TITLE: they will build empires for me
SUMMARY: Alphard was the Black horse of the family. Terrible pun, accurate statement. It was only a matter of time before he made his return, in the only way that a member of the Noble House of Black knew. With style.
A/N: An AU I've been writing and rewriting for a month or so now, for your reading pleasure. We were robbed. The House of Black is easily one of the more interesting family dynamics in the book which was never touched on. I'm a sucker for politics and Slytherins, okay? A lot of this chapter includes original characters, some are important to the story - some are background characters. Alphard is here to cause a lot of chaos and just have a good time, okay?
Let me know what you think, what you like and what you think could be improved! I hope you're all staying safe!
Alphard was the Black horse of the family.
Terrible pun, accurate statement.
Anyone who had spent a decent amount of time with the Noble House of Black would comment on his quiet and mature demeanor; then again a Norwegian Ridgeback could be considered tame by comparison to his siblings.
Walburga was a force of nature.
(It wasn't a compliment.)
One didn't compliment a volcano for their trail of destruction. It left you standing there in the wake of its chaos, on one hand, there might be awe for the sheer mayhem it could inspire, on the other, a keen sense of grief for whatever had been unlucky enough to have been in its path when it erupted.
Cygnus couldn't be considered any better, rather than the near-constant eruptions; he was a simmering pot that was teetering on a permanent boiling point. Full to the brim of pent up bitterness and toxic deep-seated resentment. It could take a single spark, it could be anything but once he began to boil over, it could take weeks for his wrath to be soothed.
Their combined rage were considered infamous but then again, it wasn't as if the Black family were known to be upstanding members of the Wizarding community, despite whatever image they tried to maintain. Merlin help when his siblings argued, Alphard could barely deal with them on civil terms but the sniping and yelling drove him insane. It usually ended in physical violence. A mixed bag of ghastly hexes or whatever heavy items, usually cursed items, were on hand.
(Wally had a mean throw, there was still a dent in the parlor wall where she'd lobbed an expensive paperweight at Cygnus' head.)
Most of their arguments revolved around pureblood matters and the politics that came with their family, the line of succession which, in all honesty, Alphard didn't give a flying fuck about.
To become the next patriarch of the House of Black?
No, it'd never been his goal. He'd seen the weight it'd put on his Uncle, seen how the politics had warped their family into something almost unrecognisable. Perhaps that was why, only a few years out of Hogwarts, he ran off to France. His Aunt Cassiopeia had always been a loving maternal figure in his life, something his mother had never forgiven her for. She'd moved to La Rochelle when he was eight and the offer for him to come and stay had always been left open.
(Walburga hadn't tried to stop him, it was probably the last shred of affection she could spare her youngest brother. The curt dismissal but lack of a hex or curse sent his way, it could've been considered a farewell gift. Cygnus didn't care either way, he found out second-hand through their sister, Alphard wouldn't waste his breath on the man.)
Moving out of London, La Rochelle was the closest to freedom that he could manage without being disowned.
The Noble House of Black were much more pleasant over the Atlantic, a growing brood of them scattered between Paris, La Rochelle and Rennes.
Aunt Cassiopeia had moved after the death of her husband, taking her sons (Rigel, Marius and Castor) with her; they'd been his closest friends growing up. Alphard remembered the tantrum of legends when both Castor and himself realised they wouldn't be going to Hogwarts together.
He'd only had the vaguest idea of what he was walking into, the letters sent between them painted the small community they lived in as idyllic. There was so much news to catch up on.
Aunt Cass' eldest son, Rigel, had courted and married his partner, Tomas, before adopting twin muggle-born children. Esme and Eliot.
Marius, not to be outdone, eventually ended up besotted with a witch - marrying her just three months later. When Alphard had met Guilia Delacour, that was when he realised that a force of nature could be complimentary. The two of them had announced the arrival of their son, Ezechiel, a year later. Zeke was a ridiculous fraction of a fraction veela.
When moving to La Rochelle, Castor and Alphard had rejoiced as eternal bachelors… or so they'd thought but it wasn't like he could begrudge his cousin for being happy. He'd been well-aware of the recurring flings his cousin had with one witch in particular. So had everyone else since Castor couldn't be subtle to save his life.
