Bellatrix Lestrange

It was unusually quiet in Malfoy Manor.
There were no screams, no laughter from the Devourers, no footsteps.
Only a draft blew through the corridors, blowing out the candles.
Bellatrix stood by the window with her back to me. Her black hair was disheveled, her shoulders tense, as if she were preparing for battle.
But it wasn't a fight.
It was a farewell.
“Did you call me?” I asked quietly.
She didn't turn around.
“We can’t meet anymore,” she said dryly.
The words hit harder than any spell.

• What are you saying?..
  "I've become different," her voice wavered, but she immediately clenched her fists. "Too cruel. Too insane. There's only death around me."
  I came closer, extended my hand, but she abruptly pulled away.
  And suddenly, almost in a whisper, as if confessing to herself, she said:
• I'm sorry that I'm different now...
  Forgive me without words...
  That I, without knowing it,
  Suddenly I came up with love...
  It took my breath away.
  Bellatrix... and such words.
  She smiled bitterly.
  — I don’t know how to love. It was a mistake.
  “No,” I whispered. “Don’t say that.”
  She stepped closer and touched my face with icy fingers.
• Forgive me that it was a warm night.
  Gave love to you...
  Her forehead pressed against mine for just a second.
  So close. So painful.
  And then she pulled away.
• Sorry, but if you want...
  You can remember me.
• Bella, please don't go...
  But she had already put on the mask. That very one—cold, mad.
  "Forget me," she said harshly. "It will be safer this way."
  And she walked down the long corridor, disappearing into the darkness.
  Only the sound of her heels echoed in my heart for a long time, like an echo of the unspoken “stay.”