I don't own the characters, not making any money.
She sat in the darkened nursery, and rocked back and forth. Her eyes lingered on the crib in the corner. It had been in her family for generations, having held her own mother and herself in their infancy. The crib, however, was bare. The yellow pillows would never cradle a small version of her and her husband.
The healer had looked at her with such sympathetic eyes. She hated that sympathy. She had gone to him for answers, and all she had gotten was bloody sympathy. Why was she paying this man such good money to tell her that he could not do anything.
She had left the hospital in a rage. How dare he tell her he was sorry. How dare he tell her that he can not do anything further. That every potion had been tried and every treatment had been explored simply to get her pregnant.
She stood up, looked across the room. A small framed picture of a blond baby sat on a shelf. She moved towards it, and her heart filled with anguish. The small child, her nephew, would never know his cousin. She would be forever stuck looking at this child. She thew the picture across the room and let out a scream. She stumbled to the crib, gripping it for dear life.
Her baby was gone. Her only hope, the life that was once growing inside of her was dead.
Her pain washed over her, and she could not hold it in anymore. She clutched the tiny pillow from the crib and fell to the ground, sobbing.
For all the loss she was to see in her life, the only night Bellatrix ever cried was the night after she lost her daughter.
a/n This fic is dedicated to my own Rab and Ro, and my friends at the Aftermath. ILU guys.