sad but endearingly so
william + bella
his face is left slashed and torn, bloodied and battered, nothing but remains of the werewolf's savage ways. red blood bleeds into red hair and he lies alone on a cold floor, in a cold world.
"d'awe," she whispers, her surprisingly smooth fingers gracing the edges of wounds, "poor baby." bellatrix's long black curls cascaded over his half-lidded eyes and the angle of her neck graced him with a quixotically soft perfume. his body heaves only slightly, and he coughs up red.
"fenrir's left you in quite the state, he has. if you weren't a traitor of blood," says bellatrix, and she sweeps some matted fringe out of his pale, bloodied face. "i might've just eaten you up right now."
she breathes in his musky scent of sweat, blood and something more addictive. he blinks feebly, the room spins. he closes his eyes, unconsciousness hauling him with force.
"what a beautiful, wittle weasley boy." she murmurs sardonically, and her lips brush his for a mere second. hers against his, and blood acts as rouge.
