Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Any characters or locations you recognise are the intellectual property of these individuals and corporations. I make no money from the writing of this story. The Harry Potter Wiki was instrumental in the research for this story.
This story is written for Round 3 of the Quidditch League Competition. The prompt for this round is: Choose a pairing of two Slytherins -keep it rare! A rare-pair is defined as any pairing that has less than 2,000 stories in the archive under the "Romance" genre, including M fics. This pairing has seven stories using those guidelines which I think qualifies.
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A middle-aged couple walked along the footpath in front of the stately terraced houses that lined it. They stopped briefly, pointing at number eleven, then number thirteen. The person watching them from the hidden window sneered at the woman as she laughed at the unknown bureaucrat who had obviously missed out number twelve when applying the addresses to these houses. No further thought was spared for the Muggles as they continued on their journey, the high-pitched laughter of the woman still carrying on the wind behind her.
The person in the window continued to stand sentinel over Grimmauld Place, haughtily looking out over the cobblestoned road and grimacing every time one of those horrid auto-cars glided by. Muggle children ran hither and fro along the footpath, dodging around other pedestrians and generally creating a ruckus. Hand twitching toward the pocket where her wand was hidden, Walburga Black had to consciously make an effort to not draw it and hex one of the filthy urchins currently disturbing her contemplation. How easy it would be. A simple flick of the revered ebony wood with the dragon heartstring core would easily capture one of the hellions in its spell and gently waft it, straight into the path of one of the abominations the disgusting Muggles used in abundance nowadays in order to get around. Walburga had an idea that the frail body of a child would be no match for the seeming might of one of these machines.
The now-Mistress of the hidden townhouse observed as one of her guests departed the house and headed toward the gated park across the road from which to depart. She smiled nastily when she noticed the tip of a wand emerge from the pocket of her late father's business associate's cloak and point towards one of the little hooligans. The delinquent yelped, and grabbed hold of its posterior jumping up and down on the spot and accusing its cohorts of doing something to cause pain. The real antagonist vanished into the trees with a smug expression, vacating the area mere seconds before an official from the Ministry of Magic emerged from the shadows. Not seeing anything untoward, and observing that the child already appeared to be over any pain, the Ministry hack simply shrugged and disappeared from whence he came.
An angry hiss, like that of a cat, emerged from the witch watching the scene below her. Surely the buffoon could have moved the children along! It seemed only imbeciles were employed by the Ministry these days. In the old days a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol would have been on the scene, questioning supposed victims and searching for the unknown witch or wizard who was baiting Muggles. Pity—Walburga would have enjoyed watching one of those flat-footed, Muggle-loving fools flailing about, trying to perform a pointless duty.
Continuing her vigil, Walburga watched silently as more and more of her guests departed. The noise from downstairs was thinning by the minute until there was only the deep drone of only two or three men wafting up the stairs toward her. Walburga knew these voices would belong to her uncle, cousin and second-cousin. The three men had taken it upon themselves to offer their chaperonage for her protection since the sudden death of her father the week before. It was unseemly for an unmarried witch to be living alone and so her relatives had promptly moved in once her lack of male shelter had been confirmed.
Today had seen the burial of her esteemed pater, interred now for eternal rest beside his wife in the Black family crypt in the bowels of the Ministry building. Only families holding the title of Noble and Most Ancient could claim burial rights in this most sacred and prestigious of locations. As was customary, a small reception was held immediately afterwards in order for the elite of the Wizarding World to pay their respects properly to the family of the deceased.
Walburga had endured the false platitudes and insincere condolences for as long as pure-blood society rules dictated and not a moment longer. Citing grief, the witch had withdrawn from her guests, leaving her other relatives to play host. She had enjoyed two hours of blessed solitude, standing stoically in the window of the drawing room and gazing out onto the cold street.
