Hey guys. This is kind of a drabble that sort of came to me in a head rush and I couldn't resist writing it down. It probably doesn't help I'm slightly obsessed with this dynamic pairing :)

There's no specific pairing here; although Sirius/Bellatrix is mentioned ever so slightly, *Blink and you'll miss it*, but you might want to skip this fic if that'll offend or upset you.

Disclaimer: I'm not and I own nothing except my slightly messed-up imagination :)

Hope you enjoy it!

'Every story has en end, but every ending is just a new beginning' – Anon.

'If you hate a person, you hate something in them that is part of yourself. What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us' – Hermann Hesse.

She kills him because at the end, he is a mere shadow of himself; a hollow shell that lacks feeling and emotion. Like a wilted plant that's been kept in the dark, Azkaban has near ruined him, and being cooped up inside Grimmauld Place has only intensified its effects.

She laughs bitterly when she thinks of that; how Dumbledore had been so desperate to protect him that he'd locked him up with his own worst memories. Trapped him in the one place he'd always been desperate to escape; the one place that held dear, everything he resented. The cruelty of escaping that house as a teenager, only to be forced back there as an adult, would have been the stuff of his nightmares.

Bellatrix prefers him in her memories, as dark and twisted as they are, because they're filled with the times when he had passion. Back when he'd taunt her and they'd fight; the air around them fraught with crackling energy.

Despite her utter revulsion and hatred of him at the moment, she cannot deny that, at one point they'd been close. They'd once been allies in a house full of dubious morals and suspicious values; back before he'd abandoned them and she'd grown up.

She remembers long summer afternoons outdoors, and cold winter nights in the library; often hiding from Narcissa and Regulus, because they were too young and they wouldn't have understood. They'd spent hours taking adventurous treks around the family estate; they'd climbed trees that her mother had forbidden and had flying races that more often than not ended with her ungracefully falling in the mud. They'd suffered punishment and groundings for their actions willingly because subconsciously they knew that their fun would be limited.

She can even remember when he'd been sorted into Gryffindor, and she made a pact with herself to make every day a nightmare for him. She reminisces of long detentions for hexing his broomstick and of the scorch marks on the fourth floor corridor after a particularly nasty fight, the marks which had taken old Filch weeks to clean off.

And when she gets bored of the mundane memories, she moves onto the more significant ones; the ones society would find unacceptable.

The memories of the Sirius who intrigued her; who fascinated her because of his open defiance of all that she held dear. Sirius, who she had been fighting one day when their cursing had become something more, something passionate and forbidden. A dizzyingly exciting affair; a dirty little secret that they'd take to their graves.

It had been an encounter which had lasted barely an hour, but which left a lifetime of memories and guilt. It had further complicated an already complex and difficult relationship; it had blurred the lines between their hate and their passion and fully exposed what Bellatrix had already known about her cousin. She'd always known that there was an underlying darkness about him, a twisted evil passed down through generations; that try as he might, he could never quite rid himself of.

Her most prominent memory is of their last conversation; shared many years before that brief encounter, when they had neither the energy to fight nor the desire to agree.

She'd found him in the library, removing his favourite books from the shelves in silence. Immediately she'd suspected his intentions; he'd been home only days but she knew he'd be long gone by the end of the week.

"Why are you leaving?" her voice had been cool and hostile as she perched against a table.

He'd closed his eyes and seemed to focus intently on his answer "I have to get away; this place is slowly driving me insane"

"So you're abandoning everything that's in your blood? How could you be such a disgrace to the family name?"

"I don't care about disgracing the name of a family I couldn't care less about" he'd muttered bitterly, not intending for her to hear.

"Including me?"

Her question had ended more as a statement and hung in the air for a few tense moments, drawing out the discomfort of the situation.

After a pause, and almost as if he was forcing himself to say it, Sirius had finally replied, "If you're still going to join those lunatic supporters, then yes; including you. I can't go along with something I don't agree with. I hate everything that this family stands for. I hate everything you believe in" he said passionately, before his voice dropped to a more sullen tone, "Mostly, I hate that you've chosen to be one of them; that our differences are going to ruin this, whatever this is, between us"

She'd smiled wryly at him, "You don't hate me because we're different, Sirius. You hate me because we're not"

"You resist everything that's in your nature, everything that's been passed down through generations of purebloods. That's the only differences we have Sirius, I've embraced our darkness. You've shunned it"

Sirius had made to speak but she interrupted him once again, her voice gentle and soft, as if she were talking to a young child, "And it really gets to you, that deep down, you're just like me. We're family"

"We are nothing alike Bellatrix" he'd hissed, leaving an echo of slamming doors and angry mutterings as they'd parted.

That was her last memory before she deigned to hate him; before she found herself trapped in a world where he was the enemy. The fact that he'd once tried to save her from a lifetime of duty and servitude was long gone; he'd essentially given up on her, just like she had done on him.

So she does it because she can't let him live like this. It kills her inside to see him so beaten and changed, to notice the sparkle missing from his overly-familiar dark eyes. Glancing at him from across the room she notes his fallen appearance; although his ragged clothes and recent hard years have done little to truly affect the strikingly similar facial features.

And she feels guilty; for taking his life to save her own despair. Yet she knows, deep down, he wouldn't have wanted to live like that. He was always about the action, revelling in the thrills and adventures of life; and she reckons he'd thank her. For death is but another big adventure.

Feel free to review/flame/concrit/love/hate-on! x