Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
AN: Thank you for your reviews! It's fun knowing I'll be able to weave details back and forth between this fic and Foreshadowing Demise. I also kind of like the idea of giving Orion one more POV chap after this. (So we get three from her and three from him establishing them and then they'll start swapping within a chapter.) Now, I really need to work on homework before I fall behind XD
Chapter 5: What Really Troubles You
Several days following what he dubbed "First Marriage Proposal Blunder," Orion was up much earlier than was his wont. He'd been having trouble sleeping since the fallout.
And she wasn't seeing him. He'd tried visiting Black Manor multiple times and was told she "wasn't in" by various house elves.
And once by her father, who told him with cheerful malice, that she was "out" indefinitely.
So he was surprised to find her typing in his office.
She looked up, "Casual Friday?"
He blushed and pulled his house robe closed over his boxers.
"I...didn't expect you…"
"Well I am still employed, aren't I?"
"Of course."
He got dressed, did some filing and reviewing of requests, and tried to make a peace offering by taking her out to an elegant lunch at La Saveur followed by a stroll through Diagon Alley, followed by a stop by Gringotts for him to monitor his accounts, and then a hat boutique.
All the hats were the same to him, but he'd have bought the store out if it would've made her smile.
She was sad.
And while she made a good show of pleasant reserve, the ends of her lips kept pulling her sweet mouth down.
They stopped at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and she poked her spoon at her confection.
"Tell me what I must do for amends and it will be done."
He was almost begging. Almost.
"It's just...difficult...Orrie."
God, he hated that nickname but if he was going to build bridges, some knocks had to be taken.
She heaved a sigh. "Either...no one has any faith in my competency or they completely doubt in my ability to choose what's best for myself. Not very flattering options, you understand?"
"I know you're a gifted duelist. I just don't understand your need to prove it. Is it not enough to know for yourself?"
And surely some manner of anonymity would serve her better if, God forbid, she ever was attacked.
"I may as well ask you why you needed to be on the quidditch team. If you knew you were skilled, why was that not enough?" she echoed back at him.
"You only came to one game," he remembered bitterly.
It had been his last chance of impressing her before she graduated beyond his sphere. He'd wanted to be part of something vigorous, since dueling wasn't his strongest suit and he had to find a way to show up Malfoy, who couldn't play anymore following an injury and his mother's forbidding him to participate anymore.
And that was a match where they didn't even win.
She frowned, "But did I interfere with your passions? Have I ever?"
"You make your disapproval known." She didn't need words.
"But do I barr you from them?"
"...no." For better or worse, and he couldn't help but think of several nights of poorly chosen birds and cheap booze where interference might have proved helpful. No, she was very hands off. Most of their problems stemmed from that.
He very much wanted her hands...on...him...
"-want to see how far I can go. For me. Why is that not enough?"
"Because I'm madly in love with you and want you safe beside me." Now, why did that sound familiar?
"Oh yes, whisk me away to some far tower," she smirked and gleefully quoted, "And ravish me with your passions."
Blast that stupid book. It was still heavy on his mind.
But it did give her a strong case of giggles and he found himself smiling along with her.
Smiling…because...
It hurt too much to laugh.
It was frustrating.
Very frustrating.
To be in his bedroom with the woman he loved. At an hour where no one would disturb them and have her be...completely…and unforgivably…
Oblivious.
"Come on, c'mon," she shook him by the shoulder and in a hushed voice said, "I want to see Avery's duel."
Because hearing your beloved say she wanted to watch some other man was precisely what he wanted to hear, first thing in the morning.
No thank you.
"I know no one else will go with me. They think it will only encourage me."
They...were right.
He pushed down his covers a bit to give the impression he had nothing on to try and shock her. The truth was, it was still rather warm for his tastes despite being the beginning of October, and he'd simply gone to bed in his boxers.
But if he could just win some blush from her...he'd know if there was some spark of feeling he could fan.
She didn't react.
She often seemed to not appreciate the physique he put such effort into. All the weights and circuits he ran that made other witches swoon...and with her...nothing.
