Dementors didn't take too kindly to new apex predators cropping up in their swamp. They delegated the task of apprehending these predators and bringing them forth for judgement to a plucky dementor who had aspirations that didn't only revolve around eating human souls and terrifying the daylights out of them.
This Dementor had dreams, damn it!
Aspirations that weren't understood or accepted by the other Dementors. They said in their hiss-like language that wasn't exactly parseltongue but was close enough, ''Dude, you definitely need to prove your worth to the squad.'' A bunch of Dementors was called a squad because they were squad goals.
Then this Dementor nodded and said the equivalent of: ''All right, you're definitely right, my supreme dude.'' Supreme dude was what they called their squad leader.
Anyhow. The Dementor first apprehended the loud soul. It was very easy to attack souls that were scared of soul eaters. Next up, once he'd spelled her immobile and paralysed her with fear, he went to apprehend a very weird soul.
They hadn't touched this soul much, thinking that it might be a confused baby dude. Baby dude meant infant dementor. He was holding a little book. Together they had just enough of a soul for this dementor to realise that this wasn't a baby dude in front of him, but an actual human being with enough soul to devour and prosecute.
''WAIT, NO!'' The human hissed in their language, but the dementor had had orders. It swooped and scooped the human up with its little book.
This human had really cool bone structure, the dementor had to concede.
Voldemort woke up to find himself tied to Walburga Black. ''Fucking perfect,'' he said because he was feeling cheeky after waking up.
Walburga didn't give him the middle finger, mostly because it was tied up, but she really wished to do so. Nontheless it was felt in her voice when she said: ''Stop being a pansy, Riddle and pose for the nice Dementor.''
Voldemort looked ahead, once his vision cleared up, and he saw that a Dementor had taken up an easel, a palette, and was wearing a French beret. It lifted up a clawed thumb up at them as if to say: keep that position, please. You're doing marvelously darlings.
''What the fuck is happening?''
''Jerry's drawing us. After this is done, he's going to suck our souls out to prove to the other, older dementors that his heart's in the right place. It's a very formative bildungsroman-like tale of wonder and passion.''
Voldemort looked at Walburga as if she were insane. She gestured to a patch of mud in front of them where, as if someone had used a very big stick or a claw, had written out everything she'd just said. ''Jerry learned how to write.''
''It say it's written as Jerri.''
''Jerry doesn't know about the letter y yet, but he's learning.''
Voldemort blinked slowly, trying to make sense of what he'd learned. He looked to Jerry and got told that he should smile more to appear pretty. He had nothing but disdain for people that told him to smile when he felt like breaking down. How did women deal with this nonsense? He glanced over at Walburga, who was smiling prettily and batting her eyelids at Jerry as if she had a chance at seducing a dementor. She had more chance seducing Voldemort's dead father.
Soon, more Dementors came to watch as Jerry painted them. They either critiqued his work or they told him that he should devour their souls more quickly because this wasn't fun to watch. It was one of those two things definitely, because Jerry took a paintbrush and smashed it against the other dementor's head. They began hissing at each other in earnest.
Walburga whispered: ''Untie me.''
Nothing.
''NOW?!''
Voldemort smiled cheekily. ''Why on earth should I?''
''Because I'm working specifically to help you? Since when did you become this stupid? I always KNEW you were an idiot, but it never quite occurred to me that you might be such a bloody fool, however.''
Jerry swiped the paintbrush like a knife at the other Dementor, who was clawing at Jerry. It was an all out dude brawl. Dude brawl meat Dementor fight for dominance. It was wicked cool.
This Dementor that Jerry was fighting was actually the supreme dude dementor.
Walburga threatened to bite Tom Riddle if he didn't comply and help untie her. ''It's a magical rope that Jerry's bound us with, for Nimue's sake, Riddle, DO SOMETHING!''
Voldemort outright refused to cooperate. Walburga narrowed her eyes and tired to get into his head, but all she was a tall wall. He smirked at her then and said that there wasn't a single chance of her getting into his head. ''I've taken precautions. There isn't a single situation that I am unprepared for.''
Walburga snorted derisively at this. He snorted back at her. ''Where's your diary, you absolute child?''
''Jerry's taken it.'' In fact, someplace near the easel of Jerry the Dementor was the diary with both of their wands.
''Noted.'' Walburga said. ''I brought that over to you as a peace offering.'' She tried for more lies. He saw through them. ''Well, fine, fuck you. I needed it to find your magical signature.''
''No, ah, fuck you!''
Jerry managed to win his duel against the supreme dude. Everyone went crazy after this. Walburga utilized this cacophony to pour all of her magic and her ability into making her skin be made of barbed wire.
''Ouch.'' Voldemort said.
''I asked you politely to untie me, but I suppose we're doing it like this.'' Soon enough she escaped and untied Voldemort, but then Jerry stepped up and told them that he was very mad that his artistic subjects had left their position. For efficiency's sake, Voldemort had translated.
''Jerry.'' Walburga said. ''We mean you no disrespect. In fact, I have utmost respect for artists. My husband is an artist himself, but I think we'll take what you can give us. What you drew is enough.'' Jerry glared. ''Painted, my apologies. Gods, these artists are so touchy.''
''I'm a poet, Walburga.''
''Ha, you know your hand intimately then.''
''Why would you say something so crude in front of a dementor as sophisticated as Jerry?''
Jerry was absolutely losing it at the crude joke. ''While you were alseep Jerry and I were telling each other jokes.''
