It was a cold day.

Freezing in fact.

Just one of the many reasons he hated the world of the muggles. Not that the Wizzarding World was any warmer. But any excuse would do Rodolphus just fine. He’d give anything really to get his wand back. After that dreadful Potter boy came in and killed Voldemort, his followers were stripped (mostly) of their magic and tossed to the muggles they so hated.

He was approaching his new home…a shitty thing it was. Of course to most beholders it was a rather upper-class style house—fairly large and with a neatly tended yard. But for Rodolphus anything built by muggle hands was trashy.

He pulled the door open, a flurry of snow making its way into the house. At least it was warm. He slammed the door shut, with much more force than necessary.

His wife was sitting cross-legged, on the floor, by the fire…so nearby the fire Rodolphus wondered how she hadn’t burned herself. She looked rather cozy to him with her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail—clad in a much too oversized mint green sweatshirt and an equally as large pair of black sweatpants.

Bellatrix was the very reason he was out in the cold in the first place. The woman had caught a cold and expected him to fix it.

For the past two days he had to listen to her pouting and whining about how if they still had access to potions this would be so much easier…not that he blamed her. But still, the woman needed to stop complaining.

Bella glanced in his direction and extended her arm. He placed the flu medicine in her outstretched palm.
`
The woman sniffled and measured herself a dose of the liquid. Her face scrunched. “What a vial taste.”

“It’s muggle made I don’t know what you expected.”

Bellatrix shrugged. “I expect it to at the very least work.”

Rodolphus sat down next to her. “I think you’re expecting too much.”

“Fetch me a glass of wine.” Bellatrix requested.

“Get it yourself.” He frowned.

The woman scoffed and stood up.

“While you’re at it get me one.” Rodolphus called after her.

“Get it yourself.” Bellatrix mocked.

The two had been living together, alone, for some time now. There was no love in their marriage. There never was. For a while Rodolphus had hoped that the woman would find it in herself to love him. But she was hellbent on the snake man.

After Voldemort came to die, that hope reignited. Bella however seemed just as spiteful as before. He assumed it was due in part to her hatred of being told what to do. Simply because the marriage was arranged she seemed to hate him…wouldn’t let herself love him.

And so he let that hope die. He’d show her an equal display of distain.
She re-entered the room (without Rodolphus’ drink), her curls bounced as she flopped herself onto the sofa nearest to the fireplace. Evidently, this was the spot Rodolphus was headed for. She shot him a snide smirk.

“Can I sit with you?” He asked through clenched teeth.

Bellatrix looked at him, lifted an eyebrow, and stretched her legs out on the couch.

Rodolphus had never met someone so truly infuriating.

Fine, if she liked the couch so much, she could just sleep there. He certainly wasn’t going to share his bed with her.
He slammed the door shut, locked it, and listened to her bang on it for most of the night. He did his best to sleep through her incoherent shrieking, and vulgar language.

This wasn’t a new routine.

It was an every other day thing. Occurring since they got to the house.

The next morning Rodolphus opened the door to find the woman lying on the floor just outside of it. He almost felt bad…almost.

He stepped over her sleeping form and made himself breakfast.

He looked back down the hall. Bellatrix had just pulled herself into a sitting position, rubbing at her tired eyes.
She looked pissed.
Sleepy and pissed.

But mostly sleepy.

With a sigh he poured more pancake batter into the pan. He’d burn it…just like he burned his own. But at least he was trying.

He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry for making you sleep on the floor…again.”

“You should be.” Bellatrix took the pancake. “This is burnt.”

He sucked in another breath, trying to keep his patience.

They finished breakfast in silence. She pushed her plate off to the side and went off to take a shower. Of course the dishes were his to do once again.

The woman didn’t come back downstairs again. He found her curled up in the dead center of their queen bed, blankest pulled tightly around her body. In her fist the sheet was tightly clenched, as if she could crush the fever that seemed to be at its peak.

A cold sweat formed along her hairline. She rolled onto her stomach, head pounding furiously.

Great, now he was going to have to wash their sheets too.

Bellatrix stayed in bed for the next three days—save for getting up to go to the bathroom or get food when Rodolphus decided he wasn’t going to let her order him around. She hadn’t changed out of those unmatching pajamas either. Nor did she comb her hair…not that she ever did. This was most uncharacteristic of the normally hyper and obnoxious woman.

He pondered for a moment, wondering if he should try to show her some care.

He took a bowl of soup and offered it to the his wife. The woman took it without a word. But she didn’t kick him off the bed either. Rodolphus couldn’t say for how long they had been lying there, practically ignoring each other. However long it had been she eventually turned to him and asked if she could take one of his pillows. He said yes, but only because she asked rather than just taking it.

“Are you feeling any better?” Rodolphus inquired.

“I guess. A little.” She mummers. She doesn’t open her eyes, the light seems too overbearing. “Better than yesterday.”

“Have you been taking the medicine?”

“That muggle crap!?” She snorts. “No, I can recover on my own.” She declared haughtily.

Rodolphus snickered. At least they could agree on one thing.

