She Alone

She thought of him often.

Not peacefully, for that would draw her guardians from their pit; no, she thought of him with sadness, even pity.

Still, she thought of him.

He could have been great, and she would have been at his side. It was not love that drew her to him, but lust -- a lust stronger than the Black blood coursing through her being, purifying her essence -- a lust for power, for position, for domination. This lust drove her to seek him, to cling to him, to join herself to him. As the circle of her ring knew no beginning or end, neither did her spirit recognize life before or after...him.

She could feel him. His presence filled the room. The woman-child was drawn to this man, attracted by his being, his blood. This match would bring power: Raw, perfect power.

The betrothal contract specified an heir must be produced...

That night, her last night of freedom, as life grew within her, the stench of madness surrounded her. Two remained, tortured, broken and too far gone to any longer provide sport for them. They knew nothing, of that she was certain, and they paid for their ignorance with their sanity. Even as she drew her wand and cried, "Crucio!", she could once again feel the flutter of a new life stirring within her. He was especially cruel, to avenge the child that was ripped from her body by the Auror's Cruciatus during one of the final battles of the First War.

She alone spoke of allegiance during the trial. She would be rewarded, as would he, for remaining faithful.

Alone she entered her cell, head held high, haughtiness her ever-present companion. Yet not alone; for a brief time, a very brief time, a part of him dwelled with her in her solitary hell.

She felt the blood and writhed in pain as life drained from her womb, the presence of her guards a horror too great for the survival of an innocent.

Then she was alone.

She remained so until the night her rasping guard released the locks on her cell. A lone form emerged from the shadows and entered her cell. She looked up into eyes she once knew. She regarded him warily...could this skeletal form truly be hers? Rodolphus...the man who shared her dream, her passion, could not be housed in this shell who stood before her.

"Bella," he rasped.

Wide eyed, she merely nodded as he moved closer. Cautiously, he reached out and touched her cheek. She flinched, an involuntary motion after so many years alone.

"Bella, we are free."

"Yes," she replied, her throaty voice a mere whisper.

He took her in his arms; she rested her head on his chest. It felt horribly strange, being touched by another human after sitting alone for so long with nothing but her thoughts and an occasional spider for company. Something within her cried out -- a warning; contentment would bring the guards, peace would be unsettled by the hideous cold of the Dementor's presence. Yet, she felt only warmth as Rodolphus stroked her hair and spoke softly to her.

"I never stopped thinking of you, Bella. I couldn't think of you as I wished to, but I kept you with me. I never want to be apart from you again."

Bellatrix pulled away from him. Were those tears? How dare he show weakness now? How could he? Disgusted, she desired to turn away. But she knew she could not. She needed him and whatever power remained within his wasted frame.

"I wonder that we will remain together..." she began.

"The Dark Lord is good to us. He knows that we alone were faithful, and we can likely regain our powers more quickly if we are together."

Faith, the primative pull that kept her alive in Azkaban, knew that her master, not her husband would rescue her. She never once felt that Rodolphus possessed any ability to save her -- not after he was unable to protect her from the Crouch boy's carelessness the night they were arrested. Yet, she knew that he had favor with their master. He always had. Their marriage met with his approval, and she would not fail to obey the wishes of the creature who gifted her with freedom.

"Bella, he is calling; we must go now." Her beloved's voice broke through her thoughts as he reached out to her. Taking his hand, she drew upon renewed strength as they disapparated together.

Azkaban did not break her. While her beauty faded, she descended further into darkness with the rattle of each breath drawn as they sought her soul. Finally, the creatures of darkness recognized one of their own.

And they left her...alone.