The Convict
To pass the time in Azkaban, Sirius had taken up various muggle pastimes.
Sometimes he did the crossword in the newspaper. Sometimes he made puppets with his hands and cast shadows against the dingy walls. Once he tried to create a pair of socks by interlocking loops of yarn on long, plastic needles, but he was no good at it, and the guards took it all away when they realized the needles could be used as weapons.
But his favorite thing to do, Sirius had come to realize, was talk to the woman in the next cell over.
"How are you this evening, Bellatrix?" he asked lazily.
He heard her heave a sigh. "Again, Sirius?"
"Always."
Bellatrix was the only other person in this place that wasn't insane or completely hopeless. Maybe it was because they were Blacks, and darkness was part of their natures, so the darkness of Azkaban was a comfort rather than a terror. Maybe it was because they both had faith they'd be out of here soon - he believed the world would discover he was innocent, and she believed Voldemort was still out there somewhere. Either way, Bellatrix was the only one here who could carry on rational conversation, so Sirius made the best of what he had.
"I'm cold," she said. "That's how I am this evening. And you?"
"Cold, as well."
"Cissy's coming for her monthly visit in a few days. I'll ask the guards to remind her to bring blankets."
"Blankets? Plural?"
Bellatrix laughed softly. "All for me, of course."
"What, you won't share?"
"With you? Never. You've got those long muggle needles, make one yourself."
"I can't," he said gloomily. "They took them away from me."
He heard his cousin chuckle. "So Aunt Walburga's dead?"
"You heard Mundungus, I take it."
"That's a pity."
Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "It's a pity she didn't go years ago."
"You disgust me."
"What? Why?"
"Sirius. Did you really not love your own mother?"
"My own mother didn't love me." He began to shiver. The dementors were making their nightly rounds. "Are you sure you won't share one of those blankets with me?"
"Positive."
Silence settled in between them for awhile. A dementor leaned up against the door of Sirius' cell and reached through the bars, groping for the body huddled up against the back wall, and for a moment everything was JamesJamesJames.
"I didn't kill him," he whispered over and over. "It wasn't me. I'm innocent."
"I know you are," Bellatrix's voice floated back to him. "Isn't it funny, how I know you are?"
Sirius gritted his teeth. The dementor glided away.
"I'm not innocent," she continued. "Not at all. I deserve to be here. But not you. And I'm the only one who knows it."
"Pettigrew knows it," Sirius growled. James was still echoing in his mind.
"Pettigrew's dead."
"Voldemort knows it."
"The Dark Lord knows everything. You should take the Mark, Sirius. Join us."
"We've been over this, Bella."
"You only left our family in the first place for James Potter. Well, James Potter is dead. There's no reason to stay so loyal to someone who's gone."
"Funny," Sirius said, and he was grinning. "I could say the same thing about you and your Dark Lord."
"He's not gone."
It was an old argument, one that went around in circles forever, so he changed the subject. "Do you remember when we were kids?"
"Like when?"
"When we used to run around at your house, and I let Cissy ride around on my back, and Andromeda chased after us because she was worried Cissy would fall and hurt herself?"
"And I was the one egging you on," Bella said fondly.
"You taught me my first spell, you know," he said. "Granted, it was the cruciatus curse, but it was still a spell."
She laughed. "You were my favorite cousin," she said softly. "I dunno if I ever told you that. But you were."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"I'm touched, Bella."
"You're the only one who stood up to me. It was quite easy to get a rise out of you. I liked the attention, I think. I didn't get much of that at home."
"Glad I could help."
"I actually - I had a bit of a crush on you. When we were young, I mean."
"That's both flattering and disgusting."
"I know, I know." She sighed. "Sirius?"
"Yeah?"
"You know as soon as we're out of here, this - this truce, or whatever you want to call it, it's going to be over."
"Yeah, I know."
"And we'll go back to being on opposite sides of this war."
"I know, Bella."
A short silence, and then: "I'll ask Cissy to bring you an extra blanket."
"Thank you, Bella."
[Monthly Drabble-A-Thon: Bellatrix Lestrange]
[Female Character Challenge: Jane Eyre - write about relatives with a rivalry]
[Relationship Bingo Board: B5 - cousincest]
[Forbidden Word Competition: "knitting"]