Come to bed, don't let me sleep alone
Couldn't hide the emptiness, you let it show
Never wanted it to be so cold
Just didn't drink enough to say you love me
I can't hold on to me
Wonder what's wrong with me…
"I was afraid that you would not be strong enough to do it, Bella. I feel disappointed that you proved my fears to be right."
Her master's voice echoed in Bellatrix's head as she lay on the thick carpet of his chambers, her hair all over her face, a burning sensation coursing through her veins; the result of a cruciatus curse delivered to her by a very angry lord Voldemort, a curse she knew she deserved.
But the pain was nothing, nothing compared to what she felt inside, nothing compared to the feeling of having disappointed her lord like that.
"I'm sorry," she uttered for the fifteenth time that day, and she felt tears running a now familiar path down her cheeks. "I'm sorry…"
She knew apologizing wouldn't make any difference, perhaps it would only irritate her master even more. But she couldn't help it, she truly was sorry, she desperately wanted him to understand how difficult this was for her, how much she wanted to be forgiven and make up for it.
"Why are you so weak, Bella?" his hissing voice snapped, and she had to bite her tongue to hold back a sob. He was calling her weak. She had disappointed him, she had let him down.
"I'm not weak," she murmured pathetically through her tears, perhaps trying to convince her own self.
"Then why have you done everything you could to reassure me of the opposite?" he asked coolly,
"I do not want to hear your sniveling apologies, Bellatrix!" he snapped, and Bellatrix braced herself, preparing for another curse. "I want to hear a reason that will explain your pathetic behavior! I am done with tolerating such weakness from you!"
She didn't say anything. She didn't have anything to say; he was right, she had no reason for disobeying him like that. She lay there, eyes tightly closed, feeling him towering over her, and she bit her lip. If he killed her right now, she knew he would have every right to do so. She had become a failure, a total disappointment.
"I'm waiting, Bellatrix."
She knew she had to say something. Anything to defend herself, anything to show that she wasn't weak, anything to regain what respect she could from him, if that was possible.
"I would have done it," she uttered, unable to control the trembling in her voice.
"You would have done it?" he laughed, but there was no trace of humor or amusement in his voice. "So, it is my fault. My fault, because I summoned you and you didn't get to fulfill your orders as you should, is that right?"
"No!" she exclaimed, and struggled to sit upright, desperately trying to show some signs of strength. "No, my lord, of course it's not your-"
"Then whose is it, Bellatrix? Yours, perhaps?" he mocked.
"My lord, I was about to do it, I would kill-"
"Bellatrix, we both know you wouldn't," he cut her off sharply, and she felt tears filling her eyes once again. "Tell me why, Bellatrix. What is the reason of such weakness?"
She gulped. What would she tell him now? What could she tell him? He had looked through her mind, he had seen the entire interaction between her and Rodolphus, he knew everything that had happened, and she knew he now despised her for all the emotions she had let take over her, for her almost complete breakdown.
"Is it love, perhaps?" he asked with a small smirk, though Bellatrix could hear the disgust in his voice. "Do you love your dear Rodolphus so much you weren't able to cast the curse? Do you care about him so much that you willingly ruined your plan to poison him? It was a simple order, Bellatrix, a simple order; kill Lestrange, and you have failed. Your love for him is making you weak-"
"I don't love him!" she said desperately. She didn't love him, she couldn't love him! Yes, she did care, but it was merely because he was her husband, and because he was caring himself.
"Then why did you hesitate?"
"I-" she didn't know why. Why had she hesitated? She was not supposed to care… Then why had she? "I don't know…"
"But I do," Voldemort hissed softly, and Bellatrix knew this wasn't going to be good. "You are weak. After all the training, after all your oaths to me, after everything, you are weak. You are pathetic. Maybe you don't deserve to be my servant, Bellatrix, anymore. I thought you to be my most faithful, and you proved me wrong so many times…"
This time, she couldn't hold back the sobs. She knew he was doing this to make her realize how hard she had failed, but what if he truly meant what he was saying? Of course he meant it, he didn't believe in her any more, she was useless to him… She had disappointed him…
"I am your most faithful…" she stuttered through tears.
