In which the untold story of Walburga Black unfolds.
She was a witch before she was a wife, mother, and cruel woman.
⭑⭑⭑
"You failed as a mother; I failed as a son. Can you sit here truthfully, and say you love me? Look in my eyes, and say that you...
"Will you miss me dearly?" Alphard's voice echoed through the cabin as he continued to pack his belongings.
He had planned to return to Spain, readying himself to invest in his favorite red wine.
"Not particularly, no," Orion replied before Walburga could open her mouth his head still looking down at papers from the ministry.
It had seemed that both Orion and Alphard had grown to dislike one another, only being ambivalent when Walburga was involved.
She gave him a light smack to the back of his head and moved from behind the kitchen counter.
Their evening was met with a burnt dinner as Walburga still hadn't perfected cooking spells.
"You know, I will brother." She said watching him put on his cloak. "Write to me when you arrive or expect a howler."
Grabbing his wand he looked over at his cousin before his eyes settled on his sister softening. "I will."
"And Orion," He walked over towards his cousin his soft smile disappearing, "Do take care of my sister, despite what you may feel - she matters to me."
Orion nodded a rare sincerity in his gaze.
"Right, well I suppose I will be off then, the train will be leaving soon."
Nodding once last time at his sister he disapparated with a pop - leaving behind the married couple.
Walburga turned her attention back to the kitchen, the remnants of the evening's failed dinner still lingering in the air.
Orion, engrossed in his work, sighed softly as he returned to the paperwork.
The air between them held the residue of unspoken tension, a palpable reminder of the night Walburga had spent with Abraxas.
As she lifted her wand to dispel the burnt smell and remnants of the failed meal from the kitchen, Walburga's mind involuntarily drifted back to the lustful night with Abraxas.
☆ ★ ☆
(𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤)
𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟗𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟏- 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫
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Deep into the night, they had finally exhausted themselves. Walburga found herself lying on the leather seat, and Abraxas straight across, to her right. Sheens of sweat adorned their bodies, remnants of the passionate night they had just experienced.
Abraxas, his usually composed demeanor slightly disheveled, traced patterns on the armrest as they both caught their breath.
The silence hung in the room, heavy with the unspoken acknowledgment that their alliance had taken an unforeseen turn.
