Worth the Wait
Chapter Two: Black
Summary: Walburga Black has never met her soulmate, and Sirius Black wishes he could meet his.
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Walburga Black was born into the world screaming. When her lungs tired out, she continued in her mind. Screaming and raging against everything life threw at her. Sometimes, she felt as if her screaming was a backdrop to her life. Always there. Walburga once wondered if she would ever know peace.
Childhood had not been easy for her. Lessons upon lessons with tutors and nothing but cold negligence from her parents. It is unbecoming of Black to want, she had been told once, when she asked for her mother's company on a particularly lonely day. She didn't dare ask for her father after that. Her brothers were no better. They were crueler, as children often are. They picked on her and tormented her, and yet were never punished because they were sons. Walburga learned many truths quickly when growing up, and one was that to have a son was infinitely worthier than having a daughter.
Sometimes, her only solace was the fact that she had tiny words written on her arm—the mark of her soulmate. She was destined for someone, and someone was destined for her. She wondered when she would meet them. What they'd be like. How they would treat her. If they could quiet her mind at last, make all the screaming and anger stop and go silent so she could finally know what it was like to think of nothing. It was because of these words that she strived to learn her letters as quickly as possible.
You're so quiet sometimes, I wonder if you're lonely, they read. When Walburga first read them, she scoffed. As if she had ever had a moment of peace in her house. Or mind. She was always being told that she talked much more than was acceptable of a lady, and a Black lady at that. Her knuckles were always in a state of flux between being bruised and bloody and healed perfectly so that the world would not know how badly behaved she was. But even when her skin was mended to be unbroken, the pain was always there as a constant reason for the screaming in her head to continue.
As she grew older, she learned how to speak less. She learned about duty, honor, purity and what her future had in store for her. The words on her wrist were only something of a childhood fancy she willingly left behind. The idea of a soulmate seemed absurd, because she knew no other person would offer her solace from her screaming mind.
When her engagement to Orion Black, a cousin, was announced, she accepted it despite the twinge in her heart and the ache in her throat. She would not go against her family. She would be obedient and duty bound, and she would do it well. It didn't matter that she had no feelings any which way toward Orion. And it certainly didn't matter that the words on her wrist would be gray forever.
Orion confessed to her five months into their marriage that he did not love her. Walburga almost laughed at him. Love is not necessary for a Black, she had told him. She reached over to him, and placed her hand on his forearm. Her mind wanted to yell at him. Wanted to yell that she knew of his infidelity and indiscretions, and how dare he. How dare he be so weak as to stray from duty for something as meaningless as desire. Instead, she quietly told him that duty was the only thing that mattered.
When Sirius was born screaming, Walburga physically recoiled from her son with such force that she accidentally broke all the glass in the Manor. Her internal screaming rivaled that of her son and her magic spun out of control.
"Shut him up!" she yelled. Shut him up shut him up shuthim up shuthimup shuthimup! It seemed as though all of her years of hard work controlling herself broke down in an instant with the wailing of the infant. Walburga wanted nothing more than to quietly snuff out his life. No good would come from this screaming child, she knew. She could already feel the monstrous boy tearing her apart.
In the end, the healers took the babe out of the room, unable to soothe his crying, and left her alone with her husband. She felt like screaming still.
"Walburga," Orion spoke, and she turned to look at him with wild eyes, wet with frustration and hatred. "You're so quiet sometimes," he said and she felt her traitorous heart jump to her throat.
No, she thought. Not him, her mind screamed at her. Not. Him.
"I didn't expect this outburst to come out of you. See to it that it doesn't again."
"Leave!" she snarled at him, and she could feel the something else in the house shatter. She could feel everything falling apart. Rage was tight in her throat, ready to scream out. Her hands curled tightly into fists, nails puncturing her skin. She could even taste copper in her mouth. "Get out!" she screamed at him again, unable to stop. "Get out! Get out! Get out!"
Orion left with a look of distaste on his face, and Walburga could feel her throat starting to constrict. Her cheeks were wet, but she refused to acknowledge her tears. She wanted to scream at him more, amidst all the shattered glass from the windows in her room. She wanted to rip him apart. She wanted to rip Sirius apart, reach down into his tiny throat and pull out his vocal cords to silence him. She wanted to yell at him and tell him no good would come from his screaming. No good had come from hers, after all.
Walburga spent the night screaming herself hoarse.
In the morning, she quietly decided that Sirius would not be her legacy. She would not have a screaming child be her mark on the world.
When he woke up the morning after learning about his soulmate, Sirius was slightly saddened to see the colors gone from his skin. The only remnants left from the night before were his—the word 'Hi' and a black smiling face he had traced. He figured his soulmate had washed off the paint before going to bed. He thought about washing the ink off his skin, but decided to leave it. It'd be a nice reminder for his soulmate, he figured.
When Kreacher called him down for breakfast, he instinctively covered his arms with long sleeves. He already knew that his revelation the night before was meant to be a secret, especially from his mother. She wouldn't approve.