Anyhow, what happened next might surprise people. Voldemort ousted Jerry and became supreme dude, putting into terms that nobody should follow a Dementor who was friends with humans, especially humans like Walburga, and that he, as their new leader, vowed to be more bloodthirsty than they could ever imagine. And that he was going to start all of this off with Walburga.
Walburga realised that, oh, she might be in danger. This wasn't how she expected her journey into a Dementor infested depression swamp to work out.
Tom Riddle hissed and gathered the full force of the Dementors by his side, telling them that he was going to be their new ruler and that after they rid the world of Walburga Black he was going to help them get more rights and take back the human villages as their proper habitat that had been stripped from them in favour of giving overpopulating humans a chance to overpopulate the planet even more.
A political speech about Dementors was not something that Walburga had expected to hear, but she should have expected it. This was Tom Riddle, after all. He was a people pleaser at his core and, of course, he'd want to make fucking Dementors like him.
''I am going to show the world that your screams can actually serve a purpose that isn't only deafening people.'' Voldemort smiled. ''Have you got anything to say?''
Oof. Walburga had plenty to say. She began with a promise that she would make his dream come true and that she would love to make it up for him. ''Do with me whatever you want, just call them away. I promise you. You of all people understand that, ah, revenge can be very delicious when one takes his time with it, can't you?'' Walburga inched away.
Voldemort moved closer. The Dementors trailing after him were abundant and billowing in the icy cold atmosphere of horror they'd created. She could feel her throat close up and her tears began, but she pulled them back. She had to survive this. Her patronus had died, overcome by the sheer force of Dementors learning that Tom Riddle, bloody fucking Tom Riddle, was someone who could control them through speech and persuasion. This was why they'd made the pogroms of parselmouths, Walburga shook and ended up hitting her back against a tree. The bark was coarse against her back and she pleaded: ''I'll do anything, my lord.''
And that did something for Voldemort. She could tell. She could tell and she was happy that underneath all of that power lay a man like Orion. ''You have made my life hell, Walburga.'' He whispered and placed his long, slender index finger underneath her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. It was ravenous for her. He looked at her how she had looked at him for such a long time.
Walburga had dreamt of having the upstart Tom Riddle begging on his knees before her. She had wanted to break him and destroy him painfully atom by atom until he learned his place in the world. ''I could kill you.'' He said to her and she felt the voice probe for something strange, as if asking for permission to do so. She had never found herself all alone with him like this, under these circumstances. ''I could kill you and nobody would know where you were. And even if they did come I could lie. Like I did to Dippet and Merrythought at Hogwarts. I could lie and say that a Dementor killed you and that I only found you. No, I won't even find you. I won't be leaving this place. This is the only world I need now.'' There was something manic in his eyes as he went on, for the first time emerging from that lethargy she'd known him for in this swamp. This was Riddle studying for OWLs and NEWTs and the whole world as if it was one giant test he needed to ace. He cupped her head in his hands. They were dirty and coarse and cold – the coldest Walburga had ever touched. It was as if speaking to a corpse.
''I could kill you, Walburga, and I would not be one bit sorry. Because you will have deserved it for your actions towards me. Your devious behaviour towards me at school, your sabotage after it – don't think for one second that I do not know how you've colluded with Yvette to have Abraxas and my's relationship tarnished. But even through all of that,'' he spoke with an airy, almost magnetic resonance in his voice, as if he wasn't even there while speaking, as if he was there, but he wasn't really, as if he was out of his body and watching all of this go down, but he was actually speaking – Walburga couldn't concentrate well because the Dementors were coming closer and closer and closer, ''even through all of that, Walburga, I will destroy you not because of those things. Sure, they come as a bonus. But I will destroy you because you are a pureblood. You are as pure as they come and you have had everything handed to you since the moment you were brought into this world. It brings me immense joy to take you out of this world by not giving you what you so desperately want.''
The Dementors hissed between each other, hungry now at having such a ripe, desperate soul in front of them. They saw Tom, without the diary as he was, as one of their own. Nobody with so little soul could be human. Obviously it was a dementor that had partially consumed a soul. Yes, go forth new dementor, go forth and lead them into a new age where humans would not make them work around that prison, where humans would not have them be hunted. Go forth and lead, and let this new reign of terror begin by eating this human in front. They hissed and it was a malicious maelstrom of noise.
''I should kill you for being of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black as an example. Nobby would never kill any of you, but he was a foolish man with too big of a heart for the lot of you. I have no heart. You have torn it out of my chest, Walburga Black, and for that I am going to make you pay.''
''Well you're a coward!'' Walburga shouted.
Voldemort grabbed her face then with one of his hands and held it firmly, angrily telling her to explain herself. ''Are those going to be your very last words? Some last ditch attempt at insult me? Your fifteen year old self had better one liners. Her words cut deeper than this has ever cut.''
''I cannot believe that you're bloody traumatized because a fifteen year old girl called you names. No. I was eleven when it began! Don't be a baby. Be a man, Riddle.''
''Bullying is not something to make light of!'' Check one. Insult a man's manhood.
''No, no, of courseeee not.'' Walburga was buying herself time. She needed to boast his ego, next, if she wanted this murder to become much more intimate. Her defense against dementors had faded, but her defense against men? Oh she had plenty of that left in her arsenal. ''I just think you're a coward for not killing me with your own bare hands and not allowing these Dementors to do it for you. What are you? A fucking house elf? But I guess you just wouldn't know the first thing about killing me.'' Check Two. Insult a man's intelligence.
