Author's Notes: Bellatrix/Rodolphus/Rabastan/Barty Crouch Jr's trial from Bellatrix's point of view. Apparently I'm on some sort of Bellatrix-angst kick right now… and I can't promise it's going to end any time soon. Bellatrix came out a pretty lucid here, but this is before Azkaban, so it's only the centuries of in-breeding screwing with her sanity at the moment. As for how she treats Rodolphus… well, all I can say is that this is the feeling I sensed between them.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own Harry Potter. Suing me will not be a productive use of time or energy
Bellatrix felt the telltale swoop of misery at her core, and knew that the Dementors were coming back for her. They were going to send her to Azkaban, and she hadn't had the chance to say a word.
Not that she had anything very particular to say. She wouldn't deny, as her snivelling sister and brother-in-law had, knowing anything about the Dark Lord. She would not make an attempt to get out of the fate she had doomed herself to. She was proud to go to Azkaban for the Dark Lord. But going away to Azkaban without having the last word, without taking advantage of her trial, without proving that sending her to prison wouldn't make her loyalty waver, that was too much to bear. She had known from the start that, though the crime was hers, the trial was only an excuse for Crouch to show how he hated his son. But they might at least have mentioned her name!
The chains that had bound her to the chair slithered away, and Bellatrix stood up, not waiting for a Dementor to force her to rise.
'The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch!' she said loudly.
Everyone looked at Bellatrix, and she swelled with pride. She had gotten them. This was a trial for what she had done, and damned if she wouldn't say anything at it!
Crouch jerked his chin in the direction of the doors, and the Dementors glided toward them, Bellatrix's husband and his brother in tow. Then, for the first time in the course of the trial, Crouch let his eye rest challengingly on her, waiting to hear what she had to say.
Now that Bellatrix had his attention, she was painfully conscious that she hadn't planned what she was going to say. Her words hung in the air and they sounded childish and pathetic.
She drew in a shaky breath, let it out slowly, forcing herself to meet Crouch's glare.
'Throw us into Azkaban,' she declared, dragging her words out leisurely. 'We will wait! He will rise again and he will come for us. He will reward us beyond any of his other supporters.'
The jury was losing interest in her speech again, looking instead to Barty, who was sobbing in a massive display of acting talent. Bellatrix raised her voice again, trying to draw the attention back to her.
'We alone were faithful!' she almost-screamed as the Dementor's icy fingers closed around her arm. 'We alone tried to find him!'
Barty screamed as a Dementor took hold of him, and Bellatrix resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Rodolphus and his brother were already at the door, and Bellatrix followed, her Dementor gliding beside her. If Barty wanted to make a fool of himself by begging his father for mercy, well, that was his affair.
'Bella,' Rodolphus murmured once they were out of the courtroom. She glared at him. Only her sisters and the Dark Lord had the right to call her by that name.
'Bellatrix,' Rodolphus amended. 'I just want to say, if I die in Azkaban…'
'You aren't going to die,' Bellatrix snapped.
'But if I do…'
'You won't. The Dark Lord–'
'For Christ's sake, Bellatrix, can't you shut up about the Dark Lord for one effing minute?'
Barty, consumed with sobs, had finally been dragged out by his Dementor, and the accused were now being herded towards the lift.
'If you have something to say, say it,' Bellatrix snarled. She was on her way to prison, and had no patience left for her husband.
'All I want to say,' he said, 'is that if I die in Azkaban, and I don't get a chance to say this again… I want to die knowing that you know I love you.'
'If I die…'
'You won't die.'
'But if I do, I want you to know…'
'What is it?
'That I never loved you for a minute.'
She faced straight ahead, and made a point of not looking at her husband's injured eyes.
She would always have the last word.