Written for:
Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Antonin Dolohov - Write an Antonin/Molly.
200 Characters in 200 Days: Antonin Dolohov
Valentine Making Station: Be Mine Conversation Hearts Candy - write about a possessive, unhealthy relationship.
If You Dare Challenge: 643. Sweet Revenge
Words: 667
Never Break A Promise
Before there was Arthur, there was Antonin. Molly had been bravely naïve and young, and Antonin had been the charismatic bad boy with a cheeky smile and dragon hide jacket. He looked just like Molly dreamed love would look like, with an aristocratic jawline perpetually covered in stubble. He knew just what to say to make her weak at the knees. She was fifteen, and she didn't yet know that danger could look a lot like a friend.
He'd won her over in silent corners of the library; under the Quidditch pitch stands; be the edge of the Forbidden Forest at sundown. She didn't know yet who he would grow to be. Voldemort's name was just a whisper on the wind, a word for debate in the comment pages of the Daily Prophet. A figurative idea, an abstract concept. There were pureblood families with their ideals, sure, but they were so far removed from Molly's life that they didn't bear thinking about. She didn't think to ask Antonin what he believed.
She was sixteen when she told him she loved him. He smiled in that lopsided way he had, and it made Molly giggle. He leaned in to kiss her, his hand snaking around to the back of her head. She let herself melt into him like she was chocolate under his touch, melting into his mould.
"My little bird," he whispered into her ear, reciting his pet name for her like it meant the same thing as 'I love you'.
Molly was eighteen when Arthur admitted he liked her. Arthur didn't know about Antonin, no one did. Arthur thought Molly was available, and so he gave her a bouquet of flowers and asked her out. It was sweet, very sweet, and it made Molly smile. She realised she couldn't say no without a reason, and she didn't have a reason she could share. She said yes. Arthur didn't know about Antonin, and now Molly had to ensure Antonin didn't find out about Arthur.
She'd thought Antonin was perfect until she had someone to compare him too. As soon as she did, she realised that the way Antonin demanded she spend her evenings with him rather than her friends wasn't romantic at all; it was controlling. In fact, there were lots of little things like that; things that kept building up.
Eventually, a teary-eyed Molly snapped out of the illusion he'd built for her, and told him she was leaving. Antonin told her she wasn't, gripping her wrists so tightly that it hurt; that she couldn't pull away. She told him he didn't love her. He reminded her he'd never said he did.
Molly left, and Antonin left her a promise: that one day, she would pay.
It was many years later, after the birth of her first son, that the war began in earnest. She looked to her husband and the muggle items he collected and loved, and she looked to the list of the enemies' names in the Daily Prophet, reading Antonin Dolohov over and over again. She'd made the right choice.
Albus Dumbledore organised a counter-movement, a group of people fighting for the opposite cause. Molly watched her brothers valiantly go off to fight. The first time they faced him, they told her he'd just smiled at them, defended himself, and not thrown a single curse. They told her it was disconcerting. She reminded them it was years ago, now, and he'd probably forgotten all about her.
When her brothers were found dead a few months later, Molly's tears fell so quickly, her sobs came so violently that she was unable to breathe, her chest more painful than anything she'd known before. She went to identify the bodies, leaning on her husband for support. They showed what they'd found in their pockets. Their wands, both broken. A chocolate frog. A lighter. Money. The usual things.
And nestled in the middle, a note, written in Antonin's fine script. She'd recognise it anywhere.
Molly, I never break a promise.