Heavy footsteps could presently be heard climbing the stairs toward her location. Walburga made no move to acknowledge the approach of the wizard as he came to stand beside her. A flick of her eyes to the right confirmed her new companion was in fact her second cousin, Orion. He was the grandson of her father's youngest brother. It meant he had a lesser standing in the family than she did, a fact she never failed to remind him of back in the day. As the only child of the Head of the House of Black, it meant she was the heiress presumptive of the prestige and power her father wielded so easily. Walburga knew this put her in a vulnerable position and she learned at a young age to wield hexes and curses in order to discourage any pretenders to her proverbial throne.
Being so far down in the pecking order meant she had nothing to fear from her uncle and his family which was why she had accepted their patronage without complaint. They knew they could only benefit from her continued survival. They were still Blacks however—cunning, ambitious, and ruthless when they had to be. Walburga was their ticket out of the ignominy of being the poor relatives. Here was a single witch, on the wrong side of thirty (only barely, but still), not particularly attractive and already with the reputation of a shrill, unpleasant harpy. Her prospects were bleak despite the considerable fortune and immense political power she now wielded. Orion had been put forth by his opportunistic grandfather as the sacrificial lamb so to speak.
Orion Black was a reasonably handsome, twenty-seven year old wizard. He was the youngest son of the youngest son and held no illusions that just because he bore the proud name of Black he was entitled to an easy life. His parents were not poor, but they certainly did not possess the riches of the higher-ups in the family. Shrewd investments and ruthless dealings with hapless businessmen—both Magical and Muggle—had netted his grandfather and father a comfortable existence with which to provide for their family. Although both Arcturus Black Senior and Junior despised Muggles with every fibre of their being, they did not mind swindling them out of their life savings. Cunningly they kept all their transactions completely above reproach which meant they were never held to question by the Ministry in regards to how the Muggles were losing all their money.
These lessons were being absorbed by Orion and his brother, Cygnus, and they were well-poised to carry on the tradition. But then the opportunity of a lifetime dropped right into their laps upon the death of Pollux Black when he was unfortunately caught in the crossfire of a skirmish between the Goblins of Gringotts and a would-be thief who foolishly tried to rob the bank. The combined might of the Black family and several of their allies ensured that the Goblins paid compensation to the distraught daughter who survived her beloved father and was now left alone in the world to fend for herself. The Blacks, Senior and Junior, along with Cygnus and Orion saw no reason not to slither their way in for a share of the spoils. Walburga was unmarried, so was Orion.
"All the guests have departed, Cousin," Orion said respectfully to the witch.
Walburga merely hummed in response.
"I wondered if I might speak with you of your future plans," Orion doggedly continued.
"I plan to take up the family seat in the Wizengamot and continue the life-work of my father to ensure our glorious world and ways are preserved and cement our place in the annals of pure-blood supremacy," Walburga haughtily informed him.
"Noble aspirations, indeed," Orion agreed. "But what of you personally, Cousin? This is a dangerous world and there are those who would seek to bring you harm."
The witch in question scoffed derisively. "I am perfectly capable of both defending myself and rendering a potential attacker to dust. Must I remind you I have bested you on several occasions in the duelling ring?"
Orion bowed deferentially. "Of course I am aware of your prodigious abilities, Cousin. I merely speak of fools and simpletons who would not be cognisant of your skill and cunning. It would cause me despair were some blackguard to somehow sneak his way through your formidable defences, or worse, get a lucky shot off and bring you to harm."
"I do not believe my demise would cause you to despair so much as the loss of my protection would," Walburga astutely claimed.
Orion did not even bother to attempt to correct her, nor did he mince words. "Nevertheless, notwithstanding a foolish attempt on your life that may or may not be successful, the fact remains you are an unmarried witch in a powerful position. You are now the undisputed Head of the Black family regardless of what some of our male relatives may think of that. There is another duty you must bear in addition to that of continuing your father's good work.
"You must provide an heir to the dynasty."
Walburga stiffened at his words. "I am aware of my duty," she hissed. She was well aware of her duty, and she was also well aware of the likelihood that an acceptable wizard would come along and sweep her off her feet and into his bed—almost no chance. For many years she had harboured hopes of a match with Abraxas Malfoy or Lancelot Fawley, but Malfoy had married her dear friend Petronella, and Fawley had succumbed to an ill-timed bout of Dragon Pox.
