A/N: Just something that I put together to go with the poem at the end. I really try not to be this demented. I normally don't write about any of the characters in this light, but felt that not many covered this possible side of our beloved Heroine.
Disclaimer: The only things that are mine are the plot, the poem, and Emilia.
One Mother.
In his eyes, she was perfect. The perfect woman, mother, person, witch. All spiky pink hair and bewitching smile. And she was all his.
One Daughter.
Emilia was a perfect mixture of her father and mother. Sandy blonde curls, button nose, intelligence with ditzy motions.
One Father.
He had fallen in love with her years ago, before the war rushed everything. After the war, with his first child approaching age four, he and his love decided on one more. And now here is his darling Emilia, three.
One son.
Teddy is his mother's child, through and through. His hair always matches his color of the week, but his eyes are the golden brown of his father's.
And then there's the one who is holding the gun.
She loves him, and he knows it. He never told her no; was always silent. He never knew how large a toll that would take on her.
Neglected, rejected, and the only one.
She held onto her flame for him, even after it was evident that his had never been ignited. The fact that he would never love her only worsened her condition.
Who knows what it's like to have to run.
She could never be around him for more than a few minutes, and so she never came around the Burrow or Grimauld Place anymore. She spent her months everywhere that was not there. A few weeks in the Caribbean, a couple in the Rockies. She admired the beauty of what surrounded her, but her thoughts always drifted back to one particular man. And without that man, she would never feel complete.
But now there's no running.
No. Now she knows what she needs to do. She heads back to where she knows he will be.
No time to play.
She can't mess this up. If she fails, there will be no going back. All that would be there for her would be a cell in Azkaban.
Now there's nowhere that they can stay.
He knew that eventually, with her determination and mind, he wouldn't be able to be so relaxed. That he would have to run, or do to her what she was planning on doing to his family. He only hoped that he would have time to hide them first.
She will be there.
He saw her for the first time in years at the Burrow, during one of his visits to see Harry's children. She was there, as if she had never left. She played with the children, as did he, and some of his suspicion melted away. But what had disappeared was replaced ten-fold as he left, as she cocked her head slightly and gave him a smile he had only ever seen on the face of Bellatrix Lestrange.
She always will.
He never saw her around his home, strictly speaking, but always felt as if he and his family were being watched. There were moments in the night when he would wake, frenzied, and rush to his children's bedsides, just to ensure that they were still breathing, still alive, still his. For now.
Until there is no one left to kill.
She started with the children. Both were killed simultaneously, so that the only ones to suffer were their parents. Next was his wife, the initial barrier between herself and her love. She tortured her slowly, always making sure that his eyes were glued to the show in front of him. Then he was the only one left, lying in a pool of his wife's cooling lifeblood. Then she appeared above him, wand pressing into his chest where his heart should be. But when she killed his wife, she stilled his heart. And she knew it. He never heard the words that ended his life.
It was deserved, but her soul was not preserved.
She knew that she was right, at least in her own mind. But in the minds of others, she was deader than the family she just killed.
Now there is no need to try.
She didn't resist as her two former best friends found her, sitting, holding his body, and took her into custody. Her trial was no more than a minute long. There was no time for her to be transferred to a holding cell. The minister's verdict came immediately. Guilty.
One mother, one daughter, one father, one son.
And then there's the one who's holding the gun.
Neglected, rejected, and the only one
Who knows what it's like to have to run.
But now there's no running,
No time to play.
Now there's nowhere that they can stay.
She will be there,
She always will.
Until there is no one left to kill.
It was deserved,
But her soul was not preserved.
Now she has no need to try,
As she is the last one to die.