December 30, 1979

In the dark of the study, Kreacher watched his master closely. Ever since he returned to his ancestral home, he hadn't been the same. Perhaps the dark lord asked him of another task? He fought a shiver at the thought of having to take anything from that wizard again. He still saw those awful visions in his dreams, could still feel the cold hands.

"Kreacher!"

He apparated to his mistress's chambers, bowing his head respectfully, "Mistress, Kreacher humbly serves you." Walburga Black seemed to frown deeper, looking him over, "Tell me, is Regulus acting strange?"

He hesitated, thinking carefully over his next words. He was loyal to his dear mistress, but he also knew his master would be distraught if he were to betray his trust. Keeping his head low, he responded clearly, "Master Regulus does seem distracted." He waited nervously as a silence grew. He could feel the contents of his stomach swirling, would she see through his pathetic lie?

"Hm, I was thinking the same thing."

When he dared to look up, he saw the Mistress's dour expression. As if by habit, her hand trailed over to the empty spot beside her on the bed. When it met cold silk, he saw the sadness enter her eyes. Though she was too prideful to lose face, it was obvious Walburga was still grieving. Master Regulus had commented on never seeing her cry, but Kreacher has seen it.

It happens late at night when no one can hear a single peep. For one hour, she allows herself to drop the mask. Usually, he would find her by the windowsill, holding one of Orion's robes. She would always hold it close to her heart, staring up at the night sky with tear-filled eyes. Then, once the hour was up, she'd return his things to the chest at the end of her bed. As if nothing happened.

He watched her lips tighten as she struggled to regain control of herself, her voice coming out strained, "Is it the wedding planning? Is Cathleen not doing her duty?"

"No, mistress. Master Regulus hadn't mentioned to Kreacher of being unhappy with the Yaxley mistress."

"Then what?" She shrilly replied. Walburga placed a hand on her forehead, "Oh I feel faint.." She fanned herself for a moment, looking in his direction, "Kreacher, stay by his side tonight."

"Understood, Mistress."

She pressed her lips tightly together for a moment before quickly snapping, "And keep him safe. He's my last remaining heir."

"Yes, Mistress."


Regulus walked up the stairs, his face gaunt and pale, eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. When he reached the top, he took a step towards his room before pausing. Slowly, he turned to the other door, approaching it quietly. His eyes took in the dark and scarred wood, his hand reaching out to run over the ridges. He could feel the splinters catch on his skin, but he cared not. Using his other hand, he turned the knob, stepping inside.

It was exactly the same. The smell of cigarettes and cologne practically smothered him. But even as he looked around the room, he knew it wasn't entirely the same. The torn muggle posters on the wall and liquor bottles are all that remains of his brother. Now he just felt like a ghost.

Sighing deeply, Regulus went over to the messy bed to sit, grabbing a bottle of some muggle liqueur from the floor. Lifting the glass bottle to the light, he attempted to read it, his grey eyes narrowed on the label. After some time, he uncorked the bottle, taking a sniff at the top. His eyes instantly watered, a cough leaving him as he tried to regain his breath.

"W-What is this, bloody poison?!" He snapped, his head perking up as he heard Sirius's laughter. A broken mirror is all that greeted him, the vanity in complete disarray. Staring at his reflection in the fragments, he muttered beneath his breath, "Liquid courage."

He squeezes his eyes tight as he lifted the bottle to his lips, gulping down the burning liquid. It hurt so much. Why did Sirius like this? Placing the bottle clumsily on the side table, he coughed raggedly, beating on his chest, "Ah! It burns!"

"Aw come on Reggie, man up and take another sip."

His lips quirked up, not daring to look up with the chance that Sirius would disappear again. He wondered if the hereditary madness had finally taken root within him. Picking up the bottle up again, he could hear Sirius cheer him on, "Atta boy, Reggie! Now we're partying!" He gives a soft chuckle before raising the bottle to his lips again, "Let's party, Sirius.."

He was losing it for sure.

Perhaps that's what led him to waltz right out of his ancestral home, the bottle held loosely in his fingers. He stumbled down the sidewalks, ignoring passerby's stares. Damn muggles should mind their business.

They did make good alcohol though, and he wished to try more. Remembering a bar that Sirius went to, he apparated right in the middle of the street. When he landed, he felt his stomach surge as the liquor sloshed around inside.

"Oof…that's not pleasant." He huffs, righting himself and fixing his appearance. Once he felt properly groomed, he walked into the bar, going over to an empty booth. As he slid in, he heard a familiar voice, "What can I get you, sir?"

