She was five years old when her maternal instincts kicked in for the first time. The house was cold and full of people, so many people, unnaturally quiet. They all sat in silence, gathering around the living room in their tattered dark clothing, muttering things like, tombstone order and catering for the wake. No one spoke to her. They looked at her occasionally, their eyes big and wet, and she looked away quickly.
They told her Mummy wasn't coming back.
No one seemed to remember the babies, except for when they cried. She hated the look that her father gave them, disgust and anger; as if they'd done something wrong.
As if they'd killed their mother.
They were in their nursery, the one her mother had carefully decorated, squealing with joy as she thought of babies, twins. She had never seen her mother happier than the day that she told them about the babies.
"We'll have two new babies to play with, darling…won't that be nice?"
She hadn't played with the babies at all. She hadn't played anything in three days.
She heard the voices.
"We'll need to write the notice, you know, for the Daily Prophet…""Have you heard back from the hall yet?"
"How's Molly doing, dear?"
She frowned. They were talking about her now, their voices hushed and urgent.
She covered her ears, and peered into the nursery.
The babies smiled at her, beckoning her towards them with their bright, twinkling eyes. She walked cautiously, taking small, slow steps. She wasn't sure if she was allowed to see them.
She came closer, standing over their crib. They were still for a moment, until one- they hadn't been named yet, in all the tragic haste- started to move, finally bursting into tears.
"Quiet." She warned him softly, "they hate it when you cry."
He didn't stop. He began to wail. She bit her lip, looking around shiftily to make sure no one would witness, before reaching into the crib.
She picked him up, rocked him gently, until he smiled into her shoulders.
The other one began to cry. She picked him up as well, balancing both babies on either cushion-like side.
"Shh." She whispered in the baby's ear, "It will be all right."
She was talking to herself more than to the babies.
She didn't know how long she would have to hold them, but it didn't matter. They needed her.
She needed them.
Molly Prewett rocked her baby brothers to sleep.
a/n: I would greatly appreciate some feedback on this- I've written a bit more but I may want to leave it as a oneshot, so I'd love to hear your opinion. :) Don't hit and run!!