Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...alas.
AN: Thank you for your reviews! And here's another new chapter! Because I'm still on a roll...somehow... Don't know what it is. Just feeling it with this one right now. Prisoner of the plot bunnies over here. Hope you enjoy! Now onward!
Chapter 6: He Really Hated When She Did That
Orion alternated between looking up at the match and back down at his shoes while he tried not to panic.
Walburga expertly deflected two rapid fire Stinging Jinxes and sent a Knockback Jinx of her own.
Cool. Calculating. In control. She didn't seem at all anxious.
Orion was well aware he was sweating profusely and that he physically flinched when a scorch of flame belched from Hamish Gow's wand and all that was keeping Walburga from being incinerated was a Shield Charm. It seemed so...thin a shield to depend on.
She maneuvered herself out of the way with an impromptu somersault and Orion was relieved she'd worn a soft bodice instead of boned stays. They'd had an argument about fashion the previous day when she'd brought over her intended ensemble for the duel to show off to Lucretia. He'd had to put his foot down and declare that it would've been madness to fight in a corset.
When she complained about wanting to keep her shape pleasing, he'd scorned that it was good and well to look lovely while being carted off in a stretcher because she couldn't dodge a curse.
Walburga sent some sort of tripping charm that successfully took her opponent's legs out from under him and Orion could've sworn he felt the ground shake, Gow pointed his wand and—
Orion looked away again. And tried to focus on his breathing and not the lung crushing anxiety that she could be hurt.
Cygnus elbowed him. "Oi, she's got the upper hand. She's getting him, getting him, getting him, yup."
He looked up in time to see her disarm him.
A trumpet sounded, signalling her victory.
He immediately moved back toward the gates to retrieve her, happily losing Malfoy and Cygnus in the crowd.
Her eyes lit up on seeing him and when they drew near each other, she smiled in satisfaction, "Now, that was more like it. That was worth seeing, wasn't it? Took effort."
She dragged her fingers through a few curls that had been dislodged and revealed how long her hair was. She'd started putting up her hair in her fifth year, when twitters about her leaving it loose, became too much.
And he'd missed seeing the long dark strands that captivated him. She occasionally wore it only half up or hinted at its length with a long chignon curl but the last time he'd seen it fully free was three years ago.
He'd heard a rumor that the muggle and muggle born-lovers of the Ministry were advocating for harsher laws on those possessing Dark Arts objects and on those selling them, especially ones that found their ways into the wrong hands following a resale. It meant another era of house raids for the oldest families would be imminent and that he had from a good source that Black Manor was on the list.
Her father had been out and Kreacher had answered the door.
He was led to a hall.
She'd been in a pretty nightgown reading by the great stone hearth and enjoying its crackling fire. When she stood and walked over, the light from the fireplace made her silhouette visible through the material and he'd fantasized about the image ever since.
Orion frowned as she went over to shake her opponent's hand.
Gow earned Orion's lasting hate when he kissed Walburga's dainty fingers.
The feeling intensified as she'd said over and over for the rest of the day, pink faced and overeager, "Rather courteous, don't you think? Not handsome in the traditional sense, of course, but he is...pleasing in a rougher way."
He grunted in reply to that.
"You think he'll continue to attend the tournament? The spectacle, I mean, of course, he's not in it anymore so I could see why he wouldn't but...do you think he'll continue to-"
He prayed he wouldn't.
Orion crossed his arms and scowled and several wizards near him edged away.
His mother sighed and quietly reminded under her breath, "Orion. A gentleman keeps his expression pleasant."
He tried to relax.
Though it was hard, considering the locale.
A peacock squawked and he glared and feigned a kick that sent it running.
"...Orion, manners."
He glared at the back of Malfoy Manor.
Earlier, Master Malfoy had looked down through a window at the duelists his son was hosting and drew the curtains...like he was washing his hands of the affair.
