A Cry Before Battle - a gift for The Community!
Title: A Cry Before Battle
Author: _afterism
Recipient: The Community
Pairing(s): Lily Evans/Bellatrix Lestrange
Word Count: 1803
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Dub-con (borderline non-con), violence, infidelity
Summary: She keeps one hand on her wand, and thinks she's safe.
Author's Notes: I loved all your prompts and I tried to get as many kinks in as I could - this is loosely based on your nymphomania prompt, although it went off in its own direction.
1979
The London Underground is a maddening crush this time of evening, and Lily keeps her hand wrapped around her wand with a white-knuckled grip, buried in the bag slung over her shoulder. Using Muggle transport to get to the Order's meeting house is a desperate last resort, but they know the Floo network is compromised-too many people disappearing or finding themselves at the wrong fireplace and surrounded-they can't Apparate or Portkey inside due to the charms she spent days putting around it, and there's nowhere close enough to appear suddenly without causing alarm. They're going to have to do something about that, she thinks, as a businesswoman pushes past her on the escalator and she stumbles, hip barging sharply against the handrail, because this is intolerable.
She's swept along with the crowd through an archway and on to the platform, the air hot and stagnant, and every argument about anonymity and safety in division is a distant, irrelevant buzz in comparison to the feeling of being watched, weighing down on her like the summer heat. She glances left and right but the sea of faces is indistinct, and then the train arrives with a thundering clatter and a rush of stale air and the crowd surges forward, the carriage filling quickly as she scans the crowd again, hesitating. She's one of the last to squeeze her way in, rubbing her thumb along the smooth wood of her wand like an anchor, and leans into the carriage as the doors close with a hiss and a thud. She's pushed back with shuffled feet and mutterings that might be apologies, and so she leans against the door, holds back a curse and tries to draw herself in as much as possible as the train pulls away from the station and plunges into the tunnel.
The silence is heavy and hot, full of muffled coughs and newspapers rustling and the scrape of shoes as people try to keep their balance - it's all so perfectly normal, and maybe the feeling like something's burning against the back of her neck is just the tension of being on the verge of war, of being trapped in unfamiliar place without back-up or an escape route, and she takes a breath and turns to face the door, watching the darkness flashing past the window as she counts the number of stops until she can get off - and then the train judders, and slows, and the lights begin to flicker.
She whips her head around, checking the carriages at either end of hers to see the lights steady and the passengers unconcerned. The Muggles around her begin to mutter quietly, a spreading ripple of unease, and her wand is halfway out her bag, all pretence of calm forgotten, and then the lights blink out completely and the carriage plunges into darkness and there's a voice behind her hissing into her ear, saying, "You're a hard one to find, Evans."
Lily drives her elbow back as hard as she can and the train shudders, throwing her against the door and a body into her back and her hand knocks against the wall so hard it opens on reflex and her wand is gone, and that thought only registers half a second before someone grabs her wrist and yanks it up behind her back so hard she yelps. "There, now, I only want to talk." Someone giggles behind her, sounding light and syrupy and dangerous, and there's the tip of a wand scratching sharp against her ribs, someone's breath hot and tickling against her neck, someone pinning her against the door with the full crush of their body. She can't see, can't move, can barely breathe. The glass window is cold against her cheek and the train is pitch dark but it is still moving, slower than before but it is still going, and the worried chattering from the rest of the carriage sounds distant and distorted like they're the other side of a thin wall, and she feels suddenly, desperately alone.
"I have an offer for you," the voice says, loud enough for Lily to determine posh, and female, and excited. "Join us," she says, twisting her wand so it digs further into her side, and Lily has no doubt that 'us' means Death Eaters, "or die."
So this is it. She's going to die, wandless and alone in a train carriage full of Muggles, her heart pounding like this is the last chance it's ever going to get, and still she doesn't hesitate in saying, simply, "No."
"Just no?" The woman behind her laughs - cackles, horrible and delighted- and with a hot flush of terror Lily realises that this isn't going to be quick, that she knows who is standing behind her, and buried deep there's an odd, faint thrill of pride that they sent Bellatrix Lestrange after her. "You're not going to beg for your life? Tell me you'll do anything to spare yourself?" Bellatrix mocks, releasing her wrist and keeping it pinned between them with the weight of her body as her hand slips down to Lily's waist and pinches, before dragging up between her stomach and the door and groping her roughly, her fingernails digging in, and Lily gasps, breathless and hitched.
