II. Blood
June 1985
The distant buzzing sounds of the early afternoon wafted through the open window, along with a warm breeze that made the drapes sway gently.
Sunlight danced across the room, shining on the vanity's large mirror, glinting of the bottles of all sizes lined on the bedside table and caressing the gaunt face of the woman lying in bed.
Walburga Black had taken from her mother's side – she knew she would not age gracefully, unlike Lucretia. The years had etched lines of anger and pain on her face, then the illness had proceeded to carve them even deeper and gray her hair.
Regulus' old drawings rustled as she slowly went through them – colorful relics of a time long passed.
Even while her eyes watched them, carefully studying every line of crayon, her mind wandered.
She thought of Orion, her husband – they had not married out of love, not as her romantic schoolmates intended it, but it had been a good match, a good marriage. As long as the two of them were concerned, anyway.
It still hurt to think about him, for now she always remembered him not as the proud, handsome youth she had married, but as the broken, weary man in his last year. She saw him sitting on Regulus' bed, in Regulus' devastatingly empty room, with this very folder on his knees.
Oh, yes, Regulus had always been his father's favorite, whether he knew this or not.
Unconsciously, Walburga caressed the letters scribbled on the lower corner of the drawing.
As far she was concerned, it had been grief that had killed him, grief over the loss of his favorite son.
Ah, Regulus… what a slap it had been when they had found out he had become a Death Eater! She had never screamed so much, not even with Sirius – and poor Orion, it had been a miracle his heart had not failed him right there and then.
Staring at the drawings without seeing them, Walbruga smiled bitterly.
As the saying went, the wheel had come full circle – Merlin, if it had!
It was ironic, really – she wondered if Sirius had ever appreciated the irony, before the Dementors destroyed his mind.
Black blood made you untouchable – once.
Not anymore. Now it was ruined, all ruined…forever.
Thrown in Azkaban without a trial – it was the law, yes, but she had to wonder if being a Black, a member of a notoriously purity-concerned family, had not had some influence over that.
She would not believe he was guilty – it was simply impossible.
Sirius was so stubborn, so Muggle-loving… He would have never joined We-all-know-who, not even to spite them.
He probably thought it would have made them proud.
As Regulus had thought… poor foolish Regulus.
Walburga knew her father-in-law had been fishing around the Ministry pool to find out whether there was a chance to have him released, but, after Bellatrix's arrest, it was all in vain.
The name of their family was tainted forever.
And all because of that scum Riddle!
Not to mention dear Bellatrix – she was extremely lucky Walburga could not leave her bed, otherwise she would have found herself blasted off the tapestry in the parlor as well.
She had long wondered how the poison had entered their family… Just remembering how she had acted after Regulus' disappearance made her blood boil.
Walburga closed the folder with her son's drawings and placed it on her bedside table, then waved her wand: across the room, a lap desk rose from its shelf and floated shakily to her.
Even her magic had begun to wane.
Walburga opened the lid and laid out quills, parchment and ink according to their proper place.
Her sharp handwriting cut the whiteness of the paper without hesitations.
My honored father-in-law,
As you know, my conditions are worsening steadily and it is doubtful I will live to the end of summer: with this letter, I intend to settle all my business once and for all.
These last months allowed me to reflect on many things. As much as I opposed your idea of reinserting my wayward son as your heir before, now I give you my consent and my complete approval.
If only for the memory of my dearest husband that binds us, dear uncle Arcturus, I will not allow this house to fall into the hands of those spineless fruits of my brother's body, whatever the Fates might throw at us.
There is not much I can do anymore, but all the advantages I can deny to those who ruined our House, I shall.
My mind would receive much comfort if you would provide all the necessary arrangements immediately. Should there be anything to sign, I will not balk.
Write me back soon and keep me informed on your progressions.
Your ever-loyal daughter-in-law,
Walburga Black
Once finished, she folded the parchment and slipped it into an envelope, sealing it with her own signet ring.
"Kreacher!" she called as she placed her writing instruments back into the desk.
With a soft crack, the elderly House-Elf appeared and bowed to the ground. "Mistress Black…"
Walburga held out the letter. "Bring it to Master Arcturus Black, immediately."
Clutching the letter in his bony fingers, Kreacher bowed again and Disapparated.
Walburga leaned back on her pillows, exhausted, and turned to face the open window in search of some fresh air.
As usual, this piece was inspired by one of the Red Hen's essays. Regulus' drawings and the part they played is completely my idea - I also added my personal answer to whether Orion Black died before or after his son.
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