He always gave her every opportunity to express some interest in his physical form, sometimes outright fished for compliments, but it was always the standard "You look very handsome" or "quite smart" or the dreaded "dapper"...which was what his Grandma Hesper had said about him often before she passed on.
"Orrie, pleeeease! Let's see Avery. I wanna know if he still trips when he gets anxious."
"Too early," he made an exaggerated turn onto his side, not realizing she wasn't leaning over the bed as he'd assumed but was actually on it. His movement sent her tumbling on top of him.
Worse, when he moved back over to try and help, she moved to try and disengage and their noses brushed.
She laughed and sat back.
And maybe if that was all that resulted, he could've laughed too.
But they were now in a very suggestive position and thought was swiftly fleeing him as lust settled in.
"Walburga?"
She shifted. "Hmm?"
The woman was going to kill him.
"Oh, sorry," she climbed off apologetically. "I know I'm heavy."
"No," he murmured hoarsely. "Not that."
She snickered. "Well then, here, let me fall on you again."
Cruel woman.
"C'mon, then. Accompany me. You're wide awake now."
Oh, he certainly was.
He kept an arm around her as the crowd besieged them so they wouldn't be separated.
Her face was composed but the hand gripping his was white-knuckled and he knew she was uncomfortable. Her hem kept getting trampled and she kept pressing closer to him the more the crowd responded with barbaric joy to particularly brutal duels.
She was petite and it was hard to say who was more aware and concerned. She looked around like a parakeet unused to being beyond its protective cage and rightfully nervous that there was a cat in the room.
He didn't want to see anyone knock into her. He'd had a terrible fright last year when some careless muggle shouldered her off the pavement and into traffic. Yes, she'd disapperated before any harm could be done but...
He rubbed his thumb across her soft knuckles.
She looked up at him and her nose wrinkled as she complained at the noise.
He nodded and offered to take her away.
Her mouth puckered like she'd taken a sour treat but she didn't complain again—aware that there'd be an "I-told-you-so" attached if they retreated, considering she'd dragged him from his comfortable bed for this.
Still, there was something about watching her...watching Avery's duel.
Her silver eyes would flash and she'd make minute movements (not quite twitches) as she became invested, sometimes whispering, "Move your feet. Move your feet," with such concern he almost felt jealous of it. At least until, "Avery, c'mon. You cretin, I trained you up better than that." And it was clear no romance colored her feeling and it was more her pride as a former captain of their duelist team than any real affection for the man.
He sighed and leaned down to rest his head atop of hers, careful to avoid the feather of her hat.
She reached a hand up to angle his head so she could ask and be heard: "Tired?"
And there was something wonderfully intimate in that moment as skin brushed skin in multiple places.
He nodded against her and to his surprise, Avery was just taking a triumphant bow to the crowd when Walburga tugged the lapel of his coat (in a surprisingly childish move for her) and asked to leave.
"You don't want to congratulate him?"
Walburga raised an eyebrow and then shook her head.
When they moved beyond the crowd, she explained, "Competition. I knew he had a good backlash jinx. You saw. I remembered he was good, back in the day. He's dangerous with it now. But his footwork is sloppy. He was lazy then too. That's how I'll win."
And there was something in her certainty that he found endearing.
She collected a few pamphlets and a newspapers from stands and put them in her purse saying they were for her memory box.
They talked a bit about some clients and work waiting at the office.
And then she requested they go to a small cafe that he liked and was surprised that she remembered that he liked, let alone consented, because it was too rustic for her tastes. But he and his family had come here quite a bit growing up, and it remained of sentimental value to him.
He waited for her to complain about the ambiance or menu selection.
"Orion?"
He already knew what he was ordering and waited to be asked. Just to have her go, really? That? Are you certain?
"Orion?"
He bobbed his head, waiting for it all to begin.
"Orion?" she insisted more shrilly.
He made eye contact and tried not to be annoyed; he knew he was just getting hungry, they'd skipped out without having any kind of proper breakfast.
