All known characters and places belong to the one and only JK Rowling. I would love to know what everyone thinks of this fanfic. Is it any good? Should I continue it? Anything you would specifically like to see happen? I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 3

It wasn't ever cleared with Walburga. Nobody asked her opinion, and nobody told her why. There wasn't ever a day where everyone sat down together to talk, at least not a discussion that included the four year old. While in all reality, it was perfectly reasonable for the adults to make plans and just bring Walburga along, she didn't see it as such. She just got sat down one day and informed by Pollux that the family of three would be leaving Black Manor in two weeks and moving to the newly purchased Black Residence.

Her father gave no explanation, and though any explanation that he theoretically could have given would have been completely over her head (Pollux was never one to simplify things down, even when speaking to his daughter) and any "opinion" of hers that she could have voiced would have been a simple, childish 'but I don't want to', Walburga still felt completely unjustified. But she knew better than to press Pollux for more information, and she knew better than to start whining to him. So instead she held her tongue, found her mother, and promptly began sulking to Irma.

"You said this is our family."

"Yes, they are, dear. But it's time for us to leave and have our own house, just like your grandfather and grandmother have their house with their children."

Walburga wrinkled her nose in confusion. "But Father is Grandfather Cygnus and Grandmother Violetta's child, isn't he?"

"Well, yes, he is," Irma acknowledged. "But your father is all grown up. And when children grow up, their parents have to let them go, so they can move into their own house and have their own family."

"But we lived with Grandmother Alarice."

"That was different," said Irma shortly. "Now go to your room." Walburga nodded, and Irma watched her daughter's small form retreat, open the door, quietly slip out, black hair flowing behind her, and when Walburga shut it behind her soundlessly, Irma finally let out a sigh. Walburga didn't understand just how young her mother was. She didn't understand that Mother hadn't been grown up when they had stayed with Grandmother Alarice.

Irma rubbed her stomach, tears welling in her eyes. Tears that she told herself constantly were unfitting of a Crabbe, unfitting of a Black, but they still came, and fell, time and time again. She had only been fifteen when she had Walburga, and now she was nineteen. Still young. So, so young. She had been hoping that nothing would happen while they stayed at Black Manor, but years of being locked up in a house with her mother and infant daughter had been hard. Same way that those last years of school, trying to play the part of a perfect Pureblood Heir and prove to everyone that he was worthy had been hard on Pollux.

They had both changed in the last four years. Yes, they had briefly seen each other during breaks, but it was only for a day each time, and it wasn't as much 'see each other' as it was 'be in the same room with a lot of other people.' When they really first truly saw each other, for the first time in four years, it had been quite a shock. Pollux was no longer the laughing, flirtatious charmer, and Irma was no longer the sweet and carefree schoolgirl. They had both grown up, and their new adult selves had a lot harder time coexisting than their teenage selves ever had.

Still, between the pressure that Pollux still felt from his family (now only intensified that Irma and Walburga were at Black Manor; he felt as if everyone was scrutinizing them) and the unease and unhappiness that Irma had felt ever since leaving Crabbe Manor and coming to live with her in-laws, the two always found their way back to each other. 'Old habits die hard', thought Irma bitterly.

It always followed one of their evening arguments, which could range from a biting, cold silence to a heated fight with sharp words. The ensuing night spent together was by no means loving or caring; no, it released pent up frustration, forcing it on to the other person, because both of them blamed the other for their pain, and wanted them to see it, to hear it, to feel it. In the morning, however, they still argued, because it was never enough, never could be, even if it had felt so the night before as they both drifted off to sleep, exhausted.

And so they fought, leaving them feeling drained by the end, even though it was still morning. More often than not, those mornings were the cause of Irma's tears.

Yet the vicious cycle kept repeating itself. Though mentally, they had aged what felt like decades in the past four years, their bodies were in their prime and there was no denying the differences they each noted in the other that were so much more appealing and perfect than their teenage bodies had been. Sometimes, it was those encounters with Pollux that reminded Irma that she was still a functioning human. Other times, she wasn't even sure if that was a good thing.

'Still functioning,' Irma thought to herself as she kept rubbing her stomach. She didn't even know what to think. When she had told Pollux, she had hoped that he would say something, that he would think for her. Instead, he had looked at her with a seeming aloofness that just screamed "Black", and in that moment Irma had hated him, hated his family, hated their daughter, and hated their unborn child. Later, she only hated herself.

...

The last two weeks at Black Manor went by very quickly for everyone. Walburga could sense that things were even more strained between her parents, but she attributed it to the impending move. She has noticed early on that when things were about to change, the adults around her got extremely agitated. They were more likely to argue with each other, and less likely to spend time with Walburga and actually pay attention to her. In all honesty, she really did not mind leaving Grandmother Violetta, Aunt Cassiopeia, and Aunt Dorea.

The person that she would miss was Grandfather Cygnus. Unlike the others, he seemed to pay the young girl even more attention during the weeks leading up to Pollux, Irma and Walburga's departure. Though "attention" did not mean "entertainment", at least when it came to her grandfather, even from a young age Walburga had found his lectures interesting.

Cygnus would rant on and on about Toujours Pur, Mudbloods, the Ministry and society as a whole. When he spoke, his voice would rise and fall passionately, and his dark eyes got a glow that was as entrancing as it was eery. While Walburga was too young to understand what he was really talking about, she found herself captivated by his mere presence. As she got older, it was the meaning behind the words that enthralled her.

