"Father!”
_._._
Bellatrix Lestrange shot up in her and her husband’s bed.
Breathing heavy and eyes wide, she tapped his shoulder anxiously.
“Rodolphus! Wake up!” The woman whisper-shouted into the wizard’s ear.
“Mmmm…Unicorns… Huh? Ugh, Bella. What time is it? Leave me alone.” He replied sleepily, turned over, pulling the blanket with him in the process, and started snoring again.
Great. Now she was cold, too.
Bellatrix sighed.
Why had she married him again? Oh, yeah. Arranged marriage, stubborn parents, etc…
Alright then. If Rodolphus didn’t want her in his bed, she’d try with someone else.
Pulling her nightgown tighter around her shoulders, she opened the door to the hallway carefully, as to not wake the man snoring in the bed behind her.
When she set her bare feet on the parquet, she shivered. Of course her dear sister hadn’t thought of putting a warming charm on the floor.
Well, too late now. Considering the fact that she’d left her wand in her room, she’d just have to deal with it. The door’d creaked enough as it was.
As she started to go up the stairs to the third level, she remembered that the Dark Lord was not in the house once again. ...Probably killing Muggles somewhere.
Turning around and going back to the bottom of the staircase, she did a headcount.
In the mansion, there were Narcissa and Lucius, Greyback, a new house elf she’d forgotten the name of within the first three days of its service, Rodolphus, Pettigrew, and she.
Making a decision, she made her way to her sister’s chambers.
When her ears caught the sound of bedsheets continuously rustling noisily, she promptly turned around and went back to the flight of stairs.
She didn’t want to be rude and disturb them, after all.
Well then. Plan B.
Striding towards Pettigrew’s room, she sighed.
She was really lowering her standards just in the course of this one night.
But upon hearing the loud snoring that erupted from behind his closed door, she almost made a run for it. Okay, that did not turn out as planned. Ew.
The house elf, then.
On the way to the elf’s corner on top of the washing machine, she bumped into the creature itself.
Staring at her with innocent eyes, he bowed.
“Do you ever even sleep?” The witch asked, trying to mask her disgust for concern. It didn’t work.
“No, Mistress. Tori no sleep. Tori busy. Tori always busy.” The elf replied, scurrying off only a second later.
Bellatrix groaned.
She was lowering her standards.
“Well”, she thought, “There goes nothing.”
When she’d made her way to Greyback’s bedroom, she sighed once more.
After lightly knocking on the door with the iron knocker that was shaped in the form of a wolf’s head, she stepped back and started to wait.
She didn’t have to wait for long.
A few seconds later, the door opened a little.
Just so the witch could see the blue eyes staring back at her – not groggy from sleep at all.
“Greyback? Can I sleep in your room tonight? Rodolphus kicked me out of his.” She said, confidence waning.
“Yeah, sure.” His voice sent shivers up and down her spine.
Only as her generous host opened the door fully, the light of the torches on the hallway walls illuminated his muscly chest, arms and legs. The only fabric on him were taut black boxers, which, let’s be real, didn’t leave much to the imagination. At all.
He was attractive. A shame that his signature black trench coat covered most of his body, honestly.
He cleared his throat. She hastily looked up at his face; at those blue eyes, the straight nose, the sharp jaw, the plump lips, the scruffy beard and the wild, shoulderlength dark brown hair.
He smiled. It wasn’t his usual, feral smile, meant to scare. It was genuine; honest.
She grinned back in return.
Finally, he led her into his room.
As she lay down on his bed, she was surprised; she didn’t expect the bedsheets to be so soft.
Right as Bellatrix crept under the blanket, Fenrir blew out the last candle in the room.
She felt the bed dip and closed her eyes.
And when strong arms embraced her from behind and pulled her against the warm expanses of his chest, she smiled.
Yes. She’d made the right decision. To hell with Rodolphus.