It just showed how absolutely horrible Voldemort's state of mind was that he didn't see any of this a mile away. Really, Walburga was afraid for her life. She didn't know what subtlety was. It was quite obvious stuff when one wasn't in the heat of the moment and about to kill one's childhood bully that had continued bulying him well into adulthood. Walburga took away from all of this that she should have bullied Tom Riddle until he'd killed himself. That she'd not been bad enough of a bully and that she hoped her children took a leaf out of her book and went harder at life than she did.
Voldemort banished the Dementors away and told her that she would wish that he hadn't done that by the time he was finished with her. And this was the time when Walburga begged, very prettily. It knocked him out of the loop, because he hadn't expected it. ''Oh wow, you're actually going to do it. Can I convince you otherwise? My lord? Please, I'll do anything you want, just don't kill me. Please. I've a family, you know. I'll kneel for you, as if you're a proper lord actually. I'll kneel and I'll apologize for everything, how about that?''
He took a step back. ''Kneel then.'' He called her bluff, thinking that it was a bluff. Walburga made a show of kneeling very slowly. ''Wait fuck.'' He whispered, having not expected this.
If Walburga ever had to wonder about the sexuality of one Lord Voldemort, otherwise known as Slytherin's Mudblood Riddle, she need only remember this moment as one of the most hilarious moments in her life. ''What next, my lord? How may I show my penance?''
The man had looked so confused.
Walburga was just happy there weren't any dementors anymore. Confused men were her area of expertise.
''Say you're sorry.'' He said, that bravado from before having melted away. Now with more nuance, as if having her in this position wasn't all what he'd expected it to be. ''Apologize to me for everything you've done. I deserve the bare minimum, o Lady Black.''
Walburga licked her lips and said that she knew a much better way to show how sorry she was. ''Think of it as the ultimate victory.'' Her hands flew for his trousers and he almost batted them away, but he noticed that she was unbuttoning his trousers and stilled, as if someone had spelled him immobile. Walburga smiled. Shock was such a lovely thing. She loved having this effect on men. But then she wiped the smile away when she realised that it might give her away. ''You've always been my better, my lord. All of the names I've called you have been my futile attempt at riling you up. You are the most ingenious,'' her hands were working each button slowly, so she would get more word vomit out of her mouth by the time the real finish came, ''most daring and powerful wizard in the whole world. I am your servant, my lord, and you – you are our god.''
She finally took his cock out of his trousers and before she took it into her mouth she glanced upward, seeing his shocked, gleeful, and incredibly confused face stare back at her. This was not the face of a man that had even an ounce of a shield in place.
Walburga sent what some might lovingly refer to as a mental equivalent of a roundhouse kick at Voldemort's mind. He, having not expected it, and having not put up any shields in such a stressful situation she had created, stumbled back and fell backwards, cock and all.
She shuddered and shook at what she'd seen while attacking Riddle's mind.
He screamed as he tried to fight her attack out of his mind. ''What have you done to my mind you bitch?!''
''Oh sweet merciful Hades.'' Walburga held her head in her hands. Her face was covered in snot and tears that wouldn't stop coming down her face. She remembered that these were not her emotions. These were not her thoughts. This was not her mind. Her husband was alive. She was not in mourning. ''You loved Minister Leach.''
He screamed again and it was a blood curdling scream. Voldemort was smart, in only a couple of more tries he would figure out how to get rid of her attack, build up his shield, and come after her.
Walburga needed to act quickly. She pushed herself to her feet, looked around for her wand and where Jerry might have taken it. Spotted it alongside his wand near Jerry's easel, sprinted for it, took it, and then decided to leave.
But before she did leave, she turned to look at Voldemort. She asked, just to make sense of the transfer of memory. ''He was your best friend.''
''He was my everything.'' Tom Riddle shouted, voice so raw from screaming that it wouldn't be of any use tomorrow, ''I loved him. And all of you took him away from me!''
Walburga Black returned home with nothing to show for her trouble. She went to have a shower in a proper bathroom and cry about how incompetent she was with getting a deranged man to get out of a swamp because of something as terrible as mourning. The remnants she'd seen of Tom Riddle's mind whilst inside of his head would haunt her.
She scrubbed her face raw and screamed into her soapy palms. The shampoo had lied. There were plenty tears.
Now, squeaky clean and ready to take on a new battle, Walburga strode towards her husband and told him, in not so many words because they were both legilimens, that she wanted some sexy time to commence and that she was desperate. Orion liked desperate people the most. He shrugged and said that they could find a time for a quickie. She kissed this man then and called him wonderful things.
''Where are the children?''
''At your parents'.''
''Ah, excellent.''
''I can't be bothered to be a single father.''
''Well, to be quite honest with you Ori, darling, I can't be bothered to be a mother.''
''We made them and they'll continue the family line.'' Orion nodded.
''Really, now, that ought to be enough from us for the next couple of years. Mayhaps when they grow older and outgrow this cry baby nonsense period of theirs I might actually speak to them.''
Orion nodded again. ''Until then, let the grandparents have another go.''
Walburga loved her husband and children. As long as the former was underneath her and the latter were safe and as far away from her as possible.
One sexual experience later. Walburga wasn't nearly as dissatisfied with Orion's game as she had expected. This spending time in a swamp with a nutcase was definitely helping her value her husband more.
Alas, it was time to visit another nutcase. She kissed her husband goodbye and was just about to leave, but he handed her a stack of letters for said nutcase of theirs. ''I imagine he's feeling isolated. These letters will do him good.''
