Lucius Malfoy was a true man. He was from a proud pure-blood family, and he was well aware of that. He held himself with the pride of a true slytherin. He spoke like a true slytherin. And where all in all a gorgeous man.
At least in the eyes of Bellatrix. But she did not care about that. She didn't care about all that silly, girly stuff about love. And besides, Bellatrix knew that her sister, Narcissa, had her eyes on the fine Malfoy, so she hoped that he would end up with Narcissa and did what she could to make that happen – she had not experienced the horrors of Azkaban back then and thus she still knew how to feel compassion. But that did not mean she said 'no' when Lucius asked her to the ball instead of Narcissa. And she did not mind that he kissed her cheek, whereas he almost didn't even hold hands with Narcissa. She enjoyed it very much every time she stood by his side as they taught those stupid Gryffindor suckers their rightful place. And she kept telling Narcissa that there was hope for her.
They graduated from Hogwarts. Lucius often came to visit them, but he stopped kissing Bellatrix's cheek and he stopped holding her hands, for she now bore a ring which bore the name 'Rodolphus Lestrange'.
Eventually The Dark Lord rose. Lucius joined, and so did Bellatrix. They stood side by side, just as they had done back in school. It was wonderful. She was happy.
The Dark Lord started to learn her the dark arts. The Dark Lord held himself with the same pride as Lucius had back in their young days, but he had more power to go with the pride. He was amazing. Wonderful. Everything Bellatrix could long for.
Then came Azkaban, and with it came a fire which burned away summer warm memories of light laughter, cheek kisses, happy conversations and young love, only leaving the passion for her beloved Dark Lord.