A few times, Bella had wondered what He would say if he could see her now. He constantly called her his most powerful, his most faithful, his best. She burned and burned and burned and no one thought it was possible to douse her. They were wrong, though. Azkaban tore her apart. It started before prison, of course, but being here made it explode.
With only the screams and inane nattering of other prisoners and the constant cold, hopeless feelings brought on by dementors to keep her company, the voices she heard became more and more pronounced until they convinced her everything here meant her harm. The people on the other side of the walls wanted to kill her, the guards were poisoning her food, her family and friends had left her to die. She refused to eat or even move and remained curled in the corner of her cell, legs drawn to her chest and her arms around them.
It only took her a week and a half to get this far.
When the guards finally opened the door and two of them entered to retrieve her, she fought back with a terrified shriek. The fact that she had refused to eat for a few days made her weak and so the pair of guards easily overpowered her as they half-dragged her down the hall, their patronuses following like luminous shadows.
The Dark Lord would be so proud to see her now.
They lead her into the infirmary, dusty and dark with disuse, and forced her onto a bed far back into the room. Bella shrieked again, terrified, and fought against her, but they pressed her arms and legs to the bed and held her there until a middle-aged witch pushed past one of them and leaned over her. Bella sobbed and tried to shy away from the woman's hand as it neared her face, then jerked again against the guards' hold on her limbs as she felt her fingertips along the side of her face.
"Shh, shh, Mrs. Lestrange," the woman cooed, oddly gentle. Confused, Bella's attempts to shove off the guards became weaker. The witch waved them away and they moved reluctantly. As expected, Bella attempted to make a break for it, but the elder woman grabbed her wrist--firmly, but still with great care--and kept her on the bed. When Bella seemed somewhat settled, the witch lightly placed a hand on the minute swell of the younger's stomach, a sensation that elicited another strong, panicked reaction. She tried to curl away from the woman and swatted feebly at her hand, then partly sat up and tried to inch as far away as possible on the semi-reclined hospital beds. The guards took a couple steps towards the bed, meaning to help restrain her again, but the witch quickly waved them off as Bella keened and tried to push herself away from them as soon as they moved.
The witch took her wrist again, then placed her other hand on her face. "Hush, love, I'm not going to hurt you or the baby," she said softly. Bella's gaze followed her, a flicker of interest moving behind her eyes. The elder woman smiled carefully. "It's hard being here and with child, I know, just lie down and relax for me. I just want to make sure it's okay." The woman's voice seemed to put Bella somewhat at ease, and much to the surprise of the guards, she obeyed. The witch's hands on her stomach again made her flinch and she bit her lip, but she didn't move. The woman gently felt the curve of her stomach, then drew her wand and performed a few spells. Bella's head tipped to the side and she closed her eyes. She ached to believe everything would be okay, but the voices insisted otherwise. Insist, insist, insist, screech, screech, screech...
Then the witch's touch left her body, Bella opened her eyes and followed the woman as she moved nearer her head. She shied away as she felt a wand touch her temple, but before she could do anything to get away, an odd sense of calm pounded through her head like a tidal wave. She felt exhausted suddenly. Exhausted, weak, alone... It was quiet, too. For the first time since she'd been here, it was quiet in her head. The relief manifested on her body and her face instantly. Now she noticed there were two patronuses in the room with her, and the realization allowed her to take in the sense of peace that came with her.
In her peripheral vision, she saw the witch--a healer, she realized now--smile a little. "That's better, isn't it," she said softly as she raised her hand to Bella's face and stroked her cheekbone with her thumb. "Your baby is fine, but you need to rest," she continued. Bella couldn't get her eyes to focus anymore. She just wanted sleep. A few moments later, the witch left her field of vision and she felt the weight of one thin blanket and then another cover her body. As her vision faded, she watched the woman head towards the guards.
"Well boys, they weren't lying. She's with child," she heard the healer say. "I want her in that bed without restraints until morning. Keep a patronus in here," she continued sternly, as though talking to children. Bella would have smiled if not for the way she felt. Her eyes closed as she continued to listen, but words stopped making much sense. "They'll be by tomorrow to retrieve her. No dementors..."
And with that, Bella slept deeply for the first time since she'd arrived at the prison. The Dark Lord would be disgusted with her state, but none of that really mattered anymore.