Ok. I don't know where this came from. I was just thinking why Bellatrix was so much more intense after Azkaban, and this came out. Please don't flame! Please?
Save him. Save me.
The battle raged on the other side of the ridge, but Molly ignored it. She would have ignored the apocalypse had it come then. Her child was hurt. Her Percy was hurt. Maybe ... maybe dying. Maybe he was dying. But he couldn't! Not so soon after she'd gotten him back. He couldn't die! She wouldn't let him! Oh gods. 'Shush, Percy. Stay with me. I'll get you help. Just stay with me, hmm? Don't...' Her voice broke. But she had to hold it together. For her child. For her Percy. 'Don't go anywhere, ok? Percy?'
'How touching,' came a sneering voice above her. 'How very touching. A mother and her wounded child. Does it hurt much, traitor?' Bellatrix loomed over them, looking curiously at the wounded boy. 'Does it hurt, what I did to you? It should. A pureblood traitor, you deserve no less.' Molly surged to her feet, wand held in shaking hand, facing the she-demon who hurt her child. Rage warred with concern inside her. She wanted so badly to hurt this woman for what she'd done, but she had no time. Percy was dying, and she had to help him.
She swallowed her pride and rage. Her son's life came first. It always would. 'Bellatrix,' she said quietly. 'Let us pass. The battle is over there. We are of no interest to you. Doesn't your Lord need you?' The woman cocked her head to look at them. 'Why should I do that? Your order is not such a threat to my Lord that I cannot take five minutes from battle to exterminate some insects. And you are of great interest to me. No. I do not think I will leave you.'
Molly swallowed against her hate, and struggled to appeal to the other woman. She would die if she fought. Bellatrix had far more experience. And if she died, then Percy would too. That was not going to happen.
'Bellatrix, please. You were married, weren't you? Did you never wish for a child? To cement that love? To nurture? To care for? Please. I must save him. He is my child. I cannot abandon him. Not by leaving, and not by dying. Please, don't you understand? I won't, can't let you hurt my child, but I don't want to fight you. If you don't let us go, he'll die. My son will die! Don't you think ...'
The other woman's scream of rage cut her off. Furious, Bellatrix strode forwards, her wand waving erratically, until they stood nose to nose. Rage radiated from her trembling figure. 'You DARE? You dare speak to me of children?' she screamed. 'You dare speak to me of children dying! You have no comprehension of what that is like! You have no idea of what it is to loose a child! How dare you!'
Molly retreated in shock. 'What ... what do you mean?' Bellatrix laughed, high and cold and hysterical. She threw her arms open. 'What do I mean? I had one! I had a child. My husband and I, we made a life.A tiny, squalling thing, but it was ours. Do you know what happened to it? Do you know what your precious Ministry did to my child? They murdered it! They murdered my son!'
She strode up to Molly, caught her shoulders. 'I was pregnant, you know? When they took us? Three months pregnant, going to Azkaban. Think you know something of that place? Think you know? You know nothing! Despair. Everywhere. Cloying, clinging, strangling. But I had life inside me. I had hope. My Lord would spare us. He would save my child. Did he? Did he my eye! He was born three weeks early, my son. Tiny, crying. Underfed. I held him in my arms. I gave him everything I had to give, in that place. The despair clung to him too, but he fought it. With every breath in his tiny body, he fought to live. My child was strong, you see. Not weak, like this puppet son of yours. They hated that, the Dementors. They hated his life. So they took it.'
Molly gazed in horror as tears forced their way down the other's cheeks. To lose a child to those things. Oh gods. 'Oh child,' she whispered, striken. Bellatrix babbled on, unnoticing. Uncaring, perhaps. Her private horror was consuming her.
'They ate my child. His soul. His fierce little spirit. They took him, and left me a shell. An empty corpse to cradle in my arms. A lifeless doll to stare at me in the darkness of my cell. Eleven years! Eleven years in that place, with the rotting corpse of what was once my son! His eyes... oh god, his eyes. They stared. Not accusing. Incomprehending. Why me? Why must I die, mother? For your sins? For the Ministry's zeal? Why did I die, mother? Can you not tell me? Can't you tell...'
She crumpled, and Molly followed her. Horror ate her heart like a sickness. Such things for a child to see. To hold a baby's body, an empty shell of a child ... No mother could hear such a thing and not weep for horror. 'Oh child ...' she whispered. 'Oh child, what have we done?'
Suddenly, Bellatrix wrenched back, away from Molly's tear-filled eyes and desperate understanding. She backed away, staring at the mother kneeling before her. She glanced at Percy's still form. 'No. I can't. Why should you get to save yours, when I couldn't save mine? Why should I let you have what was taken from me? I won't! I won't let you have him! I won't let you take him!' Molly raised a shaking hand to her lips. She couldn't help but understand.
Bellatrix pulled herself to her feet. Shaking, she waved her wand in Molly's direction. Molly remained kneeling, a striken understanding on her face. 'Avada ...' She stopped. 'Avada...' She couldn't finish. She looked once more at the boy's figure, at the kneeling mother. 'Can you save him?' she whispered. 'Can you save my boy?' Molly had no answer. Bellatrix smiled distantly, and turned the wand on herself. A flash of alarm crossed Molly's features, and she started to rise. 'Don't let him hate me? Please?' Bellatrix whispered. Before Molly could stop her, she said the final words.
Molly stared at the grave. The chiseled stone was small. It had been all she could afford. But it was something. Beside her, Percy leaned in. 'I still don't get it. Why do this for her? She was a Death Eater!' Molly smiled sadly. 'Someday, Percy, maybe you'll understand. Maybe you'll look at this grave and see what I see. Until then, just know that no matter what someone appears to be, there is always something beyond what you see. She was something more.'
They turned to leave. The grave was silent again. The wind gently carressed the carven words.
Bellatrix Lestrange. A mother to the last. Rest in peace.
He didn't hate you. He never did.