Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
AN: Hey, look who finally got this chapter written out and updated. :D Enjoy!
Chapter 10: Impressively Terrible
Orion resolved himself not to fidget as the bouncer read a clipboard. He could feel his sister's gaze on him, if Orion was wrong and Walburga had not listed them as her guests, Lucretia would have a rough evening ahead soothing her husband's ruffled feathers.
Ignatius was a rather seclusive man and it was difficult motivating him to go out; he'd have much rather enjoyed a quiet Hallow's Eve at home with only Luca's company. But Orion's sister had convinced him to accompany them for Orion's sake.
Personally, he'd been set to arrive alone but Lucretia had insisted on being there "just in case."
In case of what, he wasn't sure.
Ignatius released a harsh breath through his nose; he'd be cross if he'd gone to all the effort to dress for a ball just to be turned away.
If it did come to that, he'd have the two leave and Orion would just...find another route inside.
To his relief the wizard nodded to his fellow guard. "Black invited them."
The velvet ropes barring their way unhooked themselves and allowed them entrance.
Maybe it was because he'd spent a lifetime searching her out in various settings that he spotted her immediately in a burgundy floor-length gown.
Tasteful.
Lace sleeves covered her arms and spanned across her chest all the way up to her jaw to obscure even a hint of cleavage.
Disappointingly tasteful.
This gown was for the public, the other...the other dress had been for him and him alone. That encouraged a spiral of pleasure in him.
As he approached, he noticed the dangling garnet earrings he'd bought her for her sixteenth birthday.
When they were children, she had confided to him that her agemates had teased her for having an embarrassingly small collection of jewelry.
Lucretia had gotten such trinkets for every birthday of her life.
For some reason her family had never doted on her that way...which angered him.
She assured him that there were some heirloom pieces intended for her...but she never showed them off and he knew instinctively that they must be terrible.
Impressively terrible because Walburga loved jewelry and she could forgive a lot if the cut and setting of a stone was good.
All through school, she tended to spend her allowances on dueling materials and dresses and jewelry.
He'd sometimes lend her the amount she needed for Hogsmeade trips to get the matching sets she wanted...until he could accompany her there himself and simply buy it outright.
He'd always been good at budgeting, and gambling on school Quidditch matches to expand his funds, and then after school, when he established himself in the work world, he made a point of lavishing such gifts on her; sometimes for no reason other than he caught her entranced by one polished gem or another.
"Orion!" She hurried over and threw her arms around him. "Happy All Hallow's Eve!"
"And to you as well." It was easy to hold her. It was difficult to let go.
She smelled like vanilla perfume and chardonnay and he feared she might have already indulged in too much for one evening and he dreaded the company she might be keeping.
O the irony.
As if guessing his thoughts, she pulled back and explained that Knowles had opened a bottle rather carelessly and a fountain of alcohol had showered all who stood near him.
"You weren't struck with the cork, were you?" he asked in concern. He'd seen first-hand the damage those could do.
And often she was too proud to admit when she'd been harmed. And the damned modest dress was covering enough that he couldn't tell if she'd been bruised.
"No. Just dampened by refreshment. Thankfully, my dress doesn't show it."
She said it so lightly that he had to frown.
There was a time when such an incident would've sparked a very low toned, angry tirade; for she always took great pains to show herself off to the best advantage.
But…
She touched his forearm to try and distract him. "The decorations are quite fetching don't you think?"
He couldn't care less about the swooping banners and silver flowers and jack-o-lanterns and fountains and candles and whatever else the Tournament's committee had bothered to set up but he muttered something vaguely positive for her sake.
She was still trying to be pleasant for him. He'd noticed that a was a new tactic for her during the past two days as she came in and typed papers for him.
No arguments. No clashes of opinion. Even when he tried to goad her.
She was miserably agreeable.
"Yes, I...I like them too," she repeated a bit woodenly.
She shook her head as if she was psyching herself up and then talked goodnaturedly about the musicians playing that evening, and her smile didn't waver, but there was a weariness in her eyes like she was walking on eggshells around him.
While it was true she did have a tendency to veer into negativity, particularly when she was vexed (and she was so very easy to vex as she suffered from a multitude of various idiosyncrasies and set beliefs), being small and dainty, her explosive temper amused him to no end.
It didn't hurt that many of her past observations and the conclusions she drew from them were simply hilarious.
