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Kiss me like you want me, show me that you care.
Hold me like you’re hopin’ I’ll stay here.
Tell me in a whisper, look me in the eye.
* * *
She was a Black born and bred. The Sorting Hat hadn’t even hesitated before placing her in Slytherin. Guarding secrets came naturally to her. And she had many of them, Rodolphus could only guess.
Of course Rodolphus didn’t expect an honest answer when he asked her - late at night, after one firewhiskey too many - if she loved him.
Her blank smile, the playful tilt of her head when she evaded the question didn’t surprise him. What did surprise him was the sting he felt at her reply. He hadn’t expected her to answer him honestly. But he would have been content to hear her lie. It would have sounded so much sweeter than no answer at all.
And he continued to tell himself that maybe, just maybe, she’d grow to love him in time. They had been so close, once. And they had a good life together. They were content with each other. They even shared a hobby - though he could not help the feeling that the cause was so much more than a hobby to her. The life that sparked behind her eyes whenever they talked of the subject was magnetic. And perhaps, someday, something similar would glow in her face when she looked at him. - She’d almost looked at him like that once upon a time.
* * *
They’d had one magical summer back when they had been barely adults.
They had even done the traditional world tour together. Bella - wild child that she was - had insisted on doing one. The only way her parents had allowed it was for her to marry and then go with her husband. - Of course her parents didn’t really have that kind of power over her. She was a grown witch. But the Blacks were a traditional family. And Bellatrix did share their values - most of the time. And so she had obliged her parents and married another pureblood.
Rodolphus was still, to this day, convinced they had shared something special back then. Maybe even something that could be called a romance - a brief fling, a summer romance, as far as Bella was concerned. But romance all the same.
But then summer had faded and everything had combusted.
They weren’t ready to settle down. They were so young, and yet they were bound to each other. Trapped in traditions and expectations they weren’t inclined to fulfill.
Then they found the Dark Lord. And suddenly all the excitement had returned. They had a new adventure to conquer together. Until it hadn’t kept them together anymore. Rodolphus could almost physically feel how Bella pulled away from him, inching further from him by the day. And for the longest time, he couldn’t understand why.
Why did he continue to care?
He couldn’t even explain to himself what kept him attached to the woman he called his wife. She didn’t come home most nights. Claiming the cause kept her busy. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something else. Someone else.
But who could possibly capture her attention when he himself had never managed. He knew, all things considered, he was her best option.
So who, if not him, could she possibly fall in love with?
And when it finally dawned on him, he was much too late.
Was he going mad?
He had long since noticed the way she looked at their Master when she thought no one was watching. But was he imagining that their Master returned those looks now? Was he imagining the intimacy that laced their conversations even during meetings?
It made sense, of course. If anyone could manage a hold on Bella, it must be the most powerful dark wizard alive.
That did nothing to diminish the sting Rodolphus felt at the realization, though. He didn’t care that the wizard in question was his Master. He didn’t care about the loyalty he had sworn when he had received his mark. His only thought was to kill. To maim the man that had taken away his last chance with her. She’d never love him now. Not now that she had a taste of the Dark Lord’s power, regardless of how close they had once come.
But what could he do?
Confront him and die for it? - If he were lucky, he supposed that would be the outcome. If he were unlucky, his death would be preceded by ridicule and torture.
Confront her and what? - She’d never comply if he demanded she stop seeing him. She’d rather divorce him if he were lucky - or choose to be a widow if he were unlucky.
* * *
Nothing compared to the quietness the world possessed in the early hours of the day. Dawn still hours away, when the night was at its darkest.
She was still up - or up again, maybe, he couldn’t be certain - when he returned from what he had been sent to do.
Was she waiting for him?
“Hey Bella,” he greeted her, draping his traveling cloak over the sofa. “You’re still up.”
“So are you,” she said wryly. “Have you been successful?”
She always knew of his missions, while he only seldomly knew what she was sent to do.
He only nodded.
“Why are you up?”
Did he imagine the red shadows around her eyes? The tracks of dried tears on her face?
“Couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged, and he heard the lie in her voice. Usually she was better at pretending.
“What happened,” he asked, though he thought he’d be happier if he didn’t know.
“Nothing.”
Did her lip just tremble?
No, don’t cry Bella.
He didn’t know what to do if she burst into tears. The Bella he had grown to know never cried. She’d rather rage and curse and hex someone than cry.
“Come on, Bella.”
She shook her head.
Was she trying to spare his feelings?
“It’s nothing,” she whispered, straightening her back, vanishing the empty glass - he could still smell the firewhiskey permeating the air. “I’m fine.”
He’d never felt so lonely with her in the room. Those early hours of the day were always the loneliest. Especially now, that his wife - sitting right there - felt miles and miles away.
Should he let her know that he knew?
Could he ever admit to turning a blind eye?
Could he even survive saying it out loud?
“Do you love him?”
Fool.
Utter fool.
He didn’t want to hear her say it. For he knew what her answer would be. And he was certain she wouldn’t spare him.
She looked at him - and yes, there were fresh tears glistening in her eyes.
He stared, and she had never looked less guarded around him. He felt as if he could look into her soul, so deep were her eyes. Welling with emotions he had always longed to see in her face.
Only not like this.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, and he could feel the resignation burning her like acid.
And among all the hate he already felt for their Master welled a fresh kind of hate. Hate for making her suffer. Hate for making her unhappy.
Why did this wizard, who had all the power to make her happy, refuse to do so?
Why did he take her away from him, when he didn’t even want her?