A/N: Well I'm back again. So to those who read what I had posted before, this is a revised, re-written version as a result of my new-found enthusiasm for this fic and this time, I promise I'll get further than a couple of chapter. It also exists within my Black!verse too so this is compliant with my other serial fic. It's a sort of prequel if you will. And yes, that means that this is also a serial fic. How exciting. But many thanks must be given to hell0lust. She is not only the very reason this fic might exist for giving me the idea but she's also just really great! Not only does she listen to my never-ending complaining, but she also writes the best Wolfstar fics you have ever read, not to mention her very good Dark!Sirius fic, The Subtleties That Make Mass Murderers Out of Otherwise Decent Human Beings. I recommend you all go have a good long read - and cry.
So this idea isn't something I've seen much of before so I'm not entirely sure of how it will be received which is a shame, but I might just post this for my own satisfaction. But this is essentially just a love story. Except it's between two of the least-loved and least-loving characters in the fandom. So maybe it's not a love story at all.¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also I will be switching between POVs because I can't make up my mind, but it should stay in third person and in past tense.
To give you some context, this is set in 1949 where Walburga is 24, Alphard is 22, and Orion and Cygnus are 20. I plan to make this as canonical as possible but there comes a fair few amount of times that I need to mess around with canon a bit to make this work. But as far as timelines go, I have put a lot of work into making it fit with canon and I think I've been quite successful if I do say so myself.
As always, it would be immensely helpful if you could take a little time to let me know what you think. I'm really nervous about writing a story in which I have to develop characters so if you have any pointers for me, that would be unendingly helpful. Apologies for the long author's note. It shan't happen again!
Warnings: Dark Themes, Incest, Rape.
November 11th 1949
She was a doll. A human doll that stood no taller than 5"3 in her heels. Charcoal silk ran over her body like a waterfall, a beautiful, mesmerising waterfall that hugged her hips and corseted waist. Such a dramatically small waist, especially when compared to the voluptuous curves either side of it. Her dress didn't leave much to the imagination. Her hips and arse were showcased in elegant grey silk and were catching the eye of many men in the room. Silk thighs peaked out from beneath the slit that ran up either leg. Her shoulders, chest and arms were covered only in the grey silk too, a light swirling patterned, embroidered in silver, running up the length of her chest and framing her obvious breasts. A high neck – a sort of mimic of the Vietnamese cổ áo - that just about touched her jaw line was fooling no one; her ample bosom was very obvious. But still the silk persisted in its mission to cover the soft pale skin of her arms, all the way to Walburga's wrists.
Irma Black had most likely been the one to pull the ravenous dark curls into an elegant chignon at the back of her head, leaving delicate tendrils of loose curl to fall from her head and touch her shoulders, dipping their dark fingers into the soft cream of her cheek.
The one time her father would ever allow her to show this much of herself would be the one time he'd allow men of all ages to ogle her. Pollux was auctioning her off to the highest bidder.
Orion watched from the corner of the room as she was whisked away by each man she had had to reject several times before, at the request of her father. The ball was one of many hosted by Black Estate. Gala Functions and Charity Events and The Merlin-Awful Gentlemen's Balls were a necessity, of course, among the social elite and, outwardly, this evening was no different but Orion knew that the last three events that Pollux and Irma Black had hosted were actually attempts to marry their daughter off. But none of them were good enough for her, and she knew it. She was loud and opinionated – demanding qualities in a woman – and she was easily the most driven woman he had ever met, with the most devious smirk and the headiest of laughter.
She was like a toxin. A poison that he knew laced every drink in the clutches of every man in this room, some of the women too. They were drinking her in, letting her electric presence consume them. And she was electric. Her energy was palpable from across the ballroom, her magic almost visible.
Orion continued to watch her, silently sulking from the corner of the ballroom with none other than a potted plant for company. He'd finally shaken the delightful presence of his Slytherin school mates and was now deeply regretting it as his attention was drawn to the sultry smirk of Marcus Mckinnon as the man tried to woo some poor girl. Orion briefly thought about intervening but decided against it, as he could hardly bare Marcus' lonesome moaning as it is. The man isn't even lonely, Orion thought. Marcus was renowned for his conquests, always consensual and fair, of course, but he was a travelled man all the same and Orion was always first to know of his latest shag, be they men or women, though Marcus was decidedly quieter about the men lest the rest of Purblood society got wind of such behaviour.
Orion's focus moved back to Walburga. It was true, none of the men were good enough for her. None of them truly appreciated her like they ought to. He watched her being danced away by a man. A Nott? Or was that the Prince heir? Orion didn't care, he wasn't watching him.
He leant back against the wall, sipping the whiskey in his hand. Walburga had finished dancing as the song died away and she walked over to drinks table where he was standing. She bypassed the expensive wines and cocktails, heading straight for the vodka. She tipped a generous amount into a glass and threw it back.
A low growl escaped her throat at the burning trail it left and she braced her hands on the table. She closed her eyes and breathed a long sigh.
