Entry tags:

bellatrix/lily, femslash, fic

Fic: First Kiss, Bellatrix/Lily, R
Title: First Kiss
Author: foreword
Disclaimer: I'm not JKR (clearly). Please don't sue.
Pairing: Bellatrix/Lily
Warnings: Dark, allusions to bloodplay, necro… Er. Dark.
Rating: R
Summary: Lily was no rose, but she would wilt just the same.
A/N: For my darling incognito. Happy birthday, love. Prompt originally given to me by inell several months ago; Bella/Lily, first kiss.

I'm sorry this is late. I hope you like it, sweetheart! ♥

***

She was bossy and angry and hot and bright, so bright. Bellatrix hated her instantly. She dreamed about her, in red and gold and searing. She always burned her, and Bellatrix craved it.

Bellatrix dreamed in technicolour, of thick hot red cascading down her throat, of sharp, coppery warmth and soft, ginger curls. It twisted and tangled in her mind, in her dreams. Lily's petals were so soft and fresh and ready and Bellatrix plucked them every night.

She was pale and white and should have been cold, should have been cool and smooth to the touch, but she was hot, burning, aching. The Potter boy made her hotter, in the shade of the dark, forbidden forest, where no one but Bellatrix could see.

She twisted her nails against her palm and it was searing wet, just like it should be as she watched Lily twist underneath him, and she was no flower. Potter was an insect, feeding, destroying, making her sick and bright and docile. Bellatrix was disgusted and she took it out on Rodolphus; clawing, kicking, biting, cutting. He screamed in pain and pleasure and she could almost be sated. Almost.

Her lips were red and bruised and broken and she would wake up tasting her sometimes, the sharp twist of her tongue making her forget for a moment that it was her and not Lily.

Bellatrix never liked flowers. Narcissa would always pick them from mother's garden when they were young, and in time they would wilt so pathetically and Narcissa would cry. She hated death and feared sickness, and Bellatrix hated her for her weakness, hated Narcissa for making Bellatrix ache so stupidly when she cried.

She laughed when Narcissa first picked a rose, crying out as the thorn pricked her finger.

Lily was no rose, but she would wilt just the same. And Bellatrix hated that, and she wished that Potter could have left well enough alone.

Her Lord knew this, yes he did. He knew this and he took her with him, promised her treasure beyond Bella's wildest fantasies – promised to pluck Lily from the Hollow, promised to give her to Bellatrix.

And He tried to keep his promise, Bella saw. Potter fell and there was dancing in her eyes, and she was spinning with delight at the stupid look on his face. Potter was an insect and he would feed no more. But Lily had run with the maggot child, hot and arrogant and angry as ever, and Bellatrix had never seen a green so strong, so fine, as when her Lord killed her.

And then it was Bella and the child. Her and the child and Lily, Lily who wouldn't burn her anymore, Lily who wasn't warm and bright and angry. Lily was cool and soft and pure like the petals Bella picked in her dreams and she plucked them now, pale and perfect, as the child cried.