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She stared dispassionately at the new victims they'd hunted from the forest an hour ago. She had no appetite…no wish to feed…All she wanted was to be back with Harry and know that he was fine. She dismissed them, and her fellows dragged them away with greed and hunger apparent on their faces. She was about to turn around and head back to the forest when The Dark Lord's cold voice made her freeze,
"What is the matter, Bellatrix? You seem anxious."
The Dark lord was an expert in detecting lies but she just couldn't let him know about Harry. She wouldn't. Gathering her wits about her, she turned around and knelt down in front of him. Kissing the hem of his robes, she murmured,
"No, My Lord. Nothing is wrong."
The Dark Lord hummed thoughtfully before speaking,
"Are you certain, Bellatrix?"
She nodded silently, keeping her eyes glued to his feet. She expected The Dark Lord to retreat after that but when he didn't move she asked,
"Do you require something, My Lord?"
For a moment, there was no reply but then he spoke,
"Yes, I wish for you to take me to his grave."
Suddenly, it felt like the ground had vanished from underneath her feet. Would The Dark Lord know that the grave was empty? Would he be able to tell? Certainly not. According to him, Harry was dead so she was very certain that he wouldn't be able to tell whether the grave was empty or full. She spoke,
"As you wish, My Lord."
She rose to her feet and began leading the way. In less than fifteen minutes, she stood in front of the mound of dirt that was supposed to be Harry's grave. Flowers had grown all over it in the past six months and it looked beautiful. What would she have done if Harry had really died that night? The pain would have most certainly killed her. She collapsed on her knees beside it and ran her hand over the delicate flowers thinking about how much she'd nearly lost that day. Harry meant the world to her and she could never afford to see him in pain. The sound of sobs caught her attention, but she kept her head bowed. Could it be that the Dark Lord was crying…actually crying? Did he really regret what he had done? Was he really remorseful?
He knew he shouldn't reveal his sentiments in front of Bellatrix, but he couldn't hold them back…he just couldn't. Tears streamed down his eyes as he stared at the flowery grave in front of him. It was beautiful, just like Harry had been. He slumped back against the tree as all the memories played in front of his eyes. Harry's smile that could light up the room… his laughter that could pierce through any darkness…those expressive emerald green eyes…his untainted innocence…his insatiable curiosity…his thirst for adventure… his unequivocal goodness … everything about him had been the epitome of beauty and he'd quashed it all, mercilessly like the beast he was. He stared at his hands and remembered the moment, he'd used them to hold the knife to Harry's throat…the moment when he'd sliced into his skin…the blood…the moment, the light had left his eyes forever. The look in Harry's eyes when he'd been dying…there had been no fear…only sorrow…
His knees gave way and he slid to the ground with his face buried in his hands. Why wouldn't the guilt leave him? Why couldn't he just forget his existence and move on? Why did he feel this way? Why did it hurt so much? He clutched his chest as it felt like it would explode with the agony. He drew in a deep breath and spoke,
"Leave, Bellatrix."
He closed his eyes and waited for Bellatrix to retreat before drawing closer to the grave. For a moment, he was afraid of touching the grave but he needed the closure. He needed this to end. He rested his hand on the grave and spoke,
"I am sorry, Harry…I am truly sorry..."
But it only made him feel worse. What was the point of apologizing now? What was he apologizing for? There was no peace for him…He was never destined for it. He ran his hand over the grave and whispered,
"I want you to come back…"
He choked on his tears and rested his forehead on the grave,
"Please come back…"
He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. It wasn't possible of course. His wishes were foolish and pointless. He shouldn't have killed him in the first place. He shouldn't have stolen his life. He should have known this would happen. He would have to live with the consequences for the rest of his wretched immortal life. He pressed a kiss to the grave and rose to his feet. He was destined for darkness. Harry's light was never meant to be his. He was certain that Harry was happy, up in the heavens above. He must be very happy.