I swear, if I EVER have to eat ice cream again, I'm going to scream.

After I eat the ice cream.

Already, I had been very sick for a month, and it seems that I never did anything besides eat and sleep. It wasn't exactly voluntary. Voldemort watched over me like a hawk. He was constantly rushing in and out, feeling my forehead, bringing up tubs of ice cream. I had a huge appetite, but that could be partially due to the fact that I was throwing up whatever I consumed.

I felt disgusted with myself. I felt greedy, lazy, and a nuisance. I hated to see my new husband rushing around for me, but there was nothing I could do. I wanted to get better as soon as possible.

So, I reluctantly obeyed his orders to sleep a lot, stay under the covers, eat everything in sight, etc.

Maybe a few years ago, I would have been terribley bored, but I found myself appreciating the extra rest, somehow. I wasn't sure whether or not I had really changed. I had never been sick to the point where I would willingly sleep fifteen hours a day.

Voldemort said that I was doing everything right, and with luck, I would recover soon. I hoped he was right. I wanted the romantic honeymoon I had imagined my whole life.

I had never seen him like this before. I was his top priority at all times. I knew that we were close, but not that close. After all, he WAS the Dark Lord. Didn't he have other things he needed to do?

But he really did care enough to drop everything to look after me 24/7. I worried he would get sick if he didn't take a rest.

I was starting to get impatient, however. I wanted to get on with my life, not be stuck in bed forever. As tired as I was, I was restless.

So now, after a month of being sick, I was starting to get a little bit moody. I would get really depressed at random moments. Voldemort was on the receiving end of these quite often, unfortunately.

The first time it happened came as a shock to the both of us. I was just sitting in bed, puking my guts out as he walked into the room.

He felt my forehead and waited for the vomiting to stop. Then, he took a thermometer and tried to put it in my mouth. I wouldn't have it. All of the sudden, I was screaming my head off about how he always had to be hovering over me like my mother did. I yelled about how I wanted to go outside, or even just get out of bed and walk around. I was annoyed with everything. I wanted someone to talk to, something to entertain myself with. I was getting bored. I wanted freedom. I was tired, and not just physically. I wanted to finally do something instead of sitting around like a blob. I felt fat, lazy, stupid, boring, and just awful. I wanted to be a real person again. If anything, I was closer to a cat. Eat and sleep and play. Except the playing part.

It didn't stop there.

I hated myself and I hated this illness and I wanted things to be normal. I wanted peace, I wanted energy, I wanted to feel young and beautiful. I was tired of him always looking after me and making me feel guilty.

For most of the time, he stared at me with his jaw dropped. I supposed this was our first fight, though it was rather one-sided. He seemed perfectly fine to just let me ramble on and on, my voice becoming hoarse as my volume increased. My furious speech was cut off by a long stream of coughing. I tried starting up again, but-

"Stop!"

Finally he said something.

Now I was afraid. What had i just done? Why did I have to yell at him? I hated this fever. It was affecting everything, even my emotions now. I was enraged at myself. What had he done to provoke that? How could I be so selfish?

Without warning, tears sprung to my eyes. One slowly trickled down my cheek, and then I was sobbing.

"I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me," I said through my tears.

He sat on the edge of the bed and wiped away my tears. Firmly, he gripped my chin and forced me to look at him.

"Bellatrix, stop this right now. You are being foolish. It's my fault you feel like this."

I opened my mouth to respond before comprehending his words.

Wait. HIS fault?

"No, Voldemort, it was me, I'm sorry. I'm sick, but no, that's no excuse. I'm so sorry-"

"Bella."

I stopped. How could he do that to me? How did he so easily calm me? Make me listen?

"I understand and know why you are like this. You are bored and restless, am I correct?"

I nodded. "There's only so much time sleeping can take up. And you are always busy. I'm not complaining, of course. You're doing it for me, but it make is difficult. I wish I could see you more often. I want to be with you, to talk to you."

"I know."

I waited for him to continue.

"Bella, maybe it's time we saw your family. They know you're sick; I've already told them. We can go back to the mansion and invite them and we can take turns caring for you. When you make enough progress, we can come back here and finish our honeymoon. How does that sound?"

I hesitated. I wanted to see my famly, but I wanted to be alone with him. That, however, didn't seem like it would be happening until I recovered. So maybe some family time would do me good. I wouldn't be bored and I would get to see my sisters. And maybe Voldemort cound bond a bit with the blood-traitor side of my family.

If he didn't kill them first.