A series of one-shots on actions, reactions, and thoughts on the escape of Death Eaters from Azkaban in book five. One-shots meaning that there won't be a coherent storyline from one to the next, I just wanted to keep them all in one place rather than posting them as separate stories.

A note about the rating. I have rated this M, despite the fact that this chapter, at least, is perfectly benign. That's because some of the chapters I have written/half-written/thought about are for a more mature audience (and one took a disturbingly NC-17 turn, but that won't be posted here, although I'm rather proud of it, I feel like I should get it a little frame that says "My First Smut" or something) But I digress, I will make a note on the chapters that are less appropriate, but I wanted to make sure I was rating properly for the whole thing.

Escape (Bellatrix)

She had always known. Through all the darkness and the madness, she had never questioned it. She didn't even know how long it had been. At first she had tried to keep track, but in Azkaban there were no days and nights, no weeks, no months. She knew it had been years, and yet her faith in him had never once faltered. He would come for her. She knew when he had returned, for she had felt the Dark Mark burn, and then she knew it was only a matter of time.

She could have taken the coward's way out, denied her allegiance to him as so many of her compatriots had, said she had been bewitched. She was no traitor, like so many who had cooperated with the Ministry, hoping for leniency. Blacks were not cowards, and so she would choose Azkaban over disloyalty. And so she would be rewarded. When he returned those few who remained faithful would be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams. She waited, because she knew he would come for them.

And now...now it was happening, for beyond the thick stone walls and over the weak cries of other prisoners, she could hear the sounds of a battle. She could see nothing through the narrow opening in the bars, but she could hear shouts and the sounds of exploding stone. Yes, it was happening, and Bellatrix laughed, for there were no Dementors near to steal the joy of the moment.

She could hear footfalls now along the stone hallway, and she knew it could not be the Dementors, for they moved soundlessly. Further down, the sound of a spell blasting through stone, and a man's voice called "See to him, Lucius."

She rose, her muscles protesting the unfamiliar sudden movement, and then she heard his voice, just on the other side of the door.

"Bella, stand back."

She did, pressing her back against the cold wall, and turned her face away from the explosion of stone and dust as the cell door flew to pieces under the Dark Lord's wand. Through the swirling dust, she saw his black-robed figure, and she fell to her knees.

"My Lord. I have always known you would come."

He stepped into the cell delicately around the rubble of the door to where she knelt, and placed a hand on her bowed head almost as if in blessing.

"Yes Bella, I know you have been faithful," his voice was a whisper. "I know of your loyalty in the face of...all this," there was disgust in his voice, as he looked around the damp cell. "And the Dark Lord rewards loyalty."

"Thank you, My Lord."

"I have brought you...a gift, Bella."

She raised her eyes, questioning, and he withdrew her ebony wand from the pocket of his fine black robes. Almost hesitantly, she took it, and felt the jolt of the magic that she thought had left her long ago. Relief almost made her weak, for her magic had not deserted her. Nothing had ever felt so right as the wand she held in her hand. Delicately, wondering if she even could, she pointed it at a chunk of stone and whispered the levitating spell. An uncontrolled burst of power sent it rocketing through the ceiling, and the Dark Lord gave a twisted smile at her delighted laughter.

"We must not linger here," he said. "There are others to be released, all of my faithful Death Eaters shall be freed."

"My Lord...?"

Perhaps it was legilimency, or perhaps he merely knew what her first thought would be, but he stepped aside to allow her through the door, and said "the very end of the corridor, go on then."

She flew to the end of the hall, only vaguely aware of the other Death Eaters, both those who had been imprisoned and those who had come to release them. She had known he was close, sometimes she heard him call out, though she could never be sure if it was just her fevered imagination. She pointed her wand at the door.

"Reducto!"

It exploded into dust, and for the first time in fourteen years she saw her husband.

He stared for a moment, as though unable to believe it was her. Then he gave her an elegant bow, as he used to when he'd asked her to dance at her parents' parties so many years ago. It was another lifetime, but the memories she thought she had lost slowly resurfaced.

"My Lady."

"Always," she said, and flew into his arms. She thought of how true it was, the old saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder, for she didn't really believe in love, but if she had she might have said she loved him. Instead, she reveled in the first human contact in so many years, and he whispered against her hair, "At last."

"I hate to break up this beautiful reunion," said a dry voice from the doorway. "But I imagine you don't want to wait around for the Aurors? I'd hate to have to rescue you again."

She turned and eyed the man who had spoken. He was, predictably, impeccable. "Lucius. You look well."

He wrinkled his aristocratic nose slightly. "I wish I could say the same Bellatrix."

"Not everyone has had the benefit of living in luxury since the Dark Lord's fall."

He turned slightly pink, always the only sign that a Malfoy was angry. Oh yes, she hoped the Dark Lord had made him pay dearly for his lack of faith. He merely turned away. "The Aurors will be coming. We must go."

They came out of the stone fortress, and through the mists that shrouded Azkaban, she could see the sky, the faint wink of stars and the sliver of the moon she had not seen for so long.

"If we get beyond the wards, can you apparate?" Lucius asked her, drawing her attention from the sky. She gave him a disgusted look.

"Of course."

It was then that she noticed the damage done. The few humans who were supposed to control the Dementors had been killed, strewn about the rocky island like rubbish. She did not know how they were keeping the Dementors at bay, but the very thought of meeting one made cold sweep through her again, and so she summoned what strength she could to apparate. Just before she did, she saw the Dark Lord turn back to the island with an expression of satisfaction and point his wand skyward.

"Mordsmorde!"

Her last image of Azkaban prison was with the dark mark hovering over it.