Like that Mrs. Humviry was a secret admirer of muggle music and she walked uncommonly slow when traveling through train stations and other public spaces whenever there were songs audible (even if they be mere renditions by second-rate panhandlers).
Walburga also had conspiracy theories about Dumbledore being unswervingly partial to Gryffindor House and minimizing their detentions (especially on behalf of Mudbloods) to a point where the punishment didn't equal the crime were particularly great to hear because she got increasingly indignant as she listed anecdotes she'd heard or experienced.
Then there was her insistence on how Mr. Ollivander's organization habits were criminal and she highly suspected that his one-time summer assistant was still in the shop somewhere...buried underneath boxes of wands…because no one elopes to Edinburgh in winter. There could even be more victims there! Customers he couldn't match to wands!
He felt his lips twitch into a smile because remembering that always lightened his mood. And then there was the way she always gave the shop a look of mistrust whenever she passed it.
And now, here she was...chattering innocuously about trivial things that couldn't offend.
She always fell back on weather when she couldn't gauge what direction to lead a conversation.
It made them feel distant.
And in spite of all her obvious good intentions, he felt annoyed as she began talking about wind speeds.
He nodded—absentmindedly reaching over and tucking a curl of hers that had come loose back under its pin and charming it to stay.
"Thank you, that one's been unruly. I kept meaning to manage it but...well than something else of more import or interest would occur."
"I see."
She explained how earlier the duelists had been asked onto the stage and introduced and applauded and that curl kept coming loose and she couldn't afford to fix it then with everyone watching.
"I'm sure you were brilliant anyways. I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner to see it."
"...I...I did receive a good amount of applause...more than I expected at any rate."
He nodded.
Walburga confessed, "I-I wasn't sure if you would come...I...I looked out but…"
He repeated his apology and she waved her hand in dismissal and her fingers accidentally brushed against his breast pocket.
She seemed to only realize then that she was still standing intimately close to him. Why the sides of her shoes were against his...not that he minded. She hastily took a step back for propriety's sake.
"F-forgive me, I...it's just...I am so glad you came."
Warmth filled him at her earnesty.
Her face flushed as she seemed to register how sentimental she sounded and she shrugged as she said as much.
He reached for her and slid his hands from her elbows to her wrists before taking her hands in his.
They swung their hands playfully—much as they'd used to when they were young and there was something of dire import to say or express.
In times passed, he often felt he would simply burst if he couldn't tell her one thing or another.
And he'd known she felt the same for her bright silver eyes would never leave his face.
She had a hunter's gaze.
Focused. Intense.
And her eyes were fixed on him for a full five beats before she laughed a little ruefully. "You see how ridiculous I get when you leave me-"
He released her hands and something like pain flit across her face.
He pulled her to him and after a moment's surprise, she sank into his embrace.
She angled her head to look up at him. Relief was in her voice. "I knew you couldn't stay angry with me."
"No," he agreed.
No matter how much his parents wished for it.
She cheered up considerably and smiled rather smugly.
She was lucky that smugness looked pretty on her.
"Life is boring without me, isn't it?" she purred.
"If by boring you mean sensible and ordered, then-"
She gave him such a fierce frown—
He laughed and earned a hard poke from a long-nailed finger.
It was a nice change to have her be the one leaning into him at every occasion.
He let her lead him around, introducing him to her rivals and admirers. Lucretia and Ignatius stayed behind to sample the delicacies of the banquet while Orion and Walburga made the rounds and said their 'hello's' to the social circles they must.
Their stroll about ended on a divan by a chilly window that kept letting in a draft.
The only reason he didn't insist they leave was that the chill kept driving her more fully into his side.
She handed him her empty champagne glass and he set it on a nearby table by his own.
It had taken a good two hours but she was finally beginning to act somewhat more like herself.
"You're horrible," she declared out right.
He snickered. "Oh?"
"Yes. For a man of tradition, you've violated the rules of engagement."
His lips pursed together and he raised an eyebrow. He was a gentleman and such accusations were insulting.
"You've not complimented me once this evening." She pinched the fabric of her dress pointedly.
His mood brightened and he couldn't hide his grin. "Beautiful woman and duelist extraordinaire forgive your humble serv-"
She tried to frown but the corners of her lips kept twitching. "You don't like my dress, Orion."
"Hmm?"