He looked up in confusion, staring at the figure before him. Who was this woman, and why was she looking at him like that? Was there something on his face? Confused where he knew her from, he tried to squint his eyes to see her face. Everything was just so blurry.

"Are you serious, Black? You don't even know my name do you?"

Well, she definitely had a mouth on her. He liked that. As if struck, he straightened himself, clearing his throat, "Apologies, may I have your name?"

"Colette Lane. I mean honestly, we only shared the same potions class for seven years. Oh, and we also were dueling partners in charms." She had a bite in her tone, her northern irish accent made it hard for him to fully understand what she was saying. Or maybe he was just drunk.

Realizing she was waiting on an answer, he wracked his brain for memories of Potions and Charms. He remembered a girl with blonde ringlets. She kept it back in a braid all the time, and preferred to wear muggle jeans over the uniformed skirts.

Blinking slowly, he casually spoke, "Ah, yes, you're a muggleborn. That's right."

Her posture changed, her hand going to her hip, "Excuse me?" Her voice sounded tight.

He didn't seem to notice, placing his bottle on the table as he continued, speaking politely, "Well, I just mean, of course you work here. It's a muggle bar, and you're a muggle..well, muggleborn. So it makes sense that you would be here."

Colette gritted her teeth, her nails digging into the notepad, "Are you serious, Black?"

"No, I'm Sirius."

Regulus nudged his side, muttering, "Shut up." Colette watched him in confusion before spotting the bottle by his side, "Black, are you drunk?"

"Yes." He replied almost instantly. Completely unabashed, his pale complexion flushed with pink. She rolled her eyes at him before writing down an order on the notepad, "Stay here. I'll get you some food to sop up the booze."

"But you didn't get my order." He replied in a haughty tone. She clicked her pen, glaring in his direction, "You'll eat what I give you, or you can get out. Your choice, pretty boy."

"Okay." He bowed his head. As she went to walk away, he called out, "I-I'm allergic to nuts."

She gave him a small smile, "Noted."


Laughter filled the booth, mingling with the music in the bar. After Regulus had sobered, he became much more charming. He had convinced Colette to spend the rest of her shift with him. And how could he not? Colette was a delightful being, so intelligent and pretty. Once the soberness started kicking in, he could understand her perfectly, her accent drawing him in like a moth to the flame. It just sounded so lovely.

"Reggie has a crush."

He had concluded that hearing voices were going to be his reality, so he made his peace with it. It's not like Sirius was wrong, he did have a crush on her. He couldn't understand why he didn't notice her before.

"Because mother brainwashed you. You had tunnel vision."

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Regulus offered his hand to Colette, "May I escort you home?" She looked at his hand in surprise, not used to this kind of treatment, "Um..sure?" She placed her hand carefully in his, and he felt electricity course through him from her touch.

Standing up from the booth, he helped her out of the booth before he offered his arm to her next. She got the hint and slipped her arm under his, grasping his forearm with her hand, "Is this..right?" He gave her a smirk, his grey eyes darkened in the light, "You're perfect."

She felt her heart give a little jump, and she looked away as she spoke, "Right, let's go. I live 5 minutes away."

She found it strange they didn't apparate, instead, Regulus actually walked her the whole way home. Not once did he complain. When they arrived at her door, she looked around the neighborhood to make sure no one was listening. Regulus raised a dark brow as he watched her swivel her head around like an owl.

The coast was clear. She looked up at him and whispered, "Why didn't you apparate us?" Regulus seemed to fight a smile, leaning down to her level a bit, whispering back, "Because the muggles could have seen us. That's very irresponsible."

She rolled her eyes, giving his chest a little shove, smiling when he took a few pity steps back. Getting a good look at him, she remembered the crush she had on him in third year. It was the first time she saw him with long hair. He looked so dreamy. Just as dreamy as he was now, looking more like a beaten-up puppy. Damn that hair was pretty though.

She found herself staring into his eyes, the two holding an intense gaze, no words involved. But they could both feel it. The pull. It was as if the strings of fate had entangled with themselves. They were trapped in a web, with only one available outcome.

"Do you want to come inside?" The words leave her mouth before she could think.

Regulus looks stunned for a moment. But he quickly regains himself, taking her hand and placing a soft kiss on the back, "I would be honored."

"Alright, cool it, pretty boy. You're not a knight of the round table." She teased him, the smile on her face relaxing him. Her comments didn't stop him from opening the door for her after she unlocked it, bowing his head like a gentleman, "After you, ma'am."

Colette's cheeks felt hot as she entered her home, passing by the smug wizard, "You can keep that. I don't mind you calling me ma'am. Though you could just call me by my name."

"Colette.."

"Oh good, you remembered it!"


