★𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕𝟑★

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𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝟒𝐭𝐡 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟗 - 𝟏𝟐 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞

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𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝟒𝐭𝐡 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟗 - 𝟏𝟐 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

"How has he been then? Since the Christmas debacle." Alphard sat across from her, sipping on tea his eyes glazed with slight worry.

It had been over a week, and Sirius had all but shut her out. Only ever leaving his room to spend time with his father in the study. It was strange, usually the boy would forget every slight disagreement, but this - this was different. He had barely spent time with Regulus, which worried her more than her strained relationship with him.

Walburga sighed softly, her brows furrowing with concern as she thought about Sirius's behavior since the Christmas incident. "He's been distant," she admitted, her voice heavy with worry.

"Withdrawn, almost. It's unlike him to hold onto things like this for so long. Though, he deserved the grounding he got." She paused, taking a sip of her tea before continuing.

Alphard nodded sympathetically, acknowledging her words. "He will be okay, Wal. Every kid goes through a rebellious phase, he is your son. I have no doubt he will come to his senses."

As his eyes took her in, he couldn't help but see the growing worry lines on his sister's face.

Walburga managed a weak smile at her brother's words, though the worry in her eyes remained evident. "Do you remember when mother passed? The way father trained me to take her spot within our home. I used to think that raising you and Cygnus was practice in a way. Though now, I feel unprepared - with both Regulus and Sirius. Completely unprepared."

She began to pick at her nails, a new tick she picked up during Sirius' growing rebellion.

Alphard listened attentively, his expression sympathetic as he recalled their mother's passing.

"I remember," he replied softly. "And you've done admirably, stepping into her role. But you're right, each child presents new challenges, and Sirius is... particularly headstrong."

He reached out to gently touch her hand, a gesture of comfort. "I can practically hear your thoughts, so I need you to hear these words and hear them well. You are not our mother, you resemble her in passing but you are not her."

Walburga's hand tensed slightly under Alphard's touch, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of surprise and understanding. With a nod and a small smile, she removed his hand from hers.

Feeling the shift in her demeanor, Alphard withdrew his hand, sensing that the moment had passed. "Anyway," he said, trying to lighten the mood, "enough heavy talk for now. Happy birthday, Wal." He offered her a warm smile, hoping to lift her spirits.

She huffed before picking up a cauldron cake, "Happy indeed," sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Forty years old. Time had been kind to her, her beauty had not faded with the years; instead, it seemed to have grown, lending her an air of elegance and grace that only added to her allure. She stood tall and proud, a testament to the strength and resilience of the Black lineage.

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