So yeah. Stupid ti
tle. Oh well.

Voldemort/Bellatrix, bros.

Me as Voldy.

Fizzybutt as Bellatrix.

Anyone can join as supporting peoplecharactersthings and can chime in when they want, I guess. Death Eaters mostly. 

But like, it could end up private. 

And if it does, well, Fizz and I are wonderful together anyway, right Fizz? 

Of course Pere. ;o

Won

der

ful.

...

I think part of Bellatrix got embedded into my brain or something. D':

Or it was always there.

Anyway.

Do I really need to make a character deion? ;c 

Dammit. I can't tell if thats genius or insanity.

Also I'm not sure, I'm working on another post that might take a while (COUGH COUGH YOUR FAULT COUGH) so you can start if you get bored~ 

((Omg youknowwhat. Lurkers should get to be Death Eaters or House elves or other such toys characters :D Edit: You said this. lD

Also.

The Trix is back. ;o))

((http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NtzR-2xLYPw Don't usually listen to dubstep but. o_o Where to start...))

Two pale fingers ran down an equally pale forearm. Long fingernails traced the faded snake around its twisted path, ending upon a wide-mouthed skull. Bellatrix let out a cold breath. Where are you now... The chilling air of Azkaban swept harshly through her hair. She shuddered. Dark irises swimming with curiosity and wonder, her eyelids blinked down twice, and an eyelash drifted to the stony floor. Everything was the same, today. She was thinning for suspicion her meal would be poisoned. The wind blew. Dementors sucked out your emotions, drifting by. Inmates howled and wept and screamed they had done nothing wrong. 

"It was him! It was him! The Imperius curse, I swear it!"

She scoffed. Hatred filled her eyes, and they flicked to the direction the noise came from. Traitor. The man was fearful. He was weak. An image of a scraggly old prisoner came to mind, and Bella laughed softly and yet harshly. Deserves to die. Let the dementors have him. Anyone worthy of being in the presence of the Dark Lord and yet would give him up had never truly been worthy to serve. She hadn't stopped waiting. She'd never stop waiting until he came. Which would happen. Soon. It's been getting darker. Has anyone else noticed? You did. He did. He'll come for you. 

The only difference from yesterday was the weather. A storm seemed to be on the rise.

((Beautiful post, Fizz. <3))

The Dark Lord sat in Malfoy Manor. On his pale, alabaster face was an ex
pression of pure boredom, as his servants went in and out of the magnificent ballroom, delivering updates on his work. The Potter boy was a constant thorn in his side, and his obssession with killing him was now not so much concern for the prophecy coming true than getting rid of the biggest obstacle in his goals. He sighed, and when a crack sounded, announcing the deliverer of his 'lunch', he killed the house elf without a second thought.

He took down the potion that enabled his survival in one gulp, and threw the vial onto the ground, breaking it into shards. Hopefully someone would slip and fall into it. It was a rather immature thought, and it made him smirk briefly. He did have a sense of humour, after all, even if it wasn't what other people would find funny. But then, he was above them anyway, so what did it matter? 

Flipping through the usual tripe the Daily Prophet reported, an article caught his eye. It was progress on some of the Death Eater prisoners of Azkaban, and his breath caught slightly when he caught sight of a pale, manic face framed by wild, curly dark hair. Oh Bella, he thought, tracing the picture with a hand. What has become of you?

The Dementors, it seemed, had done all they could to erase the beautiful woman she had once been, and she was now but a mere memory. Crumpling the paper with his hand, he set it on fire and then called for one of his lesser-known Death Eaters, Rowling. 

"Antoine, how much progress have you made on Azkaban? Have the Dementors turned yet?"

The handsome brown-haired man bowed down and kept his eyes trained on the floor. "Not yet, milord. They are still considering."

"Up the offer. I want the Death Eaters in Azkaban out by the end of the month."

"Yes, milord."

"Good, you are dismissed."

The man left, still not looking him in the eye, and he relaxed, a satisfied smile on his face.

Soon, Bella. Very soon. 