Bellatrix laughs vicious and piercing as Lily turns her head, her cheek slipping against the glass as she catches the glint of Bellatrix behind her in the darkness, and she pushes back to make sure she's got her full attention as she repeats, "No."
Bellatrix snarls and shoves Lily back against the door so she hits it shoulder first, her wand tearing a thin line through her shirt, and her hair irritates Lily's neck as she crowds in close and hisses in her ear, "I'm disappointed, Evans. I expected more of a fight," she says, punctuating it with another rough squeeze, and to be honest so did Lily, but she's trapped and wandless and alone and she was so stupid to have come down here on her own, to not have had her wand out the whole time, to let a Death Eater so close she must be able to feel the heat radiating off her flushed skin.
And there's that treacherous little thought that maybe she wanted this, that lights up with every scrape of Bellatrix's fingernails and throbs in time with her heartbeat, that can sense danger and aches for it. The train clatters slowly on and in the darkness her ragged breathing is answered only by Bellatrix's amused, considering hums, and she can't even cry out. The Muggles in the crowded carriage are oblivious and scared and so close she could touch them if only she could free one of her arms, but they might as well be in another universe for all that they can help her.
Bellatrix kneads her breast in a mockery of gentleness, and Lily moans, small and terrified but undoubtedly a moan. Bellatrix pauses. "What was that, little Evans?" she says, and Lily bites her tongue instead of replying, and so Bellatrix slides her hand across Lily's shirt until she finds a nipple, stiff and sensitive, and squeezes. Lily moans again, helplessly, closes her eyes and rests her forehead against the glass. Bellatrix's laugh is something terrifying, a war cry above a battlefield, and that's all the warning she gets before the wand tip is gone from her side and suddenly there's a hand under her skirt, shoving her thighs apart and rubbing two fingers against her clit. Lily chokes off a gasp and can't stop herself grinding down against her hand, because she's always been easily stimulated but it's never been a bad thing, never been something she had to control, and Bellatrix laughs and snarls, "You filthy little slut," like it's a compliment.
Lily gulps and gasps and tries to get her breathing under control, tears stinging her eyes, and she's rocking her hips in short shallow thrusts and Bellatrix is making her ride her hand so roughly she's sliding against the door by several inches at a time. With dull realisation she finds one of her arms is free, but all she can do is press it against the door and hang on as something hot and dry pushes her knickers out of the way and shoves inside her, as Bellatrix cackles something terrible, a threat or a promise or something, and bites her shoulder and Lily comes with a desperate cry, high and choked and everything goes so bright she knows she must be dead
But then she realises she can see, that they're out the tunnel and pulling into a station and her knees are so weak she all but falls out of the carriage as the doors open and the crowd surges forward, and she's running before she has her balance but she doesn't stop, slams one hand against the wall to turn the corner and keeps going, the ticket barriers springing open with barely a thought, and she's out in the dark and cold air before she stumbles to a stop, choking for air and her heart pounding in her ears, and when she looks back there's no one following her, although a couple on the other side of the street are looking at her strangely.
She gasps down air until she can breathe almost normally, starts walking again with slow and faltering steps, and sticks to the light. She shivers, skin turning cold as the sweat dries and there's a dull ache between her legs and her face feels horribly clammy, and she reaches into her bag for a tissue, or something, and instead finds her wand. It's slightly warm in her hand, and she just stares at it for a moment, and then she finds the nearest side alley, casting Lumos to check it's empty (safe), and for a moment she's going to Apparate straight home, scrub herself clean and climb into bed and maybe Obliviate herself, but with a cold sort of clarity she thinks about James, and the Order, and the importance of what they're doing, and she's shivering with a kind of exhilaration she hasn't felt in a long time. She wants to fight.
She shifts her grip on her wand, rubbing her thumb across the smooth wood like a charm, and sets her mind to the Order house. If she's really good (and she is), she might just be able to land in the shadows by the front steps and get in before anyone outside notices her arrival and anyone inside even realises she's late, and with a private smile she readies herself, and twists. She's got a war to win.
Somewhere in the darkness Bellatrix watches her go, and flashes her teeth in something like a smile.