Which was a shame because it was obvious the whole thing overwhelmed his daughter-in-law, Obsidia, no matter how many meetings they hosted.
These weren't the sort of guests she was raised to encounter. She always watched the rough men pass her with timid eyes and held her child close to her breast.
It made him feel bad for her and angry at her husband...at any husband who would put his wife into a position that made her so frightfully uncomfortable.
His father never did that.
Orion looked back over to where Walburga was patrolling lines of former Slytherin housemates. Her dress and blouse were looser than her usual outfits of choice for ease of movement and she wore boots instead of heels.
It resulted in her looking smaller and more delicate.
Which bothered him...though what annoyed him worse were her smiles, far too demure and unlike herself.
Where were his lady's sharp grins and smirks? She was working to look agreeable and smooth, pretending she was a pearl instead of a diamond with all its glittering, cutting edges.
Her eyes lingered that bit too long on her comrades—sizing them up, cataloguing pleasing attributes. He got the impression that she was a better judge than he'd first estimated. She dismissed the slight, the slump shouldered, the slovenly, the sallow skinned, the paunchy…
No, her preference was for specimens of strength and athleticism.
Well then, he'd make sure during the clean up to heft the targets up by hand instead of magic...might even find an excuse to lose his shirt and vest. Even if it did embarrass his family.
To hell with manners.
He cleared his throat when she drew near and on being caught—she blushed.
Orion made a point to follow along with her as she inspected and corrected duelists' forms and footwork as they performed drills.
"Enjoying the view?" he asked candidly.
She flushed. "Posture is essential for proper-"
"Mmhmm."
She gave him a look.
"Critiquing my posture now, are we?"
She poked him and smiled, "If you want to practice, you're welcome to. You never guard your left flank and I'm determined to break you of the habit."
"Perhaps another time."
When the dueling bouts began, Abraxas and Walburga immediately paired off. The first match went in her favor.
Though it was so volatile and dangerous to witness, he and his father had to escort his mother inside the house when their second battle began.
It rattled her nerves and she mumbled that she didn't think she could endure another.
They ended up in a parlor where Mrs. Malfoy was cuddling Lucius and tickling him at turns.
"Oh, h-hello," she greeted, a pit of a blush coloring her cheeks on being discovered thus.
"Hello," Arcturus returned and introduced himself and his family.
"Young Mr. Black and I have already made acquaintance."
They sat on a divan across from her.
"Mr. Black?" she looked at him.
"Orion is fine, thank you."
"Mr. Black will do for me, dear," Arcturus smiled.
"...are you in the tournament, also?" Obsidia questioned mildly. "I didn't think to ask you before."
"Heavens, no. I...I think there's enough danger in the world, one doesn't have to go seeking it."
Melania gave him a look that said, 'don't be bitter, dear.'
Arcturus looked amused.
Obsidia gave a wan smile, "...yes...that's...that's why I'm in here...I...I couldn't bear it if something…" she looked down at the toddler in her arms.
They were quick to assure her that they completely understood.
And she thanked them for volunteering to cater the event.
"It makes it...so much more civilized, I think. The other meetings…" she looked at Orion. "Well, you saw them they're so…"
Brutal? Unsettling? Overzealous? Strangely Spartan?
"Unstructured. No tea, or appetizers, or drinks beyond water. Just training." She wrinkled her nose. "Not like...er...this is...this is much nicer, I think. Yes."
They talked about innocuous things like weather and restaurants, when Lucretia burst in white as a sheet, "O-orion! Quick! You must-Quick! Quick! Father!"
Orion pushed aside duelists warning him to stay out of their fight—knocking Avery full into a rose bush and MacNair into a small koi pond.
That monster had her in a chokehold.
"Damn you, woman," Abraxas growled and gave her a slight shake. "Yield."
But her wand was still in hand and she wouldn't.
Malfoy tightened his grip and lifted.
And Orion disapparated and apparated right behind him and decked him.
Forget magic. He didn't need magic.
