A/N: Hello all. So this is the second piece of fanfiction I have written. For any of those that have read my previous story, then welcome to this one. To anyone new, hello. The first few chapters of this story were written months ago and I plan on uploading one chapter every Saturday. I really enjoy this pairing so that I would try my hand at it. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I thank you in advance for taking the time to read it. It is a little on the short side for me, but the chapters will get longer. Please review if you can, because I would love to know how it is being received. Any mistakes are my own, because I do not have a beta. Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
When people thought of the name Bellatrix Lestrange they thought pureblood, elitist, murderer, torturer, Azkaban, evil. Arrested shortly after the end of the First Wizarding War, she spent had spent the last 14 years of her life as a lifelong inmate of Azkaban. She had been imprisoned for the torture and incapacitation of two Aurors. Not to mention the use of an Unforgivable Curse, which in itself warranted life imprisonment. People didn't bother to wonder why she did what she did, they all believed her to be deranged, psychotic, or any number of other terms used to describe a psychopath. The belief of nearly everyone was that her pureblood fanatics and blind devotion to her precious Dark Lord meant she was inherently evil, incapable of any change, in short pure evil. All believed this, except two.
Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks, the two younger sisters of Azkaban inmate 93, knew the real Bellatrix Lestrange, the person behind the supposed madness and evil. To know the real Bellatrix Lestrange you have to look beyond what is presented. As people say 'looks can be deceiving'.
The upbringing of the Black sisters was cruel and abusive. Cygnus Black spent the entirety of his daughters' lives resenting them for not being sons. The Black name would die with him and his failure to produce a male heir. AS the oldest Black, Bellatrix felt the full weight of upholding the Black name. When she was still at school, her father arranged for her to be married to the oldest son of the Lestrange family. She felt nothing for Rodolphus, yet agreed to marry him in the hope that her sisters would be spared from an arranged marriage. As soon as Bellatrix finished her schooling, the engagement between her and Rodolphus was announced.
A lavish engagement party was thrown with all the pureblood elite in attendance, congratulation the 'happy' couple. Bellatrix played her part well, remaining polite and dignified throughout the whole sorry affair. It was as she glanced around the room thinking cynical thoughts about everyone in attendance that she noticed that her beloved husband to be was noticeably absent. She began looking in some of the rooms, livid at him not keeping up this charade. If she had to play along to everyone then so did he. She heard voices coming from the drawing room, not bothering to knock she walked in.
Rodolphus was talking animatedly with the only of the Malfoys, Lucas or Lucius, something stupid like that. What caught Bellatrix's attention more was the curious tattoo both were displaying on their left forearm. Malfoy just sneered at Bellatrix, but Rodolphus instead welcomed her in, explaining all about some man who wanted to purge the world of all muggles and Mudbloods. She listened attentively, like the good pureblood Black she was. She found herself drawn into this world of the Dark Arts. She was introduced to this man, Lord Voldemort, and found him to be charismatic and passionate, talking about not wanting to live in secret anymore, to be powerful. Bellatrix was inspired.
For years she had lived under her father's thumb being beaten and abused for being a girl. Now was her chance to step out from under her Father's control, to make a name for herself. This Lord Voldemort saw into her soul, saw the darkness within, her heart's desires and offered to grant them all.
Bellatrix thrived in her new role. Lord Voldemort saw her potential and began to train her himself. He made her feel special, gave her power, nurtured her thirst to lose control and give into the darkness. She quickly rose through the ranks, eclipsing even Rodolphus and Malfoy, until she became Voldemort's right hand, his second in command. She answered to no man, except her Lord.
The death and destruction she left in her wake didn't matter to her. Her loyalty to him garnered rewards. When she became the right-hand to the Dark Lord, he disposed of her father, her tormentor. He even gave her the honour of using the tools she had learnt from him to pay her father back in kind. Narcissa had been married off to Malfoy, he had sneered at Bellatrix throughout his entire wedding, making lewd comments about what he was going to do to her little sister. Due to her newfound position as the Dark Lord's best lieutenant, Bellatrix was able to protect Narcissa from Lucius' cruel beatings.
