"Look at my bracelet, Burgie. Isn't it pretty?"
Walburga eyed her cousin's wrist, which she'd stuck out proudly to display the glittering pink bracelet wrapped around it, with more than a hint of envy.
"They're rose quartz," Lucretia continued, fiddling with the little pink stones. "Mama gave it to me this afternoon, as an early Christmas present. She said it was about time I had my first proper jewellery"
"But they're not real jewels" Walburga pointed out with remarkable haughtiness for a girl of only eleven. "They're only crystals, really"
"Well - yes" Lucretia's disappointment at her cousin's lack of appreciation for her bracelet was clearly evident in her voice. "But they're close enough! And anyway-"
The girl's disappointment melted into a smug smile.
"It's more than you've got"
Walburga looked away, seething.
"My mother doesn't think eleven is old enough for jewellery"
Only a few short hours ago, as they'd been preparing for the party, Walburga had fought with her mother over their very different opinions of what was and wasn't appropriate for a girl of her age.
"Do I have to wear this dress, Mama?" Walburga whined as her mother tightened the sash of her dress around her waist. "It's too itchy!"
She scratched at the skin of her arm underneath the short, puffed sleeve of the dress.
"Nonsense" Irma Black said firmly, slapping her daughter's hand to cease her fidgeting. "There's nothing at all wrong with it. I've had it made especially for this evening, and you'll wear it"
"But it's pink" Walburga scowled at her reflection in the mirror before her. "Lucretia's wearing a red dress. Why can't I wear a red dress as well? I do so hate pink"
"Red is not an appropriate colour for a little girl"
"But I'm not a little girl! I started school this year! And Lucretia-"
"What Lucretia does or doesn't wear is entirely her own mother's decision," Irma snapped. As she finished tying the satin sash into a bow at the back of the dress, she gave a yank so firm that Walburga's whole body jerked. "You may have started Hogwarts but you are still only eleven. And I, for one, do not think that red is a suitable colour for an eleven-year-old. Why, you may as well add a corset and put your hair up to boot!"
"Can I?" Walburga's voice was full of desperate hope.
"No!" Irma's eyes flashed with annoyance at the absurdity of her daughter's question. "You'll wear the dress I've chosen for you and that's final"
Walburga let out a groan of frustration.
"I mean it," Irma warned, glaring at her daughter in the mirror. Her fingernails dug into the girl's shoulder. "You'll behave yourself this evening. I will not have you making a fool of yourself, or me, by misbehaving. If you cannot prove that you are old enough to attend an adult function, then you will be brought straight home. Do you understand?"
Walburga had understood. And she'd been trying her best to heed her mother's words and to be in an agreeable mood, in spite of how she burned with jealousy when she saw Lucretia - a girl younger than her by several months! - allowed to wear a dress of festive crimson with her long, black hair in a pretty half-up-half-down style, tied with a matching red bow. A stark contrast to the two tight schoolgirl braids Irma had forced her own daughter's ebony tresses into.
But her cousin's showing off of her glittering new bracelet was really beginning to test her limits.
"Mama says I can't have jewellery until after I'm at least thirteen" Walburga huffed and folded her arms across her chest moodily.
Lucretia gave her cousin an awkward, sympathetic smile.
"Well, that's not so far off, really!" she said, encouragingly. "You'll be twelve in just a few weeks, and then it's only one year to go! And then you can have all the jewels you want. Great, diamond rocks for earrings that will stretch your ears and ropes and ropes of emeralds so heavy your neck will ache"
Walburga's moody face split into a giggling smile at the absurd image her cousin planted in her mind.
Lucy always knew how to cheer her up.
From where the two girls stood huddled together by the Christmas Tree in the corner of the drawing room, they had an excellent vantage point for observing the rest of the party guests. Clusters of witches and wizards - some familiar faces from within their extended family and others thus far unknown to them - all dressed in their best festive robes and gowns, all standing in clusters around the room chattering over drinks, laughing and generally enjoying the party mood.
