Sound.

Rodolphus was only vaguely aware of it. Somewhere, deep within the recesses of his long unused mind, he registered that sound was not familiar. Sound had not been familiar for a long, long time.

A dream.

It had been a long time since those, too, but the sound must have been a figment of one. His mind tried to turn away from the sound, from the dream, because dreams meant pain. He was numb now, he'd been numb for a long time, and he didn't want the pain anymore. He was biding his time, waiting patiently to die. He didn't want the pain to come back.

But the sound wouldn't leave. He twitched, attempting now to physically move from it. But the sound would not stop.

It was a dreadful noise, really. Like an explosion. Somewhere, somehow, he knew what an explosion was. He perhaps even used to enjoy them? Enjoy- he quickly banished the word. If he recognized anything as pleasurable, it would be gone. The the dementors would take it.

At least it wasn't cold. It had been a while since the cold... Suddenly, his eyes flew open.

It wasn't cold.

There were no more dementors- could his mind be his again? There was only one way to check, although the idea frightened him. Could he even remember? For a horrifying, breathless moment, he though he could not. But the door was there, iron clad and sealed, but he still had the key. Somewhere. Did he want to find it? Whatever was behind that door was good, would bring him joy... Joy. He wasn't sure what that felt like anymore, but he was fairly confident that he liked it. And if he unlocked that door, the joy, whatever was left of it, would either be his or the dementors. But it wasn't cold. He had to know. Meanwhile, the noise was getting louder.

With a deep breath, Rodolphus opened the door.

Bella.

It flooded him, bringing life to his long dead limbs, all the way to his extremities. He sucked in a gulp of air, and for the first time in over a decade, he knew he was alive.

Bella.

It was still his, the thought. He couldn't truly see her face any longer, but she was Bella. She was everything. Where was she?

"Bella." His lips, dried and cracked, only traced the word- it would take time before he could speak again. He lifted his head, and noticed that his heart was beating. That was new. Wasn't it?

The other sound was uncomfortably loud now. He didn't like it- it had been so long since he'd heard anything, it hurt his ears.

Bella.

This is why he'd kept the door securely sealed. Even when the memory wasn't stolen, it brought pain- he gasped for her, fingers stretching into empty space. He wanted her more than air- the stale oxygen of his dank cell was nothing next to the crippling longing he needed quenched. His arms ached to hold her, and he inhaled deeply as if to gather her scent from the stench.

"Bella," he moaned, although the scratchy grunt was hardly even recognizable as a noise.

Suddenly, the explosion was too close. It was ripping and deafening and something heavy and cold struck his shoulder. He reached out weakly to touch it. Stone. Stone? Rubble.

He rolled over slowly, blinkling groggily. The dim light that filtered through was pale and weak, but it had been over a decade since Rodolphus had seen light of any kind. He'd been living as a blindman, and this glare was too much. He lifted an arm to block it out, rolling back over.

Light.

He should not be seeing light. Why was there light in his cell? With a strength he hadn't known himself to posess, her sat up. The heavy, icy door to his cell was gone. Ripped messily from its hinges. Obliterated.

Just a dream. He considered lying back down- the effort of holding himself upright was herculean. No guards were rushing in. Was he alone? Had he died?

It began as a distant coughing sound, rusty and weak and hardly recognizable. But then, it began to grow, wild like Devil's Snare, unfurling and reaching, curling and creeping, weaving its way into his ears, his soul. His Bella. The laugh- for it was a laugh, though crazed and unrestrained and haunting- would be familiar always, rebounding off the inside of his skull.

"Bella-" he tried to call out again, with little success. She was the only thing that could have roused him from his comatose slumber, and now, there was nothing separating him from her. The dementors were gone. Walls gone. Steel gone.

"Bella!" His voice tore from his throat at last, rough and half-mad with desperation. "Bella!" He stumbled to his feet, crashed to his knees, and quickly staggered back up. He tripped out the gaping hole where the door had been, head whipping to attempt to locate the source of the sound.

"He's back!"

