He found himself staring at her a lot these days. When she was studying, talking to her family, or sleeping, oh, especially when she was sleeping. He could never pinpoint exactly why he felt like he was spying on her, but it seemed so invasive to him, a part of him reminding him that he wasn't supposed to see her this way. Rod, of course, told that part to shut up because she was so damn gorgeous and just entirely at peace, it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen, watching Bellatrix Black sleep.
He didn't think she'd have minded so much, if she'd known. But he kept these moments to himself, unsure of how long he had left with her. He watched her lay there, night after night, in that spot of the bed she claimed as hers where she melted perfectly into his arms like some twisted and demented daydream. Forcing himself to stay awake by thinking of mindless things, of Quidditch, of his parents, until he was sure she was fast asleep, her body limp and relaxed in his arms. And then she was his, a canvas before him too naive to know the burdens of the life she'd signed up for, never too young to see the reason for their fighting.
He loved her, he was sure of it. But she had this vindictive way about her that made him wary of revealing such a valuable piece of information. She'd twist it into something she could use, call him a sap for being so vulnerable. He couldn't risk that surely fatal shot to his reputation.
Bellatrix was another type of person entirely. She could not be grouped into a clique, stereotyped one way or the other. Even the Sorting Hat had had trouble deciding where to put her. She was incredibly brave and courageous, showing great potential for loyalty, all good qualities of a Gryffindor. Ravenclaw was considered, because she was so very bright, it would be a shame to see such knowledge wasted on frivolity. But at last, the Hat settled on Slytherin, deciding that her clever mind and malicious intentions would fit in well with the lot of them. If only they'd known then.
Rodolphus, however, was the typical aristocratic heir, eldest son of a wealthy man and feeling that his last name gave him authority. He knew he'd have everything his father had one day, keeping it all for himself and passing none to his younger brother. He had a reputation around the school for being quite the charmer. Girls from all houses would spend their fall afternoons out at the Quidditch pitch praying for the chance that Rodolphus Lestrange would be out practicing. He wasn't shy in the slightest, well versed in pick-ups and break-ups, a map pinpointing every broom closet on campus engraved into his mind.
And she wasn't supposed to be any different. She'd always been a friend, like any of the rest of them were; friends. Bella and Rod had known each other since they were very young. Sometime around the end of their fifth year he began to really notice her. She was growing up wonderfully, her features becoming those of a woman; dark ringlet curls that fell long down her back. When she was younger, her bright eyes and rosy cheeks made her seem so innocent, like she'd never hurt anyone. As she grew, she changed as all girls do, and those eyes became full of life, framed perfectly by her hair; he couldn't get enough of her hair.
And the eyes were tantalizing these days. What used to be nothing more than two obligatory green splotches taking up room on her frail face soon became the root of his being, the center of his universe. He couldn't breathe without thinking of her eyes, her hair and the way it smelled when he kissed her neck, her hands as they grazed the back of his neck. At night, these things haunted him, because he'd never felt so passionately about one solitary person before, because he knew this was dangerous, because she wasn't supposed to be any different from the others.
But she had become his very reason for existing; gravity be damned, she was the only thing holding him to the Earth. It was unintentional, of course. He'd noticed the changes, and like any man would, he found himself longing to explore this new and unmarked territory. She didn't come with a map, there were no instructions or guides to winning her over because she was so new, so unlike those other girls.
The first time he can remember really wanting, no, needing her had to be in Charms, the last day before Christmas break of their sixth year. She sat in the row ahead of him, tauntingly perched in her chair with her head resting on her hand. He could just barely see the page she was scrawling on from the angle he was sitting at, and he wasn't sure what she was writing, but she certainly wasn't taking notes. He leaned forward casually in an effort to get a better look but it was useless.
Professor Blustone began naming off pairs for whatever grand assignment they'd be doing today. "Malfoy, you'll be with Mr. Higgs at station one, please. Now, Miss Black and, hmm.. let's see. Oh, yes. How about Lestrange. Over there at station two if you will," she said, bustling off to the back of the room to chastise the boys that were hexing each other. He felt something in his gut that was a mixture of relief, joy, and dread at the thought of working with her at such a close proximity.
She didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest, grabbing him by the arm as he sat dumbstruck in his seat and dragging him to their assigned workstation. Blustone began going over the incantation but he wasn't paying attention anymore. He was fully focused on his hand and where it rested on his thigh, mere centimeters from her own. How easy it would be to brush against the exposed skin that called out to him.
Bella had this insanely attractive determined look on her face as she waved her wand, attempting to make the flower on the table in front of them dance. Rod propped an elbow on the table, watching her intently. She looked up from the flower, her brow still furrowed in frustration. There aren't enough words to describe the tightening in his chest, the warmth throughout him followed by a chill as cold as the air outside the castle walls as their eyes met. He felt that, in that moment, he'd do anything for her, be anything for her.
As the year went on, those thoughts presented themselves again and again, opportunities to kindle the flame that was trying it's best to gain attention. A clear chemistry flowed between them like a shock of electricity that connected the two. He'd find himself playing with her hair as they studied in the library, unsure of how his hand had come to be twisted amongst the curls. She didn't mind, she welcomed the gentle touch. These stolen moments happened more and more frequently until finally the reasons for fighting ceased. They stopped hiding their rendezvous, becoming quite the power couple in their day.
The haunting images of her eyes, her hair, her lips transformed into something more. Now he had memories of the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, the glorious feeling he got from burying his face in the thick mass of curls, the way she'd gasp his name with her lips only parted slightly as he nibbled on her neck, kissed her from collarbone to collarbone. By graduation, he'd have an entire store of memories, from the fiery glares she could turn on that made him feel three inches tall to the way she'd reach for him in her sleep, and again to an all too vivid memory of the way her nails felt as she dug them into his back in the final throws of her climax.
And that leads us to where Rod sits tonight, watching her sleep. A beautiful mess with her hair wild and unruly, forehead decorated with fine beads of sweat, her body still so very warm pressed against his, feeling each breath she took. She was so greedy only moments before, tugging his hair with that wicked grin etched across her face. And now suddenly she was passed out in his arms, still intertwined perfectly. He watches her now, her face relaxed but her breathing is staggered, her heart still racing as he presses his lips lightly to her pulse point.
All alone in this darkness, no one to hear or see, he whispers into her hair, "I love you, Bells." She mutters something, and he's afraid he's woken her. But she's only dreaming, her eyelids fluttering just a touch as he feels her body relax again. He kisses her forehead and closes his eyes, holding onto the only perfect thing in his life.
She was his for now, and he'd been hers all along.