A kinda angsty fic about Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange.
Disclaimer : All hail the Death Eaters! I've got their contracts...PSYCHED. Don't own. Doie.
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I don't Care
The sun was covered by dark and gray clouds the whole day. Everything was gloomy, not once had rays of light passed through the thick clouds, the day was obscured by darkness, and this darkness only made matters, emotions, plans, activities and everything else much more worse.
The meeting had just ended, with the Dark Lord silencing everyone and dismissing them, but not before he disappeared with a swirl of his cloak. One of the feminine figures rose from a chair, her long blonde hair falling onto her back. Narcissa Malfoy was not a Death Eater, but she came with Lucius to each of the meetings. The said man caught up with his wife and interlaced their fingers together as they left through the gates, they disapparated together, hand in hand to go back to Malfoy Manor.
Another female figure stood up, her hood thrown back, her long curly and unruly locks giving her the impression of a mad man – woman. Bellatrix had watched her sister walk hand in hand with her husband, her heavily lidded gaze following after them – her dark eyes showed nothing but pure blankness . . . but something stirred in her, a hopeful feeling – but not enough. Somewhere beside her, a man stood up, his hood thrown back to reveal brown hair and, through the darkness, hazel brown eyes.
They did not leave hand-in-hand like the previous couple. They did not even seem to look at each other. When they arrived just in front of the gates, then they spared one another a look. Rodolphus merely gave his wife a quick glance as did Bellatrix.
And at the same time, although not together, they disapparated.
Bellatrix had arrived back at their house, sitting on one of high-back chairs and pouring herself wine.
Rodolphus was nowhere inside the house, he was out. He was just out, for Bellatrix did not know where her husband went to these days – nor did she care. The man looked weary, sad and tired as well as bitter as his hazel brown eyes glared into the smooth and icy surface of the lake in front of him. He had not know why he and his wife seldom interacted, maybe it was the growing fact that she was being too involved in the Dark Arts.
He closed his eyes, his head falling back as he brought a fist to his forehead, resting it there, he sat there like that for a while, knowing that the best way to show he cared, or otherwise, was to stay away from her. His sleeved traveled to his eyes, preventing those stray droplets from falling. As much as he thought Bellatrix beautiful, he himself did not know whether he still loved her or not.
As she sat there, drinking, Bellatrix closed her eyes, thoughts of the past hit her like the cruciatus hit Frank and Alice Longbottom on that night she tortured them. She threw her head back into the cushions and let out a sigh, a shaking sigh, and shook her head.
She did not need Rodolphus' love, she did not need him. She did not care even if he would stay away from her forever, she did not give a single damn if he decided to leave her, she did not care that a tear had just slid down from her cheek because of the man whom she thought she loved; whom she thought loved her back. Bellatrix did not care . . . that's what she's trying to tell herself, anyway.
fin.
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Kinda angsty?
My first Rod/Bella! I always imagined them not loving each other. Or, trying not to, anyway, because love is a weakness and the two don't want to fall into such a category that would label them both as "weak".
But because of love Narcissa and Lucius survived the war so . . . yeah. :D