Title: White Petals
Pairing: Bellatrix/Molly
Rating: T
Warnings: Femslash, Angst, BDSM, Character Death
Note: Written for the "Pairing Drabble Tag."
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Molly had a stoic expression on her face, refusing to let any emotions seep through her mask. The white petals seemed to contradict everything that Bellatrix stood for. She didn't even deserve a funeral, but Narcissa had insisted, and Molly had let herself give into self-destruction and watched from a distance. Bellatrix would have hated all the white roses, their petals littering her coffin.
But Molly didn't care anymore what Bellatrix would have wanted. She hated her. The woman had tried to kill her daughter. Molly was glad that she had killed her. She told herself that every night, but it never changed the twinge of guilt that tried to break through her mantra.
Memories of the two of them kept floating to the surface, no matter how hard she tried to push them back: Bellatrix in a black corset, playing with a whip while Molly was tied to the bed with satin scarves and breathing heavily in anticipation. Molly had always played it safe until she met Bellatrix.
The dark and dangerous woman had made her feel alive in a way that no one else ever had - even her dear husband, though she tried to pretend otherwise. The feel of the whip hitting her skin, and then a tongue lapping at the wounds was like a drug, coursing through Molly's veins and taking her higher than she thought possible.
It was addicting, and she kept going back no matter how many times she said that it was the last time. It wasn't easy to end things when she got married, but her honor had compelled her too. She's glad for it now.
There's very little guilt left in Molly's heart for someone like Bellatrix - not after everyone and everything that she had lost. The tiny shreds of it that are left – thinking that perhaps she could have stopped Bellatrix in another way instead of killing her - are aimed towards the woman that she once knew; that woman had a shred of decency left deep inside her. The demented woman that she became did not.
So Molly's face remained like stone while the white petals fluttered in the wind and scattered across the cemetery. It was for the best.
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A/N: Reviews are always appreciated.