Walburga nodded and absconded for bloody New Zealand.
New Zealand was a preposterous country. Walburga already thought that Australia was a preposterous place, but New Zealand seemed to win this imaginary competition playing out inside her head. She crossed her arms and wore a dress instead of a robe. It was to blend in and not get admitted into the establishment in front of her.
The muggles asked for her name. ''Willow Brown.''
They saw her on the visiting list of one Abraham Mallory and let her go inside, telling her that he had been expecting a visitor. She smiled and reigned in her desire to gag at speaking jovially at muggles. Truly, they were the lowest of the low. The scum of this planet they inhabited.
She smoothed out her dress as she sat down and spotted a giggly man with blond curly hair. She barely didn't recognize him in trousers. Walburga's eyes strayed, she blushed, and looked away, coughing only slightly to clear her throat. He spotted her and shouted: ''Walbie!'' He crossed over to her quickly and sat down.
''You've come to visit me.''
''Of course I have.'' Walburga smiled.
''Nobody else has come.'' Abraxas sniffed.
''Well. I am here.'' Walburga said. She handed him a stack of letters that Orion had collected. ''These people have written you.'' There were some letters that had surprised Walburga, but she hadn't opened them, of course, electing to respect this man's privacy for once in her life.
Abraxas snatched the letters from her so quickly that she almost had whiplash from the movement. He filted through the letters, obviously looking for one in particular. Then when he reached the bottom of the letters he began anew, more slower this time to see if it had flown past his senses. It hadn't. ''Tom hasn't written me? Have you not found him?''
Walburga lied: ''No, I haven't found him. But I'm sure if he could write you that he would.'' She only lied like this for Abraxas. He didn't need to hear that Tom Riddle couldn't care less about him; that he, in fact, abhorred Abraxas to such a capacity that he didn't want to see him ever again. ''He would tell you to keep at this treatment and get better-''
''I'm dyslexic.'' Abraxas blurted out before Walburga could get another word in.
''Good for you.'' She didn't know what else to say.
''It's different to when Tom's told me about the condition. This is a professional.'' Abraxas rubbed the back of his neck and looked at one letter in particular. His lips curled in a small, fond smile.
Walburga peered at the sender. Minerva McGonagall. ''I'm surprised by that letter.'' It discomforted her to speak of any mental problems or divergences. But talking gossip with Abraxas was something she could speak about. And why Minerva McGonagall would be Dumbledore wanted to write Abraxas Malfoy was hot gossip indeed. She leaned back in her chair and asked, this time more clearly: ''Why has she written you?'' Was there a story between them? One that Walburga didn't know?
''We're friends.'' Abraxas said. ''She wrote me often while Tom was in Albania and I was making sense of the world. I suppose when he came back our friendship was halted. No doubt Dumbledore must have festered her mind with malicious thoughts about dear Tom. Therefore by association I was horrible to her, but it seems that she still likes me enough to check up on my health. Do people know why I'm here?''
''Orion and I do. Thoros and Elektra do. Your wife and her lover do.''
Abraxas carefully opened the letter, reverently so because he was happy to be written. Furthermore he was happy that someone as funny and bold as Minnie the Cat had written him. ''Minnie writes me to say she's been taken on as a tenured professor. What a charming little thing!''
Walburga grew uncomfortable, but when uncomfortable she grew bold, as well: ''Do you think she fancies you? Odd Tomboy Minerva? She does have a penchant for falling for queer men. It's quite unseemly.''
Abraxas rolled his eyes. ''I am married.''
''So is Orion yet he still fucks you.''
''I've got needs.'' Abraxas said. ''You never seemed to mind.''
''I don't. It's you.'' Walburga allowed Abraxas quite a few many things. ''Antoinette sleeps around with that lesbian of hers.''
''Lilith. Yes, we're trying to convince Tom to marry her so we can all be together.''
''That will never work.'' Walburga was aware of the state of Tom Riddle's mind and she knew that the farthest thing from his mind was having a relationship. When one hadn't even mended one's heart, they found themselves incapable of loving another person. ''Minerva is a curious girl, don't you think?''
''She is lovely.'' Abraxas said and brought the letter to his face to sniff it. Then he fanned it around himself like a fan. ''Her perfume, on the other hand, is cheap.''
''I imagine a professor's salary isn't much.'' Walburga added, then, her eyes sparking: ''You like cheap people.''
''Are you trying to set me up with Minerva McGonagall?'' Abraxas laughed, absurdly. ''You do know I'm in love with Tom, right?''
''Yes, but, it isn't...'' Walburga couldn't say it. She'd been too deep into the lie to tell Abraxas that she'd actually found Riddle. ''Minerva's a kind person, Abraxas. And it isn't like you don't like women.''
''I do.'' Abraxas said. ''But I could never cheat on Tom. It isn't proper. I'm not that kind of person. Father's always taught me to love with all of my heart.''
''Well, your father has never taught that to Riddle.'' Walburga was going down a dangerous road. Abraxas' eyes were clear, clearer than they had been in ages. Could she jeopardize all of this for the sake of truth? It was better for him to relapse while in a centre like this, wasn't it? Than to do it when he's out? Walburga rubbed her hands together anxiously, feeling bile travel up her throat. ''I found him. He'd told me that he was in grief over another man.''
Abraxas crumpled the letter in his hand. He let go of it post haste, his fingers twitching, his eyes beholding disbelief. ''Why are you so cruel to everyone around you, Walburga?''
