One shot. I do not own Harry Potter or the Characters.
He sits alone, in the corner of his dark, damp, gloomy Azkaban cell, brooding. This is the third time he has found himself in Azkaban, and this time there is no hope of escape. He will undoubtedly die here, and his corpse will be buried on the shore by the prison, and be washed away with countless others by the raging tide.
It is quiet now, silence drifts through the halls to the gloomy cages in which the prisoners are locked, like a disease. The first time he was here, he had been surrounded by Dementors, who sucked every happy memory and every ounce of hope that he had, from him. He had sat in this very cell, Cell 848, listening to the screams of his fellow Deatheaters; his friends, his family, his wife. He had screamed along with them, because he was angry, but not entirely in the way everyone had thought. The last time he had been here was after the huge cock-up at the Ministry, caused by Lucius "poncy-arsed" Malfoy, he thought bitterly, who hadn't even been put into Azkaban and had been pardoned by Harry Potter.
The guard had come to his cell earlier that day, and told him of his wife's death. Bellatrix Lestrange was dead. He had not known what had happened to her, for he had been barely alive from the battle when they dragged him into his cell. He could not recall the battle of Hogwarts, only that it made his stomach burn with anger at the thought of it. When the guard told him of his wife's death, he had shrugged, and turned back to looking at the sea through the crack in the wall. They thought him heartless, but didn't care; they expected him to be that way. After all, he was a Death eater, why would he mourn his dead wife?
The truth was that his Bellatrix had died years ago. His beautiful, witty, charming Bellatrix that he had met at a young age and married soon after she left Hogwarts, had been warped and twisted into a sickening, dark creature by his 'Master'. Voldemort. It was entirely his fault, he had done this, and everything was his fault. Rodolphus had only ever wanted a simple life, to be respected and feared, to have a wife who was loyal and faithful to him. His master had promised him those things; his master had lied.
When he had first met Bellatrix, she had been a plucky, beautiful fifth teen year old who had been stuffed into a dress that was far too tight and shoved headlong into a ballroom, in which her parents were holding a party. He was barely twenty, and remembered her from his own school days. She was the eldest of the Black sisters and by far the most interesting in his opinion, and so he watched her all night as she dragged her youngest sister Narcissa around, yawned in the face of her parents 'important' guests and giggled loudly with Andromeda, the middle sister. Narcissa had blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, so innocent and naive to the ways of the world. At eleven she was still sneakily sucking her thumb, and letting her sister drag her around the ballroom by her hand. Lucius Malfoy had been watching her all night. Andromeda had light brown hair that fell past her shoulder and the hard look of an intellectual, though she seemed softer and he suspected she would be more easily swayed away from her family. His guess had been correct when four years later she had run away from home and married a Muggle born by the name of Ted Tonks. Bellatrix had been furious the night she found out. But this night she was different, dark and graceful, cheeky, and witty. He beautiful black hair swirled around her, as he watched her all night transfixed.
"I wonder if I might have this dance" he had asked quietly, holding his hand out. Her eyes had flickered from his hand to his eyes and she had blushed deep scarlet before replying.
"If you wish" she replied, as if she was bored, but she had stayed in his arms for the rest of the night. It may not have been perfect, but it was good and it was acceptable, and so a betrothal contract had been draw up several months after that dance and her family had accepted. However, he was the one to tell her. He remembered her expression after he had announced that they were to be married. Her lips puckered and her head twisted to the side.
"If we are to be married, shouldn't I get to know you first?" she had asked. He had watched the words form on her lips, beautiful dark lips that he had wished to capture in his. He had mentally shaken himself, a Slytherin wishing to participate in such things was unheard of and yet…
"If you wish" he whispered, leaning forward to capture her lips with his. She had been hesitant at first, but had kissed him back, bruising his lips with hers. When they leaned back, they looked away from each other. "I should take you home"
"Yes, you should" she had whispered. Her voice sounded husky. He had forgotten until now that he had been able to do that to her, there had been a time when she had seemed human, that he could take her breath away.
