DISCLAIMER: 'Snot my characters.
The halls smelled musty, repulsive. If she'd not seen that the damnable house elf was already dead, she'd kill him. The house was untouched for over a decade, given up for Azkaban. Bellatrix swelled with pride at her husband's and her own loyalty; upon their escape, their Lord had given her husband a special assignment. Bellatrix had only the opportunity to kiss his robes elatedly and return to her home. It wouldn't get much use in all likelihood. It was mentioned that the Dark Lord would stay in Cissy's home. That may force Bellatrix to stay at her sister's home. It would let her be closer to her Lord; her filthy, doxy-infested home just gave her an excuse.
Nonetheless, she had some business here. The Dark Lord was pleased to see her at all, though she looked haggard and worn. Maybe she'd look a bit more decent if she could just change from her repulsive prison garb. Kicking the door open before her, she noted a portrait of her father, the noble Cygnus Black. It was snoozing quietly.
"Hello father," she whispered, wild edged voice.
"Ah, my Bella," he said, eyes half-lidded from sleep. "You have served your Lord well."
"Thank you, father," she replied, continuing down the hall to her bedroom. The door hung on a single hinge, decrepit enough that it crumbled away from her hand as she jerked it open. From the corner of her eye, she spotted movement and whipped her wand, bent as her personality, in it's direction. "Avada Kedavra!"
The words were sweet, whispered as if to a lover, and directed at a straying niffler. When it was hit by the green jet of light, it screeched and went limp.
Bellatrix straightened herself, moving toward a closet. She would likely have to scourgify anything before wearing it. Knocking it open, she seemed to know herself back. As with the niffler, she would've destroyed it then and there if she hadn't recognized it. It was something she'd seen only a glimpse of at one time. It came to her in a dream, weakened and vulnerable. Other Death Eaters would've seen it as an opportunity to take advantage of his susceptibility, try to take his power for their own. Bella would not. She wished, within the dream and upon waking, to take it into her arms like a baby that she chose not to have so she could dedicate her full attentions to her Lord. Waiting for a moment like this, she chose to bear no more followers.
More than anything, Bellatrix needed to care for that baby-like Lord, sustaining his existance, but before her was the same thing, looking terrifying and foreboding. Widened eyes, Bella took in his presence. "M-my Lord?"
"Bella, you've failed me. I put my trust into you for your past service. You have been disloyal. You are worth no more than a filthy Mudblood," he hissed. "A detriment to our cause."
"No, my Lord, I've been in Azkaban," she whimpered. "For you. I've been in Azkaban for my loyalty to you, for trying to find you. Lucius, the others, they didn't try to find you!"
"But did you succeed? Only my most loyal, Wormtail, had done anything that helped our cause after I was defeated by Potter," Voldemort's head rolled as he stretched his neck, a vain attempt at sitting upright. "If you'd been truly loyal, you'd not have gotten caught, would you have, dear Bella?" his voice was scathing, wearing away at the one belief that kept Bella from madness in Azkaban, a relative form of the word, anyhow.
"It was Barty," she persisted. "He went and got us caught by the Aurors, my Lord, not me," she smiled weakly. "Please, my Lord…"
"No, Bella," he denied. "You shall receive no mercy; you have caused my destruction. You have destroyed our cause."
"Bella? Bella?"
"Where is she, Narcissa? We havn't got all day," a haughtily silken voice hissed.
"If I knew, Lucius, would I be—" Narcissa cut herself off. "Down this hall."
Her heels clicked against the floor, even though a tapestry-like carpet should have impeded the sound. She gripped her wand, lighting her way. "Morning, father," she greeted the painting.
"Morning, Narcisssa," he nodded. "Bellatrix can be found at the end of the hall. She caused a bit of a ruckus last night, all that screaming. Kept me up," he shook his head. "You're well, I assume, Lucius?"
Lucius nodded his head a single time curtly and followed Narcissa.
"Bella?" her voice echoes as though she were singing, crouching down close to her sister. "Oh, Bell—"
"Cissy, Cissy—" she was curled on the floor, gripping her sister's arm. "The Dark Lord, he's displeased with me. He is angry that I was in Azkab—" her voice was frantic and faltering. "He said I forced our cause to start over, I made him— he's dying, Cissy, and it's my fault!"
"Hush, Bella, hush," Cissy stroked her sister's wildly tangled mane gently. "The Dark Lord is alive and well. He isn't displeased with you."
"Yes, yes, Cissy," Bella insisted. "He was here—"
"I am here," rasped a voice in the closet.
"Oh, Bellatrix," Lucius growled, exasperated. "It's a boggart."
"No—"
"Avada kedavra," he answered calmly, his wand pointed at the frail bundle of flesh and twig-thin bones. Bellatrix's eyes went wild, trying to grip her wand, though it was nowhere in sight. She dove for Lucius's legs but was restrained by Narcissa.
"YOU FILTH! YOU BLASTED TRAITOR—" she screamed into her sister's shoulder. Narcissa clutched her sister. "Cruc—cruc… WHERE IS MY WAND?"
"Bella, calm yourself. It was a boggart. Voldemort is well. He truly is," she soothed Bellatrix. "Come now, Bella," she continued as if addressing a small child. "Get dressed and we can show you."
Bellatrix wore widened eyes, disbelieving but reaching out to take the dress from her sister's hands.