Rodolphus glanced down at his arm, surprised to see that his Dark Mark was vivid and prominent. Later he would celebrate, but right now, he needed Bella. Her shouting laughter echoed off the damp stone, and he moved like a drunk man, using the walls for support and falling often. She was close. He looked into the cell beside his, and it took him several moments to recognize his younger brother. Rabastan sat crumpled in a corner, eyes blank. Was he dead? No, he was breathing. He would come around eventually. Rodolphus moved on.

There she was. Emaciated and ragged, matted hair hung in filthy snarls down her back. Her back was to him- she stared out over the swirling, montrous storm with a wild sort of glee, arms spread wide and face turned up. He was awestruck by her presence and started jerking forwards unsteadily.

"Bella," he moaned as he reached her, falling into a heap at her feet and wrapping his arms around her knees, shaking with sobs. "My love, my life, my Bella," he rasped, burying his face in her lap. Her soft curves had melted into bone, and the scratchy fabric that covered her legs was caked with grime. But it was Bella. His Bella. He could hardly believe that he was holding her again, that she was here, tangible, real... he had never dreamt that he would see her again. When the years had begun blurring together, once all hope of escape was gone, when he'd given up the faith that he would soon be rescued- he'd mourned losing her more than anything else. More than his fortune, his good name, his respectabiliy, his family or friends. They'd been dragged to trial, chained and humiliated- once declared guilty, he hadn't even been allowed to tell her goodbye, to kiss her. That hadn't tortured him until later- not until the initial defiance had gone, and the darkness had come, creeping over him. His body had ached for hers, at first, and he'd felt both pleasure and torture at memories of their passionate days and nights spent together. But then those were taken, and his with left with darker images- the time she had aborted what was to be their only child, the day he'd learned of her affair with his once-close friend Evan- over time, he'd learned how to find relief in merely seeing her face, so then those were gone too. He kept her memory carefully- just on the periphery of his mind, but never fully in sight. The knowledge that she was there allowed him to cling to his sanity.

"Bella," he asked, looking up at her. She stared out blankly towards the raging sea- she did not seem to register his prescence.

"He's back," she whispered to no one in particular.

"He is, but Bella, we're free. We're out. Together. Alive. My love,"

"Wands," she muttered, turning away as though his arms around her were nonexistent. Confused, Rodolphus trailed after her. Why wouldn't she look at him? Why wasn't she celebrating their reunion?

The wands of short term prisoners were not destroyed. Bellatrix quickly located these and randomly selected one; Rodolphus followed suit. She held it out, and Rodolphus's rusty mind realized just in time that she was apparating. He grabbed her arm, and the sensation was shocking. It had been so long...

They tumbled onto something hard and cold. Two adjectives Rodolphus was quite familiar with. Stone. He collapsed, and would not have moved, but Bella was still in motion. Where had she taken them?

"Cis-sy," she rasped, raising one hand to slap it against wood. A door. "Nar-ciss-a."

Rodolphus heaved himself to his feet as the door swung open- a small, ugly creature greeted them. An elf. Bellatrix brushed past it, despite it's protests, and Rodolphus stumbled along as well.

"Lucius," she called roughly. "Narcissa."

"Bella," he whispered, slinking forward to brush her arm. Why wouldn't she look at him? Acknowledge him? He felt physically ill, and swallowed the lump of fear rising in his throat. "Bella," his voice broke as she stepped away. As though he was a ghost.

Bellatrix walked through the main foyer, and began to climb a grand flight of stairs. The luxury around them was dizzying, but he could scarcely see it... just her skeletal back, mat of hair, and boney fingers on the banister, drifting slowly along...

"Bella, please," he whispered hoarsely, "look at me."

"Who are you?" They both jumped as a hard voice assaulted them from the top of the stairs. "What are you doing here?"

"Lucius," Bellatrix grinned horribly. "Brother, coward, surely you haven't forgotten? While you lived well in the public eye, I rotted for my strength... You must know me, Lucius, and fear me, for he has returned. Has he punished you?" She paused to savour the thought. "I hope you screamed, Malfoy. I hope he hurt you."

