A/N: After every night they spend together, though Bella tells herself not to hold any expectations, she always finds herself disappointed. sad!Bellamort. I'm assuming that Rodolphus is no longer in the picture, so she doesn't have anyone to worry about getting home to. If that's the case, this could be set any time before she gets married to Rodolphus as well. RxR. FxF.
Submission for:
Pairing of the Week Drabble Competition!: Round 2 - Bellamort
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
She stands there by the window gazing up the moon, asking it silent questions from the depths of her heart. A sheer robe is draped over her body, her pale skin still visible underneath with the pink buds of her breast pushing the fabric out. She leans slightly against the wall, her arms crossed before her and a glass of wine cradled in her hand.
She knows what this is. She knows she knows what this is. But why is it every time afterwards, she makes herself feel like this? She builds up some type of expectations before their sessions and is always crushed and disappointed afterwards. Why can't she just get it in her head that this will never be more than what it currently is?
Their relationship is purely physical and he wants nothing more of her in any romantic sense of the word. He is a man of no emotions, only carnal urges and barely restrained rage. He has no capacity for love or care. As he sleeps in the bed across the room with his body exposed for the darkness to see, she knows he sleeps without thinking of her. He has been satisfied and to him, that's all that matters. She could drop dead now for all he cared.
She usually leaves the room before he wakes in the morning. There is no need to stick around. Nothing good would come of him waking up to see her still there. He might actually be mad if she is still there, as if she is expecting something to happen.
She shakes her head. Nothing was ever going to happen. This is it and nothing else. She draws the robe around her and moves towards the door. She would steal through the shadows as she always did and back to her quarters in the house to wake up in her bed alone.
She tells herself this every night as she creaks the door open and shuts it softly behind her, always missing the sad and longing look from the man in the bed.