Walburga didn't fall for the jab. She inhaled and exhaled shakily. Her voice was firm, though, and wasn't that a blessing? ''He said that he didn't want to see you. I asked him, begged him even, to come back to society – to write you a letter – to explain things to you – but he wouldn't. I won't lie to you Abraxas. Not anymore. It doesn't become me. It doesn't become us. He is grieving and it is the ugliest thing I have ever seen in my life. The sight of him chills me. I tried to get into his mind, but it is the stuff of nightmares. I feel, so overwhelmed by it. I cannot imagine what it may be like to have to live with that constantly. That disarray, that pain, that apathy – all of it is mixed and it shouldn't be.''
Abraxas' hands sparked with magic and he asked, his voice pained with a deep, gut feeling that told him the name of this other man: ''Who is he grieving, Walburga?''
''Nobby Leach.'' Walburga said. She watched Abraxas' face fall. She watched as he remembered everything that had transpired in the past. All of Tom's comments, all of his outings. Abraxas closed his eyes and let out a small, horrified laugh at needing to only remember how close Tom and Nobby had been throughout their Hogwarts days. How strange it was that on the election of Nobby Leach (both times!) Tom had been gone. There had to be more moments, but Abraxas could not remember them. He had been with Eileen, stuffing his face with cocaine and trying to transport himself to a place that had to be better than the one he had lived in.
''Abraxas,'' Walburga spoke, her voice wasn't cruel, but her words were, ''Riddle told me that he didn't want to see you. That he'd loved Leach and wanted all of us to leave him to his grief.''
Abraxas' head snapped up at those words. Not the ones where Tom had said to leave him alone, nor the ones telling Abraxas to go away. ''He said that he loved him?'' Abraxas whispered.
Walburga nodded. She gestured Minerva's letter, next. ''I know he's never said that to you, Abraxas. I know that you've loved him with all of your heart and that you lifted him up every time that you could. He is difficult to love and it doesn't surprise me that you would take up such a challenge onto yourself, but, please, there are so many easier people to love. So many decent and wonderful people who will love you back and say it and show it and not cause you this much pain.'' Walburga needed to be careful, but it was like a dam had broken and a tidal wave of anger washed over her. ''I have watched you all these decades trying to piece yourself anew each time he'd break your heart by either not wanting to show his heart to you or not having the tools to do so – but you deserve so much more than him, Abraxas. You deserve so much more than either he or I could give you. Or Antoinette for that matter. Please,'' Walburga said, ''please-''
''My mother was right.'' Abraxas' voice was broken and his face was barely holding back the tears, ''I am unlovable.''
''No,'' Walburga could feel her heart twisting at this admission, ''No, of course you aren't unlovable, Abraxas. Just because Tom Riddle cannot love you does not mean that other people don't love you. I love you, but not in the way that you need to be loved. I love you as a friend. As one of my dearest and closest friends.''
''What's gotten you so sentimental?'' Abraxas jeered her on. Quick to twist the knife when he felt one break through his heart. ''You've always mocked me and hid under friendly pretences. Why do none of my so called friends come here if they love me as you say?''
Walburga was just about to explain, to try and rationalize this, when Abraxas lifted his hands in the air and said, barely a whisper so nobody grew too alarmed because muggles were an easily frightened sort, ''My mother was right about me. I truly ought to finish the job she'd started and off myself.''
Walburga could feel her legs cut themselves off at those words. At such cold and true words. Abraxas meant them. He looked away, his short fingernails embedding into his forearms so hard that they broke through skin. ''Don't say something like that.''
''And really why the fuck shouldn't I?'' Abraxas hissed through his teeth, anger melting his visage into something unrecognizable. ''Why the fuck shouldn't I kill myself Walburga, when my life has no meaning anymore. Lucius exists and I have done my duty as a Malfoy to secure the family line. May the Gods grant him better luck in finding a wife than they have me. I have not been blessed, Walburga, I have been cursed to love men and women that will never look at me, that will only use me and discard me for other people that make their hearts sing.''
''All magical life is precious, Abraxas, do not tarnish it, please.'' Walburga could feel his agony. She could feel his malcontent and the disorder raging inside of his heart like a volcanic eruption that threw the whole world into a world of ash and debris.
''I know all magical life is precious, Walburga. We've been raised on this rhetoric and you can't use it on me like I'm some child or someone who believes in that claptrap when fucking muggles are the only ones who've deigned to treat me of my addiction. All pure blood needs to be saved. There are so few of us already. I am aware of how fearful you are in this world of blood and carnage that I've brought by killing Nobby Leach,'' he took in a painful breath to steady his voice, but it turned more wobbly instead, ''I am aware that there is nothing for me left in this world. Tell Tom that I am sorry for causing him such grief. That I am unbelievably sad that he has found love in someone else for such a short period of time. He deserves so much more than I could have offered him. It was not enough, I see this now. He could never find his footing in our world yet I pushed for him to surround himself around people who did not have his best interest at heart. I see this now,'' his voice wobbled with tears, with pain so crisp and sharp that it could cut through the world itself, ''And I am so sorry to have caused everyone so much misfortune just by existing and being unhappy. Tell Lucius that he needs to be happier than I am. That he shouldn't look at me as an example, Walburga. Please, tell him to be kinder to himself.''
Walburga choked. ''You'll tell him yourself.''