Walburga found herself wishing that it was Grandfather Cygnus coming with them instead of Father. She still did not quite know what to make of the man, but being shut in a house with only him (other than her mother of course) did not sound appealing at all.

Even as a young four year old, she found herself able to just listen to Cygnus for hours on end, even though overall she wasn't a very subdued child. Attentive, yes, and able to discern things from a surprisingly young age, but never calm. Her temper was quick to flair, though she did have enough sense to know when to stop. When it came down to basic things -'Walburga, do try to be quieter,' 'Walburga, it's time to get yourself cleaned up for dinner,' 'Walburga, go in your room and entertain yourself'- she pouted all she wanted, but when the adults got the look, she knew to back down. The look Pollux had worn when he told her that they would leave Black Manor, and the look Irma had had when Walburga had been pestering her about why they were leaving Pollux's parents while they had lived with Alarice for years.

...

The entire family went to see Aunt Cassiopeia off at the train station, one day before Pollux would take his small family to Black Residence. It was the start of Cassiopeia's fifth year at Hogwarts, and she was terribly proud of the badge that had come in the mail a few weeks prior. Now, it gleaned proudly on her chest, a shimmering green with a silver snake and a word that Walburga could not read. Truly, she did not understand the huge fuss about the tiny little thing, but everyone, especially Grandmother Violetta, had seemed awfully pleased.

There was, however, a solemn undertone to the mood of the family that morning. It wasn't ever said out loud, but everyone knew that Marius should have been getting on that train for the first time with his sister. Walburga was the only one that didn't think of this. True, she still thought of the Family Tree incident quite often -seeing the black burn on the tapestry in the parlor nearly every day tended to bring back the memories- but she still could not put two and two together to understand that his lack of magic, which was the reason he could not attend Hogwarts, was the reason that he was disowned. Instead, Walburga found herself mesmerized by Platform 9 3/4; all those people bustling about, children laughing, owls hooting, the whistle of the scarlet steam engine...

She turned to Irma all of a sudden. "I want to go."

Her mother laughed gently, and told her that her time would come and that she simply needed to have patience. However, as they watched the train chug away, Cassiopeia on board, Irma also had a wistful look on her face.

It was once the train was gone that a tall man with white-blond hair approached Cygnus. The two clasped hands and began speaking in hushed tones. Walburga couldn't make out what was being said, but she saw her grandfather's face cloud over when the other man said something.

"I have one son," Cygnus said sharply so that everyone could hear, and he gestured to Pollux. The man with white-blond hair glanced over at Pollux, a small smirk playing on his lips. Pollux met his eyes with a cold, calculating glare.

"And I suppose that that is your granddaughter," the man said, breaking eye contact with Pollux and glancing down at Walburga, who tried to imitate her father and did her best not to waver under his stare.

Cygnus gave a short nod. "Yes, that is Walburga. And this is my daughter-in-law, Irma Black," he said, making a point to introduce the young woman as one of his family.

"Of course," the man said, though the sneer was wasn't entirely gone. He glanced at Irma quickly, then back down at Walburga for a few seconds before finally looking away. Walburga let out a silent sigh; she had been getting highly uncomfortable and just wanted the man with the white-blond hair to go away.

However, instead of showing any intentions of leaving, he beckoned to a woman and a little boy, who were standing a bit to the side. "I do not believe that you have met my youngest," he said as the two approached. "This is Abraxas Malfoy. I do believe that Walburga and him will be in the same year at Hogwarts."

Now that the boy, apparently called Abraxas, was standing right in front of her next to his father, Walburga got her first real good look at him. He had the same white-blond hair as his father, and even the way he held himself resembled the man, though it really looked quite ridiculous on the small boy- puffed out chest, head held high and even the sneer; Walburga couldn't help but quietly snicker.

None of the adults noticed; Violetta, Irma and Abraxas' mother were having a light, polite chat while Dorea stood off to the side, and the three men were also conversing, though their exchange appeared a lot more tense. All of that was going on more than two feet above Walburga's head; the only other person at her level, and therefore the only other person that saw, was Abraxas himself.

The scowl that formed on his face told her that he did not appreciate being mocked, but Walburga found that she did not care. She had already decided that she did not like his father, and was quickly coming to the conclusion that she did not like Abraxas very much either. It would appear that she simply did not like the Malfoys.

...

It was two months after moving into Black Residence that Walburga's life was flipped upside down with a shocking bit of news. She had been getting used to her new home; it was not as big as Black Manor, or Crabbe Manor either, but it was fine enough with a beautiful yard to play in.

Truthfully, her least favorite part of the day was meals. During the day, Pollux would shut himself up in his study, and Irma would be with Walburga, unless she was too agitated to spend time with her daughter (either because of frustrations caused by Walburga herself or a fight with her husband) and she shut herself up in her room, leaving Walburga to her own devices for the day.

The House Elf, Lossy, was simply too old to keep up with the energetic girl (though not for the lack of trying) at the times when "Mistress Irma" was "taking a break", as the Elf always explained to Walburga in its croaky voice, right before the girl ran off and poor Lossy was left desperately trying to find her "Young Mistress".

At meal times, however, the entire family came inside or out of whatever room they had locked themselves in. It was horribly awkward and silent, with just the three of them, and Walburga hated it.

But she hated it even more when she found out that soon, there wouldn't be three of them around the table anymore. There would be four.