Cold

Rodolphus stared into the dark cell that would be his for…oh, the rest of his life, if they had their way. But he didn't doubt that their Lord would come for them. He had faith. He had to have faith.

There was nothing else left.

Watching Bella and Bastan be hauled unceremoniously away from him had solidified the ice inside of him, but Rodolphus Lestrange didn't think there was anything colder than the aching loneliness of his new home.

Silent

At first, Bella had been quiet. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of breaking her.

And then the Dementors came.

She had thought she was stronger, thought she was better, but real tears rolled down her pale, smudged cheeks as the dark creatures stalked past her cell. Her cries echoed off the chilled stone walls, and she was sure, so sure that somewhere in that hateful place her Dolphus could hear her and thought of her. She'd scream louder at that thought, desperate for some hint he hadn't already rotted to nothing in their exile to hell.

And then eventually, she was silent. Eventually, she just didn't have it in her to cry out any more.

Alone

Rabastan stood in the doorway of the bedroom his brother shared with Bellatrix, watching the sleeping pair.

Always together, Rodolphus and Bellatrix. Even in sleep, Rodolphus arm wrapped possessively around his tiny wife, who in turn slept as close to her husband as she could without lying atop him. They had each other.

And perhaps he had them.

Bella's haunted screams in Azkaban still echoed through his mind, keeping him awake, sending him here every night.

Dolphus' silence had been almost as unbearable as Bella's screams.

But there they were. Whole. Safe.

He turned, going back to his room, and closed the door behind him.

Rodolphus' eyes opened in the dark.