Abraxas shook his head. He looked at the letters, filting through them again. ''Tell Minerva-''
''I am not your OWL, Abraxas!'' Walburga shouted. Her own eardrums almost popped at the force of it. Muggles turned around to look at them, but Walburga waved her wand around to have them all turn around and stop noticing them. She turned to Abraxas and pointed her wand at him. ''Stop speaking like this. You'll get out of here and you'll come home where you shall tell everything you have to people in person.''
''I do not doubt that I could get out of here, sober minded. But I am telling you that is not going to be the case, Walburga.'' Abraxas was leaning in his chair casually, as if admitting this next part was the most common and nonchalant thing to do in the whole wide world. ''After you leave, because you cannot spend all of your time checking up on a sick man like me, I am going to go and find a toothbrush or whatever there is that's such a length and I am going to use all of my wandless magical prowess into making it sharp. Then I'll do the only thing left for me to do: I'll slit my throat and die knowing that I've finally stopped being a burden for all of you.'' With silver eyes, the kind Walburga had only ever seen in Abraxas and known that colour by her best friend, he looked into her black eyes and said: ''There is nothing you can say that will change my mind. So, I implore you to tell my son that his father is not a good man and that he needs to find someone else to look up to. Anyone but me. I am a terrible human being, Walburga. A low life that my mother has seen through from the very beginning. Look.'' Abraxas lifted the stack of letters. Most of them, Walburga saw, were Orion's letters. There weren't any from Antoinette. None from Tom. ''Only Minerva has bothered to write me. Tom hasn't. Neither has Thoros, only his wife that's sent a pro forma letter to make sure that I don't put our friendship and alliance in jeopardy. Everyone has discarded me Walburga. Why on earth should I not discard myself as well?''
''Because you-'' Walburga stopped. ''Do you hate yourself so much?''
Abraxas nodded. There were no words left in him anymore.
Walburga nodded. She swished her wand over Abraxas before he had had a chance to cast a counter measure. ''Obliviate.''
Walburga had made a grave error telling Abraxas about Nobby Leach and Tom Riddle. It had not been her place. She would not be responsible for taking Abraxas to the other side of the veil. Never.
His eyes glowed differently as her magic worked through him. His head lulled forward when she pulled away from his mind, having successfully taken out this meeting. She smoothed out her dress and tried to calm the tremors running through her. His eyes scanned her, his smile bloomed, and he asked her, giddily: ''Oh, Walburga! You've come to visit me.''
How could Walburga be so blind as to trust the smiles and the seemingly joyful voice coming out from this terrifyingly sad man in front of her? She sat in the chair and gestured to the letters on his side: ''You got those.''
''Did Tom write me any?'' He filted through the letters greedily, waiting and watching for that name to pop up.
''No, ah. I haven't managed to find him yet. He's an elusive serpent that Riddle.''
''Oh, that's a shame.'' Abraxas shrugged. But then he laughed. ''Look, Minerva's written me!''
''We love you very much Abraxas.'' Walburga said. Her voice not yet calmed from the terror dancing in her heart. ''Thoros, Orion, and I. We love you so much. You're one of us and we will always be by your side. Whatever you need, you need only ask us.''
''Get me out of here?'' Abraxas joked. But at seeing how shaken she was still, he amended. ''I know you love me. You're my closest friends. I love you all as well.''
Walburga couldn't believe how blind she had been to Abraxas' lies before. How self-centred she'd lived to not notice him drawing further and further away from them all. ''Have you got any friends here? I know they're muggles,'' Walburga's voice was full of pain at giving any credit to muggles, but Abraxas wouldn't survive if he didn't have anyone to be friends with, the social little creature that he was, ''but still, they have their uses. Is there anyone here you can laugh with?''
''There's Larry.'' Abraxas didn't miss a beat.
''Who's Larry?''
''We call him Larry Lazarus because he clinically died three times and came back. Imagine your heart stopping for a full minute on three different occasions and still surviving that? My goodness, my heart could never. Anyhow, Larry is a magician.'' Abraxas smiled. ''He's very funny and charming and says that my hair looks 'boss'.''
''I'm happy you have someone here to laugh with.''
''What's gotten into you?'' Abraxas was re-reading Minerva's letter to make sure he'd not misread it. ''Did I tell you I'm dyslexic? It's a bit different when a professional healer tells it to you. Makes you think that you aren't that big of a screw up as you first imagined.'' A forced smile. ''Yay, I've just a learning disorder.''
''That's nice.'' Walburga said airily. ''Nothing's the matter with me. I just haven't slept a lot lately. Regulus and Sirius are being menaces.''
''Oh, I imagine. I gave Lucius to the elves when he was very small. Nasty little miscreant. It didn't help that Antoinette had had postpartum depression.''
Walburga would take the things she'd heard this day to her grave. She endured a meeting with Abraxas and while they were parting she hugged him. He was much taller than she was and it was awkward and he laughed. ''If you have something to tell me, Walbie, please, do so. I won't bite your head off. Remember, you've always a friend in me.''
''I love you.''
''That ship has sailed.'' Abraxas joked about with her. ''I'm on S.S. Tom only.''
Walburga cracked a smile. ''Write me.''
''I do.'' Abraxas said. ''I write all of you, but none of you bloody reply.''
Walburga was going to change that. ''Just, focus on getting better. Don't run away from rehab this time around and you'll come back to us all sober. That's all you need to concern yourself with. I'll worry about everything else.''
''Don't worry yourself too much. I don't care much about that life.''
Walburga had thought this admission to be a spoiled Malfoy heir whinging about responsibility and how much he wished to go to parties, but now she heard it as a man who didn't care much for that life that was his life. Her tongue turned to ash.