Author: _afterism
Recipient: The Community
Pairing(s): Lily Evans/Bellatrix Lestrange
Word Count: 1803
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Dub-con (borderline non-con), violence, infidelity
Summary: She keeps one hand on her wand, and thinks she's safe.
Author's Notes: I loved all your prompts and I tried to get as many kinks in as I could - this is loosely based on your nymphomania prompt, although it went off in its own direction.
1979
The London Underground is a maddening crush this time of evening, and Lily keeps her hand wrapped around her wand with a white-knuckled grip, buried in the bag slung over her shoulder. Using Muggle transport to get to the Order's meeting house is a desperate last resort, but they know the Floo network is compromised-too many people disappearing or finding themselves at the wrong fireplace and surrounded-they can't Apparate or Portkey inside due to the charms she spent days putting around it, and there's nowhere close enough to appear suddenly without causing alarm. They're going to have to do something about that, she thinks, as a businesswoman pushes past her on the escalator and she stumbles, hip barging sharply against the handrail, because this is intolerable.
She's swept along with the crowd through an archway and on to the platform, the air hot and stagnant, and every argument about anonymity and safety in division is a distant, irrelevant buzz in comparison to the feeling of being watched, weighing down on her like the summer heat. She glances left and right but the sea of faces is indistinct, and then the train arrives with a thundering clatter and a rush of stale air and the crowd surges forward, the carriage filling quickly as she scans the crowd again, hesitating. She's one of the last to squeeze her way in, rubbing her thumb along the smooth wood of her wand like an anchor, and leans into the carriage as the doors close with a hiss and a thud. She's pushed back with shuffled feet and mutterings that might be apologies, and so she leans against the door, holds back a curse and tries to draw herself in as much as possible as the train pulls away from the station and plunges into the tunnel.
The silence is heavy and hot, full of muffled coughs and newspapers rustling and the scrape of shoes as people try to keep their balance - it's all so perfectly normal, and maybe the feeling like something's burning against the back of her neck is just the tension of being on the verge of war, of being trapped in unfamiliar place without back-up or an escape route, and she takes a breath and turns to face the door, watching the darkness flashing past the window as she counts the number of stops until she can get off - and then the train judders, and slows, and the lights begin to flicker.
She whips her head around, checking the carriages at either end of hers to see the lights steady and the passengers unconcerned. The Muggles around her begin to mutter quietly, a spreading ripple of unease, and her wand is halfway out her bag, all pretence of calm forgotten, and then the lights blink out completely and the carriage plunges into darkness and there's a voice behind her hissing into her ear, saying, "You're a hard one to find, Evans."
Lily drives her elbow back as hard as she can and the train shudders, throwing her against the door and a body into her back and her hand knocks against the wall so hard it opens on reflex and her wand is gone, and that thought only registers half a second before someone grabs her wrist and yanks it up behind her back so hard she yelps. "There, now, I only want to talk." Someone giggles behind her, sounding light and syrupy and dangerous, and there's the tip of a wand scratching sharp against her ribs, someone's breath hot and tickling against her neck, someone pinning her against the door with the full crush of their body. She can't see, can't move, can barely breathe. The glass window is cold against her cheek and the train is pitch dark but it is still moving, slower than before but it is still going, and the worried chattering from the rest of the carriage sounds distant and distorted like they're the other side of a thin wall, and she feels suddenly, desperately alone.
"I have an offer for you," the voice says, loud enough for Lily to determine posh, and female, and excited. "Join us," she says, twisting her wand so it digs further into her side, and Lily has no doubt that 'us' means Death Eaters, "or die."
So this is it. She's going to die, wandless and alone in a train carriage full of Muggles, her heart pounding like this is the last chance it's ever going to get, and still she doesn't hesitate in saying, simply, "No."
"Just no?" The woman behind her laughs - cackles, horrible and delighted- and with a hot flush of terror Lily realises that this isn't going to be quick, that she knows who is standing behind her, and buried deep there's an odd, faint thrill of pride that they sent Bellatrix Lestrange after her. "You're not going to beg for your life? Tell me you'll do anything to spare yourself?" Bellatrix mocks, releasing her wrist and keeping it pinned between them with the weight of her body as her hand slips down to Lily's waist and pinches, before dragging up between her stomach and the door and groping her roughly, her fingernails digging in, and Lily gasps, breathless and hitched.