The Christmas Eve bash at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was the highlight of the Christmas social season. The Black family were known for putting on an impressive display every year; the finest food, the rarest wines, and the ultimate seasonal decoration in the form of a towering, ten-foot-tall Christmas tree which stood in pride of place at the far end of the room, glowing brightly for all to see.
The decorated display may be a showy display by the Blacks, with it's vast collection of beautiful and expensive ornaments all perfectly placed, but the tree itself was in fact a source of Crabbe family pride.
Hailing from northern Germany originally, the Crabbe family, despite several of its branches having journeyed to England a generation ago, still owned large swathes of land on the continent. One estate in particular was famed for its sprawling pine forests which every year yielded a valuable crop of Christmas trees admired and envied for both their height and handsomeness.
Every year, since Irma Crabbe was first betrothed to Pollux Black, the Crabbe family had gifted the Black family with a Christmas tree from their stocks, as both a seasonal gift and as a yearly renewal of their inter-family alliance.
"Not a bad deal, I'd say," Walburga had once overheard her father joke to his friends one evening, after too much firewhiskey. "I'm probably the only man in England who's wife's dowry includes a Christmas tree every year!"
From his tone, she'd supposed that her father was less than dissatisfied that the tree in question always stood tall and proud within Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place - the traditional home of the head of the family - rather than at their own country house. The finest Christmas tree in England could only belong at the main household of the family, after all.
Walburga couldn't help but smile proudly as she looked up at the tree which had hailed from her maternal family's estate. She couldn't help but wonder, somewhat wistfully, what it must be like to live in a far-off country, surrounded by forests of endless, towering Christmas trees to get lost in, to run through all day without ever being found…
"Oh Merlin, I don't believe it!"
Lucretia's annoyed outburst pulled Walburga's attention away from the tree. Her head darted in the direction her cousin stared in with a look of shocked irritation on her face.
Standing in the doorway was Melania Black, the mistress of the house, dressed as grandly as a woman of such small stature could. And stood at her side, half-hidden behind his mother's skirts, was Orion, her seven year old son and Lucretia's younger brother.
"What's he doing here?!" Walburga demanded, rounding on Lucretia.
"Mama was saying at breakfast this morning that she thought he ought to spend a little time at the party this evening," said Lucretia. It was plain to hear in her voice that she was as vexed about her little brother's presence as Walburga was.
"But it's so unfair! We both had to wait until we'd started school before we were allowed to come to the party. Orion's only seven!"
"Yes" Lucretia rolled her eyes. "But he's the heir"
"I know that" Walburga shot back with a scowl. "But still. Cyg is going to be so vexed when he finds out. He was in such a terrible sulk all day about not being able to come to the party"
The little boy clinging to his mother's hand as he shyly greeted the people she introduced him to on the other side of the room certainly didn't look like much of an heir, in Walburga's view. Her little cousin was endlessly irksome in his good, quiet nature. Always the last to break a rule and the first to go telling tales to their parents when either his sister or one of his cousins did.
"Mama said she thought it would be useful for him to get used to greeting people at important gatherings" Lucretia lazily fiddled with her bracelet. The pink stones glimmered in the light of the candles on the Christmas tree beside them. "Papa said he was still too young, but Mama won him over in the end. She's good at that, when she wants to"
From their discreet corner of the drawing room, Walburga observed Orion. The little boy, dressed in handsome robes of deep green, stood up poker-straight, with an air of importance which assured all who encountered him that he was aware of the fact that he was someone important.
Melania introduced her son to a man that Walburga vaguely recognised as being some Bulstrode or other. The exactitude with which the seven-year-old boy stuck out his hand in the offer of a handshake was grimacing well-mannered in Walburga's view.
"Your brother's such a sickening little goody-two-shoes" Walburga remarked with a grimace.
"Isn't he just?" Lucretia agreed. "Do you know he's been practicing that handshake all afternoon, since Papa told him he'd best mind his manners tonight?"
Walburga let out a sharp laugh.
"By himself?"
"Yes! It was rather pathetic"
"I can imagine" Walburga let out another laugh at the thought. "What a sad way to spend Christmas Eve"
The sound of her laughter had caught Orion's attention. When Walburga next turned to look across the room, she found a pair of large, round, grey eyes staring directly at her.