"You are not doing very well with proving it," he said coldly, and Bellatrix saw her own tears drip on the carpet, wetting it, and she raised her hand to wipe them away. She then felt a force throwing her back on the floor, and once she felt the pain, burning her, tearing her apart, she heard a horrid scream that she soon realized was hers. The last thing she was able to think before agony took over her, was that she had to make up. She had to prove her master that she was not weak, that she was not worthless. That she was his most faithful.
Rodolphus had just woken up from a dreamless sleep that he hoped could last forever. He knew it wouldn't; he had to face reality. He sat up on the uncomfortable couch, where he had fallen asleep after the mental exhaustion caused by the interaction with Bella, and took a look around. The living room was dark, quiet, almost hostile.
The first thought that came to his mind was Bella. His Bella, who had attempted to poison him. His Bella, who had refused to see him die like that and had gotten rid of the poison that was supposed to kill him. His Bella, who had aimed her wand directly to his heart, ready to say the two words that would signal the end of is life. His Bella, who hadn't casted the spell. His Bella, who was now away, as she was almost every night, with him, Merlin knows doing what.
His Bella… Was she truly his after all? He knew the answer to that. He loved her, he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone in his entire life, but he knew his love was unrequited. He knew Bellatrix was in love with someone else, no matter what that certain someone told or did to her. She would always forgive him, always believe that he was right.
Although, she must have cared, even a little. She hadn't killed him, even though he had accepted it, even though he had even encouraged her to do so. He knew everything would be much easier for her if he just died, and he wanted what was best for her. After all, he knew he would die some day soon, either by the Dark Lord's hand, or by one of his other Deatheaters. He had disobeyed and failed his master, he knew he would pay for this with his life; and he had accepted it.
He stood up. He wanted to drink. No, he didn't want to get drunk. But he had to forget. But he couldn't do that again.
He shook his head. He wouldn't drink. He would just make himself a tea. A nice, warm tea that would help him sleep again.
He walked inside the kitchen, and was relieved to see that the house elves weren't there. He grabbed a cup and struggled to remember where they were keeping the tea, when he heard someone's breathing from one corner of the dark kitchen.
He instinctively searched for his wand, but he realized he had forgotten it in his bedroom. Shit. His grip on the cup became tighter, as if ready to use it as a weapon if needed, but he dropped it and heard it break into pieces as he saw Bellatrix emerge from the shadows, her wand at hand, her expression unreadable.
She raised her wand. He could see her eyes had turned red from crying, but obviously she had no more tears left now. The wand was once again aiming his chest. He inhaled deeply.
"I am not weak. I am not weak, Rodolphus."
"No. you're not," he said softly, and he meant it. His Bella was never weak. No, he thought, not his Bella.
"I'm not," she repeated, and took a small breath. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be."
The last thing Rodolphus was able to think was that he loved her. He only wanted her to be his… Because he loved her. But in the end, it doesn't matter. For she will always belong to another one, and the only thing he can do s cry night tears while waiting for her to come back… But this was now over. There were no more nights, no more tears to cry. Just Bellatrix, aiming at him, her lower lip trembling slightly.
This time, she would not hesitate. She was not weak. Her lord would be proud. She smiled. Yes, he would be proud.
AN/ Oh yeah, I updated, and here you have the epilogue!
Poor Rod… I honestly cried for the guy while writing this… Poor him… :(
Who knows? Perhaps we'll see a sequel with Bella/Voldemort after this? Perhaps not. Perhaps yes. Only God knows. (Seriously now, not yet, at least.)
I hoped you liked the epilogue… Please, hit that button below and let me know what you think of this!