(Still, it'd been a shock to them all when they both turned up to their Samhain celebrations one year with Carina wearing a wedding band and their newborn daughter, Estrella, in his arms. Aunt Cass was beside herself, caught between the joy of a new grandchild and the rage at missing their wedding.)
Then, their small House of Black only grew in the years to come. He'd never been particularly close with his great-aunt Lycoris but she'd greeted him with the same warmth and love that she did with all of her children. Her home in Paris had been established fifteen years before Aunt Cass even thought about moving across the waters. With the distance, Aunt Lycoris married her squib husband, Alistair. A good man who was a lightweight and a terrible darts player.
Suddenly, Alphard had several more cousins, more siblings because with Lycoris and Alistair came their children.
Their eldest daughter, Cressida, had already left the nest by the time he'd contacted their family. She'd moved to Berlin with her husband Mathias and their three daughters (Lyra, Aurora & Freya) though they came back to Paris enough that Aunt Lycoris renovated the old stables into a permanent guest house for them.
Altair had been the one to handle family matters for the longest time, the only male heir on that side of the Atlantic. He'd shouldered the Black family seat in the French Ministry and made decisions on behalf of their family whilst in France. His wife, Carmen, raised their children (Jonathan, Violet & Chase) whilst he was away.
Aunt Lycoris' youngest children were a couple of years older than Alphard however the twins still behaved like they were five years old sometimes. Bianca and Corvus were an entertaining duo, the only ones who'd kept in touch with their family in London. Alphard often received regular updates about the latest gossip and drama within the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
(He'd actually framed the animated drawings which Corvus sent him, describing in great detail how Cygnus looked when he'd taught Narcissa to say 'Fuck' for the first time.)
By comparison to those he'd left behind, his family in France seemed to shine a little brighter and were more colourful. Eccentric stars in the night sky, flourishing in France whilst his family in London seemed to fester and rot. Nothing but bones left behind, a skeleton of what their House used to stand for.
Toujours Pur in La Rochelle was to be taken as the purity of self.
("Sounds like a load of bollocks," Alphard had rolled his eyes when Aunt Cass had first explained it to him, it sounded rather trite. Of course, he instantly regretted it when she smacked him upside the head with a wooden spoon.)
Living out with the rest of his family in France was like living in a bubble. Grimmauld Place was far from sight and mind as he took to this new lifestyle like a duck to water. Eventually, he took over Altair's position in the Ministry, giving him a moment of reprieve to spend it with his family. Alphard enjoyed the commutes from La Rochelle to Paris, sinking into an easy sort of routine and domesticity. The kind which he could simply stop by at one of his cousins homes for some company and he'd feel welcome.
Truly welcome and that was sadly a novel experience.
Reality did come knocking though and time had seemed to pass him by with the announcement of his sister's pregnancy - the impending arrival of his niece or nephew.
He'd ended up down in their local pub.
Merlin knows how much he'd spent paying for everyone's rounds.
Merlin help him with how much he'd drank.
Waking up the next morning, he'd actually rolled over and found himself face-to-face with the pretty witch who'd been serving his drinks. The two of them had laughed to themselves and grumbled about their hangovers. She'd stuck around for coffee that afternoon, introduced herself as Adelaide Dumont and proceeded to make fun of how drunk he'd been that night.
...Alphard was smitten.
Of course, he'd had an image to maintain - a bachelor! A lone wolf! He was unashamed of how quickly he discarded all those titles because by the time that his nephew, Sirius Orion Black, had been born- he'd gone and married her.
By some miracle, he'd convinced her to stick around. Adelaide made out this it was such a chore to put up with his wretched arse but they made it work. Perhaps the birth of Sirius should've wisened him up to how the times were changing but then his own branch of the family tree began to blossom.
("You're…?"
"Pregnant, knocked up, up the duff?" Adelaide was beginning to look a little concerned at the glazed look in his eye, she waited patiently for him to come around though. "I've got more of these if it'll help?"
"Please don't.")
With the news and in a peak of fatherly-panic, he moved them from their small cottage to what he'd soon aptly name Chateau Black.
Of course, it was a bit dull and dreary, to begin with, but it was something to be worked on. It'd be his own creation, his own Grimmauld Place without the macabre decor.
(House elf heads just weren't his style after all.)
