title; sleep, don't weep.
rating; pg13.
prompt set; 1oo.3
prompt: o69
word count; 568
summary; There is blood stained in the wood, and in its wake is left one name: sebastian.
warnings; death, pregnancy
notes; something lingering on my mind for a little while. inspired by 100QUILLS prompt tables.
disclaimer; don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters. belongs to rowling. thanks.
- - -
She sits in her bed and looks out the window, gazing towards a future she has grown to accept.
her small body cannot support her magic any longer, and it seems that her magic cannot support
the idea of a small child any longer. life does not flow through her body, and she mourns for the
misfortune of being so rough. maybe, maybe if she was softer, maybe if she was delicate enough,
she could have carried the babe easier. maybe. or maybe it is because it is her only Lord that needs
her focus that she is too weak to even accomplish the smallest of womanly tasks. bellatrix does not
know anymore and her heart beats too loud for her soul to muffle out. her shame is her burden, and
she is not sure if this is a secret she is supposed to bear. it does not make sense to her, and the lost
son that haunts her dreams refuses her desperate need of sleep.
She quietly slips from her covers and dresses herself, moving to touch ice-cold windowpanes.
when she was little, bellatrix was told that her duty as a wife is to produce a husband an heir. it only
takes one time, they say, but they are wrong and she bitterly curses those who ever told her such lies.
eleventh time, this would be, she says, this is the eleventh time she has tried with rodolphus to give
their name promise and glory. first time, she says, this is the first time that such a pregnancy has
lasted so long. she is all fragments and pieces and little snippets of her mother's wishes, and she
has failed in prediction of this stage of her life. she is her father's daughter after all, and producing
babes was something that never crossed their conversations. she is her husband's wife, isn't she? this
is the taboo side of society that is never mentioned, and bellatrix wishes that more could be said.
She feels his presence in their bedroom before she sighs, her body falling instantly.
she dreams of little princes and moonless skies, and her idea of happiness if far from death- for once.
of teaching little girls the laws of passion, and of promise, and of never letting men rule their lives. it
truly is blissful in this world of black-laced clouds and chilly evenings. and then her nightmares floods
in and nothing is quiet; screeching masses of faceless dementors surround her body, and her bloody
hands are clutching a baby. she is crying, and for the first time, bellatrix lets herself go. there is a
piercing wind that is tearing at her core, and she knows that her body is leaving her mind behind. her
voice has also left her, and her silence is killing the pain that rumbles low in her belly. this is a world
of private Hell, and there is no escape.
He is picking her up softly, hugging her tightly as he whispers those soothing words of delight and
she nods. This is a rare, tender moment between the two and she savors the intimate scene delicately.
He tucks her in between black silk sheets, and he turns- his eyes stare at the floor for a moment, before
he leaves to beckon the doctor once more. There is blood stained in the wood, and in its wake is left one
name: sebastian.