Eileen Prince stood in the doorway of her sister's room. Lynn was curled up in the fetal position, fast asleep as any twenty-year-old lady should be at this time. Eileen, two years her senior, shouldn't have been awake. She shouldn't have been staring at her sister, and she shouldn't have had a trunk levitating behind her. The woman screwed her eyes shut, thinking back on the days spent in this household.
Eileen Prince was the eldest of five children. She'd been born to Margaret Prince, who'd been born into the Crabbe family, and Lewis Prince in 1927. That Margaret was sisters to Irma meant that Eileen had very important cousins – Walburga, Alphard, and eventually, Cygnus Black. Right away Margaret and Irma agreed to speak to their husbands; Eileen and Alphard would certainly make a good pair.
Three more girls were born, and just as the Princes were beginning to get nervous, a boy graced their lives. An heir to the Prince fortune was born, and everyone could take a deep breath.
Eileen was already going to Hogwarts at the time of his birth, a second year. Just about a month after her brother's birth she received an owl from her mother, explaining that she'd be marrying Alphard Black, her first cousin. That, of course, wasn't at all unusual. They would probably be married sometime after they graduated Hogwarts, just as Walburga was to marry her cousin, Orion. In fact, she wouldn't even need to change her last name.
Alphard and Eileen were encouraged by their respective parents to spend quality time together, and so they did. Alphard took Eileen on walks about the lake when it was warm enough, and chatted with her in the library when it wasn't. He was everything a gentleman should be, and Eileen truly thought they would have a fine marriage. There was no love between them, but there was comfort, and that mattered most to Eileen, or so she thought.
Eight years later, and three months prior to her wedding date with the heir to Pollux Black's fortune, she received a note from Mr. and Mrs. Black. It curtly asked her to come to the Black manor as soon as possible, and advised her to bring her mother and father with her. Eileen was terrified. What had she done wrong?
She paced around her room, deciding what to do, before catching herself in the mirror. She wasn't a bad looking woman of twenty years. Her cheeks flushed prettily when she worried like this, and she was quite pale. She looked like a Black already, with her dark locks of hair, pale skin, and well… perhaps she did have good looks like them. Then what could be wrong? Had one of her siblings done something at school that had made the Princes unbefitting for a Black marriage? Wringing her hands, she walked down to the sitting room, where her mother and father were, and handed them the note wordlessly. She did not miss the worried look her parents exchanged.
Her mother told the maid to tie her corset laces the tightest they would go, and to put her in the blue gown. It brought out her eyes and did wonders for her coloring, she claimed. Eileen did not complain as she was laced into the gown, tighter than she'd ever been, so tight that she was sure to pass out, for she knew whatever this was… it was important.
The Princes arrived at the Black house to find a house elf. It took their cloaks and led them back to the study, where Pollux Black sat at the head of the table, his wife in the corner, in a chair of her own, his daughter and son-in-law sat opposite one another, with Cygnus looking nervous, next to his sister. The Princes were seated accordingly, and Pollux wasted no time.
"Alphard has run away," he said, and his voice sounded to all the world as if he were telling Mrs. Prince that her dress was unflattering; unpleasant news, but nothing earth shattering. Judging by the look on Walburga's face, she did not like how her father was speaking, but she held her tongue for the moment. "He left this note for you, which you may read." Pollux said directly to Eileen, who took the envelope carefully out of his hands. "I've read it." He added, when she looked up at him curiously. She shivered; it was spooky how these Blacks seemed to read ones' mind.
Dearest Eileen, I hope you know that I hold you in high esteem. You are a wonderful girl and my leaving has nothing to do with you. I simply cannot bear the burden of being the Black heir. It holds so many responsibilities. My marriage would force me into it. I hope you can one day understand my reasoning, and one day find a man who is worth your beauty, your grace, and your kindness. Your Humble Servant, Alphard P. Black
Blue eyes found Mr. Black's brown ones, and she stared as if hoping they would produce an answer. Her father had long taken the note from her hands to read for himself, while her mother was sitting beside her sister, and the pair of sisters whispered about the news.
"What does this mean for my daughter? We had a contract." Mr. Prince's voice was calm, the calm before the storm. Eileen shrank back, for she knew her father had no qualms against getting violent. She knew his anger wasn't toward her, but she'd felt his fist far too many times to take any chances of getting in the way.
"Well, obviously," Walburga began, and Mr. Prince looked at her as if she had two heads. Walburga was well known for being outspoken, but really, nobody could do anything about it – the Blacks were very much like the rulers of the pureblood world. "We can do nothing about it. Cygnus is already betrothed to Druella Rosier, and they're quite fond of one another. We cannot risk offending the Rosiers, besides." She said, daring anyone to disagree with her. At twenty-two she was a force to be reckoned with, but she was also the beauty of her time.
"You cannot take away my daughter's betrothal and offer no replacement!" Lewis Prince stood up, and everyone's eyes went to him. It wouldn't do to bring out the dangers Lewis could conjure, and even Mr. Black looked uneasy at this display. Walburga, however, stood up with him.
"You will not come into my house and threaten my family!" She hissed, pulling out her wand. It was as if she were the patriarch! She was such an odd woman, an odd creature. But Eileen was fascinated. "I will have you sit down. We've arranged something for your daughter as compensation for your troubles. But if you do not behave, we can easily give it to another family. We only feel the need to compensate you because of your relation." She watched as Lewis sat down, now interested. "Good." She said, and her voice lightened up, as a young woman of stature's should have always been.
"Reginald Lestrange is desperate for a marriage even close to the Blacks. The Crabbes daughter, Morgan, is the obvious first choice. But the Blacks have a certain hold over the Lestranges." Walburga went on pompously. "We will have your daughter wedded and bedded within two years' time." She had a satisfied smirk on her face.
"Of course, I understand that this isn't quite the prize you were hoping for." Pollux cut in. "I understand your son is betrothed to Miss. Blishwick. But I think a better match for him would be, considering he is a cousin to the Blacks, and the Blishwicks are quite poor…" He looked at Lewis, his eyes narrowed, pleased that he had the older man hanging on his every word. "Anais Flint would be a good match for your son." He finished, letting Lewis mull over the plan.
Margaret stepped in, "It's so generous of you to do this for us, Pollux. As family, we share your troubles. We will mourn this tragedy," She allowed the moment to sink in as everyone at the table – whether pretending or not – had the decency to look sad for the situation. "But even so, you come out of it with beautiful opportunities for us. I just want to thank you, and acknowledge once more how generous you're being." She stood, preparing to leave. "Is Reginald Lestrange available for tea today?" Of course he would be, if the Blacks asked it of him.
"He is expecting you at one thirty." Walburga explained, a fake smile on her lips as she kissed her Uncle, then her Aunt, and then her cousin. "Don't distress, dearest cousin. Reginald Lestrange is a fine man," she whispered in her ear, "When his temper is not too great." She pulled back, smiled, and snatched the note out of Eileen's hand, casting it into the flames. Eileen watched it burn, and swallowed the question – why did Walburga always have to be so fowl to her?
Author's Note: I thought I'd do a piece on the Prince x Snape story. Please review, it keeps my muses flowing! Constructive criticism is great, but also comment if you like it!