Written for Mother's Day: Write about someone the moment they find out they are pregnant, Scavenger Hunt: Write about a member of the Black Family, Crafti Cocktail Corner: Champagne - Walburga Black, the Writing Club - Character Appreciation: Pureblood, Showtime: All I Care About - (object) Diamond Ring, Count Your Buttons: "Right. I knew that.", moon, Sophie's Shelf: hunger, longing, crave, throb, unrelenting, frantic, the Jewel Challenge: Diamond - Ring: Write about something difficult, Bracelet: Write about someone with good fortune, necklace: write about a strong character.
Also for the Charms Assignment: Write about someone trying to clean up a mess them made, figuratively or literally. They can or cannot succeed.
Word count: 1308
all those things too
Walburga eyes the mess she's made of her bathroom disdainfully. It's the third time she's been sick just upon waking up, head throbbing and stomach roiling as she frantically hurried out of bed, but it's the first time she didn't manage to reach the toilets in time.
She reaches for her wand to clean the mess away — it's starting to smell, and the last thing she needs is for that queasy feeling to come back and cause her to be sick again — but her hand closes over empty air.
She had been in such a hurry that she had left it in the bedroom. Her scowl gets even darker and she bites back the urge to curse. Orion is sleeping in the next room, after all, and he'd been exhausted last night. At least one of them should get some rest.
"Kreacher!"
The House Elf appears in a loud crack that he better wish didn't wake her husband.
"Yes, Mistress?"
"Clean this up," she orders him harshly. She moves to the sink where she rinses her mouth quickly. The sour taste of bike lingers, unrelenting, but it's nothing a quick spell won't fix once she's back in her room.
When she turns back around, the floor is clean and Kreacher is standing there, ears quivering excitedly.
"Is there anything else the Mistress wants Kreacher to do?"
"No, that'll be all," she starts to say, but then her stomach grumbles and suddenly Walburga becomes aware of her own hunger. "Actually, bring me some tea. And raspberry tarts."
It's not even morning yet — she knows she saw the moon shining through the window during her hurried walk earlier — and she's just been sick, but she's craving these for some reason.
She swings back by her room to get her wand, and one refreshment spell later, she feels much better.
Kreacher is waiting for her in the living-room when she arrives there. The tea is served and two perfect little raspberry tarts, still warm await her.
She dismisses the House Elf with a sharp wave of her hand and sits down. It always feels odd to her, sitting there without Orion also there, but she does appreciate the silence.
She eats slowly, wary of that queasy feeling returning, but thankfully it seems to be fully gone.
By the time Orion joins her, sending her a questioning look as he asks why she was up before him, her earlier sickness is mostly forgotten, relegated to the back of her mind.
But that doesn't mean it stops there.
.
By the end of the week, Walburga is longing for the days where she could just wake up normally. Now, the morning feels like the worst part of her day, and she gets these weird cravings for food she hasn't had in years.
She knows what this is; she just doesn't know what to think about it.
It's not not like and Orion haven't been trying, after all. This — bringing an heir into the world — is part of her duties as Orion's wife.
And yet, it doesn't feel anything like she had thought it would.
She's lucky, she knows she is. This is a blessing — they didn't even have to use the Potions her mother had recommended her, back when her marriage to Orion hadn't still been just talks — and yet it also feels… Odd.
Like part of her body isn't her own anymore.
She plays with the diamond ring on her ring finger as she thinks. It stays cool under her fingers, and finally, she sighs.
"Kreacher," she calls out. The familiar crack echoes loudly but she doesn't look up. "I need you to get me a Potion from Diagon Alley," she says harshly.
The words taste bitter in her mouth. She knows what the result will be already, but this is necessary. Orion will want to know.
Orion will want to be sure.
Her hands come to rest on her stomach, and from the corner of her eyes she can see Kreacher's ears quiver.
"Is the Mistress—" he starts to ask before Walburga cuts him off roughly.
"Go! Now. That's an order, Kreacher."
The Elf vanishes with another crack, leaving her alone.
Not for long though, because Orion joins her quickly, his hand warm on her shoulder as he squeezes it once in greeting before stepping away.
That warmth lingers as she tells him that she sent Kreacher out on an errand and that he probably isn't back yet. Orion scowls a little at the thought of making his own breakfast — as he should — but he doesn't pry.
She likes that about him.
.
She leaves the Potion on their dinner table the next morning as she waits for him. It turned a bright orange when she added a drop of her blood to it, and the color is still there now, almost assaulting her eyes.
She sits in her usual seat, staring at it as she waits. She's not nervous, per se, but… She'd be lying if she said she doesn't consider… hiding this.
It would be so very easy too. She knows the spells she could use — her mother made sure of that — knows the Potions she could take.
Orion would never know, and she could make sure Kreacher could never tell.
It'd be so very easy.
But Walburga has never been one for doing the 'easy' thing, and this is important. This matters. She — well, she's hesitant to call it love, but she does feel something for Orion. He deserves an heir. Their family deserves an heir.
When Orion finally arrives, her heart stutters in her chest. She doesn't turn to face him the way she usually would. Instead, she just listens as his footsteps come to a stop.
"What's this?" he asks, voice still rough with sleep.
Despite herself, she finds her lips quirking up into a small smile. "A Potion," she replies, almost curious to know how long it'll take him to realize.
"Right," he says, sounding somewhat dumbfounded. "I knew that. But why is it on our table?"
Walburga's suddenly glad their positions means he can't see her yet. Her hands have started to shake, just a little, and she doesn't want him to see her like that. This weakness is unbecoming, and she hates it.
"I'm pregnant," she finds herself saying. She had wanted to make him guess it, but suddenly that game doesn't really sound fun anymore.
She wants this over with already.
Orion almost stumbles to the table and pulls a seat beside her. His grey eyes are so light he looks almost blind. "You're… pregnant?"
She nods, forcing herself to hold his gaze.
It's not quite as difficult with him there somehow. He takes his hands in his, squeezing them gently, and Walburga feels… rooted.
She's always relieved to find that Orion has this effect on her, but it almost feels like… more this time around.
She vanishes the Potion now that it's done its job — and hopes that she never has to see it again — and lets Orion's quiet awe envelop her.
She was lucky, she thinks, to get him as her husband. She can even almost feel excited when she sees that light fill his eyes, and for the first time, she finds herself wondering about her future child.
What will they be like?
A true Black, of course. A son she can be proud of — the possibility of a daughter barely even crosses her mind — and who will further their family's legacy.
He'll have Orion's eyes, she thinks, and the dark black hair typical of their family.
"Yes," she finally says out loud, "I'm pregnant."
Somehow, it doesn't sound like the death knell she'd expected. It sounds… good.