The man fell away from her and she dropped to her knees.
No, the real magic involved was finding the restraint to let him lie there swearing and bleeding and not doing more to him.
He carefully picked Walburga up around the shoulders and knees and carried her inside to the parlor, flanked by his parents and sister.
He set her down on the divan and Obsidia nervously ordered her house elves to bring ice.
His mother had gone marble white and her hands were shaking. Lucretia seemed stunned and Orion could tell his father was furious.
Walburga coughed and glowered at him, "W-why?"
"Rest," he told her while he surveyed the extent of her injuries.
In defiance, she sat up, eyes flashing with rage. "H-how could you?!"
He shook with fury of his own.
"They'll think me weak!" she hissed.
As if to confirm the point, Malfoy came then, mopping his nose and lip and sneering, "What's this? The mighty Hippolyta spent so soon?" Malfoy sneered.
"Don't flatter yourself, Brax," she panted and rose to her feet. "Everyone knows you couldn't hope to best me through casting, violence was your only avenue."
Malfoy's good humor fled, "Then by all means let us have another match. Right now we're at a draw. Let us see which proves the better."
And she dodged Orion's mad grab for her and followed Malfoy back out.
The next fight demolished half the grounds or so it seemed and ended in a draw.
Orion and the immediate members of his family had taken refuge under a willow at a far edge in the front of the house when the explosions in the back of the estate began rattling the manor's windows.
A good handful of duelists left altogether. Orion's mother was badly shaken by the spectacle and just kept her head against her husband's shoulder. His sister's eyes were wide but she made small talk to try and restore some normalcy to the moment.
All four looked up when Walburga came to them like a grinning goddess of war—sleeve torn off, half of her hair loose and tumbling to her waist, dirt all over dress, and a smug satisfied air.
"Now, that...was...a battle," she boasted.
She sat down between Orion and his father leaned against the trunk of the tree with them, breathing raggedly.
Apparently, all her animosity against him had been forgotten. And it had hurt to be looked at so. He frowned down at her.
Orion glared when an equally battered Malfoy approached, vest without buttons, frock coat gone, one boot splitting apart.
"Still undecided," he stated, voice roughened from shouting incantations.
"Well...you'll have to stay in suspense until the tournament." Walburga shook her head, "Your manor won't survive if we continue like that each time we meet."
"Hang the house. I'll defeat you, yet."
"Not today."
"Why not?"
"Because," she laughed, "I live to defy you."
He kicked her booted foot and jerked his head back to their battleground. "C'mon."
Orion's hackles rose.
"I said no, Brax."
Malfoy frowned and opened his mouth to argue—
"She said no," Arcturus hissed firmly.
The blond's eyebrows rose and he wisely stalked off.
Walburga leaned against Orion's shoulder and set a hand over his clenched fist.
He released a harsh breath and let her slip her hand in his.
"Don't be cross with him. Please? He's my friend, Orrie."
He could feel his parents watching them.
Her chest was still heaving from exertion and when she looked up at him, he could see her neck was bruised. He very carefully touched the area.
How could Malfoy do that to a woman? To her?
"Why...can't you be friends?" she pouted and gently pushed his hand away.
He gave her a hard stare and felt his lips pull back in a snarl...pleasant expression be damned.
Because...Never.
"...he knows...no restraint…" he growled.
She laughed and squeezed his hand, "I know! Ha...haha. I know. So cruel. Isn't it wonderful?"
He felt a flash of alarm and hurt and anger that she'd want such a man for company.
She smiled fondly, "And that's how I know...when I win, I know...it's never that he let me."
Orion sighed. It was hard trying to find normalcy after that Malfoy Manor fiasco. If his father had been grave and livid, his mother had been terrified by what she'd seen.
"This is why you've been so nervous about this tournament, isn't it? Good God?! I had no idea! Rus, you must do something. You know people, you must-"
Worse, when they tried to bring it up to Walburga she shrugged their concerns off.