Caught off-guard, Walburga immediately looked away, wrinkling her nose in dislike. She busied herself with examining the ornaments on the Christmas tree, pointing out her favourites to Lucretia and sharing their theories on how much each of the beautiful, hand-made baubles might have cost. But once in a while, her gaze wandered, dragged like a magnet back across the room. And each time she looked, there he was. Still clutching his mother's hand, his saucer-like eyes still fixated on her.
When Walburga next found herself checking to see if he was still staring, the little boy lifted his hand and gave her a shy wave.
Walburga felt a surge of irritation rise within her.
Pathetic little weed.
"Come on, Lucy, let's go to the kitchen and see if there's any cakes left" Walburga grabbed her cousin's hand, her fingers pressing the quartz bracelet into the other girl's wrist in her haste, and pulled her through the crowded room towards the door. "I'm still peckish"
As the two girls hurried out of the room, a disappointed look fell across Orion's face.
With her sweet tooth satiated and the initial thrill of the evening over, Walburga quickly found that the rest of the party offered little to look forward to. She and Lucretia were spoken to, occasionally, but for the most part, the adults were far more interested in socialising amongst themselves over the free-flowing champagne than paying attention to the two little girls.
As they drifted through the room, Walburga was constantly aware of one adult whose attention was never far from her. From wherever she might be in the room, despite whoever she might be locked in conversation with, Irma Black's eye was never more than a split second away from finding her daughter in the crowd.
Whenever Walburga happened to catch her mother's hawkish gaze, the sharp warning she'd hissed in her ear earlier that evening replayed in her mind. The warning to behave, or be sent home.
Her cheeks burned at the thought of the humiliation of being marched home early from the party, disgraced for all to see. She was determined not to let it come to pass.
As the evening wore on, the two girls found themselves having wandered back over to their original spot beside the Christmas tree. There they stood, admiring the decorations, until Walburga suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder.
She turned to look - and scowled at the sight of Orion standing beside her.
"What do you want?" she demanded, rounding on her cousin.
"I have to kiss you"
At her little brother's innocent, matter-of-factly tone, Lucretia burst into a fit of giggles and clapped her hands over her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle them.
Walburga, on the other hand, went wide-eyed in outrage.
"I beg your pardon?!" She put on her best, lofty voice - the image of offended womanly honour.
"Look," Orion pointed up to the ceiling above them, where a bough of greenery dotted with white berries bound in a red velvet bow hung from the beam framing the top of the Christmas tree. "There's mistletoe above us. That means I have to kiss you. It's the rules"
Lucretia, having only just recovered from her fit of giggles, burst out laughing anew.
Walburga shot the girl an irritated before turning to glare at Orion once again.
"It's not a rule, idiot" she snapped. "It's a tradition. And traditions don't apply to sad little worms like you"
Orion did not protest, but his face fell into a look of silent disappointment at the refusal.
"Now, go away" Walburga stuck her nose in the air and tossed her plaits. "Go back to your mother. We're busy"
"Mama had to attend to a matter in the kitchen" said Orion. "She said I was to wait over here with you and Lucy until she was finished"
Lucretia, having finally composed herself, sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Fine" she huffed. "But only until Mama comes back. And we don't want to hear a peep out of you in the meantime. Understand?"
She stepped forward and jabbed a threatening finger into her little brother's chest.
Orion, to his credit, was unphased by his elder sister's intimidation. He gave a nod as solemn as if he'd been commanded by their parents instead of a fellow child, so naturally did he take any order to heart.
"Good" Lucretia gave a superior nod and turned away from the younger boy. "Look at this one, Burgie, isn't it lovely?"
Walburga peered up at the bauble Lucretia was pointing to. Of the countless ornaments adorning the tree, many of which had been gifts to the family, this one was her favourite.