It was nestled in the countryside but only a fifteen-minute walk away from the shops. It was everything he'd ever wanted as a boy. Open spaces and large windows, enough garden for them to have a quidditch pitch just near the river. It was large enough that the family could come and go. Castor and his family stayed for dinner often and probably spent the night at least once a month. Aunt Cass had a permanent room, not that he'd have it any other way despite how much he liked to complain about it. The ballroom was big enough to fit them all in for yuletide and Samhain. It was…
It was more than Alphard could've dreamt of when locked away in Grimmauld place, wondering if his father's belt would have his name on it that night.
Once everything was up to scratch within a few short months, a bit of money and magic went a long way in getting things done, they sent out the invitations to celebrate the upcoming arrival of their spawn.
("Stop calling them spawn-" "would you prefer our little gremlin?" "-I could learn to live with spawn.")
His family was over the moon.
Unlike yuletide or Samhain, everyone showed up, everyone rsvp'd with their own letters of congratulations and promises to be there.
Castor's wife, Carina, had sent him what he'd thought to be a howler but it proceeded to yell compliments at him and Adelaide for nearly a full fifteen minutes. Aunt Cass had opted to floo straight into his parlor, making a noise that only canines could hear.
By 10 o'clock - his family were in a state.
Bianca and Guilia were drunkenly singing dirty french limericks whilst stood on the table - Corvus and Alphard trying to get them down without breaking anything. Marius was no better than his wife, he and his brothers commandeered the dartboard. For every missed shot, they had to take a shot of firewhiskey. Alistair took great pleasure in being the only one sober for once. Aunt Lycoris was pink in the face, giggling and cackling in the corner whilst Cressida topped up her mother's champagne glass.
There was an intense poker game taking place in the corner, Carmen currently holding a winning pair whilst the rest of them tried to pull together a string of sobriety. Mathias seemed to be teetering at an angle, Tomas was downing another shot and her niece Freya, who was only seven, appeared to think they were playing Go Fish. The only opponent Carmen really had to worry about was her eldest son, Jonathan. He might've only been nine-years-old but he'd made it a personal vendetta to actually beat their mother.
Carina had been the designated sober witch to keep Adelaide company though she spent more time corralling the children, almost like an army general, it seemed like the children were more amused by Cressida and Corvus making faces behind her back than actually being any help at all.
Eventually, the drinks dried up and everyone seemed to retreat back to their rooms; Tomas physically carrying his husband up the stairs and Marius and Guilia having to be escorted home by their own son. Cassiopea grabbed him before she went upstairs, Castor and his family already in their respective guest rooms.
"I cannot tell you how happy I am," she told him, the smell of champagne on her breath, her eyes sparkling and her perfectly coiffed hair in disarray.
It was at that time which Alphard realised how young his aunt truly was, her blonde hair streaked with faint hints of silver. The creases around her eyes and mouth were from joy, from happiness. They weren't the sallow lines that had carved decades into his own mother.
"Another heir for the family," it flew from his tongue, an ingrained response.
"No," his aunt shook her head, hands placed upon his flushed cheeks and they were surprisingly cool. She stared at him with such firmness that his lazy grin faltered a touch. "No, I'm happy that you have your family. That you are happy, mon fils."
Neither would breathe a word of their hug or the tears that follow.
Instead, they'd share a look when a round of cheers erupted as he came out of the room with a tiny bundle in his arms. The grin of a new father.
It was an unspoken agreement to have a home-birth, there wasn't a chance in hell that his family would've waited at home for the news. As soon as the signal went out, they'd flock to them. There wasn't a waiting room that could hold them all. Chateau Black seemed like a fitting place.
The midwife smiled at the lively family, bidding them good luck as he flooed away.
"May I introduce, Miss Elladora Cassiopeia Black," Alphard said reverently, placing her in her namesake's arms who was visibly trying to hold back her sobs.
"Bonjour, ma mignonne," she greeted.
Maybe there was a small part of him which wished his siblings were present for this part of his life. Then again, Alphard remembered the nicer times when they'd been innocent children in the face of it all and was firmly reminded that they were moving on. That he was moving on. He'd left them behind, stuck in the same old cycle of pureblood monotony and politics. They hadn't seen grass greener or ventured out of comfort, they hadn't seen the family blossoming across the Atlantic.
They hadn't seen him growing.