DISCLAIMER: Lalala I don't own the HP-verse, but I do own this fic, yadda yadda. Personification of Roddy is all Marie's, though.
AT MIDNIGHT.
Pop.
His eyes cracked open. There were mounds of that gook in the corners, threatening to obscure his vision—he rubbed at it with two fingers and sat up, his eyes adjusting to the sudden light in his bedroom. "Whossat?"
"Me." He knew that voice. He knew that voice. He scratched at his head, thinking through how she said the word—it was a female voice, that was certain, although it sounded like rain on gravel—soft, but harsh.
"Bella?"
The light at the end of her wand went out, and a long shadow slid over to his bed. The silhouette sat at the edge, close to him, pulling back the hood. "No one calls me that anymore, Sirius."
Sirius frowned. "Except for Voldemort, yeah?"
Her face paled—he could see her now, the moonlight filtering in—and she almost scowled, but her brows snapped back to their perfect form. "Don't say the name, Sirius."
His mouth twisted slightly—"What's up with the 'Sirius', Bella? No one calls me that anymore."
"Hold your tongue." She put slender fingers to his lips—his breath caught in his chest. "I cannot speak for long, because they are waiting. However, I came to say good-bye. For a long time." Her dark eyes almost showed emotion when she said this—almost—and her hand slid down his face and neck, resting on his chest.
"Good-bye? What do you mean? Where are you going?" He frowned, his bedhead of black curls shaking as his skull did.
"Not so many questions." She sighed, tucking a strand of the same exact hue behind her ear. "First—I have done something foolish for the Cause. And yes, I am still faithful to Him—but I was careless. I may be gone for quite a while—they are putting us into hiding."
His eyes flashed. Sirius knew she had to go—he also knew that when she said 'us', she mean her and Rodolphus. Rodolphus, who was her husband, who loved her in a sick way that only that son-of-a-bitch could manage. Bellatrix was like that—pain intrigued her, which Sirius figured was why she tended to stray to his bed rather than Rodolphus's. Lestrange was her husband, and while he was more the physical harm, it pained Bellatrix to be near Sirius. He knew this—that when his arm was snaked around her ribs, and her hair was spread over his pillows, it hurt her. She had told him, once—"I hate it when you breathe on my neck."
She had also said that she hated him, although there was no chance that he believed it.
"What do you mean—hiding, hiding?" His lips pressed into a line.
Bellatrix cast her eyes downwards. "Yes—hiding—" There was a flash of blue light through the window, and she squeezed her eyes shut, almost as if hurting. "They're waiting—I have to go." She stood, pulling her hood back up, and started to go, but Sirius grabbed her forearm. He pulled her back down next to him, leaned in … he kissed her hard before she pulled away.
Pop.