48. Fanfiction: Ownership and Honesty
Title: Ownership and Honesty
Author: Liliths_Requiem
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Molly Weasley, Bellatrix Black, Rodolphus Lestrange, Arthur Weasley
Pairings: Molly Weasley/Bellatrix Black, Bellatrix Black/Rodolphus Lestrange, Molly Weasley/Arthur Weasley
Era: First War, 1971
Word Count: 965
Prompt: 100quills 27. Hers
It’s New Year’s Eve and she’s wrapped up in Arthur’s arms. It’s picturesque only in so much as it’s not, because two red heads snuggled up beneath week-old mistletoe and sharing hot cocoa that’s gone cold is just too perfect for anyone to believe in it. Luckily, Bella knows better. She’s felt Molly’s eyes on her all evening, and she knows better than to believe that her ex-lover has moved on.
She looks good, after two years without seeing the girl with ginger hair and gingersnap eyes, Bella’s almost in awe of how well pregnancy works for the redhead. It’s her first baby, one of many, Bella’s sure, and they’re naming it Billius, after Weasel’s older brother. It’s so romantic and she can almost taste the words Happily Ever After rolling off her tongue. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to break them both, to hurt them both so bad Molly has no choice but to seek solace in her true love’s arms and Arthur would disappear off the face of the earth.
Just as she’s about to walk over there and make a scene front-page worthy, Rodolphus’s hand is on the small of her back and his hot, heavy breath is in her ear. She wonders how much he’s had to drink tonight and then figures it doesn’t matter, as she’s the one who’ll be apparating them home later. Four years married to the hopeless bastard and he still doesn’t know how to hold his liquor. She’d be disappointed and disgusted if she could bring herself to care.
“Malfoy wants us,” he whispers, the words coming out slurred and almost incomprehensible. In fact, she doubts she’d be able to figure them out if she weren’t waiting patiently for the request. Without taking her eyes away from scarlet and gold hair and a smile of maternal warmth, Bella walks backwards with perfect grace and disappears behind a curtain of silver and green. Despite her strange loyalties and her disownment, Emmeline Vance refuses to abandon her roots in the Slytherin house.
The meeting is brief. Her sister looks well, but then, all seventeen year olds look better than usual lately. They’re hoping for adventure and glory without realizing all that’s in store for them is death and gore. The adoration in Narcissa’s eyes as Lucius walks across the room is sickening, for the sole purpose that Malfoy’s heart belongs to another Black sister, and she wouldn’t be caught dead here on way or another.
She leaves in a hurry, desperate to find out if Molly’s left, if she’ll have one more moment to look at her goddess in all her beauty. She had the maiden, Arthur has the mother, she doesn’t want to know which of them will end up with the crone. She doesn’t want either of them, any way, she knows she had the lover, the innocent, and she’s satisfied with that. (Or at least, that’s what she’ll tell herself tonight, after all is said and done and she’s left alone in a cold bed yet again.)
They look happy. He looks in love and she looks like she can almost tolerate his hand on her arse. Bella can’t, it’s obvious in the curve of her lip and the strain in her fingers that she wants nothing more than to punch the Weasel square in his face and take back what is rightfully, only, and always hers. She stares for a moment, waiting for one of them to crack, and it’s only after Molly makes eye contact that Bella realizes she’s stared a moment too long. There’s a question in her lady’s eyes, and Bella knows in that moment that this is it, sink or swim, and maybe she wasn’t a Gryffindor but she was always up for a challenge.
She almost glides over to where they are seated, her head held high and every step planned and perfectly executed, as if she’s walking to her death instead of walking up to the one she loves. The moment they’re face to face, words leave her and all that’s left is a plea in her eyes and disgust on her lips.
“You look well, Bellatrix,” her words are measured, forced, but there’s something like desperation in her tone and for a moment there is hope in Bella’s eyes. “Come, I need more punch.” For a moment, Arthur thinks his wife is talking to him. It’s only when she lets go of his hand that he realizes this is somewhere that he can’t follow.
They walk into the kitchen. Neither one touches the other. Bella’s too afraid of scaring Molly off and Molly’s too afraid she’s going to break and everything will come falling down on top of her.
“I’m still in love with you,” the words leave the Slytherin’s lips with the same vicious, desperate tone she’s used to kill. A part of her knows Molly knows this, and she can feel her stomach betraying her, her heart failing, and her lungs implode.
Molly looks her dead in the eyes and, without hesitation and without regret, whispers “Go fuck yourself.” The words don’t resound like Bella’s did; they barely make it across the small distance that separates them. It doesn’t matter, however, because Molly’s breached the distance and now her lips are there and her hands are everywhere. It’s breathless and dizzying and somehow they both know they’ll never be kissed like this again.
When she pulls away, the pain in Molly’s emerald eyes is palpable and all-encompassing. Bella wants to break through the sadness and make her lover smile but she can’t remember where she’s put her chainsaw. Instead, she turns on her heel and walks away knowing that forever, for always, Molly Prewett belongs to her and Bella’s heart is hers.
