Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Harry Potter. I just like to play with JK's toys.
Silence. It echoes all around you.
You stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks for what seems like the millionth time. But not for long, you hope.
You've heard whispers. Everyone is talking about it when they think no one can hear, but you're listening. You're always listening.
They say he's finally returned, bigger and better than ever. You feel it in the pit of your stomach. You just know it has to be true. You always said he wasn't really gone; it's the reason you're in your current situation. But not for long.
You press your eyes tightly closed and smile to yourself, rotten teeth exposed for the first time in months. You've been waiting for this day for fifteen long years. The two men in the rooms either side of you have been waiting just as long, but they don't feel it like you do. They don't understand the connection you have to him. No one understands it. He's like poison seeping through your skin, pulsing through your veins until it reaches your icy heart. You alone will be rewarded above all others. You alone searched for him, killed for him, tortured for him. He will reward you like no other and you will relish every second.
The constant drip drip drip outside your window has irritated you for far too long. It mocks you; it is free whilst you are stuck in this tiny, damp room. It's always dark here. The shadows drape themselves over you, slowly suffocating. Visitors never come this far. The inhabitants of this level aren't deemed worthy of the journey. Alone, in the dark with only your thoughts for company. It's enough to drive anyone mad.
You never speak to the others. You often hear them call out; sometimes it's coherent, but most often it's indecipherable. The only sound you ever make is in those waking seconds as a scream rips from your chest. You never remember the dreams, but they're enough to make sleep undesirable. Screaming shows weakness. You cannot have a weakness.
The walls are covered in marks, counting out the days the previous occupant had spent there. Six hundred and twenty seven days. You've been here so much longer than that already. You are strong. You know in your twisted heart that all that you have done in your life was right. For the greater good, as your father would say. You're glad he died before seeing you like this. He approved of your work, but you had been his shining star, the eldest of his daughters and by far the most ambitious. And now you sat, rotting in a cell. Almost skeletal in appearance; dull hair and dead eyes. You look like a shadow of your former self, but you believe wholeheartedly that it was completely worth it. You don't need to be beautiful to rule at his side. You need to be ruthless. Powerful. Formidable. Those are the things he would appreciate.
From the sounds of the whispers, it appears he too has lost his once aristocratic looks. You smile, that's just one more thing you have in common.
You know he doesn't love you like you want him to. But he trusts you above all the others. Above his precious spy and that snivelling lout your sister married. You understand him. You love him.
You know he'll come for you soon. He wouldn't leave you here to rot. He needs you to help him, help him rid the world of those vile, filthy mudbloods. Oh, the world would be so much better under his rule. Wizards could take their rightful place above the muggles; magic wouldn't be hidden any longer. You'd be free.
Magic. You miss the magic like you're missing a part of yourself. You can feel it below the surface of your skin – waiting to be channelled through your beautiful, walnut wand.
Unyielding. That's what Ollivander had called it. You remember how your father had smirked and insisted it was a perfect embodiment of his little Bella. And so you are unyielding, even now, trapped in you dank little cell, you are firm in your beliefs. And you are yet to yield in battle. You're a fighter and you will fight until your dying breath.
The hair on your arms stands on end and you feel a crackle of magic in the air. You grin and clutch your hands to your heart. This is it. He's come for you.
The others must have felt it too, because you can't hear their screams anymore. For the first time since you've been here, it's silent in Azkaban.
Something catches your eye from the far corner and you turn to stare at it in wonder. Creeping closer, you allow yourself a moment to truly appreciate it. It's sunlight. You've almost forgotten what it's like. Suddenly, you have to shield your eyes as the light explodes before you. When you're able to, you squint to try and see what happened.
The entire wall of your cell is missing. By the startled cries on either side of you, their walls are missing too. You stand, using the wall for support, and edge forward. And then he's there.
For a moment, rational thought leaves you and all you can think of is how jealous you are that he taught Snape to fly, but not you, as he glides into the room. But then he's reaching out to touch you and your sense comes screaming back. You choke back a sob and clutch his robes as he strokes a finger down your face. You're completely alone, so he allows you to cling to him and he carefully brushes your matted hair from your eyes. You whisper in his ear, thanking him, loving him, worshipping him. He surprises you by turning your head to his and kissing you deeply. Lust burns through you, leaving you breathless and desperate for more of his touch. He bites your lip, drawing blood and licking at it with the tip of his tongue. A moan forces it's way out of your throat and you clamp your thighs together, trying to quench the fire that his ministrations have caused. He smirks and takes a step back, looking you up and down critically. His eyes are full of unspoken promises that you will continue this later.
'They tried to destroy you, Bella. Just as they thought they had destroyed me,' he says quietly. He draws you close once more and grips your arm. 'We will destroy them all.'
You throw back your head and cackle with glee as the squeeze of apparition attempts to rob your panting body of the little oxygen it has left. You don't know where you are when you reappear, but you're met with silence once again.
He smirks, reading your mind.
'But not for long, Bella. Not for long.'
A/N: I'm treating this as a sort of missing moment of sorts. I absolutely adore Bellatrix and I think I'll attempt writing her some more in the future.
Also, I consider this a romance for the pure fact that Bellatrix is infatuated with Voldemort, and so to her I think it would be a romance.
I really liked writing this, so reviews would be lovely so I know if you did too!
Maddison x