"Long night?" He asked.
She looked up at him, noticing him for the first time. She covered her startled expression instantly with an arched eyebrow and a devious smirk. "Hi Orrie. How are you?"
He smiled back in her direction. "I'm quite well, thank you." He pushed himself off of the wall and walked over to her. "You, though, look exhausted. I can't imagine being danced away by a number of men is very fun."
She smiled a real smile and shrugged. "Oh it's all worlds of fun, when you know how to play with them." She gave him a conspiratorial wink, eyes flashing.
He laughed. "Oh I bet."
Her laughter died and she smiled again. "And what exactly have you been doing, hm? Standing here all alone all night." She said, her tired smile still playful. "I'll give you a hint now," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Fern's not all that talkative." He followed her nod to the potted plant next to him.
"That's a ficus." He said.
She pursed her lips. "Named Fern." She huffed. "My point still stands; you look bored out of your mind."
He laughed. "You're hilarious." He said, trying not to smile. "I'm fine actually, just artfully dodging Marcus and the others. My father too actually." He said, lifting his drink to his lips.
"I believe he's with my father, talking about man stuff and puffing out their man chests." She said with a sigh. "As for Mckinnon, I believe he's with Mabel Fawley. They spend an inordinate amount of time together. It's quite disgusting, really."
"Quite." They watched the pair across the room, Mabel stroking Marcus' arm, Orion's expression pitying whilst Walburga looked slightly disgusted.
"Well," she snapped from her reverie and turned to him again, "I best be off to find Daddy. See what he thinks of all of those pretty boys. And he best choose someone soon because I'm twenty-four. I'm running out of…" She paused in thought. "…'birthing years' I think Mother called it." She breathed a laugh and turned to walk towards the men at the other end of the room, leaving him with a flirty wave and an image of sashaying hips.
She leaved her cousin behind, purposefully moving her hips with gusto. She smirked as she walked away, knowing that she was the sole focus of grey eyes.
She reached the group of men, and delicately pushed her way through until she was standing in front of a tall, muscular man. Pollux looked down at her and smiled. "Walburga, you look beautiful tonight."
"Indeed you do."
She turned to her right to see her youngest brother staring down at her, a smile on his face.
"Thank you both." She turned back to Pollux. "Where is Mother?"
He smiled slightly, "Merlin only knows. I should find her, though. I've been asked several times about how light my arm feels without her on it." He walked away from the group of men, taking several of them with him.
Walburga took a drink from a passing waiter and sipped it, taking her place next to Cygnus to observe the room.
"You are looking exquisite 'Burga." He said, taking her in.
She looked back up at him, a smile on her face. She reached up and patted his chest. "Aw, you clean up rather well yourself, Cygnus."
He looked down at where her hand lay on his chest and she removed it instantly, bringing it back to her drink. She stared straight ahead and felt his gaze on her. His eyes were running up and down her body, appreciating the curves that he found.
He inhaled the smell of his drink and turned back to the room, keeping the hunger within him hidden.
She tried to think of any reason to leave, hoping that someone else would ask for a dance and whisk her away from what had quickly become a strained silence between them.
"Well, I think I see Eileen waving me down." She quickly trotted away from him to find the women who hadn't called her over at all.
Instead she walked behind the crowd at the back of the room and slipped out of the double doors. She followed the corridor until she came to the entrance hall. Climbing the staircase until she reached the first floor, she followed her feet until she found the small drawing room.
She opened the door and walked in the direction of the drinks cabinet, weaving her way through the chaise lounges and leather sofas. Not bothering to turn the lights on, she picked a bottle at random and poured a healthy amount into a glass tumbler.
Throwing back yet another glass, she took a breath to steady herself. She heard the creak of the door behind her and sighed at herself for not closing it.
She turned and came eye to eye with Cygnus. It was still dark so she couldn't see his face, but his build was a dead give-away to his identity.
"Cygnus? You alright?" She masked the tremble in her voice with much practise.
"'Course 'Burga. But are you?"
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well," he started to move forward as he spoke, "it must be exhausting to be carried off by men when you know none will have you." He raised his wand hand and, with a flick of his wrist, sent a small flame to every candle in the room.
Walburga was at least thankful for the light. It gave her more of an idea of how close he was, how drunk he was.
"But what do you mean?" She unconsciously stepped backward into the cabinet behind her.
He continued to slowly walk to her. "Well women who blurt ugly opinions out aren't attractive 'Burga."
"I don't-"
"Shhh." He was in front of her now, not two steps from her and there was nowhere else to go. "You're just so loud and demanding. You think you can do things like a man." He paused and reached up to touch her cheek. She flinched. He smiled. "I mean, it's cute in a way. But a woman needs to quiet down once a husband is in the picture. So far, you're not making a very good impression."
"B-but-"
"That's not very quiet." He gave her a look she had seen before. Not often but she had seen it enough to know to be scared. He crowded her, overwhelming her with his height and his touch and his scent. She didn't like this.
