AN: Hi,

Many thanks to my Beta 'Wise girl Weasley'- she is a legend

Enjoy:

I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER…SOB

Born to Motherhood

Chapter 2

Molly was now five years old, and every bit as involved in the housekeeping as her mother was. As Mrs. Prewett scrubbed the big oven and hung out the laundry, Molly swept with her little broom, washed up her dolly's tea party dishes, and made sure that Gideon and Fabian were always clean before they entered the house.

On one rainy day when Mr. Prewett was balancing the accounts, Molly stopped the boys from driving their parents insane. When the sun finally came out and Mrs. Prewett was airing out the mattresses, Molly would lie on the feather filled blocks in the glow of the afternoon sun and make sure the cat didn't leave fur everywhere. She even kept the garden gnomes in check, which held her in the upmost respect.

When Molly wasn't living 'house,' she was playing it. She had a family of dollies to reign over, and, as supreme matron of the doll's house, everything ran according to plan. Although her brothers tried to simultaneously paint the cat, eat cake, and steal their father's broomstick, they didn't dare interfere with the dollhouse.

Molly never told tales on her brothers, because if they made her upset she would send them to Coventry, refusing to talk, engage, or smile. Within a minute, the twins would pry her from this state by apologizing, promising never to do it again, and sending her off with a tickle. Occasionally from the twins there would be the moans about how unfair it was that Molly didn't have to pick up firewood because she didn't make a mess of glue in the parlour, or that she was never sentenced to standing in a corner as a punishment, or how Molly never, ever had to de-gnome the garden. What the boys didn't realize was that at age five, Molly was a perfect little angel. Her fiery temper would kick in later when her sense of justice and innate Gryffindor qualities- having lain dormant- would suddenly awake.

MPMPMPMPMP

4.00am Monday 7th July 1953

Molly awoke suddenly. She sat up in her bed, and her little five year old body shuddered as she heard a scream from outside. She strained her ears wondering if anyone would wake up to hear what was happening. All she could hear, though, was the sound of the twins breathing through the paper-thin
walls, and the creaking house. Then the scream echoed through her body again.

Molly could never ignore someone in pain. Slipping out of bed and rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes, the little girl tip-toed out of her room. Her nightdress, embroidered with lilac-coloured thread, reached her ankles and kept her body warm. Her feet, though, were bare and Molly was experiencing the odd pain of frozen feet.

As she slowly opened the screen door to avoid a particularly loud squeak, the scream grew louder and louder in her mind.

Soon the sound became unbearable, and just as Molly opened her mouth to scream away her anxiety, the noise became sobs. Deep, pitiful, mourning sobs. Molly continued to follow the moans. She did not have to go far, for lying in the shrubbery was another little girl. She was also in a night gown, coloured emerald green, yet unlike Molly this little girl was clutching her stomach and almost convulsing with pain. Molly knew what she had to do.

She reached out and placed a comforting and warm (-ish) hand on the shoulder of the crying girl and, making soothing noises, soon had the girl coddled into an embrace.

"Shh, Shh don't cry, what's your name?" Although only possessing five years of wisdom, little Molly Prewett knew exactly how to comfort.

Several minutes passed before the little girl in emerald green raised her head,
"My name is Bellatrix, Bellatrix Black."

AN: Suspense much…

Molly faces enemy in childhood