It wasn't long into breakfast before his mother scolded him about smiling. Unbecoming of Black to show that much emotion, she had told him. Sirius bit part of his bottom lip and clenched his jaw in response, trying to keep a neutral face. His right hand rubbed over his left forearm, reminding himself that there was at least one person out there that would let him smile. He'd just have to wait. But it wouldn't be forever. He wouldn't end up like his mother, unhappy and always shouting at every little thing.
"And stop fidgeting!"
He sat still, clasping his hands together neatly in his lap. "Sorry, Mother."
Sirius went through the rest of the day being reminded to behave himself. He was restless, the constant urge to check his arm was always at the back of his mind. He struggled to pay attention to his tutor when all he wanted to do was try to communicate more with his soulmate. He marveled at the idea that there was a person somewhere out there that was happy to willingly be his friend. Sirius paused in his writing exercises. Was his soulmate even his friend? How did one even make friends? All of Sirius's friends were his cousins, and—his face scrunched up particularly at the thought of his cousin Bellatrix—they weren't very nice to him.
"Master Black, is there a problem?"
Sirius blinked, looking up at his tutor. A gray, balding old man with sharp, wire frame glasses stood staring back at him. Sometimes, if Sirius squinted with one eye, he could reduce his tutor to nothing more than a giant gray blob of strict rules and no sense of humor at all.
"No," he murmured and resumed his writing. He wondered if his soulmate was subject to early and long lessons like his. Maybe that could be something they could bond over. Sirius made an effort to concentrate on his lessons—after all, he couldn't write to his soulmate if he didn't know how to read or write.
Dinner with his mother couldn't end fast enough for Sirius. He was anxious to go back to his room for the night and lift up his sleeve to see if there was anything new from his soulmate. He wondered what his soulmate's name was too. If not for fear of punishment, he would have raced up the stairs to his bedroom.
Once in the safety of his own room, he pulled up the sleeve of his left arm and immediately smiled at the bright blue "Hello" written neatly above his black "Hi". Moving quickly into his private bathroom, he grabbed a washcloth and began wiping away his previous work.
Walking back into his bedroom with his still wet washcloth in hand, Sirius sat at his desk and carefully took out his quill and ink. Lamenting the fact that he still only had black ink to work with, he dipped his quill and carefully wrote "Hello soulmate" beneath the blue word on his wrist.
Sirius frowned when there wasn't an immediate response, but he decided he could wait. He put his quill down and lay both his arms flat on the desk. He hoped his soulmate responded soon. Sirius didn't care much for waiting and didn't have the best patience. Probably something he got from his mother, he thought with a frown. He started kicking his legs, able to move freely without his mother or a tutor or even Kreacher to yell at him to be still and proper.
"Come on, soulmate," he said, poking at empty flesh beneath his writing, willing more ink to appear on his arm.
It was a few more minutes before another smiling face appeared below his writing, this time in orange, and Sirius smiled. He wondered what life was like with so much color, and his heart ached at the thought that someday his soulmate might be the one to show him. With the same orange color, writing began to appear on his skin beneath the smiling face. It was in a shaky handwriting, definitely worse than Sirius's own (obviously no early and long lessons for his soulmate then), but also distinctly different from the handwriting on his wrist in bright blue.
Sirius frowned. Did his soulmate not write the first hello? He picked up his quill, intent on writing a question to his soulmate but paused when it looked like there was more orange ink coming. There was an orange circle, with a vertical line extending below it, ending in an upside down V. Two more lines were added before Sirius realized that his soulmate drew a person, though admittedly very crudely. Two orange eyes were added to the face, and another smile. Hair was added to the top, and Sirius couldn't help but smile. He waited for more, tiny legs kicking back and forth in the air in contentment instead of impatience.
Before too long, more writing appeared on his arm, this time in pink, and the handwriting matched the bright blue at the top. Sirius blinked, waiting curiously for it to finish.
"R hasn't learned English yet," Sirius read aloud. His eyes lit up. R! The beginning of a name! Sirius paused in his excitement, pouting at his arm. His soulmate couldn't read yet? That was a bit disappointing. How was he supposed to communicate without words?
Tiny orange hearts and stars started appearing around the words and stick human figure on his arm, and Sirius had an idea strike him. Grabbing his washcloth, he gently wiped away his two words to make more room. Picking up his quill, he drew tiny dots in the space and connected them with lines in the pattern of Canis Major. He noticed that his soulmate had paused while he started drawing, and he wondered if his soulmate was staring intently at their arm, waiting for him to finish.
Sirius debated on whether or not to circle his star. He didn't know his soulmate's name yet. Just the first letter. He figured his own name could wait for another night. After all, he had plenty of time to get to know his soulmate. There was no rush.
He watched as his soulmate traced out Canis Major in orange, drawing tiny stars in the place of his dots. "I wish you were here," he whispered to his arm, feeling the first tendrils of sleep invading his consciousness.