"Thank you...for coming with me."
He blinked. She wasn't a woman who oozed gratitude or compliments.
And a blush was suffusing her pale skin.
"I'm ever at your service," he smiled gently, meaning every word.
She normally gave a prompt nod and would hasten to forget the moment occurred, so it was a surprise when she gave him a long look instead...and for a moment something vulnerable shuttered through her eyes and she seemed to instinctively know it, because she looked down to hide it.
He immediately set his hand over hers. "What is it, darling?"
Her head jerked up, startled, and their eyes met. "W-what did you...you just-"
He gave an easy smile and held her hand, stroking her fingers. "You said I was welcome to pick out a pet name for you and warned that your name doesn't lend itself to such ventures."
"Y-you can't choose that!" she argued indignantly as she went very pink.
"O, but I can. And it's my favorite now. You even answered to it!"
She went red and tugged her hand away as the server strode over to attend them.
Orion frowned as Walburga poured him a cup of tea while he reviewed reports at his desk.
She shook her head fondly, "You're getting yourself all worked up over nothing, Orion, dear."
He flushed and looked up.
She grinned a bit snidely, "See? It trips one up, doesn't it?"
He smirked back, "Not at all...my darling."
She blushed and set down the teapot and fetched the letter that had him vexed. "I think Abraxas has a fair point and a good plan."
"Of course you do," he growled and she looked at him in surprise.
He tried to lighten his expression for her sake, but couldn't say whether he succeeded.
She put a hand on her hip. "There's so many duelists and...even if I make it all the way up to the Grand Royale. I'll only fight maybe seven more times? The space between matches is terribly far. One can lose their edge so easily without consistent practice. And I know full well I'm rusty."
He took a sip to keep from arguing, that it was the perfect reason to withdraw. To take a year off, consider the next year, get married instead, forget about it altogether...
"He suggests we practice like old times. Gather equipment and supplies. Anyone from Slytherin House who's participating in the event are welcome to join."
Oh yes, one unmarried, wealthy, beautiful, aristocratic woman amidst a horde of men. Whatever could go wrong?
Time for another sip. "..."
"And it's good exercise. For mind and body. Gets one thinking, gets the blood moving, and increases the breath, strengthens the heart and ligaments and, well, everything, I suppose. And I think...it has a...a very...good effect on one's health and joy. There's something about the rigor of it. When I've fought with all my might and my lungs burn and my chest heaves and I feel the ache of exertion...and find victory despite the challenge...Oh, it's just so pleasing."
"I can offer an alternative that does all of those things and is more pleasurable. Hundredfold. No! Thousandfold. And can be accomplished from the sanctity of one's own lodgings and-"
She scowled. "Don't be lewd, Orion. I know it's difficult for you. But try, for me."
Another sip was necessary.
Still, he indulged her later that afternoon by taking her by that horrid duelist shop in Knockturn Alley.
The house elf, Jelly, refilled his goblet with wine.
Orion was pleased that his parents had made an effort to prove there was no lasting coldness because of their differences in opinion.
It was becoming more apparent that it might take more support than once thought for Orion to secure the match of his choice.
He'd told his parents repeatedly that she just didn't notice his attentions.
His mother still had doubts.
But it seemed like his father was sympathetic.
It was better than Lucretia who seemed amused by it all and took every opportunity to tease him mercilessly. "Don't worry Rye, big sister will help you get yourself married."
And the fact that he was so desperate...he just had to take it.
Walburga had limited her contact almost to the point of incivility, coming only to meet with Orion for work or pleasure and only greeting other family she came across in a perfunctory manner.
So they'd fashioned a formal invitation for her to come and dine with them that night and abruptly assured that it was only great love of her that made them confront her...which made his normally loud, demanding, vivacious Walburga...very quiet.
Which alarmed them all.
It took Lucretia to lure her back out of her shell with safe topics about fashion and food and a new dress shop she'd seen advertised in a magazine.
She then moved in a new direction.
"So," Lucretia pressed while her husband busied himself with his steak. "Walburga? Do you really expect me to believe that glory is all you're after?"