Author: Liliths_Requiem
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Molly Weasley, Bellatrix Black, Rodolphus Lestrange, Arthur Weasley
Pairings: Molly Weasley/Bellatrix Black, Bellatrix Black/Rodolphus Lestrange, Molly Weasley/Arthur Weasley
Era: First War, 1971
Word Count: 965
Prompt: 100quills 27. Hers
It’s New Year’s Eve and she’s wrapped up in Arthur’s arms. It’s picturesque only in so much as it’s not, because two red heads snuggled up beneath week-old mistletoe and sharing hot cocoa that’s gone cold is just too perfect for anyone to believe in it. Luckily, Bella knows better. She’s felt Molly’s eyes on her all evening, and she knows better than to believe that her ex-lover has moved on.
She looks good, after two years without seeing the girl with ginger hair and gingersnap eyes, Bella’s almost in awe of how well pregnancy works for the redhead. It’s her first baby, one of many, Bella’s sure, and they’re naming it Billius, after Weasel’s older brother. It’s so romantic and she can almost taste the words Happily Ever After rolling off her tongue. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to break them both, to hurt them both so bad Molly has no choice but to seek solace in her true love’s arms and Arthur would disappear off the face of the earth.
Just as she’s about to walk over there and make a scene front-page worthy, Rodolphus’s hand is on the small of her back and his hot, heavy breath is in her ear. She wonders how much he’s had to drink tonight and then figures it doesn’t matter, as she’s the one who’ll be apparating them home later. Four years married to the hopeless bastard and he still doesn’t know how to hold his liquor. She’d be disappointed and disgusted if she could bring herself to care.
“Malfoy wants us,” he whispers, the words coming out slurred and almost incomprehensible. In fact, she doubts she’d be able to figure them out if she weren’t waiting patiently for the request. Without taking her eyes away from scarlet and gold hair and a smile of maternal warmth, Bella walks backwards with perfect grace and disappears behind a curtain of silver and green. Despite her strange loyalties and her disownment, Emmeline Vance refuses to abandon her roots in the Slytherin house.
The meeting is brief. Her sister looks well, but then, all seventeen year olds look better than usual lately. They’re hoping for adventure and glory without realizing all that’s in store for them is death and gore. The adoration in Narcissa’s eyes as Lucius walks across the room is sickening, for the sole purpose that Malfoy’s heart belongs to another Black sister, and she wouldn’t be caught dead here on way or another.
She leaves in a hurry, desperate to find out if Molly’s left, if she’ll have one more moment to look at her goddess in all her beauty. She had the maiden, Arthur has the mother, she doesn’t want to know which of them will end up with the crone. She doesn’t want either of them, any way, she knows she had the lover, the innocent, and she’s satisfied with that. (Or at least, that’s what she’ll tell herself tonight, after all is said and done and she’s left alone in a cold bed yet again.)
They look happy. He looks in love and she looks like she can almost tolerate his hand on her arse. Bella can’t, it’s obvious in the curve of her lip and the strain in her fingers that she wants nothing more than to punch the Weasel square in his face and take back what is rightfully, only, and always hers. She stares for a moment, waiting for one of them to crack, and it’s only after Molly makes eye contact that Bella realizes she’s stared a moment too long. There’s a question in her lady’s eyes, and Bella knows in that moment that this is it, sink or swim, and maybe she wasn’t a Gryffindor but she was always up for a challenge.
She almost glides over to where they are seated, her head held high and every step planned and perfectly executed, as if she’s walking to her death instead of walking up to the one she loves. The moment they’re face to face, words leave her and all that’s left is a plea in her eyes and disgust on her lips.
“You look well, Bellatrix,” her words are measured, forced, but there’s something like desperation in her tone and for a moment there is hope in Bella’s eyes. “Come, I need more punch.” For a moment, Arthur thinks his wife is talking to him. It’s only when she lets go of his hand that he realizes this is somewhere that he can’t follow.
They walk into the kitchen. Neither one touches the other. Bella’s too afraid of scaring Molly off and Molly’s too afraid she’s going to break and everything will come falling down on top of her.
“I’m still in love with you,” the words leave the Slytherin’s lips with the same vicious, desperate tone she’s used to kill. A part of her knows Molly knows this, and she can feel her stomach betraying her, her heart failing, and her lungs implode.
Molly looks her dead in the eyes and, without hesitation and without regret, whispers “Go fuck yourself.” The words don’t resound like Bella’s did; they barely make it across the small distance that separates them. It doesn’t matter, however, because Molly’s breached the distance and now her lips are there and her hands are everywhere. It’s breathless and dizzying and somehow they both know they’ll never be kissed like this again.
When she pulls away, the pain in Molly’s emerald eyes is palpable and all-encompassing. Bella wants to break through the sadness and make her lover smile but she can’t remember where she’s put her chainsaw. Instead, she turns on her heel and walks away knowing that forever, for always, Molly Prewett belongs to her and Bella’s heart is hers.