❝If by my life or death I can protect you, I will.❞
The Chosen One is kidnapped from the Dursley household and it turns out to be the best damn thing that's happened to him.
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THE MORNING AFTER a good night's sleep, Charlus opened his eyes and found himself with a rather stiff neck. Slowly pushing himself into a sitting position, he glanced over to see that Sirius and Harry were still sound asleep, and judging by their awkward sleeping positions, they were probably going to wake up in the same discomfort. However, they looked too peaceful to be disturbed, so Charlus allowed them to continue sleeping while he rose from the sofa and left to use the toilet.
Already in the morning hours, Charlus shifted from his dream world back into calculating every move he was going to make next. Everyone around him seemed so confident that everything was going to go perfectly right, but Charlus never found himself able to settle for such comfort. Sure, his mind was a bit more settled, knowing that he had Harry again, but it would foolish to let his guard down when it came to opposing people like Albus Dumbledore.
Even a few minutes later, with a toothbrush in mouth, Charlus paced back and forth. It wasn't just enough to get even with Dumbledore or outsmart him a couple of times, Charlus knew damn well that he always had to be a step ahead and that meant, planning for every possible outcome. Yes, he had many plans up his sleeves, but only one could work without issue, but which one?
Once his bladder was empty and his teeth were brushed, his pacing did not come until an end until he came upon quite the scene in the kitchen.
The last person he expected to see, sitting upright at the table, was Walburga.
A slight movement in the doorway caused him to glance over and catch only a glimpse of Kreacher's head before the house-elf disappeared from view. Curiosity held its grip on Charlus' mind until Walburga turned her head to face him.
"Sit."
Despite not being able to hear the tone to her voice, Charlus detected no anger, malice, or demanding nature to her request. She gestured her hand to the available chair closest to her, leaving Charlus no choice but to take a seat. For a moment, nothing happened, no one said anything and neither one of them moved. If Walburga was about to say something insulting to him, she was holding back behind a very tired expression.
In the past, Walburga had nothing kind to say about Charlus or his family. He remembered when Sirius would become overwhelmed and upset with how the Black family spoke of supposed "blood-traitors." And there were plenty of times, that Walburga stooped as low to make fun of Charlus for being deaf, mocking the use of his hands for communication, or claiming that it was something of a curse, delivered onto the Potters because they friendly with "mudbloods."
Charlus had every opportunity to lash out at her for everything that happened in the past, for everything that had been said, even if he wasn't present for it. However, he felt no satisfaction, yelling at a woman that was standing on the threshold of death. No matter the demons she carried, all Charlus could see was a fragile old woman.