Dueling was a rough sport in her book. "He saw an opportunity to press his advantage. He pursued it. That's the whole point of a duel. Exploiting weaknesses."
Concerned she was putting on a facade of strength for his parents and sister, he'd tried broaching it when it was just them in the office.
He'd enfolded her into a tender embrace when she brought a report over and reminded her that she could confide in him. Always.
"I'm alright, Orion," she smiled indulgently and wrapped her arms around his middle in answer—tossing the report onto his desk. She gave him a light squeeze and rested her head against his chest. "I know, I know. You think I'm made of glass." She craned her head to look up at him and gave him a very gentle smile. "But I'm not."
She was careful to wear high necked blouses for the next few days and he'd spotted her scooping out copious amounts of Bruise-Be-Gone Cream whenever she thought he wasn't looking.
Conferencing with his family eventually led to his and his sister's current plan as well as a disclosure of what subtle differences he was noticing in her behavior as of late.
Orion nudged his sister, "You see?" He dried his face off and set the small towel on his shoulder.
They'd asked Walburga to meet them at Floo Fitness and Health Facility. There were posters everywhere promoting it as a place where Wizards and Witches Can Burn that Extra Weight Away and Transport Themselves to a Better Self Today!
The previous day, as part of the plan, Lucretia remarked to their fair cousin that she'd noticed that Walburga's tournament had several gala events.
"If I'm going to look gala presentable, I have to start now. Or it'll be glamours all the way."
Both had remained silent in response. Yes, his sister had gained weight since her wedding a few years ago. But they would never dare say as much. She must've read into their glances though, because her eyes had narrowed and she'd scoffed pointedly, "I AM married. Being super fit and trim is for people without spouses. You're still on the hunt."
Orion had winced.
Walburga had sighed.
"You see?" he grumbled.
"I see."
"..."
"Orion, it's a good thing."
"..."
"It is. She's...er...awakening. I mean, technically, it's what you want. You...you need that to happen...if..." she smiled a bit naughtily, "if other things are going to happen."
But it was supposed to happen with him.
It made him want to go back to the third level and have a few more rounds of good ol' fisticuffs or make use of a punching bag.
"She's showing interest."
"..."
"It'll help us, I promise. We'll see what she gravitates too and we'll know how best to present you in a way she'll fancy."
Walburga hadn't spotted them yet and was simply looking around like she'd never seen a gym before.
There was a look of noticeable surprise and intrigue as she studied various apparatus and people with interest….particularly men...particularly muscular men.
Lucretia gave him an encouraging look. The frames were similar to his which was...a point in his favor.
Only...
One wizard who was lifting dragon-egg shaped weights gave Walburga a wink.
She stopped, turned rather pink, and then awkwardly moved on.
"C'mon Rye, is it that intimidating?"
"Yes."
"Noooo, everybody else had the Third Year Awkwardness of Fancying People. The dates, the rejections, the acne, the notes, the need for deodorant, the making-an-idiot-of-yourself because...hormones. No one escapes unscathed. I can't tell you how envious I was that Walburga waltzed through so much of that. But here's the proof. Her awkwardness just got distracted by a hinkypunk somewhere along the way and instead of being thirteen...it's striking now. We have to be nice about it, Rye. Give her some room."
No, he didn't. Not if it meant giving other men an opportunity to woo her.
He raised a hand to get her attention.
"You're late," Lucretia pointed out when Walburga was in earshot.
She rushed toward them.
"You're late," Lucretia repeated.
"Hm? Oh...yes...had to help Father with...things at home."
"We told you to wear training clothes."
She indicated a bag hanging from her shoulder.
"Alright, I'll find you a place to change. Now, there's dancing and hoop exercises and broom stretches and a pool, the merman who runs that class isn't too hard on the eyes. Exotic, he only gives instructions underwater though, so you'll need to be comfortable-"
Walburga shook her head. "No, I need to lift weights and fight."
