Dedicated to us.

Manic-depressive women.

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It was yet another grey and hot morning. At least, it was looking like it. The tiny Azkaban cell felt huge throughout the years she'd spent locked up and alone. Light seeped through the small window, and if she strained, she could hear the waves crashing against the cliff.

At first, she didn't feel anything other than rage. How could so many Death Eaters just pretend like that? Karkaroff's trial was humiliating, turning in his fellow Death Eaters… Coward!

"I am going to kill you! I'm gonna kill all of you! Liars, cowards!"

The rage was never really banished, but the depression hit her hard after some time. The truth is that Bellatrix has been depressed for a long time, maybe since Hogwarts. But what could she do now?

She went completely insane.

Years passed by and every day felt like the same day. If they called Bellatrix crazy before, they would not even imagine how she is now. If this news got out, maybe it would be for the best if she stayed in Azkaban.

She felt incomplete and absolutely sad. She spent fourteen years reliving her traumas and surrounded by sadness. Even if she tried to think of something slightly good, what would that do for her? It only made the Dementors feed.

But the days were going to get better.

On her hard bed, the witch would listen to the sound of the sea, the waves crashing again and again. She was waiting for one very particular feeling: pain.

The agony of postponing death wasn't enough to destroy her, but the desperate wait for her tattoo to burn again might be.

It's been months since she started feeling that delicious pain again. At first, the pain was so faint that Bellatrix dismissed it as a delusion. It wouldn't be the first time. But as time went by, that burning sensation grew, making her sure: He was back.

With her eyes still closed, she remembered all of her life since she'd met Tom Marvolo Riddle. She was still a young witch, enjoying the years at the great Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when she fell hard for the greatest wizard the world has seen. But, of course, she knew that she could never say it out loud… So they decided to call her crazy, obsessed.

So be it.

The only one who figured out about the crush was her youngest sister, Narcissa. But that's what they called it: a crush.

As she got older, Bellatrix assumed this feeling was the hopeless loyalty and adoration she felt for Lord Voldemort.

Bellatrix remembered everything before the first Great War in the wizarding world and felt truly proud of being so loyal to her Master. It was all worth it. She knew it.

She knew it because, on a cold night, she could barely sleep feeling that high burning on her arm. The witch couldn't stop moving on her bed, trying to convince herself that it was all in her head. Until a bright green light flashed in her mind, she heard that voice that made her shiver with pleasure: "Bellatrix… Bellatrix…" she could hear his call.

"My Lord."

"Bellatrix, my most loyal follower. I've been trying to reach you for a long time. Get ready, Azkaban is over."

That night, Bellatrix screamed and laughed so loud that her Azkaban "friends" could only sleep when she fainted out of exhaustion, with the Dementors sucking all the good left.

While traveling through memories, guided by the waves on the cliff, she knew that a life full of emptiness, loneliness, sadness, and craziness was about to end.

A loud noise breaks her thoughts, and in a few moments, she feels all her emotions.

Bellatrix felt joy. The Dark Lord was back, and she was back with him.

Bellatrix felt scared. Not because of the noise or all the pieces from the wall floating over her, but because she felt like this was her mind playing one more little trick.

The dimly lit room brightens and the waves appear to enter the witch's space.

Bellatrix smiled. She hadn't smiled in years! A true smile, proud.

All of that was real, her arm burning like it was on a fireplace, the blinding daylight, and the wind was so much stronger that she felt a bit cold.

She was petrified with joy. She had never given up on her Master. And he had never given her up.

She was ready to take the first step out. Wasn't she?