December 31, 1979

Walburga paced her bedroom, muttering softly to herself. Regulus had come home the next morning, and he looked ghastly. But when he saw her, he.. smiled? He told her he loved her, and then just walked away as if nothing just occurred. It was strange, and alarming. A mother always knows when something is wrong with her child.

She acted as though she didn't pick up on it, scolding him for drinking without notifying her. He practically reeked of booze when he entered. She ordered him to shower at once, ordering Kreacher to make some lunch for Regulus when he got out.

It was quiet for the rest of the day. It felt like any other day, but it wasn't. Something unsettled her all day, but she couldn't place her finger on it. Regulus was resting all day, so she decided to leave him be for the rest of the evening.

Late in the night, a piercing scream came from the master bedroom. Walburga woke with a terrible pain in her chest, crying out in the dark, "REGULUS!" She was reaching out her hand as if trying to grab ahold of someone. She held the front of her nightgown tightly, balling the fabric in her fist, gasping for air, "R-Regulus.."

Where was her son? Was he hurt? She used her withering strength to help herself out of the bed, rushing to the door, calling out, "REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK. YOU ANSWER ME!" There was silence. She felt her heartbeat quicken, her voice wavering slightly as she shouted again, "REGULUS! REGULUS DO YOU HEAR ME! I ORDER.. REGULUS SAY SOMETHING." Nothing again.

She felt the tears build up behind her eyes, calling out, "K-Kreacher! Kreacher come here! KREACHER!"

As he was apparated in, she saw the large tears in his bulbous eyes, a locket dangling around his neck. He was reaching out for someone, his voice croaking, "M-Master.." As his tears fell, so did hers. Walburga dropped to her knees, grabbing ahold of Kreacher's shoulders, "Tell me what happened, Kreacher. What happened to my boy!?"

"M-Master said not to tell. Kreacher can't break promise." He tried to reason with her.

"But you broke our promise. You were supposed to keep him safe." She spat, wiping the tear trails from her cheeks, "That was my baby. I-Is he.. really gone?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Kreacher bowed his head, replying quietly, "Yes.. Master was..killed. Kreacher failed." She watched as he grasped the locket chain, pulling it off of him, before offering it to her with shaking hands. Walburga snatched the locket out of his hands, turning it over to see the crest on the front.

"This is.. Salazar Slytherin's.." She ran her hand over the edges of the snake engraving, the pieces beginning to fit inside her mind. The memory of her pale son stumbling up the stairs came to her mind, her jaw clenched tight as she gave Kreacher the locket back, "I understand now, go hide it somewhere the Dark Lord will never find. Then leave me be for the night." She turned her face so he could no longer see her, "I wish to be alone."

"Yes, Mistress."


August 20, 1980

Time went on slowly, the months felt like years to Walburga. Her only company in the house was Kreacher. She had thought about writing a letter, in hopes it would reach her oldest, wherever he was. But her pride would always win in the end.

She barely left her bed, spending her time reading or sleeping. When she finally regained strength, winter had already passed. The ice gathered at her window had melted away. Replacing it was the bright sunshine and beautiful days that contrasted Walburga's mood. Grabbing her robe, she walked out of her room for the first time in weeks. Kreacher kept the place clean, not an ounce of dust left behind. Nothing had changed. Except it was just her now.

She made her way to the tapestry room, wishing to see Regulus's portrait again and to see if she could somehow repair the spot she burned. As she grasped the doorknob, she called out, "Kreacher, bring me a glass of the merlot." As she stepped into the room, Kreacher appeared with her drink. She picked it up on her way to the wall, eyes tracing over her family tree.

"The House of Black." She muttered darkly, taking a swig from her glass, "Destroyed..by a filthy halfblood." Many years ago, Walburga would have fainted at the scorn in her words for her dark master. But that was before he took her child. Now she held no familiarity in her heart for the wizard, he could burn for all she cared.

Kreacher remained silent as his Mistress ranted in the empty manor, the wine sloshing in the glass dangerously. "We were loyal." She hissed, taking an unsteady step to the tapestry, "For years, we served him. And this is how he repays it?" A drop of wine splashed onto the white rug beneath her feet, but she paid no mind, her voice growing shriller, "He killed my child, my heir! He knows nothing of blood, nothing of the sanctity of the Sacred Twenty-Eight!"

"Filthy half-blood, wants to sully Mistress's family name." Kreacher replied.

Walburga went over to where Sirius's portrait used to be, running her fingers over the scorch marks, "My oldest never sowed his wild oats, running off with that half-breed and his blood-traitor friends. The Black name will die with him." She scoffed, "He must feel so pleased with himself. The Black Family will wither away, just as he always wanted."

