Disclaimer: I do not own the HP universe that's J.K. Rowling's domain.
AN: Hope you enjoy! :D
Chapter 9: Missing Its Usual Warmth And Charm
Walburga was running late.
Somehow she'd slept through the grandfather clock's chiming that morning and it took Kreacher loudly clearing his throat four times for her to take notice of him.
She blamed the alcohol.
It was usually her wish to arrive a good fifteen minutes early so she could find an assignment that wouldn't require her to stay in the overly cold office or do the opening procedure.
Her nails were just long enough that it made maneuvering the set of keys problematic.
And if all that wasn't enough, she had an errant curl that kept slipping from its pins.
It was a mistake to try and fix it while she climbed the stairs. Her divided attention resulted in her foot slipping and her other hand missing the railing.
She braced herself for a fall and barely managed a gasp when two arms caught her from behind and settled her back on her feet.
The arms didn't release her and she was about to reach for her wand when—
"It's me," Orion assured.
"O-oh," she slumped in relief against him.
He laughed lightly and gave her a squeeze. "Luckily for you, I was on my way to pay a bill."
It seemed a good deal too lucky, but it was absurd and beyond vain to imagine he'd been waiting for her here.
"I see you've yet to take my advice on not wearing ridiculous shoes."
Her nose wrinkled at the light scolding, but she thanked him for his aid, confessing, "I'd be in a poor way without you."
He grinned.
And the gleam of white teeth elevated her mood.
It was such a relief to see him as upbeat as he'd once been.
She was so used to arguments between them lasting mere hours that the weeks apart had been especially brutal.
The loneliness made sense; it was the boredom that was surprisingly gutting.
She'd trained to her heart's content, acquired a new occupation, decorated and redecorated her living quarters, got around to finally interacting with the youngest house-elves' of Black Manor, took inventory of her family's heirlooms, made a bet with Cygnus over when his third child would arrive, and now knew several goblins at Gringotts by name.
She belatedly realized that she was still leaning against him and that they were halfway up a set of stairs.
Goodness, it was only the early hour that saved them from being a public obstruction and nuisance...and scandal.
Still, it was hard to be sensible when all seemed miraculously mended between them and she found herself laughing at his jokes as they walked arm and arm down the hall.
Years ago they'd spent Hogwarts afternoons strolling around the lake with an easy air like this.
She'd once had the quicker pace of the two of them and then he'd started growing and it was her that was struggling to keep up until she finally snapped at him to slow down for her and…she'd never needed to repeat the request.
He hesitated a moment and then said, "About last night-"
"Last night?" she cut across.
His head jerked to the side to look at her.
"Oh! Oh yes, thank you for helping me home. I...it...I'm sorry my memory is...rather fuzzy. How embarrassing. I drank far too much, I fear."
"I see."
It was just...safer to deny. She hadn't intentionally kissed him...had she? It happened but…but…but…
He gave her a very flat expression and his cheer left him.
She cast about for a pleasant topic, hoping to reinvigorate his happiness, but caught sight of Lowell. God, he repulsed her. She unintentionally drifted closer to Orion and nearly tripped him.
"What is it?" Orion asked, annoyed.
It was stupid to get upset over a tone, but she couldn't help feeling jarred by his change of attitude.
"That man," she murmured.
"What of him?"
She frowned at his harshness, but he still obliged her by moving forward and angling his form so as to block her from the other man's view.
"That horrid man-"
"What do you wish me to do about it, woman?"
She frowned; a word of consternation to the appalling Lowell might have been useful.
However, it seemed like she'd need to orchestrate something, "Well, I need you to do something about him, obviously."
He raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
"Fine, I…" she sighed and then mused, "Well, he hasn't met either of my brothers. Perhaps you can impers-"
He gave her such a look then that she didn't dare continue.
"Well then, you come up with something if you're so clever!" she hissed. Or tried to. She was still too upset over his mercurial mood, for it to sound as menacing and dismissive as she intended.
"..."
"Miss Black," Lowell addressed her.
He wasn't going to help her.
She released his arm and turned on her heel toward her office door.
"Miss Black," Lowell leered, eyes raking her form.
Her footstep faltered and she moved a half-step back.
She'd been warned repeatedly not to react with anger to their patrons even when they were entirely inappropriate to her.
It was worse than the muzzling they did to the beasts they handled in her division.
Having to stand and smile and ignore and—
"Walburga," Orion called and she gratefully turned back around.
He moved swiftly to her.
"Now darling, I know you wish to be proper for the Ministry's sake but..." His voice was still hard but he gently took her hand and kissed the knuckles and she felt warmth flood her cheeks. Why did she have to find that so pleasing!? "Why the doors aren't even open yet, surely no one would begrudge us-"
He kissed her.
And it was nothing like the other kisses he'd given her.
