AN: This was written for Round Two of Fanfiction Idol. We were all given a stanza to base our story off of and mine was One less egg to fry/ One less man to pick up after/ No more laughter/ No more love.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Belinda Zabini had seen many deaths in her life and caused quite a few of them as well. But for the first time, in the many funerals she had attended, she felt something like remorse. The funeral was over now, and she had hoped that as the coffin was lowered into the earth, her guilt would go with it. But she felt no jubilation over the wealth that had come from the will, no excitement over the prospect of finding a new husband as she usually did; she merely felt lonely.

With Blaise shut off in his room as he always was on these days and Antonio dead, the dirt atop his grave freshly turned, Belinda supposed the feeling made sense. But she was not used to it, and the eerie feeling stayed with her as she sat delicately on a chair, though alone, always playing the part of a grieving widow. Antonio's picture grinned at her cheerfully.

"Why are you smiling, il mio amore," she asked it, almost wistfully, "when you are dead?" The picture had no reply and Belinda sighed, looking out the window at the pouring rain.

"And who exactly are you?" She raised her eyebrows at the young man, who grinned.

"No one in particular," he said, running his fingers through his dark hair, "I'm sure you're much more interesting."

Belinda concealed a smile, "And why is that?"

"You're mysterious, mia bella," the man said almost jokingly, but not quite, "and I consider myself quite the detective."

"You flatter me, and yourself as well it seems," smirked Belinda, "There's not nearly as much to me as you seem to think there is."

"Then allow me to learn that for myself. Will you accompany me to dinner tonight?"

"You're ridiculous, you know."

"That I do. I will see you at seven?"

"At seven."

Belinda could hear the echoes of what felt like years ago, but the room was silent except for the sound of the beating rain. From the kitchen a tea kettle whistled. She did not get up. A House Elf approached her nervously, squeaked "Your tea," set the tea next to Belinda, and scurried away. Belinda loved tea, but she did not touch the delicate china cup. Not today. She must show at least some respect for the dead.

A couple, holding hands, walked in the park. It was spring and the sun shone down on them graciously and the birds sang.

"I love you," Belinda whispered to the man holding her hand and realized that she meant it, "Marry me."

Antonio laughed and showed her a small box. "It seems you have stolen my thunder, mia bella."

"It's what I do best, il mio amore."

The couple kissed and even the birds stopped singing to watch.

She carefully removed her wedding ring, twirling it around, watching the diamond sparkle in the light of the crystal chandelier hanging overhead. There was only one ring now. The other was buried underneath the soil. It would never see the light; never see the sun again like it had that day in the park. Belinda set the ring spinning upon the table. Round and round it went. Had she been right? Round and round. What was Antonio thinking of her now, as he peered down from heaven? Round and round. Would she fall in love again? Round and round. "Am I a monster?" she whispered under her breath, fearing the answer. Round and rou- The ring stopped spinning and fell to its side.

"Spellotape has hit a twelve month high on the stock market," Antonio read from the newspaper, reclining in his armchair and squinting to make out the small print, "I think it's overvalued; it's probably time to take our profit and invest in something else."

Belinda shrugged, smiling, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Antonio laughed, "Never mind then, mia bella, we'll save business for another day. What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't care very much. As long as it's not business. Or sports," she grinned at him, "Although I have heard that the Arrows are destroying the Tornadoes."

"There's no need to bring that up," Antonio said, pouting. Then he laughed and she did too, her delicate giggle mingling with his own booming one. He held out his hand and she took it. "Sometimes I wish that these moments could last forever. That we could spend the rest of our lives in these chairs. Grow old together."

Belinda smiled, "Well, we can at least try."

Belinda heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and turned, daring to hope that it was Antonio, come back from his grave. It was Blaise, his face far too serious for a boy of twelve. "You killed him didn't you?"

Belinda looked away. She could not answer. Not today.

"I liked him, you know."

Belinda said nothing and soon enough, Blaise left.

"So did I."

It was time. Belinda had been married to Antonio for over a year now, much longer than she had ever waited before. Time for Antonio to go away.

"Tinky?" The tiny House Elf looked up at her mistress.

"Is it time, mistress?"

Even the House Elves knew. Everyone knew what would happen, everyone expected Belinda to become a widow once more. Maybe even Antonio knew that his time had come. Surely, he had seen the six graves in the garden? Surely, he knew what they meant? She set the vial gently down on the cracked marble.

"Yes. It is time."

Alone. All alone. Never before, had she mourned one of the deaths. Never before, had she cried at a funeral. How she wanted to forget now, to have his memory buried with him. She would never, could never forget now…

Antonio's eyes were wide. He had tasted the poison in his wine.

"I'm sorry," she told him coldly. It would be quick, Belinda had made sure of that. But it was his words, his last words, the ones he had manage to choke out before collapsing, that would haunt her forever.

"I love you, mia bella."