Disclaimer: What's this? I still don't own Harry Potter? Darn it. All rights go to respective owners.
(Word count, not including title and author's notes: 590)
I Would Follow You into Hell
She had always always loved him — and that was the problem.
Rodolphus gazed in agony at his wife, Bellatrix, in the cell across the hall. The dismal walls of Azkaban, screams of insane inmates ricocheting down Dementor-filled corridors, no longer bothered him. Not now that he was left with his worst memories, his biggest regrets, and his most persistent insecurities.
No, Azkaban was comforting compared to what he had been left with in his own mind.
He found her at the annual Winter Ball the Malfoys hosted, talking to her sister, laughing and sipping champagne. He confidently walked up to her and gently set aside the drink. He swept her into a passionate kiss, before kneeling down and looking up into her eyes. He remembered the wildness he saw there, and how much he loved it.
How much he loved her.
(Now, though, he saw disgust and pity in her eyes.)
"Bellatrix, will you marry me?"
Screams rang loudly in his ears; he realized they were his. He curled up in the corner of his cell and tried to block out the waves of memories. But as another Dementor drifted by, he was once again lost in the confines of his mind.
He strode down the road in Hogsmeade with Bellatrix on his arm. He was so excited and wanted to impress her. But as a seventh-year Slytherin, Rodolphus knew that Bellatrix would not like blatantly shown enthusiasm.
He tried to be calm and self-assured.
(Why had she agreed to go with him?)
The date went well and ended even better.
"Bella? Bella, are you okay?!" Rodolphus shouted.
Bellatrix was huddled on the small bed in her cell, rocking back and forth.
"Bella! Answer me!"
"Hush, Rodolphus!" Bellatrix giggled and spoke in a sing-song tone. "It's go-ing to be o-kay! He's going to come for me. He's going to set me free!"
Rodolphus could only stare at her as she continued to laugh, a lost look in her eyes.
Rodolphus anxiously tapped his quill against the sheet of parchment. He kept shooting discreet glances at Bellatrix, who was sitting a few rows in front of him. He remembered the letter his brother had sent, and knew he should follow his advice.
Before a marriage could be arranged for him, he should pursue the girl he wanted.
(Could she love him?)
He knew he would have his work cut out for him. But first, he had to pass his OWLs. She wouldn't want him if he failed Potions.
Rodolphus wondered if anyone ever really slept here, or if they were all in a constant state of twilight — never sleeping, never getting any rest, but always awake enough to be tortured by their own minds. He knew that people out there thought that Death Eaters had no bad memories that would haunt them.
As he remembered his Sorting, seeing Bellatrix for the first time (even then, he thought she was stunning), and the first time he had cast a Dark curse, he knew they were wrong.
He had plenty that haunted him.
Bellatrix and Rodolphus knelt before the Dark Lord. They had just received their Dark Marks.
"What would you have me— us do, my Lord?" Bellatrix looked up at Lord Voldemort, her eyes shining with adoration. Rodolphus looked at her and felt his heart break.
She never looked at him with the same longing she now showed the Dark Lord.
(No, she had never loved him. Not like she loved him, or like Rodolphus loved her. And that was the problem.)