It was sudden, hard, and demanding.
There'd always been something uncomfortable about her previous "lessons."
His movements had always been so practiced and smooth. She would ever be the novice.
There was something about the imperfection of the current kiss.
In the heat and violence of it that oddly enough gave her a sense of confidence.
She could probably give a kiss like this.
And it seemed far more tangible and genuine than one of those soft ones that was so easy to mess up.
He'd said there were different kinds…
That each had a quality to it.
She could feel it.
Where'd there been restraint before…there was something new, wild, frustrated.
Nearly angry.
And he used his teeth.
Good Lord.
Her toes curled in her shoes.
His breath was harsh as he pulled away
And she stared openly at him.
His tone was still harsh even while the words were kind. "Don't work too hard now, my dear. Dinner shall be at 8." He moved close to her ear and purred in a loud whisper. "I do hope you'll wear that velvet gown I bought you."
She managed a nod.
And with a loud CRACK! He disapparated.
In a daze, she let herself into the office and hardly noticed when the door hit Lowell in the face or when her coworker barked at her to grab incident forms.
And when one of her coworkers did pull her aside to ask, "Who was that? The-the one who-who-"
She could only breathlessly mumble, "O-orion."
She arrived at ten til eight and nearly fidgeted as a house elf received her into Black Hall.
For a moment it seemed like she was going to be sent away again (as had been the norm since her falling out with Orion).
His family had unanimously agreed to give her the cold shoulder since her rejection of Orion's suit.
Perhaps, this was part of a mean trick.
She'd known it might take a great deal to win her way back into his good graces.
The magazines she'd read pretty much confirmed she'd handled the whole spectacle badly. Said she'd hurt his pride as a man.
Relationships were so damned complicated.
She scanned the windows for a flutter of curtains.
Just when she was about to excuse herself, Orion intercepted her, dismissing the servant and leaning against the door frame.
"I wasn't sure you would accept my invitation," he admitted. "Mother wasn't keen on setting you a place."
No pleasantries then.
Fine.
And they weren't dining out.
Joy.
She was about to have a very awkward meal among hostile relatives. An evening in a snake pit, really.
But if that was what it took to restore their friendship. So be it.
She held her head high. "It was couched in rather confusing terms, I will confess."
He looked away for a moment and she waited to be invited in.
"We have business to discuss. You mentioned your willingness to return as my secretary and I have need for your typing skills."
"Right."
Right...she hazily remembered agreeing to that.
"O, so you remember that?" he snapped.
She would not flinch. "…yes."
Dark gray eyes gave her another hard, searching look.
Business was...good.
Sensible.
Safe.
She took in a deep breath.
He moved aside to let her in.
"Thank you for your assistance earlier," she stated primly.
Best to get that out of the way.
He gave a bored nod.
She forced a smile, "It was unorthodox-"
"My signature," he quipped,
"But effective," she conceded as she removed her cloak for the house elves to take and tried not to feel embarrassed over her wardrobe choice.
She'd taken him too literally. The Beverly velvet maxi dress that clung to her curves and had a scandalous, by her standards, slit up past the knee was now obviously a detail of theatrical banter.
It had made them seem more intimate in front of Lowell.
It hadn't actually been a real request.
Several years ago, after parading a long line of gowns, she ultimately chose what would become her lucky green satin dress. She'd declared it as the most elegant by far.
Orion thought otherwise.
She bought the satin dress, he bought the black velvet one for her...and she retired the racy thing to a far corner of her closet.
She caught of her reflection in a mirror lining the hall. She didn't know what possessed her to actually process his request as legitimate, let alone what moved her to fulfill it.
That heat she'd felt when he—
No, it wasn't that.
Maybe she was so ecstatic that Lowell didn't speak to her at all that morning, that she gladly donned it that evening?
It seemed well worth the price.
She was an idiot.
A stupid, overdressed, or maybe underdressed, over-exposed certainly-
"You look beautiful."
Heat rose to her face and with difficulty she looked him in the eye to make sure he wasn't mocking her.
He'd sounded sincere.
"It seems in good shape. And all this time, I wondered if you even kept it."
She frowned, "I keep all of your gifts."
"Except the emerald you lost."
"That was an accident!" she snapped. "I was twelve! I searched for hours."
Months.
Actually.
But that sounded pitiful and sad and unworthy of someone of her reputation.
His lips twisted, "It still bothers you then?"
"No," she lied through gritted teeth.
He gave another smile…but it was missing its usual warmth and charm.
It was a little odd being seated beside Orion rather than across from him, but she felt she adapted fairly well.
So this was an official courting dinner?
Her father had never bothered with them for Cygnus and Druella. And neither she nor Alphard had ever merited the need for one.
