Here's a new story idea this is extremly short I know but it's just an idea. I'm not sure if I'll continue this to be honest. This is a total 'M'. There will be violence and mature themes in this. But Here it is tell me what you think.
BELLATRIX POV:
If only I had believed her, if only I tried to understand why, if only I could have her back just one more time. If only i could prove to her that I've changed because of her, that I wanted to change because I met her. And yet, she thinks I scorn her, detest her, that the very thought of her drives me ill. If only I told her I loved her before she left my life without a word, without a trace.
It's all my fault, it's all my fault. If I actually listened to her teachings, her words of love and care I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be locked away in Azkaban, but more importantly caged in my mind. I wouldn't be stuck with all the memories that she has yet to gain. With all the times I could've told her I was in love with her. The times I hurt her... the times she hurt me.
But I can correct it. I can correct all the pain I've caused others, preventing the pain that could've been avoided. I can tell the people I care about that I love them, that I'd protect them 'til the very end. It may not be much that I can do, this may even cost me my very life to attempt this. But it would be worth it, just to attempt it.
I'll do it for myself, but it's more important for my love, for Hermione. Even if did mean I lost my life.
NO POV:
The cell was dark and moist. Being there put a permanent chill into your bones. The small light source that was able to creep past the chiseled walls, came from the poorly lit halls. Dark ghostly figures roamed the halls sucking the happiness and life from it's prisoners, sometimes rendering their prisoners motionless field with grief. Yet that hasn't stopped one, one who was field with great determination.
In a corner of a small cell was a frail woman knees tucked into her body arms loosely wrapped around them, her head resting lightly on her knees. A head of black curls looked up with emotionless eyes. She shakily held her arm out slightly in front of her. Her long unkempt nails pulled the sleeve of her prison wear up to rest on her shoulder. She was sickly thin, very malnuturised, her pale skin gleamed with sweat in the small light let in. Her hand shackily traveled down her forearm .She started to press very hard on the weak part of her skin that was on her wrist until she punctured it with one of her sharp nails. Blood formed from the cut as she continued to cut from her wrist all the way up her forearm until she reached the conjunction of her elbow.
She started chanting with heavy breaths not loudly but firmly as blue magic started to circle around her. Her blood started to shine lightly even so as some dripped down her arm and fell to the floor of her cell. Sirens started to sound and lights started to flash. But they were too late. She would be finished with her enchantment.
Heavy foots falls started to get louder and louder as they got closer to her cell. Her magic grew stronger the closer they got until finally the spell finished. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as see slumped to the floor all color now drained for her.
They worked on trying to revive her for many minutes until they finally admitted that they had lost her, Bellatrix Lestrange. And they knew whatever she had done had been a dark ancient magic, and saddly for them, it had worked exactly as she planned. Even if it meant her life...
I hope this was a decent start or idea. Tell me if you'd like to see more of it or to just rid of it.