"O-ri-on…" She stretched the syllables of his name playfully. "You can hardly bear to look at it. I've noticed."
He gave a mock sigh and then took a deep breath as though steeling himself. "You are a beautiful woman...in a horrible dress."
She laughed.
Emboldened, he continued. "Where did you find the monstrosity? How did it capture you? Were you frightened? Was it terrible?"
She pushed a hand against his bicep. "It is not so bad as that. It...well...alright, it's not...my best but...I did...have reasons to...Here. Come on. Help me." She turned and indicated to the top buttons fastening it at her neck.
He froze—more than a bit blindsided by that.
He hadn't thought the mood had progressed to such a point. And she was so candid.
She moved her shoulders impatiently. "Orion?"
His stomach flopped.
What the devil had she been up to in the time they were estranged?
He felt a rush of protectiveness vye with disapproval even as it savored of complete hypocrisy.
What forays she entered and who she entered them with weren't...his...business…
Damnation, he was jealous...and worried...and jealous…
He swallowed nervously.
"Orion?" she said flatly.
He very carefully undid the two buttons and hesitated.
She then promptly pulled out her wand and performed a severing charm to cut the lacy upper portion of her attire.
She cut it along the bodice—trimming as needed to outline the sweetheart shape.
Now sleeveless, she looked to him expectantly. "Well?"
It was a good deal more flattering but…
"The back is rather...scandalous."
"Your standards or mine?" she demanded.
"Yours." And perhaps his...if only because it was her…
She cast about to find her reflection and settled on the window and snickered appreciatively. "Yes...it is a bit...much, isn't it?"
She loosened her hair from its bun for "camouflage" or so she said.
She only pinned a few curls back up and then looked to him again.
"Beautiful," he praised, but he still felt unsettled by the moment. She wouldn't have dared to do anything like that weeks ago.
Something had happened since their argument.
Some kind of change was coming over her...and he wasn't sure he approved.
"It's a pity I don't have a necklace." She touched the spot where one would've gone and sighed.
"I think your collar bones are decoration enough."
She smirked and raised an eyebrow.
He shrugged. They were lovely. He traced a thumb against one.
She stared and a blush suffused her skin, but she didn't move away.
And he couldn't gauge whether she liked the attention or was too determined to mend their bonds to be uncomfortable when he overstepped.
The latter possibility sobered him immediately and he retracted his hand.
"I'm too bold," he admitted.
She took the reckless hand in hers. "You're a charming flirt, that's all."
He did not like being summed up that way.
She laughed.
And he gave her a darker look.
"It could be worse," she volunteered as she twined their fingers. "You could be 'Battleaxe Black-the-frigid-fortress-of-doom.' Want to trade? I hear it's nice being charming."
And there was that damnable wistfulness again.
"Have you danced this evening?" he demanded.
"Just the waltz."
Bloody Malfoy.
She always danced that with him.
"Come on," he led her from the room.
Orion knew from the age of fourteen that the varsouvienne was undoubtedly their dance.
Always.
The fast pace, the complexity, the coordination—it well-suited them.
And they suited each other.
She smiled brightly at him as they spun.
"Frigid" his foot. She hadn't pressed so close to him in a dance since they were very small and still battling over who got to lead until their great grandfather crossed the ballroom to confront them and sort the matter out.
Though...she definitely wasn't fighting him right now.
No.
They were quite insync with their footing but...getting progressively more scandalous as the measures played out.
Alcohol had an awful effect on her sense of boundaries.
From the time he'd met up with her, she'd had four flutes of champagne and he dreaded to know how many she'd downed before his arrival.
He now actively kept an eye out for servers and waved them away as they approached.
Damnation, it scorched his insides...to quite suddenly know what it must've been like for Walburga trying to manage him when he was unruly at a ball.
But it seemed like there were so many more dangers for her and it was alarming to think that she might've been this intimate with Malfoy during their waltz.
The song ended and he walked her to the side grateful that, while she was still giggling a bit insipidly, she hadn't once tripped on her hem.
He needed to take her home before she made an impression on the gossips at the event.
Thus far, they'd seemed more interested in Mr. Neros Flint and Miss Peony Parkinson's attempt to snog (or quite possibly more) behind a curtain that didn't adequately cover them. But someone was bound to notice Walburga wasn't quite herself.
