A/N: This story was written for The Houses Competition, Year 2, Round 9 (almost at the end!)
House: Gryffindor
Position: Year 3
Category: Drabble
Prompt: 5. [First Line] For the tenth time in as many minutes, he/she/they glanced up at the clock.
Word count: 486 words (according to Google docs)
Beta: Shay (belle parole) :)
At the risk of spoiling things, this takes place on the night Regulus goes to the cave. Quite a bit was cut out to fit within the word count, but I can't help but love exploring Orion/Walburga. The 'him' referred to in italics is, of course, Voldemort (I've seen it written like that before so hopefully it makes sense XD). Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope you like it!
Okay so a Ron fic is coming (forget I said that), but I'd like to dedicate this fic to one of the kindest humans I know. Thank you, Lynne (silently-at-night), for everything! Stay awesome! Xx
Waiting
For the tenth time in as many minutes, he glanced up at the clock. The hand seemed to be moving slowly, its rhythmic ticking announcing that it was only a little past nine thirty. It wasn't too late, but there was something about the night that put him on edge.
"Will you keep quiet? I can hear your breathing from here," Walburga said.
Orion glared over at his wife. She was focused on the parchment resting on her lap, crossing things out every now and again with a sharp quill.
"It's not much noisier than all that scratching. What in Merlin's name are you doing?"
Walburga rolled her eyes, still not looking up. "Organising our ball."
With a dramatic sigh, she dragged the quill across the parchment, causing it to crinkle loudly.
Orion ignored her childishness and glanced back up at the clock on the mantle. What was keeping Regulus so long? The boy had left early that morning claiming he had urgent business to attend to. He always seemed to have 'business' lately, but it never usually took so long.
"I suppose you expect me to ask you what's wrong?" Walburga asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Orion turned to her. "And why would I expect that?"
She was finally looking at him, her lips twisted into a smirk. "Unless the reason you keep sighing at that wretched clock is that you're too senile to tell the time, there must be something bothering your little mind."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm simply trying to decide whether or not I should wait up for our son," he said.
Walburga snorted. "Why?"
"Because I want to ensure he gets home safely."
"Regulus is out doing us proud," she said, turning back to her parchment. "He'll be fine. Honestly, you really are losing it."
"You're one to talk," Orion muttered.
With another sigh, he eased himself up off his armchair, stretching out his tired limbs. Walburga did have a point; he was worrying over something without cause. Regulus was old enough to look after himself, and as far as Orion had heard, was still in his favour.
"I'm heading off to bed; are you coming?"
Walburga grunted. "I have work to finish."
"Fine."
He ambled out of the parlour and down the hall. He paused on the landing, intent on placing the locking charms on the front entrance, when he realised he had left his wand on the coffee table.
Sighing, he hobbled back into the room. "Don't say a word about my memory—"
Walburga was still sitting in her chair, but the ink pot and parchment were lying on the armrest, forgotten. Her grey eyes were slightly watery as she stared at the clock, her hands clenched together.
"I thought you said I shouldn't worry," he said.
Walburga shook her head. "You shouldn't."
When he shuffled back over to his armchair and sat down, however, she didn't object.