The grandeur of the Black family's townhouse loomed darkly, hidden from curious Muggle eyes as Walburga and Orion Black apparated onto the front step with a loud crack. Letting go of her husband's hand, Walburga smoothed down her elegant robes before letting herself into the dimly-lit foyer. The indignant breath she huffed out the only sign that something was troubling her. Kicking off her shoes, she yelled for Kreacher to draw up a bath and lay out her nightwear. As she marched up the stairs to her bedroom, she started to loosen the pins in her elegantly coiffed hair, again huffing out an indignant breath. Who did that Parkinson upstart think she was, talking to her, the Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, as if they were even of remotely equal social standing? Not that she was wrong per se, Walburga angrily thought while she brushed out her dark locks with a flick of her wand.
When the invitation to Calliope Greengrass' annual spring ball had arrived a few weeks back, Walburga still in despair over her youngest son's all too recent passing, had wanted nothing more than to cordially decline. An insincere response already penned out she had paused. Regulus was gone, and while she felt her heart squeeze every time she thought of her darling boy, them shutting themselves off was not going to bring him back. Oh she could already hear the harpies at the ball, the echelons of pureblood society gossip in hushed voices what a tragedy this was for the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. One son a disgraceful blood traitor, rightfully disowned for the shame he had brought onto the family, and the new heir now dead, far too young. What a shame it was that it was Regulus whose life had been cut short far too soon instead of the other one's, leaving the Blacks without an heir to take up his place. Two sons lost, different circumstances but lost to her nonetheless. A shame indeed. Sneering, Walburga had ripped apart the letter, taken out a new sheet of paper with the Black family crest on top and responded that both her and Orion were looking forward to attend the gathering. They were Blacks, they would not crumble.
Heads held high, the two had attended the ball tonight, receiving condolences from acquaintances all around. And Walburga had smiled gracefully, thanking her friends for their kind words while all she wanted to do was lash out. Of all the disgusting social climbers who felt a need to approach her tonight however, it had been Prunella Parkinson who had taken the cake "My dear Walburga," she had said in a low voice, squeezing Walburga's hand, "it is a shame truly, to see such an ancient house in ruins. It sadly always seem to happen to the best of families. If there is anything Peregrine and I can do to help you and your husband through these difficult times, please do let us know." Walburga had been indignant. How had the world come to this? Prunella Parkinson, with her scandalously patched up marriage to that plump whale of a man beside her, had just expressed pity for her. Walburga had wanted to throttle the woman, and she seriously debated doing it muggle-style right then and there in the middle of the Greengrasses ballroom. Luckily she was saved the scandal of causing a scene by her husband who had promptly whisked her to the dance floor, where they continued their charade of looking at ease despite the admittedly regretful circumstances of their boy's death.
While Prunella had always been a pathetic social climber, the fact remained that she, and all the others who at least had the decency to not gloat in front of her, were right. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, for the first time in its over 950 years of history, was without an heir. When her and Orion would die, their family would end. The wealth in the Black vaults would go to the only surviving and not imprisoned member of the House of Black, her niece Narcissa, and through her to her son Draco Malfoy. Walburga had met the boy, when Narcissa had brought him over for tea. A sweet child, with whisps of light blonde hair who had sleepily looked at her with large icy blue eyes before yawning and snuggling deeper into his mother's arms and promptly falling back asleep. The Blacks and the Malfoys had been close political allies in the Wizengamot for generations, supported each others' initiatives, voted each other into positions and torn adversaries down together. Quite a few had fallen prey to the scheming of two of the most powerful houses in Wizarding Britain. Hence, why the match between Narcissa and Lucius had been such an ingenious move from Cygnus. There could be worse families to ascend to the Black wealth than the Malfoys she conceded bitterly. But still, the thought of Draco Malfoy, who in her imagination would look just like his father with no hint of his Black heritage, taking over the entirety of the Black fortune, their seat in the Wizengamot, their accolades while letting the Black family, the family that had made the Malfoys what they were today, be slowly forgotten, was infuriating.
Another huff escaped her. Standing up she headed for the door, prowling down the corridor towards the salon, looking for anything to do to calm down her racing thoughts. As she passed the family tapestry, which chronicled the illustrious lineage of the Black family, her steps faltered. Taking a steadying breath, Walburga fully turned towards the tapestry, taking a closer look. No, she hadn't imagined things. There, amidst the names of her esteemed ancestors, was the image of a newborn child, whose existence had eluded Walburga until this moment. Her eyes flickered to the silver stitched line connecting her to the scorched mark where in a fit of fury she had burned off her eldest son when he had thrown away his legacy. Walburga remembered the boiling anger as she had watched her hot-tempered firstborn storm out. She remembered how they had tried to regal him in, to make him come back into the fold of the family. But no amount of reasoning, screaming and threatening had helped. Her son, once her pride and joy, had abandoned them. Walburga let out a shriek.
