A/N: This is a short Bellamort collection for a class on the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Forum.
Submission for:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): Flying Lessons - Write about beginnings and any potential dilemmas that your pairing could face in the future of the story. Prompt: (location) The Astronomy Tower
Open Category 4: Could Be Canon - Bellamort
The Second Competition That Must Not Be Named
The Weird Prompt Strikes Back! [Daily Competition]: Write anything
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
She stole through the shadows, her footsteps light across the cold stone floors. She couldn't afford anyone seeing her as she made the long trip from the dungeons, up the many flight of moving stairs, and eventually, to the top of the Astronomy Tower.
She pushed the wooden door open slowly, the night air blowing against her skin as she stepped out onto the highest point of the castle. She shivered as fine bumps broke out among the short hairs on her arms. She thought she would have been used to the chill, the Slytherin common room seemed to actually resist heating charms during the night, but up here was still cold enough her to pull her cloak tighter.
She walked to the edge of the balcony, her eyes running across the grounds below and the stars above. Up here was so peaceful, so quiet and so private, exactly what she needed to read her letter.
She slipped her hand into her cloak pocket and pulled out a small white envelope. She had received it earlier that morning, a common brown owl dropping it into her lap before flying out with the other mail owls. She had surreptitiously slipped it away, her eyes watching her fellow house-mates. So far, no one seemed suspicious but she couldn't take any chances. Her betrothal to the son of one of the most prestigious pureblood families (besides her own) was common knowledge among her circles, and it wouldn't bode well if they realized she was getting letters from another man.
Oh, she longed for the day when she finally graduated, when she could spread her wings and fly to stand at his right side. However, she would still perform her duty. She would still honour her family and marry her betrothed, but her heart would always belong to him. She would be his instrument, his weapon, to wield as he pleased, with total obedience and loyalty. Her parents would not think it was "lady-like", her husband would not approve, but she didn't care. She would do as she wanted.
But until then, she would have to be happy with his letters. She slipped a finger under the lip of the envelope, before pulling out of the white parchment within. She took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of wood and smoke which always accompanied his letters, as her eyes scanned the words he had written.
Though this was only her fourth correspondence, she had already learnt something about him - he valued his anonymity. He never signed the letter, but that didn't matter to her. There was only one person who would write her letters such as this. They were always short, devoid of any warmth or love, but full of cold, hard facts. They spoke of his grand plans, his activities on the outside, away from the walls of this dreary castle, and his instructions for her to carry out while she stayed within.
She read every word, committing them all to memory, but her eyes would always linger on two. With every letter, there was one thing she fed on, one thing she craved, one thing that made her head light and her heart race.
He always started his letters with, "My Bella."