He smiled after a moment. "That's better." He took a step forward and reached around her back to grab the bottle of whatever she had poured into her glass. He stepped back again and, with glass in hand, gestured to the sofas behind them. "Have a seat."
"Oh no, I best go back to the..." He hadn't cut her off, not with words at least. But her effort to find solace in company and witnesses had died on her tongue at the menacing look on his face. The way his cold grey eyes turned black with warning of his anger.
She said nothing but walked silently to the sofa and seated herself on it. He smiled at her and turned back to the drinks cabinet. "Perhaps if you settled yourself down, Father wouldn't have to keep throwing balls and selling you to all of his friends' sons."
Walburga didn't know what to think. She sort of just sat, feeling herself shrink with every word he said. She thought she should feel angry, she thought she should be lashing out but she wasn't. That look had made it clear that lashing out wouldn't be okay.
"It's silly really. Embarrassing almost. Men don't want to be around that. They want a wife." He turned and gave her a condescending look. "You are not a wife."
The last remnants of her composed-self fell. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were the saddest he had ever seen. It seemed to satisfy him. He left the cabinet and walked over to her. He pushed a glass of clear liquid into her hand, and took a sip of his. He sat down next to her, into the arm of the sofa and looked at her.
He pointed towards the glass in her hand. She looked down and took a sip at his silent request. She looked back at him. "Why are you telling me this?" She asked.
He gave her a small chuckle. "Because it's the truth. Drink up."
She stared ahead of her at the opposite wall and took another sip, much larger this time. She hissed at the burn it left on her throat and winced at the tangy taste. Whatever the alcohol was, she hadn't had it before.
"It's a shame really, because you'd make such a good wife." He gave her a once over that, even in her increasingly buzzing-with-alcohol mind, she didn't miss. He leant closer to her slightly. She felt intoxicated. Not in the same way as earlier. She wasn't scared or happy or angry. She just felt a never ending need to do exactly as he said. Like it was the only way he'd let her survive.
He reached his hand out to touch the loose curls that had fallen from her hair. He stroked them softly and his hand moved to her cheek. His fingers traced her jaw, drawing soft lines over skin. She held her breath.
"Because you are exquisite, aren't you?"
And he closed the gap between them. He pressed his lips against hers, leaning into her. His mouth moved against hers. It was fast and rough and dominating. She had no say in it. He pushed his tongue past her lips and took in everything about her. She was screaming inside. This shouldn't be happening. This wasn't right.
He took her drink from her hand and threw it onto the floor, without care for the stain that was now seeping into the carpet. He was using his weight to push her back into the sofa. His mouth dominated hers and as she felt her back connecting with the sofa beneath her, she awoke.
She used her hands to push against his shoulders and he broke away. "What?" He asked, a hungry anger in his eyes.
"Stop! Get off. I need to go back." She was spluttering, she knew it.
He just chuckled darkly at her. "Shut up. Show me how good of a wife you can be." And he pushed against her again. His lips roamed hers and this time he didn't stop when she pushed against him. He shifted so that he was on top of her completely.
He pulled away from her and chuckled down at her. Her eyes were wide but they were unfocused. He took her by the back of her thighs and opened her legs, settling himself between them.
"Cygnus, no. Please, Cygnus!"
He just kept chuckling. He laughed down at her as he slipped his hand beneath the slit at her thigh, pulling the silk trousers down her legs, his fingers working towards the lace French knickers that he knew she had on.
"Please Cygnus! Stop!" Her protests were growing quieter, her words were turning to sobs and the insisting pushing against his shoulders was growing weaker as the dizziness that clouded her body - and laced her drink - started to take over.
His dark eyes roamed her body until they stopped at her face. "Be quiet, and be a good woman."
She nodded mutely as he split the seam he was playing with at her thigh. He ripped the wizarding áo dài from her body, leaving deep red marks from where the fabric had dragged her skin with it. She was openly crying as he pulled her legs open and kissed up and down her body.
He was rough and sloppy and it made her cringe and gag. He ripped through the thin corset on her chest and groped at her breasts, rough hands leaving bruises in the shape of fingers. Her hands gripped the sofa beneath her.
He pulled back for a moment and, with a heaving chest, started to pull at the buckle of his belt. He pulled the belt from his trousers and threw it to the ground.
Her cries grew louder and he leant over her again. One hand worked the zipper at his trousers and the other went to cover her mouth. His glare grew infinitely menacing. "Why don't you understand how to be quiet?"
He ground into her and she felt the bulge of his arousal pressing into her naked thigh. He got work to freeing himself again and Walburga closed her eyes, trying to shut everything out.
She felt him rip at the last piece of lace standing between them and then she felt him brushing up against her centre.
He chuckled into her neck and pushed into her, too hard and too fast.
A/N: As I said, it is revised and I'm excited about being able to actually sort out a real story line. I have a lot written but I'd severely appreciate a response from you guys because this is a serial fic and I have no idea what I'm doing with it. Thanks.