But even as she said this, there was sadness lingering in her eyes, her fingers tracing where his face used to be. When she could no longer place what his face looked like, she stepped over, looking at Regulus's portrait with a pained smile. She traced over his hair, remembering the head of curls that he had when he was an infant. She would spend hours brushing those ringlets, taking time to make sure they were perfectly in place. He never complained, he was always so patient.

"He was the perfect son." She commented, catching Kreacher's attention again. "I was always so hard on him. Orion told me to act softer, but I knew this world was cruel, he needed to have a thick skin. He needed to be able to-" Her voice broke for a moment, her hand dropping to her side, "He needed to survive. But perhaps I'm the one who pushed him to his death instead."

"Mistress-"

"Maybe if I had been a better mother. My children would be here." She gripped the sides of her robe, looking away from the tapestry, "I was just so stubborn. That's why I hated Sirius's attitude, he was too much like me. So full of anger, he'd fight till his last breath. It was like looking in a mirror."

"Mistress wishes to contact Master Sirius?"

"No." She replies curtly, straightening her spine, "Some things are better left in the past. Let him live the life he wants. It's my last action as his mother." When she turned around, she was collected, taking a sip from her glass, "I'm going back to my room, we're done here."

"Mistress! The-"

"I said we're done here." Walburga shot back coldly, heading to the door. But Kreacher wouldn't have it, forgetting all of his disciplines by grabbing ahold of her gown, frantically shouting, "Mistress please! Kreacher begs Mistress to look! Master Regulus!" That was enough to make her turn on her heel.

Regulus wasn't there, as she expected, though she would always hope. Instead, his portrait began to grow a branch. She stepped over to the tapestry, watching it in shock. A branch extended out to create the portrait of a woman, when her name appeared, Walburga's blood went ice cold.

"Colette Lane? A mudblood?" There was no bite in her tone, however. Just shock.

A branch began to grow from Colette and Regulus, extending down to create the image of a small baby girl. Walburga reached out to the tapestry once again, touching the newest addition, "Regulus has a child.."


For the rest of the evening, she remained in the tapestry room, just staring at the portrait. She thought about what she might do. The child's mother was a mudblood, it was practically insulting to the Black name. What was Regulus thinking? He already had a fiancé she arranged for him, why did he fool around with a random mudblood? Was he that unhappy?

Making her decision, she stood from her chair. Kreacher watched her from the corner, "Does Mistress need something?" Walburga went over to the bookshelf, "Yes, but you can't touch it Kreacher. Only relatives who carry Black blood are allowed to." She took out an ornate black book, turning the pages as she went over to the desk, "If you or some intruder touched it, you'd die from blood poisoning within 10 minutes."

Once she reached the correct page, she placed the book on the desk, reaching out for a letter opener, "In order to find my granddaughter, we need to find her location." She picked up the blade and placed it to the palm of her hand, when Kreacher saw it, he attempted to stop her.

"M-Mistress.."

She paid him no mind, slicing through the skin easily, holding her palm over the book, "I remember Orion doing this when Sirius went on those bar-hops. It'll tell us the exact location of where she is." As her blood dropped onto the page, she began muttering beneath her breath. The blood on the page began to lift up, coagulating together to form words. When the blood sank back into the paper, dark red scripture began to form.

Walburga grabbed a quill, writing down the address on a piece of parchment. Kreacher watched her, conflicted with his own feelings. Did Master Regulus want his child to be found? Did he even know of it before his passing?

"We've got the address. Let's go, Kreacher."


Locals stared strangely at the woman who walked through the Belfast Streets in a full fur stole, her pointed heels clicking elegantly along the pavement. She had a wide-brimmed black hat, adorned with dark feathers. She did not look a single one in the eye, on a narrow and straight course towards a grayed building.

She looked absurd to the muggles, but Walburga held her head high, continuing on her narrow path to a large building. Windows were barred shut with iron bars, fences high and sharpened. The yard was severely overgrown, with some wilting rose bushes in the front.

Walburga stopped before the door, her pointed nose scrunching in disgust, "Ugh.. Kreacher, open the door." An audible snap came, and the doorknob turned itself. She stepped in gracefully, holding up her skirts so she wouldn't get dirt on her nice dress. Though she considered burning the clothes on her body after seeing the poor condition of the inside. Mold spots and dust covered every surface.

The floorboard beneath her feet creaked with each step, alerting whoever was inside of her arrival. A loud thud came from up the rickety stairs, and before long, a muggle woman came down. She was wiping some kind of gray gruel on her apron, greeting Walburga with a pleasant smile, "Hello, Madam, welcome to 'Clodagh's Home for Orphan and Destitute Girls'. My name is Phillis, how may I assist you?"

