A/N Obviously none of the characters are mine. I got the idea when reading OotP. Sirius mentions he hasn't seen Bella except for one glimpse when she entered Azkaban.

I saw her today. She walked between the guards, black hair cascading over her shoulders like a shining ebony cloak.

Once, a few short months ago, a lifetime ago, I would have gloated at this - her comeuppance. How can I gloat? Even now, my bitch of a cousin, proclaims that her time will come, that the Dark Lord will save his devoted followers. Though I loathe Bellatrix, I envy her. Even locked away in this hell, she has hope. She has friends.

I have nothing. James and Lily are dead. Peter proved himself the vilest excuse for man or rat. Remus, Dumbledore, and the other order members believe I killed my best friend and his wife, believe I am the same, no worse than Bellatrix Black. She serves her Lord faithfully and I am reviled as a Judas by all wizardkind.

I was wrong. I have guilt and I have fury. Sick to my soul thinking of the ruin of my happy world, I lean against the cold stone walls and dream of the old days. One by one the dementors steal them Ð and I am left only with the terrible grief and loneliness.

And the rage grows. How could they think me capable of such a deed? They were all convinced that Sirius Black had returned to his foul heritage and thrown his lot in with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named - I didn't even merit a trial. Why did no one speak for me? Dumbledore? Remus? Andromeda?

Perhaps I deserve this. I suspected Remus. I convinced James to use Peter as his Secret-Keeper. I am responsible for their deaths Ð me and my unforgivable stupidity. But why is it Bellatrix who comforts herself with what to her is a certainty. She believes, with a fervency nothing can trifle with, that one day her Lord, defeated though he is, will redeem her from this hellhole. I, for all my sneering, have no one to believe in anymore.

Wrong again. I have Harry. One of these days, I shall see James' son. I shall have to explain to my godson how I unwittingly caused the death of his parents. Maybe, if miracles come true, he will forgive me. Maybe, I will get to do all those things I promised James I would do : teach him how to ride a motorbike, give him his first firewhiskey, take him to Quidditch matches and coach him before a big date. They sound so trivial in the wake of James' death, but I need to believe in Harry. I need to believe that someday I will have James'son by my side Ð my true family.

Let Bellatrix have her faith in a vanquished Voldemort. Someday, I will be free. Someday, I will track down Wormtail and rip the heart out of that vermin. I will find Remus and apologize for doubting him. I will find Harry and pick up the shattered pieces of my life.

In the meantime, I cannot gloat. Bellatrix deserves every moment of misery. I find it appalling that we have so much in common. After all, I spent my entire life rebelling against what it meant to be a Black. I failed Ð worse, I failed my friends.

Funny, I never doubted coming through the war unscathed. In all my imagined encounters I would face Snivellus and blast his sneaky hide to the next county. Or else I would duel Bellatrix and prove myself the better person for all her talk of traitorous purebloods. For all I know Snape, the true abomination, still skulks across England while I languish so close to my dear, dear, cousin Bella.

I will make it. I will. Friendship will save me after all. We taught ourselves to be animagi for Remus' sake. Now that skill will prove more than a means to another wild night. Somehow Padfoot will help me retain myself. Someday, I will manage to revenge myself on pathetic Peter. Someday, Bella, when I am far away from this accursed place, I will have the last laugh.