Because I'm Leaving

A Rodolphus Lestrange & Bellatrix Black Tragedy

If you had asked Rodolphus Lestrange if everything was okay, he would have said yes.

But if you had bothered to look Rodolphus Lestrange in the eye and repeat the same question, you would have seen that he was lying.

Because everything was not okay for Rodolphus Lestrange; it was anything but. All due to the minor fact that Rodolphus Lestrange was head-over-heels in love - with Bellatrix Black.

Every morning he would wake up beside her, every meal he would eat with her, and every night he would fall asleep next to her. Sadly, this was only physical.

She may have been there with him in body, but her mind was someplace else. Her mind was with the Dark Lord. Always with the Dark Lord.

It was tough - to love someone with all his tattered heart and receive nothing in return. She said she loved him; he knew it was a lie.

She would always love him; the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord who would never give her the time of day; he treated her like a slave - she was his slave.

Then there was Rodolphus. Willing to die for her, the man who treated her like a Queen and who would do anything to make her smile.

She always smiled at his jokes.

Bellatrix was only a Lestrange because deep down she knew she didn't have a chance in hell with Lord Voldemort. He was 'too good' for her, so she chose a pureblood her family would approve of.

Despite all of this, Rodolphus managed to convince himself that she would love him; one day she would return his feelings. But even after the Dark Lord was vanquished, she still felt nothing.

They were both sent to Azkaban, for being Death Eaters. He had a lot of time to think. But all he could think was:

'One day we'll get out of here, and she'll tell me she loves me, and she'll mean it. She'll realize all the feelings she had before pushed aside, and she will love me. She will!'

It was almost pathetic - no - it was pathetic. The desperation in his voice as he repeated her name over and over again. There was also anger, as he tried to convince himself of his wife's love, but the anger was directed at himself. Not Bella; never Bella.

Then - on that dreaded night - he came for them. The Dark Lord, still very much alive and growing stronger by the day, came and he broke them out of that hell hole. And that look, the look that his Bella gave the Dark Lord, was yet another stab to his heart he had worked 13 years to mend.

Rodolphus Lestrange stood broken hearted, just staring at that look. Full of lust, longing, and happiness. And he couldn't do a thing about it, but that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that he wouldn't do a thing about it - even if he could - because if Bella was happy, then so was he. To some extent.

So many chances, yet there he stood years later, the final battle quickly approaching, and he still stood by his wife's side.

How many times had she broken his heart in two? He didn't know; he'd lost track. Did he even have a heart anymore? Doubtful.

He stood in the middle of their living room, glancing around at all the pictures; the memories. They were all fake.

He couldn't take it; he just couldn't do it anymore.

His dark hair fell in front of his face – void of any expression. There was heavy stubble along his dirtied jaw line and dark bags under his sagging eyes. He had lost so much weight recently; it wasn't healthy.

As he stood there, surrounded by the false memories and fake smiles, he contemplated his options. Options he had ignored all too much in the past.

With anger etched in every crease of his aging face he marched over to the desk, pulled out a quill and parchment, and wrote. He had made his decision.

Bellatrix Black came home with a loud pop. She'd had a busy day, what with all the raids and killings of mudbloods. A sigh escaped her lips as she remembered how the Dark Lord had slaughtered those filthy muggles, mercilessly. Just the way his lips barely moved while muttering his most favourite curse of all, the way his eyes - barely visible underneath his hood - glared with a coldness one could only dream of expressing. Bellatrix felt a shiver down her spine as her previous thoughts left her excited and anxious; anxious to see him again.

As she went into the living room to rest she called out her husband's name. She could think of the Dark Lord while Lestrange kissed her; she did it all the time.

"Rodolphus!"

She received no answer.

'Odd,' Bellatrix thought, as he had said earlier he would be home all day. Or at least that is what she thought he had said; she didn't really listen to him often.

"Master Lestrange is not home," their house elf Term came into the room carrying a tray of tea and biscuits.

"Well where is he? He said he'd be here!" Bellatrix screamed in annoyance. He never was there, and when he was, he was only in the way.

As she crossed the room she noticed an envelope on the desk addressed to her in blood red ink.

"What is this?" She turned on Term, glaring.

"For you Mistress," the house elf shook in fear as he explained the letter. "Master Lestrange wrote it before he left. He said to make sure you received it."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and turned to open the envelope. Once it had been opened she began to unfold the letter, all the while mumbling;

"This had better be important, not everything revolves around him!"

The parchment seemed extremely long which only agitated Bellatrix more, but as she began to read her look of annoyance quickly turned to one of shock.

My Dearest Bella,

I am tired of it. Tired of the ignorance and the lies. Tired of all the looks of admiration he receives, and the looks of disgust you send my way. You never gave a damn for me, yet I always hoped you would. I have come to my senses Bella. I know that you will never love me.

All the times you claimed you cared were lies, and not once have you been pleased with something I have done. Everything I did, I did for you! I only joined the Death Eaters to get your attention and even then you only came to me as a last resort. You ruined everything - you ruined my life. But even as I sit here writing this letter about all the wrongs you've done me, I can't help but love you. I always have and I always will, and despite how horrible you treat me that will never change. It can't ever change.

All the looks you sent his way,

All the times you pushed me back.

I never stopped loving you!

All the lies you told me,

All the things you screamed.

I never stopped loving you!

And all the shoves, the curses,

All the hate and the heartbreak.

I never stopped loving you!

I never did and I never will.

But all the chances that I had,

I'm finally taking one.

I'm leaving you!

Yet out of all the reasons I could use, all the things I could hold against you, I won't. Because maybe you will feel something after all. Because maybe what I've done is enough. Because I'm leaving.

Yours for never,

Rodolphus