Still, it was nice to be able to wrap an arm around her waist without having her shuffle a noticeable inch apart for the sake of etiquette.
Instead, she leaned into the hold and started talking about work and how her skills with a typewriter were being incorporated into her job at the ministry; she was getting quite fast and that Orion's business could definitely benefit from that as well.
He encouraged that train of thought with nods and questions while he subtly led her toward an exit.
His plan, if she noticed and called him on it, was to take her for a dessert at a fine restaurant or, better, at home with a strong cup of tea.
They were nearly to the entrance when she was unceremoniously wrenched from him.
"Where the Hell do you think you're going with him?" An angry male voice demanded. "And what are you wearing now?"
Walburga blinked at the sudden reappearance of her date—taken aback by his vehemence, especially considering he'd left her over two hours ago to find someone "less frigid" in his words.
"Not so saintly after all? He has his hands all over you in-in THIS little piece and I'm the lech. I'm the unspeakable 'lord of depravity' as you said?" Neros Flint growled.
She jerked her arm out of his grasp and set her hands on her hips, unwilling to be cowed. "Well, when you wandered off with Peony, I somehow had the epiphany that our date had ended and whatever things I do or whomever I do those things with is none of your business. And 'no,' we shan't be doing this again. So you can just turn your two-faced, self-righteous ar-"
"How dare-"
She scoffed at his bluster and the heat of alcohol coursing through her veins made her especially defiant. "I dare. O I dare. Touch me? You? Of course not. I know filth and I won't suffer it."
Orion was trying to move past her and enter the kerfuffle. She placed a hand on his arm to still him.
It just wasn't a good time for chivalry no matter how well-intended; she couldn't afford to see him injured, especially on her behalf. He'd be appalled to learn how terribly her night had gone before he'd turned up and would no doubt insist on taking the other man to task.
That had to be avoided.
"Orion," she began as she turned to face him with a look of apology, because the last thing they needed was another scene of ballroom drama mere months after his horrid night at the MacNair's ball.
But before she could wryly comment on the situation they were in—
SLAP!
Walburga was embarrassed. Not to be slapped of course. The sting blooming across her face wasn't something altogether new.
But to ignore her own rules of battle by not keeping an eye on her opponent and leaving herself wide open to an attack...
Flint's hit had been shockingly strong and she was almost impressed. She had not properly gauged the strength in his build.
"Should've known that supposed 'kiss' in Flourish & Blotts was no rumor," the man seethed. "Kissing cousins indeed. I thought you two were odd in school-"
She landed rather inelegantly on the hard marble floor but it didn't hurt. Not really.
"So does she always coming running whenever you call? You just snap your fingers and she comes panti-"
Neither the hit, the landing, nor his words distracted her from what must be done.
She drew her wand from her sash, pointed it and…her aim drooped as she watched Orion dispatch Flint with a merciless Knee-Reversal hex that made Flint shriek, followed by a Silencing Charm, and a sharp kick to the stomach.
"Listen well." Orion was white-faced and beyond furious as he picked the other wiizard up by the collar of his robes to shake him like a ragdoll.
It was a strange thing to contemplate that...maybe...in all those duels he'd participated in following nights of mischief…
The reason that he'd never bothered to ask for her help was because he...hadn't...needed it…
And that released a strange sense of despair because somehow...deep down...she'd always fancied herself his protector...
"If you ever accost her again," Orion vowed quietly. "Let alone dare to touch her... That will be it. It will be over. And they will wonder what happened to you, for no one...NO ONE shall ever-"
"You should go," Knott advised from nearby. "I'll answer any questions they have regarding...this."
Orion didn't reply. His breath just hissed out from between his teeth and he dropped the man, who curled in on himself. Which looked painful...considering the knees...
Orion turned, picked Walburga up in a damsel-carry, and they left...without even bothering to collect their cloaks and she was too stunned to remind him.
She'd never seen him react so...violently.
Sure, Abraxas had long insisted that her cousin had a vicious temper but…
She scarcely believed it.
It was an awkwardly quiet walk to the carriage. Just the sound of his breathing and his dress shoes on the pavement. She didn't realize she would miss the silence until it ended.
On the ride home, following a tense interrogation about whether or not she was alright or in need of a trip to Mungo's, he nothing short of berated her for having the idiocy to choose Neros Flint as her companion. Neros Flint! He must've said the man's name eighteen times. Of all the people to accompany her to such a place! Was she daft?!
