Disclaimer: HP is not mine, I'm just playing in the sandbox JK has created for us.
Not beta read.
It was still night when Millicent slipped quietly out of bed and started dressing without making a sound. As usual, her clothes were scattered all over the bedroom floor, making it all that harder to collect them without putting a light on. Waking him up wouldn't do either of any good. Sometimes, it was better just fade away than say goodbye. And that was what she was doing right now.
She had known for weeks that she couldn't do this anymore. Hell, she had known right after the very the first time she had fallen into bed with him, Theo, now more than a year ago, that it was too much to handle. Each time she went back to his flat, she lost a bit of her self-worth. The sadness and shame that consumed her afterwards for days didn't weigh up to the temporary high of being with him. She wanted more than this, she deserved more than being a dirty little secret.
She squared her shoulders, a feeble attempt to convince herself that she was strong enough to pull this off. She had lived through worse, had survived Slytherin House for seven years as an impoverished Halfblood, knew how to cuss like an Azkaban convict, and was able to knock out a bloke with a single punch. Why should she allow him to hold power to make her forget all that?
Millicent glanced briefly in his direction as she clumsily tried to put her stockings back on without tearing them. A lump formed in her throat as she studied his sleeping form. His mouth slightly ajar, his curly hair sticking out in every direction.
Did he ever wonder what had happened to her when he woke up in the mornings? Probably not. In the back of her mind, she knew that she shouldn't leave without saying a word. The mature thing would be to wake him up and confront him with how she felt, or wait until the morning to do so. She also knew that it wouldn't matter. He hadn't promised her anything, had always been clear about what he wanted; an easy shag. Take it, or leave it.
A year ago she had taken it willingly. A year ago, she had counted her blessing that Theodore Nott, the man of her dreams, had chosen her to warm his bed. A year ago, she had been blinded by the crush she had on him for years. She still loved him, dearly, but she needed to love herself more before the whole situation wore her down.
A dry sob escaped her at the realisation that this was the last time she'd allow herself near him.
Startled by the sound, he turned under the covers, sleepily mumbling something as he stretched out his arm to where she was suppose to lie. With her hand clasped over her mouth, Millicent froze in her seat, afraid, or hoping, that he would wake up before she had to chance to leave. However, it didn't take him long to return to his light snores. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment.
"Stop doing this to yourself," she muttered and took a few deep breaths to control her emotions.
After that, it didn't take long for her to get dressed and leave the flat. She looked back just once, hoping against hope that he would be at the window, watching her. Or, maybe come after her to ask where she was going. There was nothing there.
As she walked home over the deserted streets, she allowed tears to openly flow down her cheeks, all the while wondering why she didn't feel relieved.
Fin