GAMES OF FATES (H.P/T.M.R)

grammy & memories

Cassopiea woke with a start, the lingering sensation of Voldemort's arms around her waist and the hum of their combined magic still fresh in her mind. Her palms were clammy with sweat, the vivid dream—or whatever it had been—clinging to her consciousness like a particularly persistent boggart. She sat upright in bed, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of it all. Realizing it was only 4 a.m., she decided to get something to eat and fetch a Dreamless Sleep potion. 

 

Wrapping herself tightly in a black robe to hide her lacy emerald green lingerie, she sighed at Kreacher's choice of nightwear. She was sure it once belonged to a young Black heiress eager to catch her lover's attention. The thought made her laugh as she slipped out of her room and headed toward the kitchen.

 

As she made her way through the dimly lit house, she accidentally knocked something over. 

 

"Blood-traitors all around my house, no sense of decorum or shame, won't even let me rest in peace!" a portrait yelled. Startled, Cassopiea looked up to see the stern face of Sirius’s mother, Walburga Black.

 
Walburga's appearance was striking. Her hair, once jet black, now a silver mane, was styled regally. Her piercing gray eyes glared down from the portrait, and her high cheekbones and severe expression gave her an air of aristocratic disdain. If the Dowager Countess of Grantham had a magical, even more irritable twin, this would be her.

 

Not wanting to provoke the already irate portrait, Pia fell into a courtesy. "Well met, Lady Black."

 

Walburga's eyes widened at the traditional greeting. "Well met indeed, heiress—"

 

"Potter, daughter of James and Lily Potter, your son's goddaughter," Pia explained, trying not to sound like she was introducing herself at a particularly dreadful garden party.

"Well, Heiress Potter, I am glad at least someone in this house has a sense of respect and decorum. So, tell me, what brings the Potter heiress into my home?" Walburga questioned, her tone only slightly softer than a Howler.

 

"My relatives don't want a pregnant freak in their home, and I got attacked by Dementors. My uncle almost killed me before I was rescued by my professor and brought here. If you're asking what I'm doing up, then I am getting something to eat," Pia said, tears forming in her eyes.

 

"Filthy Muggles, always scared of what they can't understand or control. No magical child should be given into the care of Muggles!" Walburga declared, cutting off Pia's attempt to protest. Her tone suggested that Muggles were only slightly more tolerable than flobberworms.

 

"So, is the father still in the picture?" Walburga asked, raising an eyebrow. Pia went silent, deathly silent.

 

"Come on, child, I asked you something," Walburga pressed. Then she gasped. "Sweetie, did the bastard get you pregnant and then leave you?"

 

"No!" Pia proclaimed almost too quickly, causing Walburga to raise an eyebrow. Pia bent her head to hide her tears. "We were planning to get bonded once I turned seventeen. He had made the promise!" She lifted her hand to reveal a beautiful three-carat diamond on a platinum band promise ring. "He was murdered in front of me!"