QL Reserve League, season 4, round 6, Captain: a dark character demonstrating virtue of chastity.

Word Count: 1032


Rodolphus climbs into bed beside her. Bellatrix stiffens in response. Of course, her husband notices. By now, he would have to be a complete fool not to see how she can barely stand to be around him, let alone touched by him. Sharing a bed is strictly for the sake of appearances.

"You are my wife," he reminds her. It has almost become like a mantra to him, like she will somehow give in and let him have her simply because it is what is expected of her.

Sometimes she considers giving in. Her mother hadn't loved her father. Narcissa doesn't love Lucius. Love has nothing to do with duty.

And yet she has no desire to fulfill that particular duty. Bellatrix might be the perfect Pureblood, but she will not be reduced to a breeder, a body just for her husband to use.

"Goodnight," she says, her tone bored and bordering on exasperation.

His fingers rake through her dark curls. "Since when were you so virtuous?" he growls. "That has never been your style before."

She knows Rodolphus won't do anything. He is all bark, no bite. As with every other night in the past, he will complain and whine, and she will continue to ignore him until he gives up.

"It's because I'm not him, isn't it?"

She doesn't answer. She keeps her eyes straight ahead, watching the stars beyond her window. All she has to do is wait, and he will go away.

"Bella?" He drops his to her shoulder, fingers curling, gripping her with surprising force. "Answer me!"

She closes her eyes, refusing to swayed by his pathetic attempt to frighten her. She wonders if she would like him more if he would follow through, if he would prove to be more than a sniveling waste. "I said goodnight."

As expected, he releases his grip and lays down beside her, jerking the blanket from her. It doesn't take long before his loud snores fill the air. Only then does she allow herself to relax.

It's because I'm not him, isn't?

She almost wants to laugh. Is she that obvious? Admittedly, she hasn't actually tried to hide her feelings; she just hasn't explicitly stated them. Has Rodolphus noticed the way she is a bit too eager during the meetings? Does he see the way she looks at her master? Is it just a hunch, fueled by jealousy?

In the end, it is little more than a fantasy, just the sad dream of a girl who wants the things she cannot have. She knows that the Dark Lord does not love her, that he is incapable of love at all. He calls her his most faithful, and he rewards her with rare smiles and praise.

She knows that he looks at her as a pet, not a lover, but Bellatrix doesn't care. All it takes is one look from her master, and she melts into a hopeless puddle.

Rodolphus could never compare.

She rolls onto her side, peeking her eyes open so that she can study her husband. Rodolphus' chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm that comes with being lost in a deep sleep. He will never know that she is watching him.

Rodolphus is handsome enough with his dark hair and darker eyes. His cheekbones are high and delicate, lending him a regal air. His lips are full, and his nose is strong.

But that is all he has to offer, aside from his blood status. If Bellatrix was as silly and naive as her youngest sister, perhaps she would find some joy in having Rodolphus as a husband.

She isn't; she doesn't.

Rodolphus is too soft. He would follow her to the ends of the earth, of course, but he will never lead. If she hadn't been the one to take the Dark Mark, Rodolphus wouldn't have. He would have spent the rest of his miserable life thinking that it's enough to simply insult and hex the Mudbloods and filth they encounter.

He is too spineless, nothing like their master. He has to pause and think, too afraid to just take the chances that are offered to him. The Dark Lord would never hesitate. Her master is sure and strong, and he would always see things through because he knows that there is no chance of defeat.

How many nights does the Dark Lord appear in her dreams? She wonders if she's ever whispered his name. Has Rodolphus heard her? Has she fanned the flames of his jealousy?

She sits up, swallowing dryly and shaking her head. Her dark curls thump against her cheeks.

"Bella." Rodolphus whispers her name in his sleep. It should make her feel guilty. It should make her feel something, anything. But it doesn't.

It isn't her fault that he is stupid enough to love her, or that he had ever thought she could love him back. He should have chosen someone better, someone who could give him the perfect little life he dreams of. Not her. Not someone who can barely stand the thought of being touched by him.

If she's honest, maybe she thinks he deserves to find his happily ever after. Really, he would have been a perfect match for Narcissa; if only Lucius hadn't asked for her hand first.

You are my wife.

She hadn't really hesitated when he'd asked. As a Black, it was her duty. Marry a Pureblood, bring honor to her family, do what she has to in order to be her parent's perfect daughter.

But not this. She cannot be what Rodolphus wants her to be; she cannot give him what he wants.

Her gaze returns to her sleeping husband. If only she could love him. At the very least, if only she could want him. It would make things much easier.

With a heavy sigh, she climbs out of bed, pulling her robe on over her nightgown. Perhaps it is time that they get separate rooms after all. Sharing a bed only seems to tempt Rodolphus more. It seems almost cruel, far crueler than she actually is.

Tonight, she will sleep on the couch and take the first step to removing the temptation.