Disclaimer: Harry Potter does NOT belong to rights go to JK Rowling.
Rated T for slightly offensive language, although I could've written it out, I thought it would just add to the growing intensity and anger of Barty.
It hadn't always been like this. Him, leaving during the earliest possible hours of the morning. Her, getting up to find that the man she loved was once again, gone. She couldn't understand where she had gone wrong. Her, the previous Hogwarts Head Girl. Her, the most popular girl in school, a lust for many of the young hormonal boys at that time. Her, the one who had fallen head over heels for the reckless bad boy, the future Death Eater, the ignorant asshole, the young and broken teen. She could remember the halcyon days, when he would look at her with such an intense amount of love that she would feel weak at the knees. The days when his first priority was making her happy, her and her only. The days when he would rush back from a day of failed job interviews, relying on her touch to make him whole again. She could recall everything.
"Barty! I'm so glad you're home, love!" Juliet cried, running to her fiancé with the biggest smile on her beautiful, innocent face.
"Babe, I'm glad I'm home as well," Barty said, throwing his suitcase onto the kitchen counter and reaching for his wife's touch. "My dad was being the biggest asshole today, babe. I swear, he feels like he has to get on my case even more than everyone else, just to prove to them I didn't get into the Ministry through connections."
Gingerly stroking her husband's cheek, she brought her lips to his forehead in a comforting manner. "I know, but you can do it. I trust you," She said, carefully unbuttoning his shirt, running her hands down his chest to temporarily distract him from the underlying pain his father had caused him.
They were so young, so innocent, and fresh out of school. He was living off his father's hard-earned money, and she, the same. She remembered waking up in the middle of the night, realizing that he had somehow slipped away from the bed. She had never asked where he went, she was too afraid to. Afraid that she would lose her husband. Afraid that he would gradually pull away from her touch. Afraid that one day, he might just think of their love as something that can be easily replaced. But her fears were not in vain. She had watched as he had come home every night, later and later than the usual time. She had watched as he had started moving away from her touch, hands becoming twitchy, like those of an addict. She had watched as he transformed into a stranger right before her very eyes. She had seen everything.
"Barty, babe. We haven't...You haven't...What's going on?" Juliet asked, reaching for her husband's hand, face, hair, anything that would give her a sense of belonging, anything that would reassure her.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Barty spat out, glaring at the woman while moving away.
"I...You come home so late, and sometimes I wake up and hear you talking in your sleep..." She would say, not wanting to start another fight between the two of them.
Feeling a sudden pain across her cheek, her eyes welled up with tears. "I was just...I was just trying to help," She said, not bothering to wipe away the tears as they spilled over her eyes in streams.
But he would always apologize after striking her. She remembered taking him back each and every time, blaming herself for the incident. She remembered welcoming him into her arms, hands upon backs, skin against skin. It was a cycle. A never-ending cycle. She remembered watching as his appearance became increasingly disheveled, as he quit his job at the Ministry. She remembered the sting of his words, the scars left from his actions. She remembered watching as he stopped responding to her. She remembered the longing she felt for his love. She remembered everything.
"Barty, don't do this. Barty, I love you, I-" Juliet said, faltering as she watched her husband bring his wand up to her neck.
"Shut up, filthy blood traitor," Barty said, spitting at Juliet's face.
Feeling the sensation of something wet spray onto her face, Juliet flinched. "Barty, I'm your wife. You can't, I can't, I'll leave, I swear," Juliet said, knowing all along that she couldn't leave. No matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to leave.
"You won't leave me, you will never leave me. You're mine, bitch. All mine," Barty said, dropping his wand and hungrily devouring her.
She remembered telling herself that it was just his way of loving her. She remembered lying to herself, crying herself to sleep every night. She remembered her attempts to follow him, always stopping right before she entered that gloomy, soulless building. She remembered hiding behind a dirty, filthy alleyway as she waited for him to step out. She remembered feeling panic and fear as she heard voices, strange ones, familiar ones, surrounding the one of her husband. She remembered feeling his cold eyes grazing over her body, eyes with a tint of red, so unusual for a human being. She felt everything.
"Blood traitor, I know you've been following me," Barty said, grabbing a hold of her neck and roughly pushing her against a wall.
"No, Barty, I wanted to know! I love you so much! I'm so sorry, I promise, I wo-" Juliet said, unable to finish her sentence because of the great pressure on her windpipe.
"It was fun while it lasted, but you and I weren't meant to be. I'm a pureblood prince, and you're...a filthy mudblood lover," Barty said, holding up his wand to her neck for the last time.
Watching as her husband stared deeply into her eyes, she thought she could see a hint of remorse, a shred of abandoned love, but then it was gone.
She couldn't recall anything, she couldn't see anything, she couldn't remember anything, and she couldn't feel anything but the wet sensation of a teardrop gliding down the plane of her cheek.