Hero
The whispers that follow her through the castle are subdued, but she can hear the awe and shock in people's voices as she passes.
...Bellatrix...
She knows she should feel pride; after all, her children are heroes of the war against Voldemort, or relief; the nightmare is over, ordinary witches and wizards can sleep safe in their beds. What she actually feels is numb, an aching hole in her stomach that no amount of adulation will fill.
...duel...
It doesn't occur to her that what she did was remarkable. That bitch was threatening her Ginevra. No-one threatens one of her children. Not even Voldemort's whore. The nagging, seething emptiness reminds her, you didn't protect Fred. Duelling ten, no, a thousand dark wizards can't make up for not being there for Fred.
Being a hero is no consolation when everything's broken.