May Death Do Us Part | RB ✔︎

ELEVEN ☆ BLACK

Mona Monhagen will be the death of me.

I watch her from across the room as she walks with a limp to change into a pair of blue jeans and a tight long-sleeve crop top. A smirk twists my lips as she glares at me, the cold air causing her to shiver as she crawls back into the bed beside me.

The blanket rests over my naked hips, my abdomen peeking out from above the fuzzy duvet. Mona leans on her elbow, dragging her index finger over the valleys of my stomach. My eyes follow her movements, tracing up my chest and placing her hand on my shoulder as she leans forward to press a kiss to my lips.

"We can't stay in bed all day, Reg." She whispers, her forehead resting against mine.

"Why not?" I mutter back, my eyes shut as I pull her forward to straddle my waist. "Why can't we just run? Just the two of us? We can go somewhere no one knows who we are. We can leave and it will just be the two of us."

She smiles, her lips feathering against mine before she pulls back. "You know we can't."

I sigh and she slides off of me, moving to slip socks onto her feet and pushing her feet into her boots.

"I know." I mutter, pushing myself to sit up.

Mona tosses me my boxers, setting black slacks on the edge of the bed and a black hoodie with it.

"We've got to go to Bulgaria." She says softly, pushing her hair into a messy bun.

I halt in my movements, flicking my eyes to her. "Bulgaria..."

"The coordinates. They lead us to Bulgaria and I need to figure out what exactly is in my old home that could help us get rid of the dark lord." She answers, tucking her wand into the waistband of her jeans.

I nod, slipping my boxers up my legs and stepping into my sweatpants. I tug the sweater over my head, making my way to her and pulling her closer by her hips. I press my lips to hers and rest my forehead against hers.

"Mona, why didn't you tell me about us?" I ask, trying to keep the hurt from my face.

She pulls back, her hand cupping my cheek as she feathers a kiss to the tip of my nose.

She makes her way towards the table and I follow behind her. She gathers up the papers scattered over the wooden tabletop, crinkled from last nights activities.

"I made an unbreakable vow to Dumbledore. I wouldn't fill in the gaps in your memory because it could send you into a downward spiral." She says, smoothing out the pages. "I was the reason you're family lost you in the beginning. I wasn't going to be the reason you were ripped from them a second time."

"Mona, the fault isn't yours to take. The weight of our deaths is on Tom Riddle's shoulders. Not yours."

Her hand freezes over the notebook, her eyebrows knitted together.

"Tom Riddle." She whispers.

I can practically hear the gears turning in her head.

"Voldemort." I restate.

"Reg," she starts, spinning around with the notebook in hand, her finger on the diamond ring, "the Dark Lord had a ring on him. Always. The black one, remember?"

I nod slowly, confusion etching into my features. "You're confusing me."

"The last time I saw him, he wasn't wearing the ring." She says, placing the book down on the table. "When I was at the Ministry with Harry."

"When...?" I start, frowning as she continues to explain.

"He's got two sons now." She says, tucking the papers into the notebook and snapping it shut. "If he's treating them anything like how he treated me, he's got one of them wearing the ring."