She had a strong suspicion that her middle sibling had fancied someone unsuitable and, judging from his ensuing bitterness, either nipped it for the family's sake or...the opportunity to act on his desires passed.
They hadn't missed out.
The dinner was rather dull and her dress was in terrible taste.
She felt numerous eyes on her at all times. Walburga's introduction to the Selwyns failed to alleviate the tension...even though Arcturus and Melania went out of their way to emphasize her familial relation to them.
Everything was being taken so seriously, it felt rather like a romance novel or one of those radio soap operas she'd recently taken up listening to in order to fill the hours.
She was rather disappointed in herself when she didn't feel jealous. That would've made the night more interesting.
Leonora or Nora, as she insisted they address her, was a fair wisp of a thing. She spoke politely and was the apple of her parents' eye to be sure.
Walburga noticed that they were near the same height but the girl (and she was a girl, Walburga felt old beside her) was delicate—made of glass, whereas Walburga was made of iron.
It was clear Nora was smitten with Orion already, turning pink when he addressed her or looked her fully in the face.
It was a damsel-like sensitivity Walburga read about in books...and never known personally.
Very ladylike.
She could see the appeal, why men might like that.
Walburga might've envied her on that account, that being demure came so naturally to her, if it hadn't been for the shine of admiration in her eye.
She asked about the tournament with unabashed interest and Walburga couldn't detect an ulterior motive. Not the way Druella was compelled by Cygnus to ask after Walburga's pursuits now and then.
In the weeks of her and Orion's falling out, she'd been forced to seek her brother's house out more often than she liked. Or be resolved to haunt Black Manor in total isolation.
Her father's assignments had amassed to a point where he was seldom home.
Mr. Selwyn worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And his wife was only too pleased to tell about how proud it made her and how certain she was that the wizarding world was a safer place because of her husband's influence.
Which was sweet the first three times and a bore by the seventh. She couldn't imagine singing a husband's praises so incessantly...or keeping a straight face while doing so.
As far as she could tell, Orion hadn't said anything too bold, wasn't trying to play footsie, and hadn't remarked on Leonora's appearance beyond a courteous, "You look lovely."
He was making a real effort to try and learn about the young witch's interests.
She was pleased to see her cousin conduct himself admirably. Even as it gave her a funny feeling of loss. Which was ridiculous. He was maturing. She was glad for that. Of course she was.
At any rate, he was doing far better than her recent suitors had.
There was the wizard at the gym whom she shouldn't have agreed to lunch with. But she'd liked the look of him and his strong arms and chest and realized mid-meal that was all he was good for: looking at. Because there wasn't a shred of intelligence or even fluff in between those ears. And he'd turned out to be a half-blood anyway. A halfblood who only paid his half of the meal...and she was introduced to the concept of "Going Dutch."
Next, there was Roderick Knowles, a Floo Network Regulator, who wasn't nearly as handsome as Roger, the gym wizard had been. Roderick was easily cleverer and had a plethora of interesting stories about alerting officials to various illegal activities, but that was all he had. He was a workaholic and everything revolved around his job. She had a feeling he seldom went home and fantasized that he slept in his cubicle in a drawer he'd converted into a bedroom.
The way he'd kept an eye on the clock every moment they were at lunch suggested she'd never be his truest priority.
Zachariah Travers was tall and leaner than what she found attractive but he dressed well. He made fair conversation and he acted respectful to her. He asked her to dinner after one of her matches, a particularly brutal one, to her surprise. There'd been several large tears to her dress and splatters of blood on it. Plus, she'd been struck in the face and couldn't imagine she looked especially alluring. Still, he had insisted she deserved a celebration for her victory. At first, she was pleased to find him so interested in her wandwork and her battle techniques (nowhere near as squeamish about blood and bruises as Orion was). But as they continued on there was something...off about him though she couldn't tell what. She shrugged it off again.
It probably wasn't important. Or at least, it wasn't as interesting as her theory.
As a whole of her recent dating experiences, she deduced that men seemed to believe, following a meal date, that romance could be kindled. She had thus endured three post-meal kisses.
One that was wet.
One that was dry.
And one that she'd thought of as passable...though it was a bit disconcerting that Travers's pale eyes had remained fully open.
Still, his kiss had sent lukewarm pleasant feelings through her and the dinner had been agreeable enough for her not to shoot him down. She remained on the fence about accepting his proposal for a second date. Had delayed it by saying she would let him know when her schedule opened up.
She had to train for the tournament. His eyes had shone with a strange light and he said he looked forward to her next match.
She wasn't against seeing him again per se...she just wasn't excited about seeing him again either.
The way she figured things, romance was like birdhouse building for snidgets.
Yes; plenty of people weren't particularly good at it.
She was hardly alone. She just wasn't a strongly romantic person and that was alright.