''Goodbye, Abraxas.''
''Goodbye, Walburga.'' Abraxas waved.
Walburga returned home to Grimmauld Place only to find a letter waiting for her there. It wasn't marked. But Orion had spelled it to see if there was anything untoward about it. There was not.
''How is Abraxas?'' Orion came by behind her and kissed her. Walburga was disgusted with herself too mucht o kiss him back. She opened the unmarked envelope and saw a letter that wasn't signed, but she knew, from the bottom of her heart she knew, who had written and sent this letter.
Dear Lady Black
If you are unable to do as I have instructed you, I will be forced into taking more severe measures, How does taking your husband's life sound? I think you would be a fine black widow.
Walburga burnt the letter with her hand. She pushed herself away from Orion and told him that she was going to come back quickly. ''I... I need to find that blasted man and bring him back.'' She nearly tripped over herself on her way out of Grimmauld Place.
Armed with her wand and a maelstrom in her heart, Walburga went back to the swamp of nightmares.
Walburga arrived at the swamp with a concrete plan set into motion. She fingered her wand and moved through the trees, mindful of her step and what she might step on were she not more careful in her haste. A mongoose made of happiness or triumph (Walburga wasn't a patronus exeprt) rested on her shoulders, nuzzled against her neck and dozing off until a moment came that it would need to attack a Dementor.
She did not find a single Dementor in the swamp. This unnerved her more than if she had found a sea of them to attack her. What she did find was somehow even more unnerving than the lack of Dementors.
Tom Riddle was sitting around a campfire of his creation. He was roasting something he'd caught. Walburga didn't want to say that it looked like a person, because all meat looked weird to her, but that meat looked weirder.
His eyes landed on hers. In his grasp was the Diary, the horcrux. It might have been the fire or it might have been Tom Riddle's sheer abundance of dark magic he'd done, but his eyes were red as cinders.
''What are you eating?'' Walburga's voice wavered. Her resolve diminished. She had not come here to see the inhumanity of Tom Riddle dance a jig in front of her.
''What the dementors bring me. I'm not a picky eater.'' There was a certain exhaustion well known in Walburga's life that manifested itself in the man's voice. For a moment she almost understood him. But then she reared back from such a thought. She did not need to understand Tom Riddle. She only needed to find a way through his thick skull to get him back to civilization so Mandy Leach stopped bloody threatening her.
Walburga inched closer. The mongoose on her shoulders continued to snore.
''Sit down.''
She sat down.
''I won't offer this to you. I haven't eaten in two days.''
She was happy with this. The last thing she needed was to eat anything of this sort.
The campfire continued to crackle and Walburga looked to it carefully. She glanced back at Voldemort, because Tom Riddle was a boy compared to this amalgam of trauma. She remembered the darkness festering in his mind from last time. She flung her hand into the fire and stuck it to her flesh, but it did not harm her. His curiosity grew and he asked her what the spell was that she'd used to have the fire leave her unharmed.
''It's from my family's library.'' Walburga taunted and dangled the Black library in front of a man who would forever be barred from it. Only those of Black blood could be given access and could give access to others. ''If you come back with me, I shall grant you access to it.''
''Mandy must have something fierce on you if you are resorting to this.'' It was odd how civil they were being. Walburga was tired. He was sad. This world was a mess.
''She saved my life. Now I owe her my life. She told me to get you back to her or she'll make me kill my husband.''
''Fancy that.'' Voldemort whispered and watched so he didn't burn the meat. ''I didn't know you loved people.''
''I can love. Everyone can love.'' Walburga said. ''You said you loved Leach. You love Mandy, still, don't you?''
''Mandy and I loved Leach. I wouldn't necessarily say we shared the same sort of love for each other that we had for him.''
''But you understand, don't you? That there are different layers to love.'' Walburga's mongoose was flickering and she might as well let it disappear. ''How can you not understand that Abraxas loves you dearly and yet your omission and your disregard for him has hurt him irreparably?''
Voldemort sneered. The meat burnt. Walburga cursed. The world was scorching. ''What is it to you what Abraxas and I have had? When all of our relationship you have tried to run me away. When you sided with Yvette to have me barred from his wedding. When you sided with Dumbledore at any possible moment to have me expelled.''
''I am siding with YOU now.'' Walburga shouted. She was charged with magic and a fear so deep and visceral that had shaken her to her core and taught her that she had done this – that she had gotten sweet, dear Abraxas to the point he was in. That she was to blame just as much.
''Is this another one of your little mind tricks?'' Voldemort's pride had not yet healed. ''I am not falling for it again.''
''Why did you stay if you did not love him?'' Walburga asked, too tired of hiding. ''Do not patronize me, Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort, however else you like to be called. Do not patronize someone who has been in your mind and seen it for what it is.''
''I stayed because I did not know what to do. He sent me letters in Albania that made me feel loved. That made me feel like I had someplace to return to after I had been exiled from Hogwarts. Wool's was never an option to return to, you understand.'' Walburga didn't, but she wasn't going to interrupt this bout of rare honesty from a tortured and dangerous creature in front of her. ''And I wanted to be loved. I wanted to be loved to the point of not ever remembering what it was like not to have someone look at you with such reverence and patience. Abraxas was so patient with me always. When I'd flinch from his touch at first, when I would laugh off his compliments – he'd see them as the walls I'd grown up making and he'd wait for me to bring them down. I never truly brought them down.''
''You did for Nobby Leach.''
''Nobby Leach was me.''
