Author Name: Shy Unicorn
Main Character(s): Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange
Summary: Sometimes even Bellatrix Lestrange gets maternal and hopes for an heir.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: This is a drabble I wrote many years ago. I recently found it while going through my computer and wanted to share.
She held him tight. Her fingers gripping his bare arms, causing peaks and valleys to appear on his skin. He was real. She could touch him and hold him tightly. There was nothing more certain than his skin against hers, and nothing more comforting. Nothing was certain in the world except him. No war could tear away this moment. This final stand.
The certainty of the blood flowing through his veins gave her hope.
She cherished the feeling of him over her, solid and molten hot. She would never let him go. Could not. Would not. Her heart pounded in her chest. The strong, erratic drum beat in her ears told her she was alive. She was more laive than she could understand. And as she gasped for sweet, cool air, her muscles working in time with his, she found herself staring into the unknown.
The blackness looked back into her black eyes. His hands were in her black hair, which tumbled out behind her. His hands moved to frame her white face, brushing the tears from her cheeks. And no child would grow in her Black womb. His eyes were olive green. They spoke of leaves, of seas, of fruit.
A sob escaped her throat. She shut her eyes against the black world and clung to her only hope.
His breath was hot against her cheek. Whispering of comfort, protection, of needing. His arms strong around her body, cradling her, as if she were the baby she needed. Here in this little moment, in this little bubble, so long as he was invading all of her senses, there was hope in the world. And despite the ache of the darkness, and the hopelessness, and the tears that sparkled like stars on her lashes, their tangled bodies sang of hope and creation.
She could think of nothing more beautiful.