***
It was a week to the holidays, everything seemed to be going well between the two. That was when Bella decided she wanted to be a pain in the ass.

He couldn’t quite remember what it was even about. Doing the laundry? Maybe it was about shoveling the driveway. Yes, that seemed more likely. Either which way she wouldn’t have wanted to do it.

Sure, they both agreed that the tasks were for silly muggles—like everything else—but the disagreement arose in who was supposed to take on these muggle tasks. Rodolphus knew that it was her turn. He’d done the shoveling the last time it snowed.

Bellatrix however was rather insistent that it was still his turn to do the muggle chores. She practically shoved the shovel in his face.

The next bit he recalled vividly; “Why the Hell are you shoving that damn thing in my face?” He had asked.

“It’s called a shovel!” Bellatrix had added extra emphasis on the ‘shove’ part of shovel.

He almost laughed. He would have had she not smacked him in the face with the handle of the Godforsaken thing.

At that he took shovel and tossed it right back at the woman.

She bared her teeth, they were clenched so hard he thought they’d break. The set Rodolphus on edge. Up until that moment he never thought of utilizing the muggle police system. He prepared for his wife to make a physical lash out. But instead she pushed past him muttering about how he was a lazy ass.

That was it!

He’d had enough. The woman had lain in bed for about a week and she had the audacity to call him lazy.

He told her to leave that night…demanded her to leave. Claiming that she didn’t do any of the house work so she couldn’t live within it.

The argument ran for an hour or two and then Rodolphus bought up Voldemort—boasting about how the man was dead just to spite her. He even had the balls to mock her schoolgirl crush on him and throw it in her face that he never loved her.

She left, car keys in hand, face flushed an ugly scarlet in anger.

He heard her rev the engine as if she was set on driving right through the house. This was followed by the squeal of tires as she backed much too quickly to out of the driveway. Rodolphus watched out the window; once out of the driveway there was a moment of hesitation—presumably as she switched gears into drive—before she floored it. The back end of the car swerved to the right.
She kept driving.
Another kick, this time to the left.
And still she pressed forward.
It grew into an all-out skid.
She managed to right the car and sped off, kicking up snow and slush.

All that remained of his wife, in that moment, was a set of haphazard tire tracks.

Immediately Rodolphus found himself taken over by a fire of regret. He doused the flames, pushing it to the back of his mind. She was stubborn. She was self-righteous. But she’d be back. She was all to ‘above’ living in a car.
Or anything small and cold.
Anything that remotely resembled Azkaban.

He got a phone call the next day. He impulsively yelled to Bellatrix to pick up the phone. It took three rings for him to remember that she didn’t find a spot in bed next to him that night. Nor on the couch for that matter.

Rodolphus looked at the clock—6:15…way too early in the morning—and picked up the phone with a growly ‘what’.

He listened in complete silence as the muggle relayed the news. The man on the other end tried to offer sympathy but with a sort of contradicting matter-of-factly tone. He said he was sorry that it had happened.

Rodolphus clicked the end call button and set the phone down, running a hand over his sleep tousled hair as he replayed the directions to the hospital in his mind.

How could he have forgotten that Bella couldn’t drive for shit? Well she could, but she didn’t do so gracefully. She was still learning—one of the things he prided himself with; that he had gotten his license before she.

No. She couldn’t drive. And she was pissed when she took off. Pissed always led to psychotic and impulsive.

The icy roads couldn’t have possibly helped.

And he let her take the keys and leave.

He should have expected that call.

He punched the table.

***
Rodolphus arrived at the hospital not knowing what to expect. He hit ‘end call’ before the doctor…or whoever made those calls (Rodolphus couldn’t be bothered to memorize muggle occupations, Bella was the one aiming for a job) could explain just how bad or stable her condition was.

He could only assume the worst. Back at St. Mungo’s the staff would never apologize unless things didn’t look good.

Karma is a cruel thing really. How many people had Bella landed in the hospital, moreover in critical condition?
Once inside the hospital he was greeted by a swarm of paramedics and doctors. He arrived just on time to see his wife wheeled in on a stretcher. She had to be out cold, if she wasn’t than she’d still be fighting against the restraints.

He caught a glimpse of her face, it was barely recognizable beneath the blood and marring…the hair clinging messily to her blood-sticky forehead.

Wedged into her stomach was a giant chunk of metal—what from? Rodolphus would never be able to tell.

She wasn’t moving, he couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.

But from the waist down, the woman seemed unscathed.

He gave the wall a swift kick. Bella is his wife, how could he just let her drive off like that? He should have tried to work with her. She was…is a pain in the ass. But despite it all, he loves her…he always did. Even if she didn’t return it.

“She’s going to be alright, correct?”

“It’s not looking good.” The muggle frowned.

“Well then hurry up and make it look good.” Rodolphus yelled.

The man drew two photographs. “Look at this.” He instructed. “It isn’t going to be easy.”

Rodolphus snatched the picture from the man’s hand. There were two cars captured within it; the red one was pulled off to the side of the road where it had smashed into a tree. A thick dark out pour of steam billowing out of the engine. A distance off was the black car, turned on its side smoking quite heavily. Rodolphus could barely tell that it was a car, the damage was so extensive. That one was Bella’s.