''Pardon?'' Walburga narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to the side inquisitively.
''He was from London. He was from my social class. He experienced the same othered feeling I felt whenever I spoke with you. Whenever I spoke with Abraxas, he made me feel wrong. Not on purpose. He was just from that world and I was from another one. One that he did not understand at all. Nobby Leach was the closest thing I'd ever found to a happier version of myself. Of course I bloody hell fell in love with him. He was everything. The way he would effuse with joy and wonder was something I had come to marvel about him. He had so much ambition. The only reason why he wasn't a Slytherin was his blood. I thought to myself, how differently my life would have gone had I not been in Slytherin. Had I been in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.''
''Not Gryffindor?''
''Let's not.''
Walburga snorted a laugh she tried to stifle down.
Voldemort took up the meat, finding it appropriately made, and tore into it. Walburga's gut twisted.
''I've eaten a heart once.'' He said. ''Never a brain. I've always wondered what a brain tasted like. Have you?''
''Never had the pleasure of thinking of such things.'' Walburga settled on. ''Are you going to leave this place ever?''
''I don't think so.''
''Is there anything I can offer you? Because, you do know, that I have that debt you owe me from the Wizengamot, right?''
''I had wondered why you didn't bring that up immediately.''
''I wanted to use it for something dire. But now I see that I might rather need to use to have you craft a love letter to Abraxas.''
Nauseous colours coloured Voldemort's face at the mental image. ''Why are you so obsessed with a relationship that has died?''
''He's threatening his life.'' Walburga choked. She couldn't keep what she'd learned at New Zealand all to herself and Voldemort wouldn't ever tell anyone. He was much too implicated himself to do anything. ''He's so deliriously in love with you still. I had to wipe his memory.''
''That can't be good for his brain development.''
''Also, he's dyslexic.''
''I've been telling him that for decades.''
''And you're depressed.''
''Careful now. Let's not insult each other needlessly, Lady Black. I do have a horde of Dementors at my disposal.''
''It isn't an insult.'' Walburga cried. ''It's a clinical term.''
''Yes, yes. Have me institutionalized and shocked for your leisurely pleasure some other time when I'm not so silly to believe you.''
Walburga stood up. Voldemort's posture changed to accommodate the movement. He grew defensive and watched her like a hawk. ''You are not thinking clearly. You need help. I am making you a one-time offer. Let me into your mind. I'll craft a wall, or some makeshift fort, I shall see when I'm in there what's in my ability.''
''Why? To disorient me?''
''It is not to disorient you. If anything it may give you piece of mind for you to be spoken to properly. You cannot be thinking clearly with all of that noise in your mind. Stop eating that bloody – I shan't be subjected to cannibalism.''
Voldemort savoured the bite and watched as Walburga squirmed in earnest at the sight. Finally, once he swallowed the bite he said: ''It's a bloody hog.''
''Oh.''
''Do you really think I'd just eat humans out and about?''
''Well, you've let yourself go quite a bit, so yes.''
Voldemort looked at his tattered muggle clothes which he'd taken from some man he'd found being sucked and clawed apart by Dementors. ''C'est haute couture.''
Walburga finally got Voldemort to agree to that, using her Wizengamot debt to get him to agree. ''If you do not wish to return, even after I do my best to help your mind gather its wits, then I am going to leave and have Mandy Leach do with me what she wants.''
Voldemort made a remark under his breath and Walburga was not nearly as gentle in her intrusion as she could have been. ''Oops.'' She said when he winced and cursed her name and bloodline. ''It's slipped from me.''
She slowly coursed through his mind and Voldemort could already feel the effects of her meddling in the sense that he felt more level headed and clear. The haze around him that was suffocating, the weight he just felt all around him diminished, if only slightly, if only temporarily. He looked at Walburga with clear discomfort at her doing something good for him. She was equally as disgruntled by this. Her idea of a central and core purpose was to make Tom Riddle as miserable as possible. This was a strange turn for her, too.
Finally, she asked him: ''This is temporary. It won't hold forever. You might get attacked, something might break the walls, something strong I admit because I am pretty good at mind magic, what with being a Black – but I am not a professional at dealing with this. So, go find Mandy and have her take a look. Maybe she'll refer you to some of her colleagues-''
And all that Voldemort thought was: 'clarity' and 'this feels nice' and 'doctors have never had my best interest at heart and god only knows I won't go to a scam mind healer and show that level of vulnerability to them' and 'this is fine enough'.
Walburga, lastly, asked him if he was going to come back to the world with her. Voldemort saw her outstretched hand, remembered that purebloods would rather have their hands cut off than to exhibit muggle gestures, and had to admit that he did love having Walburga Black rely on him for something. ''Fine.'' He said and took her hand. ''But only since you asked so nicely.''
Walburga bit down on a retort that was at the tip of her tongue and forced on a smile.
Hermione was just about to get into all of this with her mentor, when she realised, that, sadly, the man had fucking fallen asleep on her. She tried to throttle him awake, but he wouldn't budge. And the Darkness began to creep up on her. While alone, Hermione glanced at the figure draped in shadow, she couldn't help but feel afraid.
''Hello.''
''That was you that Walburga saw.''
''It was me. I'm something much bigger now. Something with more gravitas definitely. I do have to hand it to Tom for not having issues so big they could fit into a bloody quidditch world cup tournament that have enabled me to continue prospering.''
Hermione nudged at her mentor and whispered: ''Wake the fuck up, sir.''
Sir did not, in fact, wake the fuck up.