Word Count: 457
She sits, and she can hear the wailing throughout the prison. Truth be told, Bellatrix wants to lend her voice to the chorus of screams that pierce the air. She wants to throw herself against the wall and moan about the cruelty and unfairness of the world.
But no. No, she is not like the others. She will never allow herself to be broken down the way they have.
The air grows colder, and the chill cuts into her bones. Bellatrix does not run away. There's a pounding in her head, and she thinks she can hear Andromeda and Narcissa. Still, she fights through it and grabs the bars of her cell.
The Dementor glides along. Bellatrix watches, mesmerized as its dark cloak-like body shifts this way and that.
She will not let it overpower her. Not this time. She will not be weak because she knows that she is so much stronger and can overcome this.
It turns its head to face her. For a moment, she feels her strength ebb from her body.
No, she tells herself. No. I am better than this.
"Hello, beauty," she tells it. "We aren't so different, are we? Dark and damned." She smiles at that, as though there's something funny about it. "I'm not afraid of you."
How could she be? She has already lived through the worst moment of her life. Her master is nowhere to be found, and Bellatrix is here, alone. What is there to fear anymore? Nothing.
But she has her own shield. Maybe she is too wretched to be able to cast a Patronus, but that's okay. There's a warmth that floods her body, even as the Dementor draws closer. Her blood should feel like ice by now, but she feels fine.
She is in this cell, and the rest of the world wishes to see her waste away and rot here. Maybe she will; maybe they will take comfort in that knowledge.
But she is here because she fought for her master. Her loyalty can never be called into question. When her master returns (and there is no doubt in her mind that the Dark Lord will come back, and all will be right in the world) it doesn't matter if she will be alive to see it. He will rise and know that Bellatrix was his most faithful, that she had happily suffered for him.
Nothing can ever take away that comfort.
She smiles at the Dementor before backing away from the bars once again and slumping against the wall.
She is the Dark Lord's loyal subject. If she dies, at least she dies with that knowledge.
As the the screams continue all around her, she throws her head back and laughs.