"Hm.." Walburga looked her up and down with an unimpressed stare, "I'm here for a baby." Phillis motioned to the stairs, "I'll show you to the nursery." When Walburga wouldn't move, the muggle decided to take the lead, going up the stairs. After some time, the witch followed, though she didn't hide the disdain from her face.

"We have plenty of babes, each more darling than the last."

"Hmm.." Walburga ignored the muggle, looking over the portraits on the wall. Each child in the frames seemed miserable. She should know, she had seen that look before. Phillis guided her to a door with chipping white paint, opening it to reveal the nursery.

"Here they are." Phillis went over to a crib on the left, taking out a small baby girl with brown locks, "This one is Amelia, she has the most beautiful green-"

"No." Walburga cut her off, passing by her to look at the infants, "I want the one with grey eyes and black hair." Phillis stared at the strange woman with a perturbed look, "Excuse me?" The witch turned around, her eyes turned cold, "Did I stutter? Bring her."

Phillis placed the baby carefully back, never taking her eyes off the other woman, "You are looking for a specific child, yes? Are you kin to her?" Walburga noticed her demeanor changed, and took an intimidating step towards her, "Yes. Her surname should be Black. Father's name is Regulus."

"I'm terribly sorry." Phillis crooned in a falsely sweet tone, "I don't have any child with that surname." Walburga's jaw clenched in anger, resisting the urge to whip out her wand. She had to remain calm long enough to get information.

Pushing aside her pride, she gritted out, "Lane, then. Her mother is Colette Lane." The recognition in Phillis's eyes told her she was in the correct place. There was no way the magic would be wrong. The matron looked at her with a pitying stare, "Oh.. that poor thing. Unwed mothers come to us all the time, but she was such a young thing. Too thin, I kept saying-"

"Yes, yes." Walburga interrupted her, showing no consideration to the birth mother, "The child?" Phillis looked unsettled at the uncaring tone but led her to the cribs nearest to the window.

"She was born pre-term, so she's still a bit tiny." The Matron remarked as she lifted the white lace, revealing the sleeping infant inside the crib. The moment Walburga set her eyes on the child, she knew. Without another word, she whipped out her wand and pointed it to the back of the muggle's head.

"Obliviate."


Kreacher prepared the bassinet while Walburga held the sleeping child. It was a precious family heirloom from her family that held both her sons and now her grandchild. Hand-carved Cypress Wood, with ornate silver swirls catching the light. To prepare it for the new little one, he decorated it with white silk and lace. The white canopy above the bassinet was given blush pink ribbons before he decided to add ribbons to the skirt as well.

Once he was sure it looked proper, he went over to boxes that contained all of Sirius and Regulus's old nursery items. After a few minutes of digging, his wrinkled hands took out a folded green blanket. Walburga watched him place it in the bassinet, his ears drooping down as he carefully tucked it in.

"Well done, Kreacher." She said in a clipped tone. Her eyes lingered on the blanket for a moment longer before she bent down, placing the sleeping infant carefully inside. Once she stepped back, the house-elf hurried to tuck the child in. Once he was sure she was comfortable, he moved out of the way, bowing his head.

Walburga approached the bassinet once again, reaching to run a finger along the little one's cheek. The baby girl's face scrunched up as she was disturbed, a little whine leaving her. Slowly, eyes cracked open to reveal stormy grey eyes. The elder witch let out a satisfied sigh, her shoulders relaxing, "She looks just like him."

There was a long pause of silence as Walburga caressed her granddaughter's small face. Her lips slowly pulled into a smile as a small hand wrapped around her finger. She took in every feature, wanting to catalog each detail in her mind.

"What will Mistress name the little mistress?"

Walburga waited for a moment, watching those familiar eyes droop shut, "Amalthea Violetta Black." It was quick as if she had been thinking about it for some time. Kreacher nodded quickly, his voice croaking from excitement, "Little Mistress Amalthea!" Walburga's smile turned into a smirk, running her hand over the canopy as she passed it, "You will be in charge of her, Kreacher. No harm shall come to the heiress, am I understood?"

Kreacher flinched at her cold tone, but bowed his body obediently to her, "Yes, Mistress." When she exited the room, he slowly rose. Approaching the bassinet tenaciously, he peeked inside. Amalthea was sleeping peacefully again, her little hand fisted in the green blanket. Reaching in, he brushed a black curl from her forehead, "Kreacher will protect little mistress for the rest of his unworthy life. Kreacher promises he won't fail again."