Bellatrix/Molly Sunday Morning
Title: Sunday Morning
Author: Liliths_Requiem
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Molly Prewitt, Bellatrix Black
Pairings: Molly Prewitt/Bellatrix Black
Era: First War
Word Count: 1018
Summary: The Sun’s ascent into the heavens despite Night’s attempt to keep her down.
Warnings: doesn’t really follow the canon I’ve developed up to now regarding the two, it was really more a character study than anything else.
Bella likes to brush her hair on Sunday morning only. She rises just before the sun and takes out the hairbrush made from dragon hide and unicorn hair, unplaiting the braids she made the night before with deft fingers before bringing the brush through her messy curls over and over again. It’s a task she’s never missed, something more constant that the seasons changing, a mother’s love, and the way Molly whimpers when she cums. The black curls cascade down her pale white skin, showing just how well black works against white, just how perfectly good and evil can look when forced together.
“There are no shades of gray,” Molly would often tell her after breakfast on Sundays, when they would walk out into the Forbidden Forest and get lost among the pine trees and the giant spiders. Molly was always quite good with animals and plants, but Bella had a gift, something that you had to be born with. They would lie down under moss covered trees and watch the sun climb up into the sky. It wasn’t exactly romantic, there were no flowers or candles or whispered confessions of love, but it was something no one could ever take from her, not even the Dementors, who had taken everything else.
“Yes, there are,” Bella would retort, her gray eyes boring into Molly’s forest green ones. “Shades of gray are everywhere, Molly, you just have to find them.” She liked Sunday mornings in the middle of February the best, because dawn would break gray instead of white, and the sun would have to try just a little too hard to break through the confines of the darkness. Sometimes, Bella didn’t know which one of them was the sun and which one of them was the suffocating night sky that wouldn’t let the other breathe. She didn’t really feel like she was in love, only that if she didn’t have Molly she would cease to be.
It was a Sunday morning when the Order of the Phoenix attacked their stronghold in Ottery St. Catchpole, just down the road from where Molly was snuggled up in bed with her spineless husband and her too many kids. Bella was the first to fire back, her long black hair swirling around her like flames from the sun (like a curtain of night.) She stunned the younger ones first, taking out the Potters and her cousin before rounding on the next bout of attackers, led by the Prewitt Twins. She faltered then, suddenly remembering Molly’s strange conviction that good and evil could not meet; that there were no shades of gray. If she attacked Molly’s brothers, there would be no redemption to be found that night in the arms of her scarlet lover. There would only be anger and pain and a goodbye she wasn’t quite ready to say.
“Avada Kedavra,” Snape bellowed behind her, effectively ending the life of one of the twins. When the other one turned, Bella was the only one standing there, and she suddenly knew that if she didn’t finish the job there wasn’t a lie she could tell that would protect her from the wrath of Molly. “Avada Kedavra,” she echoed, the second twin hitting the floor much the same way his brother had. Just as he fell, Molly’s face appeared behind him, and Bella realized the other woman had been there the entire time.
“Molly, I didn’t-“ She began, but there really was no way to finish that sentence, tell the truth, and continue the secret trysts late at night that kept her breathing up to that point.
“Don’t,” Molly stated, effectively cutting her off. There were no tears in her voice, so sadness or hysteria or remorse. There was only a shot of white-hot anger, painfully visible even from the twenty feet away that Bella was standing. “Don’t think there’s any way you can fix this, you poor excuse for a pureblooded whore.” The words sliced through Bella like a knife through the French chocolate her mother use to make, and she stood there paralyzed for a moment too long. By the time she could find her feet again, Molly was long gone, as were the two bodies that had sealed her fate.
Voldemort disappeared on a Saturday evening, and the following morning Bella didn’t have her brush to tame the knots of that week. She sat in front of the fire, viciously pulling at her hair, drawing clumps from her fingertips and feeling blood cake at the roots. There was an insanity in her eyes that was once quelled by the love of a woman and now ran rampant as Bella realized there was no chance of winning this fight. She flung the long black tresses into the fire, cloaking the small piece of sun with the dark curtain of night, realizing, finally, that she was the one who tried desperately to block out the sun, and failed.
It was late March, and every other prisoner was curled in a ball in the corner of their cells, fearful of the Dementors and painfully aware of the cold. Bella, instead, sat near the door. It was Sunday morning, and she was going to use whatever light available to comb out the knots in her hair and try to remain something akin to human. Just as the last knot was pulled from her head, the prison seemed to warm, and there was a shaft of sunlight coming towards her. Pumpkin orange hair and forest green eyes seemed both real and imaginary as she took the brush from Molly’s hand and tried not to cry. There were no words exchanged, only a momentary lapse of sanity, and then everything faded back to black, the black brush in her hand being the only proof that the sun had fought through the darkness of night, and wanted to make the darkness understand.
As Bella lay on the dirt floor that night, she felt flames engulf her, and she knew as her Dark Mark burned, that this baptism by fire wasn’t enough to turn the night away from darkness.