Lucius stared, clearly at a loss for words. "You..."

"Bella?" A second blonde head, dishelveled from sleep, poked around the corner. "Bella!"

Narcissa launched forward, ignoring her husband's shout of caution, and threw her arms around her sister. "Oh, Bella!"

There was a tense moment; Lucius held his wand tightly, unsure of how Bellatrix's unstable mind would react. But she smirked, and returned the embrace, stroking her younger sibling's soft, blonde hair.

"My dear Cissy," she crooned. "Dear. I'm back, now. Take me to a room and a shower. I want new robes and food. I must be presentable for him."

"Of course, of course." She clutched her sister's hand and began to guide her. Rodolphus followed with a lost sort of look in his eye, and Lucius brought up the rear, unwilling to leave his precious wife alone with the two escapees.

"In here, you can shower first," Narcissa said, leading her into a spare room with an ajoining bathroom. "Let me help you..."

Lucius waited silently in the doorway, tracing every flicker of movement with a tense, suspicious gaze.

Inside the bathroom, Narcissa helped her sister undress, wordlessly taking in he ghastly condition. Bellatrix was almost completely quiet as well, only speaking occasionally to whisper, with a mad sort of glee, 'he's back!'

"There Bella," she murmured, helping her into the shower and turning on the water. "Shall I help you? Or... Would you like Rodolphus in here with you? It's been a long time since you've seen each other-"

Bellatrix was already shaking her head. "No, Cissy, go. I would be alone now."

Narcissa nodded and retreated, shutting the door softly behind her. "I-" she stopped. Lucius was frowning from the opposite side of the room, and Rodolphus was collapsed against the other side of the bathroom door, shaking. Alarmed, Narcissa dropped to her knees. "Are you alright? What it is?"

Rodolphus glanced up, face wretched with agony. "Why won't she look at me?" he asked brokenly. "She won't talk to me or look at me. Narcissa, why?" he repeated, voice cracking.

"I-"

"Fourteen years," he rasped, shuddering, apparently having heard the passage of time from Lucius. "Fourteen years in that place, and the only thing that kept me alive was knowing that she... she was... alive, too." He closed his eyes and let his head roll back against the wall. "Bella..."

"I'm sure she just... needs a moment. She'll come around. Here, Lucius will take you to another bathroom and help you." Narcissa watched with concern as Lucius half-dragged Rodolphus to his feet and pulled him out. Narcissa called for a robe, longer than what she usually wore, and had a bowl of meaty broth brought as well. She wasn't entirely sure how much food Bella's emaciated stomach could hold.

The shower was still running, and Narcissa peeked in to make sure her sister was alright. Bellatrix sat with her back towards the door, every bump of her spine visible, and shoulder blades jutting. Her mat of hair was sudsy, but she appeared to have forgotten to rinse it. Her face was turned to the steamy jet of water, and her lips moved faintly.

Sighing, Narcissa approached. "Bella?"

"He's back."

"Yes Bella, I know. Let me help you," she murmured, dropping to her knees and beginning to wash the soap away. "Mipsy will cut your hair, and then you can eat."

"He's back, Narcissa. He will reward me; I was faithful, I was good. I hope he punishes Lucius. And all the others; the others who lied. But I waited. He's back."

"Bella," she whispered, easing her to her feet and wrapping a towel around her boney shoulders. "What about..." she drifted off. "Well, never mind. After you've eaten, then."

"He's back."

"Yes, I know."

Even with a new robe and tidy hair, Bellatrix looked dreadful. Her eyes were darting and sunken, but she smiled often, revealing rotted teeth that Narcissa would have fixed soon. She curled in the middle of the large bed, blankets snuggled around her, and a bowl in her lap.

"Now, dear," Narcissa began softly, easing down onto the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Wonderfully, Cissy, wonderful."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." For a moment, she hesistated. She glanced up at the doorway, where Rodolphus had just appeared. He was clean and shaven, but still was in as bad of shape as his wife. He clung to the doorway with trepidation, eyes fixed longingly on Bellatrix.