((Sorry, I couldn't think of any other last names for the DE. xD)) 

((Roflmao, that was an amazing last name. lD Made me giggle. And thank you. ;o))

As the days passed by, Bellatrix knew something was on the rise. The storm was getting worse. Her mark was getting darker. When the dementors came, she didn't scream at them. A deadly quiet settled over Azkaban, a sudden roll of thunder breaking the silence. She jumped. Her chains jangled, startling another prisoner, and a heavy-lidded glance made him look away, ashamed. Yet another scoff ended the primitive conversation, and Bella looked back to the ant that was making its way towards her. The only emotions that troubled her were trivial, and the silence calmed her nerves. He would come soon enough, she was sure of this. Others seemed to notice something was different too, and weren't quite as relaxed by the thought. Imagine the looks on their faces when he walks straight up to your cell. She wasn't sure what he would look like, but it didn't matter. A smirk played over her lips. Everyone here would fear her. And her Lord.

She stepped on the ant.

"Over here, Narcissa," Voldemort demanded, and the blonde woman stepped forward, shaking slightly. The rest of the congregated servants in black robes and silver masks were silent, and all eyes were on them. He watched as the woman of Malfoy Manor approached him. "Your arm."

She hesitated, and his scarlet eyes glinted dangerously. "Your arm, Narcissa."

The arm was offered instantaneously this time, and he grabbed it roughly. Taking out a long length of yew, he pressed it to the serpent and skull inked onto her otherwise flawless skin. All other people assembled in the ballroom flinched, and a few gasps were heard, as the searing pain coursed through them. Voldemort flung Narcissa away from him, and he did not look back as the woman moaned pitifully on the ground. She should be thankful. Her husband was being released tonight.

Reaching the throne-like seat at the front of the ballroom, he turned to the mass of black and silver. "My servants, tonight we will break out the most loyal among our ranks. They have been placed in Azkaban for being faithful to their Lord, and they will be repaid beyond their wildest dreams once we have brought them back to wear they truly belong. The Dementors have now left Azkaban, and leave the prison unguarded. We will Apparate straight to the cells." He smirked. "Do not leave anyone other than our own alive. We will celebrate grandly tonight." 

And with a flutter of robes, he disappeared with a pop. 

((Aw. D: Sorry.))

Bellatrix woke to a burning sensation up her arm. Eyelids widening into shining orbs, she frantically grasped at the fabric covering the source, and when it was torn back her heart pounded rapidly. A gasp echoed around the room. Doing what she could to cool the burning (touching it as much as possible), Bella straightened and smelled the rain and fog. The storm had finally come. Dementors were swirling everywhere, and several people were screaming.

It was the most beautiful thing she had ever witnessed.

Mirth filled her for the first time in years, tingling and racing all over her body. He's here! He's come! Tears rose to her eyes. Fingernails threatened to pierce skin, and teeth bit down on a dry lip. Looking around and breathing in every second of it she could, Bellatrix let out a giggle. Then a laugh. A racous crowing filled the hall, loudly waking everyone nearby. I was right! They were all wrong! I knew it! I knew it always! Deranged laughter alerted everyone within a mile that something was going terribly right. 

Voldemort appeared less than a second later. Looking around at the wizarding prison, he had forgotten just how filthy it was. He sneered down at a prisoner snivelling in the corner of his cell.

"Filth, do you know where Bellatrix's cell is?" He smiled, his eyes glowing in the darkness. As a Dementor swooped by, he felt a cold rush of wind, but nothing else. The cold didn't annoy him, surprisingly. Nothing could dim his mood. He was hearing people scream and he would rescue Bella. Finally.

"N-no," the prisoner cowered.

"No, milord," Voldemort corrected boredly. He flicked his wand, and the green light hit the prisonder straight in the chest. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Unworried, Voldemort continued strolling through the hallways that led to cells. His followers were wreaking havoc several storeys up; he could hear and smell death. Bella would be somewhere there.

An idea formed in his mind, and he suddenly stopped and closed his eyes. Feeling through the magical auras in the enormous building, he felt a few of them go out every second. He looked for the strongest one, which was located on the same floor as him. Grinning, he headed that way, and was soon face to face with Bellatrix, who was laughing raucously.

"Bellatrix," he said, his voice little more than a whisper, but he knew she had heard. 

"Of course, Bella," Voldemort said, holding up a hand to stop her rambling. He gave her a heated smile. "I remember, and you were faithful. You shall be rewarded tonight. We will feast, and then we will participate in those revels you love so much, in honour of you and the other loyal Death Eaters." His eyes appraised her disapprovingly. "You have thinned much since I last saw you. They did not feed you here, I presume." He turned to the Death Eaters awaiting him anxiously. "Go through the prison and make sure every single person here is killed." He would not let anyone who had mistreated Bellatrix live. 

((Of course, we shouldn't go into detail about the...revels. Not PG. ;o))