Title: A Mother's Grief
Author: fayetonic
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.
Rating: PG
Authors Notes: Credit goes to DarkLadyofSlytherin for the title. Thanks Lady Slyth for reading this oneshot and thinking of a title. Thanks to Platy for the beta. This one-shot is an answer to Emmylou's plotbunny number 991 on FAP in the Plotbunnies forum.
xoxoxo
Azkaban Fortress is as dark and gloomy as it sounds. The stench of urine and bile fills the nostrils and overrides the senses. Dementors glide throughout the stone corridors feeding on the emotions of the prisoners, causing many to scream and sob as they are forced to relive their worst memories.
She remembers years ago when her son Barty was seven. He was an energetic little boy with wide eyes that peered into the world with childlike curiosity. Barty never knew of the horrors of Grindelwald. He never knew of death and sadness, just smiles and toys.
She knows it's not all her fault, that her husband is more to blame. Especially after that incident with Barty's Sorting.
"Slytherin! My son a nasty Slytherin!" Bart, Sr. cried in disgust when he received the Owl. "The Crouch family doesn't produce Slytherins!"
Bart Crouch never again treated his son the same causing Barty to grow from that energetic little boy to an awkward bitter teenager.
Then that Voldemort chap started reeking havoc, spluttering about all that pureblood nonsense and Barty was enthralled. Someone would finally appreciate his existence. Ironically, it all led to his demise.
Her husband convicted her son and condemned him to a life of misery. Abigail Crouch knows that she's not the best mother but she also knows that Barty is her son, her flesh and blood.
"My baby boy will find redemption," Abigail whispers hopefully into the dark, knowing she has done the right thing.
She exhales her final breath and remembers Barty at age seven laughing and tumbling around the yard with his Puffskein.