Brother and sister had no comment for that.
When they'd invited her along it was because they'd been hoping to show her an alternative to Malfoy's dueling meetings, where she could train up but...be...safe.
It was looking like she saw this as...additional training...
"You saw how easily Abraxas overpowered me," she shrugged embarrassedly. "It's...it's my fault. I underestimated him. He's...he's stronger now. I...I used to be able to take him but…" she clenched her fists. "He's...he's not seventeen anymore."
Orion blinked. No, no, Malfoy was not what she was remembering. He was thirty and taller and broader and stronger than her. And it had terrified Orion to see her brutalized like that.
"So, I'll need to practice. You fight," she nodded at Orion. "You-"
"Never," he gritted through clenched teeth.
Because...no…
Never...
She released a breath through her nose, "Well then, you can at least show me around and point out trainers."
Orion stared out at the glittering lake and its swans.
Walburga had enjoyed feeding them bread and now that the crusts were all gone, she came back to him.
He'd been struggling against increasing pangs of jealousy as the weeks passed.
She was becoming dangerously popular at Floo Fitness. A variety of wizards were eager to take her under-wing (some out of fatherly concern, others with less magnanimous intentions). There were even a number of wizards from the tournament that were taking it upon themselves to give her pointers.
Especially, when she admitted she didn't usually fight with just her hands...because they couldn't hit hard enough. They showed her how to make a correct fist, how to station her feet to deliver a more powerful blow.
Plenty liked touching her—her hands, her shoulders, her elbows, when guiding her through movements.
Worse, he could tell that she was becoming...aware...of their attentions and interest in a way she hadn't been before. And liking it. She was more prompt to return little smiles and give overzealous "Thank you's."
He had to move them forward, take a stand, make his intentions and desires known before it was too late.
They were sitting in the shade of a willow, virtually unnoticed by the occasional walkers by.
He leaned back against the tree's sturdy trunk and tried not to focus on his heart which was hammering in his throat.
"You're so grave today," Walburga noted. "It's a little cool I'll concede, but the sky is too bright to be so glum and-"
He unfastened his cloak and set it around her shoulders.
She smiled a little ruefully, "I...I shouldn't have said a thing. Now, you're going to be the one who-"
No.
No, he felt very warm.
Because...he had to do it.
He could feel his time running out.
Soon there would be other suitors…
Hell, they were already appearing.
Many kept at bay simply because they weren't sure what to make of him being in her company. If it was assumed he wasn't interested...that he was merely a bodyguard or chaperone...
He had to make the most of this moment.
He swallowed thickly and wrapped an arm around her and she settled into his side.
And she felt so perfect there, surely, she could feel it too?
He took her hand in his, stroked it gently, carefully, lovingly.
She watched bemusedly as his fingers twined with hers.
"Walburga?"
"Hmm?"
"My darling...I've done all that I can...to...to try to make my feelings...known. But I...see now I must speak plainly…" He swallowed again, licked his lips nervously, screwed his courage to the sticking place and confessed, "I love you."
Walburga blinked and looked up at him.
He felt his face heat up but refused to back down. "I...I find us...very compatible in...in our beliefs, and desires, and-and values...I...see no reason why we couldn't be...happy...very happy."
She looked away to the water.
Which...wasn't very encouraging.
Did he dare reach for the ring in his pocket?
"Orion, you're very fond of me."
"Yes," he agreed readily.
"We've spent most of our lives together."
"Yes!"
"I can depend on you always."
"Of course!"
"It's familiarity," she shrugged simply and turned back to face him. "And you've confused it for...something else."
"..." He could feel a powerful frown pull at his features.
She sighed and pulled her hand free.
It was one thing to have a rejection. It was another to have his feelings...dismissed.
He struggled to hold in his temper and disappointment and stared hard at the lake.
Walburga sounded absurd as she lamented with a theatrical, tragic tone, "You're my dearest friend. I wouldn't have anything spoil that."
