Title: Remiss Redemption
Author: Liliths_Requiem
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Molly Weasley, Bellatrix Black
Pairings: Molly Weasley/Bellatrix Black
Era: up to and including the Second War
Word Count: 766
Prompt: 100quills 31. Forgiveness



Bellatrix Black Lestrange only received one visitor during her imprisonment in Azkaban. Although many people claimed to have known her, no one wanted to further associate themselves with a woman responsible for innumerous deaths and capable of acts far worse than killing an innocent man. One person, however, visited every year without fail. The woman was tall and sleek, with spirals of blonde hair caught up in a graying hooded cloak and green eyes that seemed to catch the moonlight and bring it to that godforsaken island. The Ministry was told she was Evelyn Rosier, a cousin of Lestrange’s on her mother’s side. The Dementors, however, knew that she was wearing a magical mask brewed from the hair of Bella’s last murder and worn to protect the woman beneath. They could taste her memories of a large family, twin brothers who loved her fiercely, and a forbidden love that was never meant to exist but did nonetheless.

The visitor always appeared on the third day of November, like clockwork. There was no significance to this day, for anyone and especially not either of them. That was partially why she chose the date, really, she didn’t want to remember any of their past when they had their few moments together. As much as she hated the woman who had been driven more than half-insane by the echoing walls of the towering prison, she loved her twice as much. “Bella,” she would call into the shadows, her eyes shedding light upon the darkened walls. The woman, now more creature than human, would crawl from the edges of her marble prison and look upon her lover with something close to desperation. The plea was written across her face so blatantly that Bella did not have to open her mouth to whisper the words forgive me.

The creature greeted her, every year, with the same pitiful look on her face. Like a beaten dog or an abandon child, Bellatrix Lestrange looked feral in her state of isolation but human whenever Molly arrived. It surprised the guards, who often thought this prisoner was far beyond the reach of human emotion, but it did not surprise the Dementors, who tried valiantly to prey upon the happiness Molly left her with every time she had to go. In a sick, twisted way, the few moments of reprieve that Molly offered only served to increase the suffering Bella felt.

When she escaped, most of the guards believed she would find the mysterious woman who comforted her on those frozen November nights, and so word was sent out to watch any tall blonde witches in the vicinity. Bella sent an owl to Molly and met her in an old haunt, one where no one could find them, regardless as to how hard they tried. She used her body to worship the other woman’s, begging for forgiveness in every touch, every sigh, and every moan. As fingers traced bruises into her skin, Bella surrendered to the absolution through sex that her lover was offering. She arched up into the fingers that scraped along her inner walls, leaving trails of blood across the white satin sheets. She relished in the bites that bled and bruised as Molly sunk her teeth deeper and deeper into the dark woman’s neck, hoping to stop the pulse from racing against her mouth. As the orgasm washed over her, erasing her from the sins she committed and allowing a second chance to walk into Eden, Bella knew she was destined never to return to her lover’s arms.

Her dark mark burned against her flesh, causing both women to surrender to reality and remember that they could no longer share a bed dressed in white and pretend that they were in a cease fire. They did not kiss good bye, and as Bella left she could not bring herself to reach Molly’s eyes. She was pure for a moment, cleansed of original sin, but the darkness never left her heart and as she returned to her master she ran from the only truth she ever knew.

When they met again, there was no forgiveness in her lover’s eyes. Only hate, disgust, and the Avada Kedavra green of Molly’s glowing eyes.

“And will you forgive me, Molly, if I break you’re heart?” giggling almost in a way that makes the insanity in her eyes look innocent.

The redhead simply smirks, “Whoever said it was yours to break?”

An empty stare and then, “Don’t play games, Molly. Will you?”

A pause, something almost like regret issued forth in a quiet sigh and then, “Of course.”