He looked at the next one; the interior of Bella’s car. All airbags deployed and deflated. The seats torn and battered. Windows shattered. Blood dispersed about the car, mostly centered on the driver’s seat; presumably where the chunk of metal had struck his wife.

Why was it that he could only seem to show her any care when she was hurt? Dying?

“Stay here or go home, she’s going into surgery, we’ll call you with any updates on her condition.” The first muggle’s female partner stated.

He found a seat in the waiting room where he sat until the janitor flicked the lights off and security marshaled him out. That night the female muggle was in and out telling him that there was still no word on Bellatrix’s current condition.

He went back to the hospital the next day.

After giving her his name and other pointless information, the woman at the front desk instructed him to his wife’s hospital room. She said he could just go in.
He hoped this meant his wife was doing okay.

Bellatrix lie on the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Her entire body was covered in scratches and bruises— what he saw of it anyhow—the rest of her was bound in various casts and bandages.

He took her hand, rubbing the top of it with his thumb.

Her breathing was heavy and labored, she didn’t speak. Didn’t look his way.

“I was worried.” He said at last.

Bellatrix let out a sort of wheezing laugh. “Of course you were. I bet you’re disappointed…you no longer have the house to yourself.”

“I don’t want the house to myself, Bella.”

“Right, because then you’d have to clean it yourself.”

“When you get home I’m going to have to clean it myself.” Rodolphus pointed out.

“And if I don’t come home?”

“You will.”

“And you want me to?” Her tone and expressions rendered unreadable.

“Yes, I do. I’d like to…try again. I know you didn’t want to marry me…”

Bellatrix sighed. “If I didn’t want to marry you, I wouldn’t have. Do you really think I would have let anyone force me to do anything? I simply loved Voldemort more.” It was stated so straight-forward and with such an uncharacteristically straight face. “But he’s dead now.”

“What you mean to say is that you’re sorry?” Rodolphus smirked.

“Not at all, I have no regrets.” Bellatrix insisted. “Which is why I’m so curious as to why you’re still here…worrying if I’ll be alright.”

“Because I have at least a half a conscience.” He answered.

Bellatrix turned her head in his direction. “Is that right?”

“I’ll see you at home?”

“If these people decide to release me.” Bellatrix decided.

She was home within three days. The woman was rather happy to be out of that hospital gown; she had grown rather fond of those warm sweatpants and pajama bottoms—which is what she had chosen to wear. Red and white pajama bottoms and an oversized T-shirt.

Rodolphus had to assist her into the house—not that she was giving him any help, she in fact took to shifting her entire body weight onto him. Eventually the man decided it would just be easier to carry the woman into their house.

“This would be terribly easier with some magic.” Bellatrix pointed out.

“Yes.” Rodolphus huffed. “For me!” He set her down on the chair nearest the fireplace.

Bellatrix snickered.

“You want something to drink? Hot chocolate?”

“Anything chocolate will do just fine.” Bellatrix replied as she tried to find a comfy position to sit in, one that didn’t further irritate her aching body.

“Of course.”

Rodolphus never actually made hot chocolate before, not without magic that is. He stood before the stove holding the packet of powder looking rather puzzled.

After some time had passed, Bellatrix found herself growing bored. Against the doctor’s orders to rest, the woman pushed herself off the chair and wondered into the kitchen. She snatched the hot coco mix out of Rod’s grasp with her good arm.

“Bella!”

“Relax, I can walk to the kitchen.” She rolled her eyes. “Now get me a pot will you?”

Rodolphus handed his wife the instructed kitchen utensils and watched her fill the pot with milk and set it on the front burner. She stared at the stove for a minute, trying to recall which knob to turn. One would think she would have it figured out by now. After a minute she turned the knob, working the front burner.
What a task.

She waited for the milk to boil before dumping the hot coco mix in. “Think you can finish from here?” Bellatrix asked.

“I hope so.” He mumbled.

The woman returned to her usual place in front of the fireplace. She didn’t need a chair…those were for the weak. Besides, it was much warmer on the floor.

Rodolphus took a seat next to her on the floor and handed her the glass of hot chocolate. She took only a sip and sat it on the floor beside her.

Bellatrix certainly wasn’t one for cuddling but Rod chanced carefully pulling her into his arms anyhow.

Her body was warm from being positioned so close to the fire for so long. It was fairly cozy…welcoming almost.

“You know, if you keep sitting that close you’re going to get a nice sun burn.” Rodolphus pointed out. “In the winter.” He added.

“It isn’t a sun burn unless the sun caused it.” Bella replied stubbornly.

They sat there for a long while just listening to the fire sizzle and pop. It felt good to have the woman leaning against him, not yelling or making a fuss. It felt good to know she was alright. She trailed her finger in subconscious circles over his chest. She was rather soothing when she wasn’t trying to cause someone physical pain.

He felt her body relax in his arms. She seemed to be on the verge of sleep. “Hey Rod…”

“Yes?”

“You got me a new car for Christmas right?”