Bellatrix laughs vicious and piercing as Lily turns her head, her cheek slipping against the glass as she catches the glint of Bellatrix behind her in the darkness, and she pushes back to make sure she's got her full attention as she repeats, "No."
Bellatrix snarls and shoves Lily back against the door so she hits it shoulder first, her wand tearing a thin line through her shirt, and her hair irritates Lily's neck as she crowds in close and hisses in her ear, "I'm disappointed, Evans. I expected more of a fight," she says, punctuating it with another rough squeeze, and to be honest so did Lily, but she's trapped and wandless and alone and she was so stupid to have come down here on her own, to not have had her wand out the whole time, to let a Death Eater so close she must be able to feel the heat radiating off her flushed skin.
And there's that treacherous little thought that maybe she wanted this, that lights up with every scrape of Bellatrix's fingernails and throbs in time with her heartbeat, that can sense danger and aches for it. The train clatters slowly on and in the darkness her ragged breathing is answered only by Bellatrix's amused, considering hums, and she can't even cry out. The Muggles in the crowded carriage are oblivious and scared and so close she could touch them if only she could free one of her arms, but they might as well be in another universe for all that they can help her.
Bellatrix kneads her breast in a mockery of gentleness, and Lily moans, small and terrified but undoubtedly a moan. Bellatrix pauses. "What was that, little Evans?" she says, and Lily bites her tongue instead of replying, and so Bellatrix slides her hand across Lily's shirt until she finds a nipple, stiff and sensitive, and squeezes. Lily moans again, helplessly, closes her eyes and rests her forehead against the glass. Bellatrix's laugh is something terrifying, a war cry above a battlefield, and that's all the warning she gets before the wand tip is gone from her side and suddenly there's a hand under her skirt, shoving her thighs apart and rubbing two fingers against her clit. Lily chokes off a gasp and can't stop herself grinding down against her hand, because she's always been easily stimulated but it's never been a bad thing, never been something she had to control, and Bellatrix laughs and snarls, "You filthy little slut," like it's a compliment.
Lily gulps and gasps and tries to get her breathing under control, tears stinging her eyes, and she's rocking her hips in short shallow thrusts and Bellatrix is making her ride her hand so roughly she's sliding against the door by several inches at a time. With dull realisation she finds one of her arms is free, but all she can do is press it against the door and hang on as something hot and dry pushes her knickers out of the way and shoves inside her, as Bellatrix cackles something terrible, a threat or a promise or something, and bites her shoulder and Lily comes with a desperate cry, high and choked and everything goes so bright she knows she must be dead
But then she realises she can see, that they're out the tunnel and pulling into a station and her knees are so weak she all but falls out of the carriage as the doors open and the crowd surges forward, and she's running before she has her balance but she doesn't stop, slams one hand against the wall to turn the corner and keeps going, the ticket barriers springing open with barely a thought, and she's out in the dark and cold air before she stumbles to a stop, choking for air and her heart pounding in her ears, and when she looks back there's no one following her, although a couple on the other side of the street are looking at her strangely.
She gasps down air until she can breathe almost normally, starts walking again with slow and faltering steps, and sticks to the light. She shivers, skin turning cold as the sweat dries and there's a dull ache between her legs and her face feels horribly clammy, and she reaches into her bag for a tissue, or something, and instead finds her wand. It's slightly warm in her hand, and she just stares at it for a moment, and then she finds the nearest side alley, casting Lumos to check it's empty (safe), and for a moment she's going to Apparate straight home, scrub herself clean and climb into bed and maybe Obliviate herself, but with a cold sort of clarity she thinks about James, and the Order, and the importance of what they're doing, and she's shivering with a kind of exhilaration she hasn't felt in a long time. She wants to fight.
She shifts her grip on her wand, rubbing her thumb across the smooth wood like a charm, and sets her mind to the Order house. If she's really good (and she is), she might just be able to land in the shadows by the front steps and get in before anyone outside notices her arrival and anyone inside even realises she's late, and with a private smile she readies herself, and twists. She's got a war to win.
Somewhere in the darkness Bellatrix watches her go, and flashes her teeth in something like a smile.