Hall of nightmares

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any of these characters, and no-one would believe me if I said I did. I only wish that one day my own characters will be as big as these ones.

A/N: I want to apologise for two things; 1, my promise to update "Being controlled" before writing anything else. Ch 5 IS almost finished, and it's next to be updated. 2 is my misspelling in the A/N of free spirited: its exception not acception. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy this one.

Lily…

James…

Dead…

Pain floods me, a wrenching pain, pulling at my stomach tightly. I fall limp, caught by ice cold fingers on each arm. The pain intensifies, bringing back images of a burning house, and smoke makes me choke weakly. A baby screams. I run through the smoke, eyes stinging and tears running down my cheeks. I look up – Through the smoke it's harder to see the green symbol glittering in the pitch black sky.

Suddenly the image cuts out. A grey wall faces me, a bench the only thing you could call furniture. Behind me, a loud clang sounds. A ghostly trail turns the corner. It's cold, but unnaturally cold, as though someone had cast a spell over the place. Well, other than the security spells. Turning, a sullen face with dark eyes stares with hatred at me.

"Nice of you to drop in." She murmured quietly. There was no need to speak louder. Silence filled the corridor.

"I hope you don't mind – I expect I'll stay for quite a while."

"Always the witty one, weren't we, Sirius? You can never take anything seriously – not even prison."

"Well, it isn't really prison – more of a place of residence. It can't be much worse than Grimmauld Place, can it? Oh wait – you're going to be here all the time. Damn."

"Place of residence? You disgust me."

"Same to you, Mrs. Lestrange."

"Politeness and respect was always your finesse, Sirius. You never thought anything of the Black ancestors."

"Oh, because they were such respectable, honest and good-willed people."

"At least they weren't stupid enough to get caught."

I didn't bother replying. If the ministry didn't believe me, she wouldn't. I must've looked like a mad-man, laughing, actually amused with irony as the dementors dragged me away. I didn't have a hope in the world.

"So? Why're you here? I thought you said that you'd never be a true Black descendant."

Well she asked. It doesn't matter what she thinks anyway; it won't get me any closer to being out of here.

"And I keep to my word. I never did anything. You wouldn't understand. You were in here."

"Better than hiding out there like the traitors."

"Yeah, I'm sure you're having way more fun than they are."

"At least I made the effort to find my master!"

"Oh, well done! I'm sure your master will be so pleased to know you care, and that you're spending that time caring in prison. Because caring, Bella, is what Voldemort does look for in a follower." All the undertones of sarcasm that had hung off the conversation came shining through as loudly as Bellatrix's voice had done. She sat, unable to retort adequately, and stared with an unblinking hatred at me. Her eyes told another story though. A realisation, a shock. A fear. Fear burning in the heart of her dark pupils as she silently contemplated her fate.

She smirked.

"The traitors will be more highly punished. I kept my faith."

"Of course you did."

"You never know, I might make it out of here…I'd be the first, the mysterious escapee…then I can return, return to him…"

"Oh please, how can you be so desperate for someone like him? You don't understand, do you?"

"Don't understand what? How the most powerful, most-"

"Don't you dare praise him! He's a parasite, living off other people's pain, other people's suffering, other people's death! He's pointlessly killing all the righteous and trust-worthy people of this world! Don't even speak about him!"

I was on my feet unexpectedly, tears streaming down my face. Bella was sat silently on her bench, looking outraged and shocked at the same time. She was speechless. For once.

"Besides, you'll never get out of here," I said quietly. "It's a hopeless dream."

"But why not dream," she retorted gently, "in this hall of nightmares?"