"Marrying me wouldn't spoil it," he gritted tightly. "We hold each other's every confidence and intimacy already. This is but the final step-"
Walburga sighed, "You're infatuated with me again."
His eyes flashed. Hearing his love knocked low...to something as slight as that...like a Devil's Snare tendril that would die under sunlight.
She gave an exasperated breath, "...God. I'm just going to have to cure you the hard way, aren't I? I always hoped it'd never come to this that I'd never have to but...you give me no choice-"
"Going to kill me outright?"
The name of his cure would be death. And right now it would feel like mercy.
She didn't respond.
In irritation, he faced her and froze because her face was right next to his.
And then she pressed her lips to his.
He blinked.
She pulled away.
"..."
"You see?" she leaned back. "No angels sang. No great musical chord was struck in you. Nothing. Not even schoolboy lust. You're a man now, you've known others. You didn't enjoy it."
He stared and spluttered, "W-well, that's just because you're terrible! You kiss like a child or a brick. You did that then too at the Spin-the-Bott-but that doesn't matter. It doesn't mean anything because I lo-"
Something like anger or hurt flit across her face before a cold-I-told-you-so air settled its frost over her. "See? You're cured! It's a matter of wanting what you can't have and now you're free-"
"The mood wasn't right!" he argued hotly.
"You'd had some built up fantasy and now it's shatt-"
"The mood! You can't expect to upset me and then entice me and for me to recover that quick. Like a bloody rubber band. Give me a moment, woman, and I'll show you-"
She raised a mocking eyebrow. "The mood?" she scoffed. "I've seen you in noisy ballrooms, and dance halls, and carriages-"
"There's alcohol and greater skill involved. That wasn't a kiss-"
"One woman's slap and into another woman's arms before a song ends-"
"-I agree, but darling that's not love that's just s...not love, but this is-"
"Well, I don't care and you see now I've no talent. You see that firsthand and I wouldn't want a husband who has to use alcohol to endure my kisses."
"That wasn't a kiss. You pressed your face to mine and no more."
"We just have to get this out of the way. I blame myself. We-"
"You didn't, it doesn't count if—If you'd just let me-"
"-didn't talk it all through the last time so it-"
"-finish-"
"-didn't get resolved properly."
Orion sucked in a long breath. "Fine. Fine. Go first."
She nodded. "The...the tenderness you feel for me is simply because you know I'd never hurt you. And...and you're right, I wouldn't. You mean...too much to me. And you know I...I wish to be married and...you present yourself as a means of fulfilling that wish. But duty isn't the same as passion you know? I...I'm looking out for you. It would injure me to see you entangled into something which...which you couldn't swiftly free yourself from. That would ruin all we have...can't you see that?"
He made no sign of agreement.
She hesitantly tried to set her hands on his and he moved them away.
She nodded seemingly resolved, opened her mouth to likely say something distancing and dignified. And he gently held her face and leaned in, slanting his head to catch her lips with his own.
There was an art involved, a pattern, timing—knowing when to press and relent, how to tease, how to overcome a frigid reserve.
How to be giving, how to be tender, how to be patient, patient, patient.
Until, yes, there.
She responded. Her desire clumsy, unsure, new...but genuine.
He drew her closer, deepened the kiss, felt her sigh against him, press against him, trust in him to support her languid weight, and he kissed her more earnestly.
This was a kiss...
Smirking, he pulled away just a hair to murmur. "It's called practice, darling. You just need practice. And a better sense of timing. The next will be even better." He brushed his lips over hers one time more before leaning back. "I promise."
"..."
He'd seen her look less stunned by a direct immobilius hit.
And then she went from white to pink to red to purple.
"Oh, and by the by. I'm not cured by any means," he declared haughtily. "And judging from the way you're looking at me now. I'd say you were converted."
CRACK!
She disapparated.
Dammit. He really hated when she did that.
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