There'd be other aspects of a relationship she could enjoy. Like planning outfits for a ball, or holding interesting conversations, or buying useful things for her significant other, or dining together in beautiful places.
Yes, she'd learn to make sense of it.
Overall, her evening at Black Hall wasn't terrible though it was irritating that she was somehow overlooked for champagne at dinner and then forgotten again by the house elves when they served lavender panna cotta and didn't offer her any port.
It left her sipping water the whole evening!
She didn't dare complain and irk her hosts who seemed dangerously ready to oust her at a moment's notice.
She kept waiting for Orion to broach the topic of business with her, but it didn't seem to be coming and Arcturus kept looking at the clock and her.
When the hour grew sufficiently late, she announced her intent to depart for home with an easy lie that her father would worry if she tarried longer.
It was telling that relations were still cold because she wasn't accompanied to the door and the house elves were late in delivering her cloak to her.
She fastened the buckle, opened the door herself and strode out determinedly into the autumn chilled air. She flicked her wand to shut the door and frowned when she didn't hear it shut.
She turned to see Orion at the door, holding it.
"Walburga!" he called. "You…"
She re-climbed the stairs of the porch.
He sighed, "You did look beautiful this evening...as lovely as when you first wore that dress."
Considering how many years ago that was...she smiled.
He leaned forward like he was going to say more but a sharp "Orion!" from Melania drew him back.
He gave a short, annoyed, "Sorry, a later time perhaps?" and closed the door.
Yes, it was some sort of initiation through frustration. At some point she'd have endured enough infuriating oddness, that she'd be absolved of her trespasses and wrongs. That had to be it.
Feeling reassured by the night's events, Walburga turned back around and disapparated.
Orion watched his mother pace in front of the fireplace.
"The hell was she playing at? Wearing a dress so, so, so-"
"That was my doing, Mother."
She gave him a very disapproving look.
"Earlier, I suggested it. I don't think she realized I was teasing her. I had assumed she'd purged it from her wardrobe years ago. She proved me wrong."
Trust her to wear it when he couldn't properly appreciate her in it. God, it had been torture keeping his eyes off her.
With his luck, he'd probably dream about her wearing it this night. And then there was the fact that she'd worn it for him.
Cruel woman, she driving him mad!
First, she'd had the gall to lie to him. She remembered the kiss she bestowed and he'd get her to confess.
He had to.
She'd finally managed a good one—soft, gentle, languid. There was something sweet and indulgent about it as she'd moved.
It was damn-near perfect. A little tongue and he'd have proposed again on catching his breath.
But then she ran.
Ugh, she was toying with him.
Her eyes had been too wide and innocent and her voice too puzzled to leave room for doubt.
When Walburga didn't know something, she was blunt in telling one so.
His mother's voice went sharp. "You saw her earlier?"
He nodded. "When I was paying the bill-"
"Why would you stop by her-"
"I didn't, she works there-"
Melania looked startled. "She works at the-"
"No, she was traveling to her department. She...she, er, tripped, I caught her-"
"Staged!?" Melania gasped.
Orion snickered.
He wished. It would be too miraculous if she'd seen him first and wanted his attentions and went the damsel route to stroke his ego. "I doubt it; she nearly drew her wand on me."
"O why did you invite her?" She wrung her hands fretfully.
He felt his jaw clench. He hadn't known his mother's scheme to spring a courting dinner. And had planned on using the evening to corner Walburga and extract the truth.
And maybe apologize for being so brutish earlier.
He'd lost himself, his control, that morning. So fed up with their situation…and her denials…and then her expectations…
Poor impulse control really did not aid his arguments that he was mature and ready for a relationship of magnitude.
He was better than that.
Still, it was something that him snogging her senseless outside her office hadn't put her off seeing him at dinner.
He needed to sort things out with her. Alone.
Had their time apart awakened her to what she was missing out on?
She had been genuinely glad to see him the previous night (inebriated as she'd been) and this morning (despite being terribly hungover).
She was trying to be nicer to him. He noticed that.
Wanting to be agreeable when she spoke with him…
Staying largely silent at the dinner party rather than blaring out a bold opinion…
Turning around too quickly the first time he called her name…
"..."
"Let. Her. Go," Melania demanded. "She causes nothing but trouble for you and-and-and pain."
"..."
His mother grasped his hand rather desperately. "I want to see you happy and settled."
So did he, damn it.
He was tired of being jealous as all the other wizards of his social circles became husbands or fathers.
If Cygnus dared complain about his lot and his quest for a son one more time…
When Orion would've given anything for Walburga to stand gladly at his side and a daughter would've made him the happiest father…
Orion's teeth gritted.
Lucretia flopped onto a chaise lounge. "Rye?"
"Wot?"
She raised an eyebrow at his sour tone.
He released a long breath and repeated more politely, "What, Luca?"
"Are we still going to the gala?"
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