house of black

chapter 3: bottom of the river

Being a Black meant a great deal to Walburga. It had been the focus of much of her life, achievements and future plans. Everything circled back to the family name and the success she could attribute to it. Despite being a daughter, (and thus a disappointment bound to carry on another's name) Walburga strived to bring pride to her family whilst she still had the chance. So she worked hard, associating respectable people and shunning the Blood Traitors. The Blacks had a fierce reputation, of course. It would be expected with such an extensive pure-blood lineage. Her fiery temper made her a woman others sought to steer clear of, which she did not mind. She already had her acquaintances and did not need the companionship of many others.

Ambition was a skill she had acquired early on from her brothers. Walburga had prided herself on it. She had learned that as a woman there were ways to get what she wanted from others that a man could never quite master. She gloated this over her brothers that, for once, found themselves envying her femininity. Although as she got older, she grew taller and thinner and suddenly her charms started to fade away. Other women were more beautiful, more demure and she had to work harder to get what she wanted. So Walburga learned other ways. If men wouldn't love her, they could fear her. And she was incredibly proud of that.

Her ambition also morphed itself into a fierce competitiveness with her brothers, especially Cygnes. She laughed at how his desire for a son to sculpt and nurture had fallen so flat, leaving him with an almost deranged wife and three daughters who wouldn't carry forth the Black name- something he had teased her for so often in their youth. She laughed at his life. Clearly he wasn't driven enough, didn't work hard enough. He wasn't like her. Despite this, his children were pleasant (if you liked children that is), the oldest being her personal favourite. At least she had some spirit in her. Perhaps she wasn't a total waste. Perhaps she would turn out like her.

Unlike her brothers, Walburga had very clearly inherited the Black family temper, something which her parents desperately attempted to keep under wraps, at least until she was betrothed. A daughter was a family's last priority, as their duty would be to carry on another family's name- something which Walburga did not look forward to. But luckily for her, or so she thought, she was found a different sort of match. Her second cousin Orion.

Walburga was torn- on one hand, she could remain a Black, but her second cousin was weak, feeble, someone she did not want to associate with, let alone marry and bear children for. She had kicked and screamed but nothing would be done about it. She would marry him if her father had to drag her down the isle himself. Cygnes got the last laugh here, parading his own wife (despite the marriage being loveless) before his sister with their pretty little children, Black's in name without any of the trouble.

Walburga spat at him. Her children would be of purer Black blood, she had screamed. Not half Black. They would serve the family completely. If they survived their birth, that was.

Orion was open to attempting a loving marriage, but Walburga was less than interested in him. They needed to do their duty and that was all. So thus they existed, two Blacks living together to produce children and nothing more.

Walburga did not particularly enjoy the idea of being a mother. The thought of having to love and attend to a crying infant was nothing close to enjoyable for her. It sounded almost like a burden- something attached to her ankle, weighing her down as she attempted to trudge through her life in Grimmauld place. Just another necessity.

So when she discovered she was with-child she was hardly thrilled. She looked at the pregnancy as a waiting game to determine her success as a daughter. Perhaps a son would make her father proud.

And so, in early November, their first success was born. A Black son.

Walburga then found that she was unlike her brother in another way. She loved her son fiercely. An almost pleasant surprise as she looked upon his small face for the first time. The feelings of indifference and burden seemed to melt away as the tiny child laid in her arms. He was hers and hers alone. He would carry her name and continue on the Black family for generations to come. She had succeeded. A boy with dark hair just like her own, fierce features and by god, a set of lungs that could cry Grimmauld place to the ground.