His darling frowned at the impertinence, "I see no need to be condescending."
Lucretia waved a dismissive hand, "I only mean to say...were there no wizards there?"
Orion and his parents stared at her boldness. She was trying to flush out if Orion had any competition.
He wasn't sure what he wanted to hear.
"I...I...well, yes, of course. I think...I mean, I fought one. Obviously."
"Nonono, you misunderstand."
"You asked if-"
"I won't believe that there was no handsome warlock in the whole tent?"
Walburga's jaw dropped in that way that only happened when a particularly well timed stupefy hit her. And he'd only ever seen it happen three times.
"I...what now?"
"O come now, cousin, don't be shy. Any foreigners? Or maybe highlanders from the north?"
"I…"
The family waited.
Walburga blinked at her plate, cheeks pinking, "You know I…" She turned red and sounded flustered as she admitted, "I didn't really look. That horrid official kept badgering me about the rules and the dress code and I didn't-"
"Now, that's a crime," Lucretia tutted.
Orion frowned, wait now. Whose side was she on?
"I mean, you must've looked around at least a little. Were there any Italians? Greeks? Were they all old? Balding?"
Ignatius gave her a hard look and she squeezed his hand.
Orion guessed her design.
If they were hideous, he'd be the more handsome.
Clever.
It was rather clever.
"I mean, you plan to marry at some point, right? Got to keep your eyes open, love. Learn your preferences. Blondes? Brunets?"
God, woman...say brunets...
"Yes, I suppose...but," Walburga started to nod and then stopped, "I'm not sure...if marriage is...in my future."
Orion felt cold.
Lucretia faltered and looked to her mother for assistance.
Melania smiled, "I think every woman wonders that. Different paths they might take. In my girlhood I was a very accomplished pianist and wonder what concerts I could've been a part of."
Arcturus flinched and coughed a bit on his drink.
"I still play, at home, and at parties, and such."
Arcturus sighed.
"Truthfully, all I need do is tell my husband that I desire to play, and he'll sometimes interrupt a musician right during the bridge so that I can play immediately." Melania's mouth twitched a bit in amusement.
Arcturus went red.
His wife smiled, "So, I know precisely how you feel. And while marriage brings many new responsibilities, yes, you don't lose your old joys...you just...gain new ones. I think you'd enjoy married life, Walburga. With the right partner, of course."
She looked over at her son and Orion felt a warm rush of gratitude for his mother.
Walburga didn't notice and fiddled with the arrangement of her silverware. "Sometimes I think so too. Sometimes I think of how romantic a duty like that would be…to have someone pledged to you until their death. If they meant it, you know?"
Orion perked up. So "romantic" was a part of her vocabulary after all and in her thoughts too. Good to know. And marriage was romantic. Bit by bit, they would get there.
"But lately...I don't know. I'm not...adverse by any means but...sometimes I...don't know if I'm...meant to…"
He shuddered.
"Why? You'd be a wonderful wife," Melania assured.
Walburga colored at the blunt compliment and muttered, "I look at other wives and don't see much resemblance between them and myself."
He frowned. Because...until now he'd thought it was more on him than her. That whatever reluctance she felt was all his fault...from his side of their relationship. And all the stupid things he'd done over the years.
But that sounded like that came from somewhere deep. And though it was said neutrally enough, it savored like pain.
Perhaps, she wasn't the typical lady fair but could Orion have counted on any of the soft speaking, sensuous, giggly girls of his acquaintance to have held him together as she did at the Knotts' ball?
"Explain what you mean," Melania requested.
She looked very reluctant.
"...Abraxas...my brothers too...used to say I was doomed to be a nag and I...quite agree."
"Good wives give their husbands counsel, even when he wishes least to hear it," Arcturus stated with a fond look at his wife and a schooling look to Orion.
"...yes...I know...just teasing me...but...I suppose I'm leading you astray from what...that's not what really…what really..."
"Then what really troubles you, dear?" Melania asked kindly.