They had married the week after she turned seventeen, and he remembered thinking she looked exquisite in her wedding dress, but that night the wedding dress lay torn on the floor of their bedroom.
The Dark lord had started to rise by this time, and was steadily gathering followers. Rodolphus and his brother had signed up almost immediately, pledging their loyalty to a man who would change the Wizarding world, and make it a Pureblood nation once again. How those thoughts sickened him now, as he remembered the Dark Lord's promises, his friends oaths, his belief in a man he barely knew.
And then he had gotten Bellatrix. She had always been fiery and passionate, and had been brought up to believe that mud bloods and mud blood lovers were scum. That wizard's should rule over Muggles and that she needed to help. She had fought with him that night, screaming that he needed to let her join, that she was wasted as a house wife. And of course, she was very good at manipulating him, because even though he would never admit it out loud, he was in Love with her. "Rod please" she had begged, after the screaming died, "you know I would be great, and we would be together more… unless that's not what you want. You don't want me…" her lip had trembled and she had widened her eyes, and he was a fool. He never saw the mad glint in her eyes, or the taste of the lie had been so sweet. He had fallen prey to the foolish weakness of emotions, like, like some common Gryffindor. And so he had introduced her to the Dark Lord, and he had taken her in, and day by day he would stand and watch as he wife fell for another, more powerful wizard than he. He would watch her as she did the Dark Lord's bidding, alongside himself, and watched as her cruelty shadowed the beauty. Her love for torture and pain terrified him, until he could no longer bear to look at his wife.
And he hated his master for it; hated the fact that he had taken his wife and made her into a monster. But, it was his fault too, because he had agreed and up until the moment the Dark Lord vanished, he was overcome with guilt and so stayed loyal to the Dark Lord because he still believed in what he was fighting for, but also because of her. And then the Dark Lord had fallen, and she had been a wreck.
"We must find him Roddie" she cried, using an old nickname. "The Aurors, The Longbottom's, they'll know where he is. They will. We can get it out of them, we can find him. Bring him back and be honoured above all the others". Rabastan and Barty agreed readily to Bellatrix's plan, and he had gone along with it blindly trusting his wife, trusting that his master could come back, stupidly believing that the Longbottom's would know where the Dark Lord was. Looking back on it, he snorted in disbelief, the sound echoing around his cell. The cell that he had been thrown into after torturing the Longbottom's had gotten them no information, and had gotten them caught.
And after they had been freed, after fourteen years of being left to rot, he had returned to the Dark Lord's service, like before. Except things were not like before, because before people were scared, and they were dying because of the Deatheaters. Now there was more resistance and whereas the last time they had felt on top, the second war they started making huge mistakes. Lucius Malfoy had fallen from his pedestal, his family was disgraced, and his 'friends' were even more scared than the first time.
Rodolphus could not understand what the point was anymore, but he had gone along with it anyway. He was a coward, but Slytherin's were not known for their bravery, or courage. And he had sat across from his wife countless times, and saw nothing but blackness in those eyes. She didn't care about him anymore, and he had wondered whether she ever had. Nevertheless, the Bellatrix he had loved was dead to him, and only alive to the Dark Lord, whom he now hated.
So sitting in his cell in Azkaban, he tapped his knuckles against the brick wall and gritted his teeth together in anguish. He deserved Azkaban, he deserved to rot in here, and he would gladly. He had taken the woman he loved and given her to a monster, who had turned her into his cruel, twisted little pet. Rodolphus looked up at the ceiling with suddenly wet eyes and realised that he was alone. Alone in this cell with only his thoughts. Dementors weren't needed to keep him trapped in his head, because he had been trapped there for so long, it had become the norm to him.
How had his plans for a simple life, and a faithful, loyal wife gone wrong? He had wanted power, and respect, and a wife whom he would be proud to say was his. Except he was ashamed, and no-one would ever know…
The Bellatrix he loved had died a long time ago, and he had mourned her all these years.
Please let me know what you thought. ~Gurugirl x