"Bella, I think- I think Rodolphus would like to see you."

Bellatrix stared at her sister blankly.

"You know- your husband?"

Immediately, Bella's expression hardened. "I don't want to see him. I hate him."

From the doorway, Narcissa heard a choked cry of horrified disbelief, but managed to hide her own shock.

"Bella-" he began piteously.

"Sister, I'm sure you don't mean that! It's been a long time, I know you missed him-"

"I did not. I wish he had died."

Narcissa glanced nervously over her shoulder. Rodolphus seemed to be unable to breathe, and the anguish upon his face caused her to turn away quickly.

"Why would you say that? He loves you so..."

"He is a fool. He imprisoned me through marriage, and kept me from my true beloved. It was his stupidity that got us caught, and prevented me from searching for my master. I have always hated him. I did not miss him for a moment during my time in Azkaban."

"Bella!" He was sobbing now, and shaking so badly that Narcissa was certain he would collapse. Instead, he pitched forward, dropping to his knees at the side of the bed. "My love! Please,"

"You are weak!" she snarled, yanking away from his reaching grasp.

"I'm not!" he returned. Neither noticed Narcissa backing from the room. "Did I not survive the same sentence as you, serve the same master? I love you, Bellatrix, and he never will!"

She struck him. She was too weak to inflict even a small amount of pain, but she had made her point. "I want you gone."

His shoulders slumped, his momentary anger gone. "Please," he whispered. "You are the reason I survived. I lived only because I knew that if I died, I would never see you again. How can you hate me, Bella? We were happy."

"You were happy. I married you because I wanted to escape even more restrictive parents. I permitted you to use my body, but you never had my heart or mind. You were always pathetic; I could never love a man I did not respect."

"You must remember," he pleaded, "Remember when we were happy. Our first meeting- remember that? We were both so angry and foolish and all we really wanted was to fuck- we did, too, on my bedroom floor and I didn't realize it then, but you were going to be the only one I wanted after that."

Bellatrix started to turn away, but he grasped her arm.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. I waited for you at parties, I wrote you letters, I came to your house. I thought you were incredible, dark and wild and beautiful and independent. You weren't like other women; I'd never wanted anyone so much. And you wanted me too, I know you did. You acted like you didn't care, but you tortured me on the floor of your pretty pink bedroom until I was begging you to kill me that time you thought I was married. Surely you remember that? You saw a photograph of 'Rodolphus and Caroline Lestrange', and you were furious."

She had stilled, and was watching him with wary eyes.

"We'd go on missions together, and when the fighting was over and everyone was dead, we'd fall on each other in our excitement, not even able to wait to apparate home. You must remember how much we wanted each other. There was nothing that could stop us when we wanted to be together- not propriety, not customs or traditions- Bella, please."

"Have you blocked out the bad, then?" she hissed. "You should have seen it all along. I never wanted your children- remember that? And I certainly wasn't faithful to you- I never considered your feelings or desires."

"No," he said quietly, looking down. "I remember that. Perhaps you never loved me as I have loved you, always, but that doesn't mean we were unhappily wed."

For a while, she said nothing. Rodolphus wondered of she pondering his words or if she had simply decided to stop acknowledging him.

"I've had a long time to think," she said at last. "Years and years. And I decided long ago that I needed to, if I ever escaped, do nothing but serve him. It was my mistake the first time, you see, that I allowed other influences into my life. But he's back now, and I won't do it again. There will be no more regrets. For years and years, you were a regret- all the time I wasted with you when I could have been with him! So you see, Rodolphus, you may keep your memories of illusions. But I will not humor you again. I will be his, only his. I have so much time to make up for, lost time, time I should have been serving him while I rotted with you." The final word rang with distain and she sneered, but slowly, her expression melted into complacency. "But it matters naught." She grinned up at him, a smile tinged with madness.

"He's back."