Here is a little Bellatrix fic. It is set as her dark mark begins to strengthen, before The Goblet of Fire. It's short, I know, but I didn't want to add unnecessary dribble. Enjoy!

Disclaimers: The world of Harry Potter is J.K Rowling's, I have just been borrowing it.

Bellatrix Lestrange was cowering against the cold wall of her cell in Azkaban. The freezing air had little to do with the whether outside, though that was dismal in itself; it was the dementors that made it this way. Sometime Bella was glad they were there. Sure, they made her become immersed in her worst memories, but that wasn't all bad. She could see his face when that happened. She saw the cold indifference in his eyes. His red, red eyes.

It was often the only way she could really truly remember his face. Every feature was fresh in her mind, so she would stand the pain. She knew she did it for him, and only him. The cold, the pain that she suffered was nothing when it would be repaid tenfold later.

She was faithful, she had never forgotten him, and he wouldn't forget her because of it. Surly she was his most trusted. He would save her from this place. She would be rewarded, and not just by standing in his presence again, which would be reward enough, but she would get far more. Together they would rule the world.

He husband groaned from the cell next door. Bella almost scoffed. Husbandwhat name was that for him? It wasn't a marriage, a deal perhaps, to make a respectable, pureblood tie, that what all she asked. It wasn't a real marriage, never had been, never would. They had agreed to that. He could not complain when she did not speak to him. She wasn't in the mood, besides, the dementors wouldn't allow it.

Another scream pierced the air. She was sick of them. What did they expect? Compassion? Screaming was no use. It only showed weakness. Well Bellatrix Lestrange would not show weakness.

As she thought it a black robe slid, once more, past her cell. The dementor's chill intensifying, she was almost sucked under. She held on by sheer willpower, which weakened each day, more rapidly as time went on. That was why the memories threatened to overwhelm, as they'd never done before. Bellatrix glared to wards the dementor, half-glad it couldn't see.

She pulled back her sleeve and looked at the dark mark on her arm. She felt a little jolt of shock at the visibility of it. The outline had grown darker. It was gaining strength again. Bellatrix grinned manically. She almost felt the urge to laugh. The fools out there who believed him dead would be perplexed at this sight, but she knew what it must mean. Bellatrix could see it now; the time was drawing near, the Dark Lord preparing to rise again.

And she would be reunited... Back to her master... Back to the satisfaction of power... Back to the days of servitude... Back to living out her life wanting one who could never love her in return...

Thanks! Please review and give me some feedback, it is my first attempt at Bellatrix, I am trying to delve deeper into her twisted soul.