Bellatrix Lestrange was lying on the cold floor, with her body numb and thoughts clouded. She felt no need to open her eyes. This was not the world she wanted to live in. It lacked something important, something crucial.
He was dead. Her precious Lord was gone, forever. Her reason to live, to breathe... It was all gone with him. There was nothing for her anymore, but more pain and an eternity in Azkaban, surrounded with four walls and nothingness. Those dark creatures loved feeding on her soul, sucking out her will to live, feeding on her happy memories, memories from her childhood, when all three Black sisters were together and not yet divided and on different sides. She would spend hours in her cell, pondering what has she done wrong, why had her sister left them... All those thoughts made her only more unstable, more deranged as she sat there, with shackles around her wrists and dressed in awful clothes that would suit only house elves. The way that prison affected her was undescribable. It already made her lose her sanity once and she never recovered. If she'd go back now, it would only be a matter of weeks until she would die, stripped from all the will to continue on living.
Why was this happening? How could've Potter, that boy of only 17 years, defeat the most powerful wizard that ever walked on earth, the one that every true wizard and witch should've followed? He was the most beautiful, most merciful creature she has ever seen. The way he talked, he moved, he dueled... She wasn't just another follower... She was his most faithful, most devoted follower.
Will she have the privilege to meet him in death? Will she ever see him again, smile at him and remind him that she's there and will always be ther to follow him...
His voice... His commanding voice... Oh how she'll miss it... The tasks he was giving her, his words of praise. Sometimes she would lie in her bed for hours, just thinking about him an how the world would be peaceful if everyone just listened to him. I times like these she would catch a glimpse of a perfect world...
She opened her eyes, but her stare was glassy, her eyes not seeing or refusing to. How much time has it gone by? She was lying here for half an hour now and suddenly she knew that the moment, in which her Lord had fallen, has died, although it felt like it had lasted for an eternity.
The cheering from thousands of throats made her blink a few times and look around, try to compose herself. Their happiness... Their happy voices... It has turned into one forever lasting tone. It hung in her ears like a reminder that she had lost everything. Everything she stood for, everything she believed in and fought for.
This made her realize something. What was the difference? They had one opinion, the tradition in which all the pureblood families were raised to believe in, and everyone else had another opinion, where blood didn't matter and everyone was equal. Was it hers, her master's or her husband's fault that she disagreed with that?
In that moment, as she layed there, weakened, her tortured mind started telling her what to do, in a way her Lord would want.
What was it all good for
If you give it up now?
If you lay down to rest?
If you stop the fighting?
What was it all good for?
Why were they so happy? Didn't they know that the world the Dark Lord has tried to built just started to shatter? Why were they laughing, yelling Potter's name, when HE was dead, gone?
Her forearm... It felt cold... dead... The Mark that was there will never burn again, never.
The thought hurt her more than any Cruciatus curse would.
There will be no more seasons but a never ending winter, no more happiness for her that came with spring. She'll forever mourn the loss of the only person that has accepted her, told her she was worth something, said that she is beautiful, talented...
As much as others will cry for their losses, she'll cry even more for him. Through the years that are about to come she knew that all her tears that she will cry could be gathered in a flood, so strong and powerful that all the blood traitors and mudbloods would drown in it.
It hurt. For the first time in her life her chest hurt, her heart beating almost painfully against her ribs. Every single bone in her body hurt, lamenting the loss of the greatest wizard alive.
The sky above her was showing stars... Her star was visible... Shining less than any other day... Shining less than before.
What was it all good for, all her torturings, killings, tasks and missions?
If you give it up now? No, she won't give up. She'll never give up.
If you lay down to rest? She needs to stand up, escape. Her spirit will never rest.
If you stop the fighting? The will for fighting was the only thing keeping her alive.
Keeping still, she didn't want anyone to notice that she's still alive. Molly's curse was just a strong stunner, but it was thrown with such force and hatred that it even caused pain and her body was still stiff.
They will not catch her here. Not like this. She was eternaly loyal to him, and he would be greatly dissappointed if she would now just give up and let herself be taken into prison again.
Everyone was celebrating. No one payed any attention to her. Crawling away, she got to another body she recognized.
Not able to handle both her master's and husband's death, she let out a small whimper, a tear sliding down her cheek. But no... This was not the time to cry... She felt awful for leaving him here... For leaving her Lord here... But there was still the cause. There was still a reason to breathe, to fight. And she'll do it proudly. This war was far from over. She was still Bellatrix Lestrange, born and raised in the noble house of Black.
Only few seconds later, she has apparated away. Alone again, she welcomed the darkness of the night and her own mind, knowing that wherever she'll go ad whatever she'll do, her Lord's voice will always echo in her ears, guiding her.
She welcomed the darkness that was now her only home.