It was made of wafer-thin crystal so delicate that it sparkled like ice in the flickering candlelight. Within the bauble, the image of a group of wood nymphs danced around their own miniature Christmas tree on a snowy ground. Could they be real wood nymphs, she wondered, spelled to a tiny size and imprisoned inside the ornament? Surely not, she reasoned. That couldn't be so. They wouldn't be nearly so happy, if that was the case. It must be a decorative spell. But the quality really was so remarkable-
A pair of wet lips suddenly pressed themselves firmly against her cheek. At the same time, a pair of small arms wrapped themselves tight around her neck, pulling their owner up onto his tiptoes so that he was just about tall enough to plant his kiss.
"Eugh!" Walburga shrieked in disgust and wrenched herself out of Orion's grip. "Get off of me, you disgusting little creep!"
Overcome with rage, and with all thought of her mother's warning to behave thrown to the wind, Walburga shoved her little cousin hard in the chest.
The shriek of laughter Lucretia had let out morphed into a gasp of horror as she watched her little brother go hurling backwards from the force of Walburga's shove - and go falling right into the Christmas tree.
Walburga's blood ran cold as she watched Orion fall. The tree gave a threatening rustle as its dense branches were interrupted, the many, delicate baubles clinking loudly against one another as they were shaken by the force of the impact.
Just as the attention of the adults in the room was drawn towards the Christmas tree - which had now begun to sway as Orion attempted to dislodge himself from within its branches - the vast, glittering spruce suddenly toppled forward and crashed to the ground with an ear-splitting sound of shattering glass which silenced all remaining talk throughout the room.
Both Walburga and Lucretia jumped backwards just in time to miss the impact of the tree as it fell towards them. The top of the ten-foot tree, with its gleaming, golden star, landed at their feet with a thud.
The ground was littered with a million fragments of broken glass, crystal and ceramic - the remnants of the tree's many ornaments. The golden star lay at the head of the mess, broken into several pieces. In the chaos, Walburga spotted her favourite ornament. The shattered crystal dome was empty, it's dancing nymphs having disappeared as the enchantment on the bauble was broken with the crystal.
A single moment of stunned silence held the room in its grasp. And then, all at once, it erupted.
"What on earth did you think you were doing?!" Irma shrieked at her daughter as she rushed forward from the crowd and grabbed Walburga tightly by the upper arm and gave her a good shake.
"It wasn't my fault, Mama!" Walburga desperately tried to defend herself.
She pointed at the debris of the tree, from which Melania was anxiously attempting to fish Orion out of. She eventually managed to pull him out from within the branches. The boy looked stunned - startled, but thankfully not injured. Pine needles poked out of his robes at every angle, giving him the resemblance of an extremely perplexed hedgehog.
"It was his fault!" Walburga cried, scowling accusingly at Orion. "He- Ow!"
Irma cut her off with a sharp slap to her wrist.
"I warned you before we left home that if there was any trouble this evening that you would go straight home" she seethed. "And since you've proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that you cannot be trusted to behave in public, you will stay at home until you can prove that you can"
Walburga's mouth fell open in horror.
"But Mama-!"
"Aunt Irma, please" Lucretia spoke up, somewhat timidly. "It truly wasn't Burgie's fault. It was-"
"Be quiet, Lucretia" Melania Black glared down at the girl, though even when angry, the level of stern intimidation she was able to muster still paled in comparison to Irma. With one arm still grasped around her son's arm, she reached out to grab her daughter in the same manner. "I think it's past time that both of you went to bed"
Lucretia's face darkened into a deep glare which she fired at her brother as the pair of them were pulled through the room by their mother, past the crowds of guests watching with a sense of awkwardness, towards the door.
"Thanks a lot, Orion" Lucretia seethed, shooting her brother a furious glare.
At the same time as her cousins were escorted upstairs to bed, Walburga's own mother pulled her away in the direction of the Floo fireplace which would transport her home to their country estate - her prison for the foreseeable future, thanks to Orion.
Walburga stole a fleeting glance behind her, just in time to catch a final glimpse at her cousins before they disappeared from view.
Peeking out from behind his mother's skirts, Orion gave her a shy smile and a goodbye wave.
Walburga's fury burned as brightly as the green flames which surrounded her as the boy disappeared from view.
For such a pathetic little weed, Orion Black really did have such a nerve.