A/N: Written for the "Fight Me Challenge" which had to include a fight at a funeral and the "This Isn't A Fairy Tale Challenge" with the prompt 'doubt'.
Sometimes Rodolphus doubted whether it was a wise idea to marry Bellatrix. It was not a common emotion, but when it did enter his mind, the doubt was difficult to force away.
It was logical that a day like today would spurn negative emotions; the group gathered were all wearing black, almost were experiencing some level of depression and, most importantly, it was his mother's funeral.
He should have concentrated on her life. He should have thought about how he would never see her again and about how she was such a wonderful person.
He could not.
He was focused on something else.
Instead of staring straight ahead at the Ministry official who was delivering the service or at his mother's perfect white grave, his eyes flicked to his wife who was standing beside him.
It was not because of her beauty (even if she was extremely attractive) or because he was looking to her for comfort (he was not foolish), but because of the loop of pearls around her neck.
They were not hers.
They were his mother's.
The temptation to leap over his chair and rip the necklace off her neck roared inside of him. He was surprised that the coffin of his mother was not rocking with fury.
It was only with a great deal of difficulty and self preservation that he managed to control himself.
Instead he tightened his grip on the parchment in his hand and waited until he could unleash his wrath.
It was an hour later when he finally got the opportunity he desired. His anger had not yielded. It had only grown as he concentrated on that emotion rather than the more painful sorrow at his mother's passing.
Slipping away from his brother who seemed in slightly better spirits now that he was being comforted by his latest girlfriend, he strode towards Bellatrix who was leaning on a thick tree trunk a short distance from the crowd.
She was smiling. Her eyes were alive as she watched his progress.
"Bellatrix," he hissed before he could hide the anger in his voice. Normally he was composed, but, even for him, control was difficult at funerals. "How dare you?"
"What do you mean Roddy?" she asked, her smirk growing as her dark eyes flicked over his face. He knew from the use of the nickname that she was playing with him.
"The pearls," he snarled fighting the urge to start screaming. His arm darted up and pointed at the object in question. "You stole my mother's pearls."
"Oh." She seemed to be toying with the idea until she shrugged coyly. "It is not as if she is using them."
Before he could help himself he lashed out and gripped her arm tightly and shook her furiously. "How dare you? You know exactly how she felt about you. Obviously she had every right to hate you."
Bella did not flinch from his grip. She only pushed off the tree trunk and stood straight without any care for the pain he was inflicting on her limb. "Why would I care what an old dead bitch thought about me?"
He dropped her arm but it was only to curl his hand into a fist and raise it. Bella watched the movement, but again she was not affected. "Do it Roddy," she taunted her eyes sparkly. "Do it. It will not stop the fact she is dead."
He reacted. Slamming his fist, he smashed into the tree trunk and splinters entered his hand.
He had deliberately missed her.
Bella only laughed. "So weak," she murmured leaning her lips up to his ear now that his assault on the tree had brought them closer together. "So pathetic. Can't even defend the memory of your dead mother."
"Fuck you," he cursed in a rare event for him. "Fucking bitch."
"You insult me so much," she said sarcastically with a slight chuckle. "I'm so wounded."
He couldn't take it anymore. He knew soon he was going to kill her or do something worse like cry.
Barely resisting doing the things his emotions tempted him to do, he spun on his heel and started to walk away. He was stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"I knew you could not do it."
He snapped.
He did not care that half the funeral party was probably watching or that he apparently loved Bella.
He could not take it any longer.
Twisting on his heel, he grabbed her upper arms and threw her face first into the tree trunk like she was a sack of potatoes. He thought she might have broken her nose, but she barely even made a cry of protest.
She only laughed.
As his hands moved to her neck, he doubted whether he could go through life married to this woman, but he managed to control himself. Undoing the clip he wrenched the string of pearls from her neck and strode off in a huff.
He did not look back at her.
He did not look at anyone.
He only strode through the hushed crowd straight for his mother's grave.
Water was curling in the corner of his eyes, but he doubted if he could ever keep it at bay any longer on this day.
Dropping the jewellery indelicately on the pearly white surface, he walked off.
He needed to be away from her.
He doubted if could ever be in her presence again.