#7 - Fruitless Lust: Voldemort/Bellatrix
[It only hurts when you start pretending that it doesn't.]
He was lonely, a solitary figure in the shadows of a dim, gloomy tunnel. Misconceived; a corrupted character with an unpleasant heart, and even more insidious agenda.
She was lonely too, but in a different way. There were people she could call family, but there was nothing left for them to offer her. Pleasure was found only in satisfying her master. A deranged persona lurked within her interior; a crazed concern for no one but herself and her beloved Lord.
Voldemort had no love in his empty, cold grey heart for Bellatrix, even though hers pumped with lust and desperation for him. She was a tool to be used for his imminent destruction – but he couldn't deny that her skills varied much further afield than just on the battleground...
Their nights were spent clenching each other by candlelight; pouring their secret woes and lonely anguish into the other. Bellatrix could pretend that their rough, indecent love making was more than him evidently manipulating her; she could cling to her master and throw her head back in rapture—
But when those three, shocking words escaped hr lips, he would push her aside in disgust.
Voldemort didn't desire to be loved. Love was an unnecessary emotion – one that he could very much do without.