"Orion! Get in here right now."
She heard her husbands steps. As she glanced over she saw that sleep must have eluded him as well. Still dressed in his dress shirts, his tie loosened and with a glass of amber liquid in one hand he leaned at the door frame. Catching his gaze, Walburga gestured widely towards the tapestry, her features contorted in a mixture of disbelief and outrage. Orion moved beside her and leaning forward he read aloud "Dorea Lillian Black".
An emotion that Walburga hadn't seen in a long time flitted across his features.
"Well look at this, our son has gotten busy." he said drily.
"Busy?", screeched Walburga, "is that all you are making of this?"
Raising an eyebrow at her he asked thickly, "what else is it you expect me to make of this dear?"
"You think this is true?"
"He shrugged before adding "How could it not be? The tapestry does not lie. Congratulations Walburga, you are a grandmother, aren't you proud of the newest addition to the family? You suppose we should send a rattle or rather a mobile?"
"Why isn't her mother on there?" Walburga asked sharply.
Orion threw her an amused look.
"Walburga dear, you know that marriage is not a prerequisite for the making of a child. Leave it to Sirius to not only father a bastard but to go ahead and recognise her as his heir, all the while maintaining his gauche ways by not marrying the mother. Let us just hope he stuck around with that McKinnon lass, that way she would at least be a pureblood."
"Dorea Lillian Black" Walburga tried out the name. "At least he gave her a proper Black name, though I should not be surprised he named the poor girl after that wench."
"Well she did let him impose himself on her family for quite a while."
Walburga fletched her teeth.
"And what kind of name is Lillian? It sounds horridly muggle."
Orion walked past his wife, taking the tumbler of firewhiskey out of the salon's cabinet. Both remained silent for a long time, before Walburga silently said,
"Her father is disowned, yet she still shows up on the tapestry as a Black. This changes…"
"Nothing. Don't be delusional Walburga", Orion cut her off gruffly "The boy was disowned. Rightfully so. If anything we should have done so earlier, rather than wasting our breath trying to set him on the right track again. He didn't mend his way since then. The girl being born outside of wedlock is testament to that. He is very likely still championing mudbloods. Mark my words, that girl will turn out like him. Another disgrace to our house. I'm sure right now he is singing her lullabies, raising her to turn out just as tree-hugging and Muggle-loving as he was.". With that he briskly brushed past his wife without another look at the tapestry.
Neither Walburga nor Orion got a wink of sleep that night. While Orion was in his bedroom, trying to numb his mind with Ogden's, Walburga was closely inspecting the picture of young Dorea Black on the tapestry. This was decidedly not how she had imagined she would learn of a grand-child. Ever so often she would move across the room to look out the window overseeing the back yard, before shaking her head and returning to the tapestry to again scrutinise the newest family addition, always thinking that when she would once more look at the family tree, Dorea Black would be gone, nothing more than a figment of her imagination. Her mind was racing. This could be the answer to so many of their problems. Sure, it was unfortunate that the girl had been born on the wrong side of the sheets and some of the elder witches and wizards might use it to disparage her in the future, but she was a Black so she would get the respect she was due regardless. Walburga would make sure of it. She just hoped the girl's mother had been a proper witch. While Walburga was in no position to be picky, she could do without the amused looks a half-blood heir to a house with the motto "toujours pur" would cause.
So while Orion was upstairs hiding his anguish behind sarcastic barbs and trying to drown his worries, Walburga started to scheme, ticking off things she could dangle in front of Sirius to allow the girl to be officially introduced to society as heiress to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Of course, the girl would have to be raised right, something she couldn't leave to Sirius who would probably allow for ridiculous muggle fads. She shuddered thinking about how some half-blood families even went so far as as to send their children to Muggle institutions for their first years of schooling, surely he would not stoop so low? But then he did have that ridiculous muggle bike. This would not do for her grand-daughter. Walburga shook her head. She was getting ahead of herself, she thought. Let's first get her declared as heiress, the topic of the girl's upbringing could be dealt with later. So Walburga got to work and while she was keen to get the succession settled quickly, she would not let her impatience make her rash. She did not mind playing the long game if it meant securing their house's future.