"...there's Father to think of…"
Orion and his parents shared looks of intrigue and suspicion.
Melania continued, "Why? Would he not desire a strong son-in-law to love you, and support you, and provide for you and your children, and keep tender company for the rest of your liv-"
It started low and for a moment they feared she was sobbing, until she threw her head back and cackled. Like that was the best joke she'd ever heard in her life.
So then, it didn't sound like Pollux was too receptive of the idea. Orion's father had warned him that might be the case.
That Walburga had no offers of marriage for her hand was downright bizarre. It might well have been that Pollux was a brutal gatekeeper and didn't pass on any offers to Walburga. That she never knew she had any at all.
And he was getting the feeling that the silence had hurt her.
He frowned into his goblet. Well, Pollux would have to get used to this suitor. Because if Walburga would have him, Orion wasn't certain he needed anyone else's permission.
Orion was sure to spew. He knew from the letter in his hand who Walburga was to face and by chance spotted the button pinned to the man's belt as he moved through the crowd.
He was a titan; broad and brutal with great scars that interrupted how his beard grew.
Orion knew he'd gotten caught up in the past few weeks of normalcy and that's what was making all else worse. Her returning to his house for meals and work, made her receiving a note outlining the time and date of her next bout, unbearable.
He was in a panicked spiral.
Walburga's step was light and she seemed to bounce with excitement.
Orion and Cygnus accompanied her over to the duelists' tent.
She was the one dueling yet his palms were sweating.
"Orion? If it makes you so uncomfortable, you need not stay. I understand, truly." She was lacing up her arm guards.
"I won't abandon you."
She smiled, told him that was very sweet, surprised him by giving his cheek a soft platonic peck, and passed the gate where he couldn't catch her up for a real kiss.
Cygnus rolled his eyes.
Still, he managed not to comment until they were back in the crowd seeking a spot to watch and support her from.
"I can't believe I never realized how lovesick you were," Cygnus muttered. "I always assumed you were melodramatic and that's why we were heard such pretty talk from you all the time."
Orion frowned at him.
"Of all the women you've romanced and the ones you could still have yet...why Walburga?"
Orion glared.
"She orders you around, she talks down at you, she speaks harshly, I mean...yes, she treats you better than us. But that's because you indulge her. And I always wondered why you did." Realization came over him. "How long have you liked her?"
He colored.
Cygnus' eyebrows raised. "Good God, the longest courtship I've ever seen. It'll be a record of our household. You've been at work since childhood, and yet I start far later with my lady and I'm the one with three children soon to be."
"Don't...boast," he growled.
Cygnus took a step back. "Of course, of course, you're after Walburga so...if it was a judged event, they'd factor the difficulty in for your score."
If Cygnus' company wasn't enough to make him miserable, he spotted Abraxas Malfoy in the crowd.
Worse, the blond made his way over.
"Young Cygnus, Young Orion," Malfoy greeted with that sneering smirk that always pulled half his mouth up higher than the other.
Like he was still four and tagging after him and Walburga.
His teeth gritted.
"Orion Black!" his name was called.
Orion moved forward from the line of first-years and wiped his palms on his robes and looked out into the Great Hall. His sister waved and smiled from the Slytherin table.
He grinned back.
Walburga was seated beside her but to her left was Malfoy...and he kept leaning in to whisper in her ear. Whatever he was saying made her laugh and her attention was torn between them.
This was supposed to be his moment.
He stared imperiously in their direction as he sat down on the three-legged stool and awaited his sorting.
They brought over the hat but he was hardly paying attention.
Lucretia had said there was a giant squid in the lake and he promptly began fantasizing about feeding Malfoy to it.
"Slytherin!" the hat declared confidently.
Orion smiled and held out his hand for a handshake, "Abraxas Malfoy, too long."
"I know, I know. Walburga keeps me up to date about you though," as he grasped Orion's hand back.
For his part, Orion had to compliment Malfoy's composure.
While several muscles ticked in his jaw, he did not cry out as Orion crushed his wand hand in a bone-breaking grip.
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