Author: Liliths_Requiem
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Molly Prewitt, Bellatrix Black
Pairings: Molly Prewitt/Bellatrix Black
Era: First War
Word Count: 1018
Summary: The Sun’s ascent into the heavens despite Night’s attempt to keep her down.
Warnings: doesn’t really follow the canon I’ve developed up to now regarding the two, it was really more a character study than anything else.
Bella likes to brush her hair on Sunday morning only. She rises just before the sun and takes out the hairbrush made from dragon hide and unicorn hair, unplaiting the braids she made the night before with deft fingers before bringing the brush through her messy curls over and over again. It’s a task she’s never missed, something more constant that the seasons changing, a mother’s love, and the way Molly whimpers when she cums. The black curls cascade down her pale white skin, showing just how well black works against white, just how perfectly good and evil can look when forced together.
“There are no shades of gray,” Molly would often tell her after breakfast on Sundays, when they would walk out into the Forbidden Forest and get lost among the pine trees and the giant spiders. Molly was always quite good with animals and plants, but Bella had a gift, something that you had to be born with. They would lie down under moss covered trees and watch the sun climb up into the sky. It wasn’t exactly romantic, there were no flowers or candles or whispered confessions of love, but it was something no one could ever take from her, not even the Dementors, who had taken everything else.
“Yes, there are,” Bella would retort, her gray eyes boring into Molly’s forest green ones. “Shades of gray are everywhere, Molly, you just have to find them.” She liked Sunday mornings in the middle of February the best, because dawn would break gray instead of white, and the sun would have to try just a little too hard to break through the confines of the darkness. Sometimes, Bella didn’t know which one of them was the sun and which one of them was the suffocating night sky that wouldn’t let the other breathe. She didn’t really feel like she was in love, only that if she didn’t have Molly she would cease to be.
It was a Sunday morning when the Order of the Phoenix attacked their stronghold in Ottery St. Catchpole, just down the road from where Molly was snuggled up in bed with her spineless husband and her too many kids. Bella was the first to fire back, her long black hair swirling around her like flames from the sun (like a curtain of night.) She stunned the younger ones first, taking out the Potters and her cousin before rounding on the next bout of attackers, led by the Prewitt Twins. She faltered then, suddenly remembering Molly’s strange conviction that good and evil could not meet; that there were no shades of gray. If she attacked Molly’s brothers, there would be no redemption to be found that night in the arms of her scarlet lover. There would only be anger and pain and a goodbye she wasn’t quite ready to say.
“Avada Kedavra,” Snape bellowed behind her, effectively ending the life of one of the twins. When the other one turned, Bella was the only one standing there, and she suddenly knew that if she didn’t finish the job there wasn’t a lie she could tell that would protect her from the wrath of Molly. “Avada Kedavra,” she echoed, the second twin hitting the floor much the same way his brother had. Just as he fell, Molly’s face appeared behind him, and Bella realized the other woman had been there the entire time.
“Molly, I didn’t-“ She began, but there really was no way to finish that sentence, tell the truth, and continue the secret trysts late at night that kept her breathing up to that point.
“Don’t,” Molly stated, effectively cutting her off. There were no tears in her voice, so sadness or hysteria or remorse. There was only a shot of white-hot anger, painfully visible even from the twenty feet away that Bella was standing. “Don’t think there’s any way you can fix this, you poor excuse for a pureblooded whore.” The words sliced through Bella like a knife through the French chocolate her mother use to make, and she stood there paralyzed for a moment too long. By the time she could find her feet again, Molly was long gone, as were the two bodies that had sealed her fate.
Voldemort disappeared on a Saturday evening, and the following morning Bella didn’t have her brush to tame the knots of that week. She sat in front of the fire, viciously pulling at her hair, drawing clumps from her fingertips and feeling blood cake at the roots. There was an insanity in her eyes that was once quelled by the love of a woman and now ran rampant as Bella realized there was no chance of winning this fight. She flung the long black tresses into the fire, cloaking the small piece of sun with the dark curtain of night, realizing, finally, that she was the one who tried desperately to block out the sun, and failed.
It was late March, and every other prisoner was curled in a ball in the corner of their cells, fearful of the Dementors and painfully aware of the cold. Bella, instead, sat near the door. It was Sunday morning, and she was going to use whatever light available to comb out the knots in her hair and try to remain something akin to human. Just as the last knot was pulled from her head, the prison seemed to warm, and there was a shaft of sunlight coming towards her. Pumpkin orange hair and forest green eyes seemed both real and imaginary as she took the brush from Molly’s hand and tried not to cry. There were no words exchanged, only a momentary lapse of sanity, and then everything faded back to black, the black brush in her hand being the only proof that the sun had fought through the darkness of night, and wanted to make the darkness understand.
As Bella lay on the dirt floor that night, she felt flames engulf her, and she knew as her Dark Mark burned, that this baptism by fire wasn’t enough to turn the night away from darkness.