In which the untold story of Walburga Black unfolds.
She was a witch before she was a wife, mother, and cruel woman.
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"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...
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The soft rays of dawn gently illuminated the room, casting a warm glow over the intimate aftermath of the night.
As she stirred awake, the soreness in her body served as a tangible reminder of both the night's endeavors and the battle wounds that still lingered.
Orion, still beside her, seemed a serene presence in the early morning light. Sitting up on her elbows, she began to trace patterns on his chest as he slept.
The gentle rise and fall of his chest under her fingertips created a rhythmic dance, a silent symphony of shared moments and unspoken connections.
A cascade of soft morning light spilled into the room, revealing the contours of his features. The serenity of the scene enveloped her, and a warm smile played on her lips.
In his sleep, he wrapped his arm around her naked waist bringing her closer. The soft curve of his arm around her waist felt like a protective shield, she never wanted this moment to end.
She found herself blushing at the images of last night - it wasn't as feral as were her nights with Abraxas. While she often found herself at the Malfoy Manor - both Abraxas and herself knew that their lustful nights were just that, as fun as they were.
With Orion, it was different. It felt like love, a craving as vital as breathing. She knew she was in love with Orion Black, and she anticipated that this feeling would endure for the rest of her life.
"Good morning, my lady." His voice was gruff, as he had just woken up.
"Morning," she replied, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she continued tracing patterns on his chest. Her body had practically been intertwined with his beneath the sheet.
He chuckled softly, his eyes still closed. "Enjoying the artwork on my chest, are you?" His hand found hers, and he interlocked their fingers.
She squeezed his hand before lifting them both as the sunlight hit them creating shadows in the room.
Together, they basked in the gentle morning glow, grateful for the stillness and the promise it held.
As he brought her closer to him, she wrapped her legs around his body letting go of his hand, and she began to trace his face.
Their closeness created an intimate cocoon, shielding them from the outside world. She traced the contours of his face, committing every detail to memory.
As their bodies entwined, the connection between them deepened, solidifying the unspoken bond they shared. In the delicate dance of fingertips on skin, they found solace and reassurance, embracing the intimacy of the moment.
As he closed his eyes, surrendering to her touch, she spoke softly, weaving a thread of nostalgia into the intimate moment.
"You know, when we were still in Hogwarts, I would always hate seeing you after the long summers, even at the summer balls, and family dinners" she confessed, a wistful smile playing on her lips.
