In which the untold story of Walburga Black unfolds.
She was a witch before she was a wife, mother, and cruel woman.
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"You failed as a mother; I failed as a son. Can you sit here truthfully, and say you love me? Look in my eyes, and say that you...
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𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟒 -𝟏𝟐 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞
That night, she tossed and turned, as she did most nights, the weight of her actions haunting her. The faces of those she had hurt, the lives she had disrupted, all flashed before her eyes. Sleep remained elusive, and the darkness only served as a canvas for her regrets.
Getting up from the warmth her bed had to offer, she slipped on some slippers and made her way downstairs to prepare some tea. The house was quiet, with only the soft creaking of the floorboards beneath her.
The only light in the home emanated from Orion's study, casting a warm glow down the hallway. Walburga walked towards it, her steps echoing in the quiet house.
Opening the heavy door, she walked in to find him behind his desk wearing only his trousers, his pale porcelain skin was golden by the lit fireplace as he held something between his fingers.
He held a small cigar in his fingers, the soft glow of the fireplace accentuating the lines of his face.
"Can't sleep?" he asked, exhaling a stream of smoke.
Walburga walked further into the room, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames. "Insomnia seems to be a family trait," she replied dryly, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
She took a seat on the edge of his desk, looking at the various parchments scattered about.
"What's your excuse?" she inquired, her eyes meeting his.
Leaning back, he handed her his half-smoked cigar, "More or less the same."
She accepted the cigar with a nod of gratitude, taking a thoughtful drag before exhaling a plume of smoke. The room was filled with the rich scent of tobacco.
Orion's eyes studied her as she sat on the edge of the desk, it was rare; they would usually have to try very hard to keep a conversation going.
"Family traits indeed,"He mused, his gaze lingering on his wife. "It seems we're passing on more than just our bloodline."
Orion took the cigar from her, their fingers brushing briefly. He followed her gaze to the messy couch that had become his makeshift bed. The two of them hadn't shared one bed since before the death of Eleanor Nott. Of course, she knew why - he was sparing her the pain of thinking he loved her.
She sighed, breaking the silence. "What are we doing?" The question hung in the air, a plea for understanding amidst the tangled complexities of their lives.
He leaned back in his chair, staring into the flickering flames. "Surviving," he replied, his voice carrying the weariness of a man burdened by responsibilities and unspoken sorrows. "We're surviving, Walburga, in a world that expects too much and gives too little."
Walburga nodded, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames. "Surviving," she echoed, her voice carrying a hint of resignation.
"I hope you know, that despite it all I would have married you, even if I was given a choice. I would have chosen you every time if it meant I would have those two boys upstairs." Her gaze remained on the licks of flame from the fireplace.
Orion's expression softened as he listened to her words. "I know," he replied quietly, a trace of remorse in his eyes. "Sometimes survival means making choices we never wanted to make. But I do care for you, Walburga, in my own way."
Walburga met his eyes, a mixture of emotions flickering in her gaze. "In your own way," she repeated, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "I suppose, I will learn to believe that it's enough for me. Even a little love is worth fighting for."
The room held a heavy silence as their words lingered in the air. The glow of the fireplace cast shadows on their faces, revealing the weariness etched in their features.
At that moment, surrounded by the remnants of their complicated lives, Orion reached out and placed a hand on hers.
Walburga didn't pull away. Instead, she allowed the brief connection, a subtle acknowledgment of the complex bond that tied them together.
"We were once friends Orion, long before I loved you; I know we can be that once more."
Orion's eyes softened at her words, a glimmer of hope breaking through the layers of their tumultuous history. He nodded, the weight of their shared memories hanging in the air.
"I'd like that, Walburga," he admitted, a genuine sincerity in his voice. "Despite it all, I am on your side, just as you are on mine."
As Orion spoke those words, a fragile truce seemed to settle between them as if the passage of time and the scars of their past were momentarily set aside.
Walburga acknowledged his sentiment with a nod, the corner of her lips curving into a small, appreciative smile. The acknowledgment of mutual support offered a glimmer of possibility, a potential bridge across the chasm that had grown between them.
Getting up from her spot, she fixed her nightgown before looking over at his messy couch before looking over at him again, "You are welcome to sleep in our bed Orion. Or any of the guest rooms we have instead of being in here."
Orion considered her offer, the silent understanding between them lingering in the air. After a moment's contemplation, he nodded appreciatively. "I'll take one of the guest rooms tonight. Perhaps in time, I will be comfortable joining you once again."
Walburga acknowledged his words with a nod, a subtle acceptance of the tentative steps they were taking toward rebuilding some semblance of connection.
However, neither one of them moved from his study. She stayed with him that night smoking cigars and talking about mundane things. Just as they had in Hogwarts, though this time Walburga found comfort in his voice. For that night, the walls of the study became a sanctuary, offering a brief respite from the complexities of their lives.
