AN: Challenge!fic from my friend, Rachel. Well, kinda. She said, write about Bellatrix after I hounded her for an idea. I said, okay. And then I went to get a glass of- I'll stop here.
Disclaimer: You know it by heart by now, I'm sure.
Narcissa had her classic, patrician features. Andromeda dared to differ from the family. But Bellatrix... Bellatrix wasn't special. She had no qualities, no distinguishing ones that set her apart from the Black's. Now she's just a figure in a prison cell, weary eyes and a soul with a rapidly vanishing lust for trouble.
Heavy eyelids drooped down. It was all for the best, probably. Her eyes resembled something along the lines of resignment. Azkaban had done this to her. Stripped her of her wit, her sharp features and dulled them down until there was scarcely anything left. Suppressing a sigh, she leaned her head against the dark stone wall, her head now well accustomed to the impenetrable surface. Her thinning hair did naught to protect her but after a while, the feeling became a part of her.
She shifted her head slightly, her stringy hair falling into her face. It was just as well. The world couldn't see her and vice versa. She attempted smiling at this truly pathetic situation but the most she could do was close her eyes and lift her lips a little. It was as if her mind had no recollection on how to smile or what it even was. She was sleepy but her body commanded her awake. Her mind drifted somewhere in-between a foggy state. Since she'd arrived in Azkaban, she was sure her mind never left that place.
It wasn't fair.
Narcissa and Andromeda received all of the attention, all of the spotlight so easily. And when Bellatrix set her sights on it, the price was higher than she'd ever meant to pay.
Her youngest sister, Narcissa was blessed with amazing traits that Bellatrix could only envy. While before Azkaban, Bellatrix wasn't unfortunate looking she sure wasn't beautiful either. Narcissa had managed to greedily collect the genes, even as a fetus.
Andromeda... she had something neither Bellatrix or Narcissa had. Courage. She broke out and married a muggle born. And whilst it caused her to be disowned from the Black family, it gave her a whole new freedom. Once again, Bellatrix found herself envious. Her courage was obeying orders, no matter the limits. Andromeda's was breaking out from them.
And now, Bellatrix is in Azkaban, withering away. Trying to remember vivid thoughts but continually being knocked down by the grey, colorless memories and finding out for the hundredth time that day, that she couldn't smile. She couldn't keep her eyes open, speak. Just swallow. Just linger thoughtlessly between reality and something that is definitely not bliss and just be.
She wasn't beautiful; she wasn't courageous.
Bellatrix Black gained something else: power.
And even that had been swindled from her and nowadays, all that's left of Bellatrix Lestrange is a figure in a prison cell, weary eyes and a soul with a rapidly vanishing lust for trouble.