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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𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟏𝟔𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟓 - 𝟏𝟐 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.
The following morning, Walburga awoke early, her movements graceful and deliberate as she rose from the bed. The room was bathed in a soft, ethereal light, casting a gentle glow upon the elegant furnishings that adorned the space.
With a quiet determination, she moved to the window and drew back the heavy curtains, revealing a world cloaked in darkness. Dark clouds hung ominously in the sky, obscuring any trace of the sunrise that she had hoped to witness.
Turning away from the window, she moved with effortless poise as she prepared for the day ahead. Her attire was impeccably chosen, each garment carefully selected to reflect her timeless sense of style and sophistication. With practiced precision, she fastened her jewelry, the delicate gleam of precious gems adding a touch of opulence to her ensemble.
As she made her way through the room, the soft rustle of fabric and the gentle click of her heels against the polished floor echoed in the stillness of the morning. Every movement was executed with a quiet elegance, a testament to her inherent grace and refinement.
She looked in her vanity once more, before leaving the room- as she passed through the halls she stopped silently outside of Sirius' room, she could hear his soft snores echoing through the door.
With a quiet sigh, she reached out to gently press her hand against the smooth surface of the door, a silent gesture of reassurance.
Removing her hand she passed his door, before reaching the end of the long hallway. Regulus' door was opened slightly she peaked her head through it slightly only to the the boy reading on his bed.
His dedication to his studies never failed to impress her, and she felt a swell of pride in her chest at the sight of her younger son diligently preparing for the day ahead.
Pushing the door open slightly further, she stepped into the room, her presence drawing Regulus's attention away from his book. He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes before a small smile spread across his face at the sight of his mother.
"Mother," he greeted, his voice soft.
"Good morning," Walburga replied, her smile widening as she crossed the room to stand beside his bed. She reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, his curly hair was unruly.
She watched as he moved to sit before he motioned for her to sit next to him on the bed.
With a soft smile, she gracefully lowered herself onto the mattress beside him, the springs creaking softly beneath her weight.
She moved to look at him, he looked at her eyes before looking down.
Despite his efforts to hide it, she could see the weight of his burdens etched in the lines of his face, the shadows lurking behind his eyes. He had the same look that she had at his age.