"I have several acquaintances one might deem… suitable… to be your match," Orion drawled with obvious disdain. He did not want to lay it on too think, but he wanted to lead her to the conclusion he wanted.
"There is no wizard out there who would be my match," Walburga replied imperiously. "The best I may hope for is that he will possess enough modicum of a brain in order to converse with wizards undoubtedly of a higher intelligence and station than him and that he will know his place in this house. I am the Mistress; he will never be the Master."
"Of course that goes without saying, Cousin. You will want him to be of a family from the Sacred Twenty Eight as well," Orion mused thoughtfully.
"Do not talk to me about the Sacred Twenty Eight," Walburga seethed. "At least nine of those families should be struck from that list—Mudblood-loving blood traitors! I will not lower myself to even acknowledge the existence of filth that dare to bring such shame to this glorious world we live in. I would never taint our Noble and Most Ancient bloodlines with the likes of a Weasley or a Shacklebolt! I would not allow the taint of their foul presence even in this house!" Her voice rose during her rant to end on a shout. Orion remained passive in the face of her righteous rant.
"Well said, Cousin," he praised. "Blood traitors should of course immediately be struck from the annals of our history and all Mudbloods purged from our world. Lower even than house elves," he said silkily, a disdainful sneer gracing his face.
"I am glad you share my sentiments," she said with an approving nod. She looked up at the young man standing beside her. She had never really noticed before but there was a rugged, rakish handsomeness about him. He was quite tall and well-built enough to be imposing. Perhaps…
"And what of you, Cousin Orion? I have not heard of any approach to my father regarding a potential match for you," Walburga asked slyly.
"Alas, no witch has captured my attention… until recently that is. I have been immersing myself in my father's business so that I may carry it on, of course. With his guidance and that of my grandfather and brother we are well on the way to securing the future of our branch of the family. Cygnus has his two daughters and another child on the way, I hope to emulate him and create a family that will benefit from my hard work."
"Who is the witch who has captured your attention?" Walburga asked, slightly perturbed. For a moment she had harboured a small hope. Her second cousin was a pleasant enough fellow—intelligent, cunning, ambitious, but not quite in amounts equal to her… and handsome to boot. She had briefly seen a wonderful future stretched out in front of her, she with the true power as the Head of the House and he as her able consort.
"You," he replied simply.
Walburga felt a surge of self-satisfaction flow through her veins. "You desire my power and prestige?" she asked.
"No, I have power and prestige enough of my own," he replied honestly. "What I desire is the combining of our two dominions so to speak. The future of the House of Black needs to be secured and you require the protection of your reputation that only a husband can provide. I will not be one you may walk all over, but neither will I be one who seeks to undermine your authority or usurp your position. It will be enough for me to support you in your endeavours and groom our son to one day take on the mantle of Head of this glorious House."
Walburga studied him intently. Orion met her scrutiny head on, not giving even an inch of his dignified presence. He knew this was a test—to see if he was up to the task of being consort to this queen of sorts. Whatever she was searching for in his countenance, she found. She nodded decisively.
"Very well," she agreed. "We shall be married post haste. Given the recent demise of my father it will not be in good taste to hold a celebration. We will arrange for a simple, traditional service here with the immediate family in attendance and a small reception following. I believe we may schedule it for next week," she proposed briskly.
Orion acquiesced with no argument. The first thing he realised in his new role was to pick his battles. He knew his second cousin, now his fiancée, was a formidable woman who would expect to get her way most of the time. He would hold out to fight for the things that would be most important to him.
Walburga reflected on the last thirty minutes and realised this was a most expedient and desirable solution. Orion was perhaps not her ideal wizard, but he would do. Duty came first and she was already fond of the boy… man. That boded well. She held her hand out and the corners of her mouth upturned slightly as he seized it with both his hands and brought it to his lips. He gently pulled her forward and placed a small, chaste kiss directly on her lips, sealing their promise to each other.
They would make a good marriage between them, and produce sons a mother could be proud of.
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Thanks for reading :)