed, no longer shared a house. You no longer recognised me as your husband.

I sometimes looked at Narcissa, doing everything she could to protect her husband and son and imagined you. With your arms around our child, a child we would never have. If I had shamed the Dark Lord as much as Lucius had, I would not even have suffered your rage – only your contempt.

My dearest Bellatrix, you are now dead. I think you are happy. You would not have wanted to see the Dark Lord fall. I wonder if he knew you had fallen. I hope he did. I hope he felt a great loss – it is the least you deserved for your devotion.

My darling wife, never would I have dared call you that when you were alive. Now, I can say whatever I like – I will never love another as I have loved you, nor will I ever have the chance. Bellatrix Black you will remain in my heart as the girl in school who sat beside me and spoke so confidently about the things you loved most - for the rest of my life. I will always see you as such, I have no wish to remember the fits of rage nor the pain you caused me – nor the fact that your heart belonged to another.

The pretty young girl is what will give me comfort for the rest of my miserable days.

Farewell, my dearest, sweetest wife.

Fare thee well, my love.

Rodolphus Lestrange

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