Disclaimer- not mine
Summary- Sirius contemplates on Voldemort, Bellatrix, and his past in general while in Azkaban.
Author's note- oooh this is the best one yet, warning: angst and awesome coolness ahead!
Sirius Black had been in Azkaban for a week now, but it felt like a millennium. I have to stay here the rest of my life. The thought rang through his head with clarity that had never been there before. He was never going to leave.
In your first week in Azkaban, you get one visitor a day. It's like a reserved time to say goodbye to your loved ones, if they care about you anymore after you've been convicted of a serious and horrible crime. None of his friends or family cared. The only person who had visited him was Albus Dumbledore, who had come earlier that day. He seemed to be only humoring Sirius when he tried to explain his innocence. That had hit him hard; Dumbledore always believed him at school, even when he came up with the most outrageous, obviously concocted stories.
The only 'good' thing that had come from the visit was the newspaper his former headmaster had brought him. The front page had an interesting headline- CROUCH AND LESTRANGES CAPTURED! They were sentenced to the same fate as him, life in this terrible place. They were supposed to be arriving today, the paper had said.
He remembered the last time he had seen his cousin Bellatrix. It had been on her wedding day, and all of the Black and Lestrange families had been present for the joyous celebration.
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The match had been planned since Bellatrix's birth, and her husband's tenth birthday. Despite the great age difference, they seemed to be a happy couple. They knew their places: Bellatrix was to produce a son and heir to the Lestrange name, and create a large array of grand social functions, getting them on the good side of the public eye. Rudolphus was to represent his family well and make money while secretly supporting the up and rising Dark Lord.
The ceremony had been a long and boring affair. Sirius had fallen asleep during it, only to wake to his aunt waking him with her cane (she was an old woman when she had produced her three children, and now she was ancient). She had screamed at him about disrespecting the family for a good twenty minutes after the ceremony, but he had ignored her, and headed off to the reception.
That had been his first experience with such a wide array of Wizarding liquor. He had gotten completely drunk and danced with every woman at the party (including his ancient aunt and his grandmother). He spent an hour fruitlessly flirting with his cousin Andromeda. In the end, he had placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek (he had been aiming for her lips) and passed out, but not before throwing up all over her favorite dress robes.
He had apologized constantly over the next few months after finding out about her secret engagement to Ted Tonks, and that the robes she was wearing were going to be the same ones she wore on her wedding day.
That had been the last letter he had sent his cousin.
A few months after Bellatrix's marriage she received the Dark Mark along with her husband (or, she at least confessed to everyone about having the Mark). Hence, she became the first female Death Eater. Now they were all getting their comeuppance, and he, unfortunately, had to be here getting it right along with them.
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There was a noise from outside his cell. It sounded like footsteps coming down the hall, the cause of the noise was probably somewhere around five pairs of feet. It must be her.
He stood up and crossed the dark, gloomy pit of a cell he would call home for the rest of his futile existence. Looking through the bars, he could make out figures coming closer out of the corner of his eye. As they continued with their slow, patient gait, he waited for what seemed like hours for them to travel the five meters that would take them within his line of vision. He could feel the intolerable chill of the dementors as they neared their passing. It meant there must be quite a few of them for it to make that much of a difference to the always cold, depressing climate. It would not be much longer now.
Finally! The group passed by him and it seemed that there pace had quickened just so the one prisoner who was interested in the arrival of Bellatrix and her partners-in-crime wouldn't see them. The mild feeling of happiness was immediately sucked out by her entourage of ten or so dementors. She turned her head just as she was about to completely pass his cell, and looked straight into his eyes. Deep, impenetrable gray, like molten silver or the fur of a wild wolf met Sirius's cerulean blue, the color of the Mediterranean Sea, and the sky at noon on a clear summers day.
She wasn't a very trained Legilimens, but he could feel her attempt to search his mind, no doubt made weaker by the presence of the dementors, but still leaving its mark on the back of his skull. The feeling was quickly swallowed up by imminent despair as she broke the eye contact.
It scared him. The fact that even his most evil, horrible and vile cousin was so terrified by this place that she needed to brace herself with is thoughts in order to be prepared for her fate. She had always been afraid of what she did not know, that had caused most of the trouble. She was always running blindly in fear of difference and interference with her schedules and customs.
She had been afraid of not taking action, of living in a world where blood meant nothing, so she became a Death Eater. She was afraid of the difference in tradition not following her parents' choice of husband would cause so she married a man she did not love. Her fear of change had brought her to Azkaban itself, and yet she still would not let go. She was so afraid of a world without her master; she declared that she 'would wait until he comes for me'. How could she not see the wrongfulness of her actions, the misplacements of her faith?
They were all doomed, most of all her, Bellatrix and her useless, pointless fears. It was long ago when Sirius had learned to embrace those fears, and turn them into joy. These tactics had brought him the three greatest friendships he could have ever dreamed of making. Of these same three friends, one was dead, one had betrayed them, and one was completely alone. Worst of all, he was blamed for the lot of it. Maybe if he really was like they said he was, he could be here of his own imagined will, like Bellatrix, with the wool pulled tight about his eyes.
No, he decided, he would never, could never, want that. Better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all, hadn't some muggle said that? Well they had the right idea. He was innocent and no one could take his innocence from him, not the memories, not the people, not even his own petty insecurities. He would stay here as long as it took, but he would leave someday, because he hadn't committed his crimes.
Author's note- reviews pwetty pweeze w/ a cherry on top!