Didn't she know what a dangerous wizard he was?
"I do now," she muttered.
"He's violent and unpredictable and-and-and how could you choose him?!"
"He...he asked!" she squawked, offended at the insinuation that this could somehow be her fault.
She hadn't known him all that well at school with him being a few years younger than herself.
And he was a Pureblood and a Slytherin and came from a wealthy, prominent family. It had seemed like good fortune when he'd strolled over the previous morning following one of her meetings at the Knight's Stronghold and inquired about her plans for the tournament's gala tonight. He'd read about her latest match in the newspaper. He'd missed the deadline to compete himself because of a work assignment in Belgium.
It wasn't until they'd met back up this evening and his interest in her flagged and their personalities clashed that she'd known she'd made a colossal mistake.
"How could you agree!? How could you-you-how could you choose him?"
She blinked, caught off guard by how badly he was taking it all.
"Choose him?" she repeated.
It was just posturing.
She'd done it enough with Malfoy.
It wasn't a date. Not in a true sense.
It was an agreement. An alliance. To show up and stand for pictures and dance and support one another in various conversations.
"Don't you know him at all? Haven't you heard anything? Do you pay attention at all-"
"No," she snapped. "I met him yesterday and-"
"You. Met. Him. Yesterday?" Orion hissed.
"..."
"And you entrusted yourself to his care?! At a prestigious event? At night? Unchaperoned?!"
"...I am not a trunk or a gate to be guarded, Orion. I don't 'entrust' myself to anyone's keeping but my own."
"Did he even ask your father's permission? Your brothers? Do they even know you're out this night?"
"...I...thank you for your concern," she gritted out. God, that was painful to say. "Traditional as it may be...and I acknowledge...mistakes were made."
He gave an incredulous snort. "Of all the reckless, stupid-"
"I am perfectly capable of deciding for myself whose company-"
Orion wouldn't have it. "He could've hurt you."
"..." No. No, she wouldn't allow him to shame her. She'd done nothing wrong. She'd been unwise in selecting him without knowing him better but no more than that.
She breathed in and out through her nose and focused on the shadowy scenery whizzing by the window.
"Answer m-"
"I hear you," she growled and crossed her arms.
"Walburga...Walburga, how could you...such a cad-"
Irate, she whipped back to face him. "It's not my fault he was a cad. He was perfectly respectable until he wasn't. And when he wasn't, I turned him away. What happened after isn't my fault so you can-can-can s-s-stop-" she swallowed hard and determinedly looked back to the window.
"I...of course it's not your fault. I know that. It's his. I just can't stand anyone hurting you...it makes me...look...I know this...was probably all very upsetting...I...don't mean to worsen matters or make you feel responsible. No, I-"
"Then what are you going on about?" Walburga burst out as she swiveled to look at him once more.
"What he did was unacceptable-"
"I don't care about what he did!" she replied shrilly. "I'd have just dueled him myself."
He stared. "You're not...upset because he-he-he hit you?"
"I'm in a dueling tournament, Orion. I'm no stranger to being punched in the face by an insecure wizard! Have you watched any of my recent matches?"
"...they hit you?" He was horrified.
"Keep up, Orion!"
His features contorted. "Then why are you so bloody upset now?!"
"BECAUSE YOU KEEP YELLING AT ME!" she shrieked.
Thankfully, the carriage had reached Black manor and so she was able to immediately disembark and hurry up to the door.
Because everything was burning; her eyes, her chest, her throat.
Damn him.
A slew of painful memories flitted through her mind, leaving for Hogwarts for the first time and watching him and the platform shrink with distance, him leaving for Hogwarts after she'd graduated, various times he'd gotten sick or injured, the disastrous ball that had nearly taken him from her.
And all the careless things he did or said now and again.
Damn him.
Her father might have provoked such horrible feelings on occasion and Abraxas had done more than his fair share in frustrating and provoking her but Orion...Orion was in a category all his own. The only man who consistently wore her ragged.
The only man that always that made her cry so easily.
Yes, this was the "dearest friend" Fate would bestow upon her.
One who not only cheered her on at various turns but utterly destroyed her at others.
She could almost hear Abraxas laughing as she wept.
Because something about it all was poetic and it would figure that something flowery would be Walburga's downfall.
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