Everything she had done had been to protect her sisters. Even Andromeda, who had been rejected by her father when she wanted to marry that Mudblood, Bellatrix had helped her escape their father and continued to protect her right up until his last pitiful breath. She yearned to reunite with her younger sister, but knew doing so would threaten her new position and thus the trust the Dark Lord had shown in her.
In the beginning Bellatrix found herself sobbing at some of the crimes she had committed, but she found that opening herself up to the darkness chased away those feelings of remorse and guilt. Over and over she told herself that she was doing this all for her sisters, someone had to protect them, as the oldest it was her responsibility.
Deep down she knew things would never last.
One evening, whilst playing with her new nephew, Narcissa came in white as a sheet, saying the words Bellatrix had hoped against hope would never be uttered.
"The Dark Lord had fallen. He is dead."
The fear for her family that had been absent for so long came back full force. Desperation took hold, the madness quickly followed.
Bellatrix spent the next several days in emotional turmoil. One side of her, the corrupted, darkened side, yearned to have her Lord back, to deal out pain and suffering to have him return. The other side, the side of love and nurture that had long lain dormant, fought for Bellatrix to move on and forget, to come up with some excuse for her actions and to live free. She could give Lucius, Rodolphus and a handful of others in exchange for her freedom. Narcissa would be free to live with her son, away from Lucius' abuse. She would be free from her own loveless marriage. The latter side won out.
That is until she returned to Lestrange Manor. She came upon Rodolphus, his crazed brother Rabastan and the weedy Barty Crouch Jnr., torturing two Aurors, who she recognised but could not name. She gathered from the shouting and screaming the idiots thought this couple knew where the Dark Lord was, as if he was still alive somehow. The fools had pushed them too far though. They never were any good at administering the Cruciatus Curse, they lacked the control. They hadn't been trained by the Dark Lord like she had.
She was about to leave them to it, gather her things and run to Narcissa, when the sounds of wizards apparating into the room distracted her. They were surrounded. Before she could even react Bellatrix was taken out by a stunner to the chest. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was Rodolphus falling heavily to the ground. With a final smirk, she succumbed to the fog of unconsciousness.
When she next woke up she was in a holding cell deep within the Ministry. With a rush all the events came rushing back. All thoughts of freedom had vanished. There was no hope for her now Rodolphus had taken that from her, just like everything else.
The trial was brief it turned out that the two Aurors, who were now spending the rest of their days in St. Mungo's, were popular members of the Wizarding Community. There was outrage everywhere towards those responsible for this horrific act.
Bellatrix never once pleaded her innocence. For one, it was beneath a Black to plead or beg. Secondly, she felt that she deserved what she got. Ever since the Dark Lord had fallen the remorse and guilt she had ignored for years came back in a flood. She deserved whatever Azkaban threw at her. As it turned out the court gave her what she wanted: life imprisonment in that wretched prison. She showed no emotion as the sentence was handed down. She played her part well, until the end, arrogantly proclaiming that the Dark Lord would return. As she was led away by the Dementors she caught a glimpse of Narcissa in the crowd. Unshed tears could be seen glistening in her eyes. That day Narcissa adopted her façade, never showing any cracks, just an ice-cold exterior, void of emotion. She had lost everything.
Fourteen long years had passed. Bellatrix had felt her sanity slip away bit by bit, but most of her thoughts and memories were not happy ones. She still retained some of her sanity, refusing to give in to the Dementors. She was a Black and Blacks never surrendered. She had spent fourteen years on that god forsaken island, in the middle of the North Sea, not once screaming out like all the others, those weak, pathetic individuals. She had given most of her life to that dark Lord, all to protect her family, not for any other reason. Where was he now? With shame burning in her she realised it had all been for nothing.
A loud crack of lightening and an explosion broke her from her musings about the past. She raised her arms, shielding her face as rock and rubble flew at her. She felt a strong gust of wind, not the lick of breeze she had become accustomed to. Lowering her arms and opening her eyes she saw part of the prison had literally been blown open. Dementors could be seen swirling through the darkness and the torrential rain, yet they made no move towards her. She shakily stood up and gingerly walked forwards. She could hear voices crying out around her and recognised faces of Death Eaters she had served with.
Her Lord had come.
For the first time in over a decade Bellatrix laughed. Revenge, she thought, is a dish best served cold and it's time for mine.