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MMM: Don’t Marry Him
Ok so a bit of a backstory on this one as it's rather... random.
Years ago, I roleplayed as Bellatrix Lestrange, and had a story with an amazing Lucius regarding their backstory and apparent hatred for one another within the Harry Potter stories. The storyline basically developed that Bellatrix and Lucius had been sweethearts at Hogwarts, he had broken her heart and she had allowed her father to arrange her marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange. This is a piece that is based on that storyline.
(Also, yknow, this is Bella pre-Voldy so that crazy obsession isn't quite there yet)
Oh also.. TW - slightly smutty. Probably NSFW.
Anyway.. Here goes haha
Don't Marry HimBellatrix x Luciuswww.roleplayer.me/TheBlackFairy
“Don’t marry him..” he whispered, his lips pressed against her neck as he wrapped himself around her from behind, his hands travelling down her sides, coming to rest at her waist.
Delicate white fingers gripped her tightly, as though she might pull away at any second, moving her hips the slightest touch closer to his own. She could feel the possessiveness within him as his teeth sank into the pale skin of her neck, his bite hard enough to draw blood, and then his tongue, soft and hot, ran over the wound, drinking her in. She was his. He wanted her to remember that.
“Don’t marry him” he repeated, trailing his lips to her bare shoulder this time. She could feel the bristles of his growing facial hair. He claimed not to have shaved since he had read the engagement announcement in the Daily Prophet, and she hadn’t quite believed him until that moment. Had it really hurt him so much to read those words that he lost all sense of pride?
How adorable.
His fingers moved to the strings of her corset, tearing them open with practised ease. How often had they fumbled in the dark after a ball or party that his or her parents threw? How often had she found herself in a secluded place with his hands running over her bare flesh? He had been her first. She had not been his, and she had known it from the practised skills he displayed in the darkness from that first moment. She hadn’t cared, she had simply wanted to feel his touch.
Not much had changed.
His fingers touched her bare skin, and she melted into him. He ran those delicate fingers along her rib cage, somehow hurting and tickling her at the same time. Gripping her as though she was nothing more than a doll, he spun her around to face him, his hand tilting her chin upwards, forcing her to meet his gaze before his lips met her own in the softest of kisses. The softness disappeared within moments, replaced by the white-hot passion that seethed within them both. She had loved him once, in her younger years, and he had broken her heart. Sense had returned to him all too late.
Still, she didn’t stop him as he lifted her against the table, nor when he raised her skirts around her waist. She knew it was wrong, when he pushed inside her, that she was to marry another man, but she didn’t stop him then either. Passion overtook, pleasure overwhelming, familiarity and first love driving her on as his lips met the flesh of her chest, kissing and nipping and sucking her skin, leaving no small amount of marks, almost enough for her to remember that she was his.
Only, she was no longer.
“Lucius..” the name left her lips as she straightened herself up. He had left himself inside her, she could feel him but it didn’t bring her the sense of pride it had in the past.
“‘Trix… Don’t marry him..” he said again, his hand grabbing her by the wrist as she turned to walk away.
“I have to”
“But do you want to?”
“It doesn’t matter. I have to” her voice was quiet, but her determination showed as she pulled her wrist from his hold.
“He won’t love you as I do. No one will,” he spoke mostly to her back as she moved towards the door, ready to walk out of his life forever. “You’re mine, Bellatrix..”
She almost laughed. Immature as ever.
“Goodbye, Lucius.” She whispered mostly to herself as she closed the door behind her, stepping into the darkness of the night. The trip down memory lane had been just what she had needed before her wedding, before she tied herself to another pureblood to honour her family traditions. As she pulled her cloak around herself, she pushed down the longing for him that still stirred within her, that had never truly extinguished. It would be easy, she considered, to move on and into her married life if she never had to see him again.
And why should she have to?
It wasn’t as though he was family.
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