[𝟐] 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃

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𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃
"𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺."

𝟏𝟑:𝟎𝟖, 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟑𝟎𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟎

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𝟏𝟑:𝟎𝟖, 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟑𝟎𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟎

MONTHS HAD PASSED SINCE THE DARK LORD'S DEATH. Many had moved on finally, Bellatrix, fortunately, being one of them. She had mourned over his death, harder than anyone else. Her bump was expanding and was therefore acquitted from Azkaban for the birth.

Many emotions passed through faster than lightning but left slower than rain. Most of them being anxious.

However, unlike other women whose thoughts would be, "What if I can't give birth?", her thoughts were "What would Rodulphous say?".

Bellatrix stood in front of Lestrange Manor and gradually built up her courage. She breathed in and out, letting out a slight sob.

Time to put on her act.

She maniacally cackled and stepped inside the empty manor and instantly headed for her husband's study, clutching her stomach with her left hand.

"Rodolphous!" She sang psychotically while she opened the wide doors to her husband's dull and dark study. The woman noticed her husband, Lestrange, studying in the dark and she immediately opened the window to let colours fill the room instead, which caused Lestrange to gulp and squint his eyes against the illumination.

"What the fuck. . . ?" Rodolphous whispered as his eyes narrowed down to his wife's stomach, "Did you gain weight in Azkaban. . . ?" He questioned while gaping his mouth open, showing bewilderment.

"No, honey," his wife sang, giving a wide smile that was slightly covered by her greasy black locks.

"What? Your-" Lestrange spontaneously hopped from his seat and widened his eyes in shock, which then turned into an unpleasant and outraged countenance.

"We're married," He said pointed his fingers at his wife and himself, "You, cheated." He said now advancing towards her. The man knew that he and his wife never intended this, let alone done anything to cause this. His wife let out a shaky grin, but the fear of Lestrange's potential wrath was evident in her brown, sulky pupils.

Her husband raged and threw papers everywhere, and stomped towards his wife. He instinctively slapped her across the cheek. His wife fell to his knees before him. Vulnerable. Weak. Helpless.

Lestrange glared at his wife with a shock at his actions. He never intended to harm his wife in any way, he made vows.

However, he knew that his wife didn't love him, and he didn't love her. They weren't destined, only betrothed.

Bella let out a small wail of pain, a hand on her stomach and a hand on her cheek.

"I'm so sorry. . ." He whispered to his wife. Lestrange held out his hand and helped her up in sorrow and guilt.

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