Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

AN: The story idea that just. Wouldn't. Go. Away. Even though I have tons of other stories to complete. None are abandoned. None. And I'm just going to throw out there that first-cousin marriage in the U.K. (and half the U.S.) is legal, so second-cousin marriage isn't quite the shocker Rowling would have us believe.

Soooo, here we are. This takes place in the same universe as Foreshadowing Demise and pretty much most of my other HP fics. I'm curious to see how well you guys receive this one.

Chapter 1: A Reckoning

Walburga Black was determined not to blush. It was precisely what Druella would want and she wouldn't give that dreadful woman such satisfaction.

What had her brother, Cygnus, been thinking, marrying her? A Rosier...it was...it was so like a Rosier to do this.

Honestly, inviting her over and then abandoning her in the parlor after setting this book in her lap and simpering that someone like Walburga might find it "instructive."

Well, she'd turn the tables on her soon enough. The cow...

She would read a chapter of the filthy thing and discuss it with her. As clinically as possible and let her be the embarrassed party.

"Wonders never cease. I would never have imagined you to have an interest in such...stimulating reading material," her cousin chuckled when he arrived, reading the book's cover and sitting down beside her on the settee.

As Orion had never had a mind for personal boundaries, it didn't much surprise her when his leg pressed against hers and he leaned more intimately into her arm for a view of the pages she was reading.

He hummed appreciatively at the illustrations and she felt her nerve start to flag and heat began rising into her face.

"You know?" he continued conversationally—leaning closer and giving her a strong whiff of his cologne. "You might find a veteran's account of these-" He gestured to the pictures. "-more helpful and I'd be happy to assis-"

Defeated. She closed the book and set it hard on Orion's lap.

Fine. Druella won that round. Though she'd been unknowingly abetted.

Orion chuckled again and began perusing the pages leisurely, pausing here and there with more sighs of appreciation. He waggled his eyebrows at her.

The pervert.

Druella returned with a house elf who was bearing a large tray of necessary items for their tea time.

Walburga noticed with some pleasure that it was the set she'd given her youngest brother and his wife as a wedding gift. Strong but lovely. It had to be able to survive her brother's using of it. He wasn't always the most graceful creature and his tendency to add rum into his tea didn't help. And then there was Druella. If it wasn't pleasing to the eye, it'd be in storage for ages. Only brought out if some sort of catastrophe made it necessary.

Walburga added more sugar to her beverage and sipped at her cup as topics of the Ministry gave way to more local details. Do you know so-and-so? Well, they're getting married. How about what's-her-name? Expecting in June, so I hear. Over and again. Rinse. Repeat.

Any outward sign of interest or distress would only invite more announcements, so she arranged her face into bored resignation.

Unable to get a rise out of her that way, the blonde began making multiple gestures and allusions that became increasingly less subtle, as a signal that she wanted Walburga to comment on the woman's pregnancy. Druella and Cygnus were expecting their third child. No doubt hoping for a son at last. Then they'd be able to wrestle away the title of heir from Alphard, who had no children and no wife (so no likelihood of securing the spot of patriarch for the Black family household). Their triumph was nearly complete.

Well, she wouldn't do it. She spoke about the weather instead...with an intense focus, not unlike passion, until the other woman's nostrils flared.

Orion gave her several looks through this exchange. The first being quizzical. The second being exasperation. The third being irritation when he realized she simply wasn't going to indulge their relation by marriage. He then interrupted her forecast of the week to abruptly make inquiry into the pregnancy, a subject which the woman was only too delighted to divest details about.

Walburga made use of the stairway rail and her companion's arm as she made her way to the Ministry of Magic; though it meant she couldn't maneuver her long skirts as gracefully as she'd liked and Orion had already tread on her hem twice.

Still, at least it kept her hands busy and none of the paper boys or town vendors could shove any pamphlets her way, many of which demanded better pay for services rendered by mudbloods and the like.

It was so like them to want to bypass the centuries of hard work produced by old families like hers to attain the stations they had now. As if their wealth had simply rained unfairly from the sky one day. If it looked as though they stood on mountains, it was because they balanced on the bodies of generations. The roots of their family tree ran deep and the branches stretched high because of time and dedication. Watered by blood, sweat, and tears was how it became so grand.

These newcomers were like loose leaves desperate to reach great heights. A gust might keep them there a moment but when they crashed down they were surlier than before and were loud when they crunched underfoot.

Worse, they wore this self-righteous, suffering look as they went about or when they dared approach, seeking her out based on the richness of the fabrics she wore to be their patron. Like galleons would just eek out of the bustle and ruffles if they stood near enough.

Thankfully, her cousin shielded her from them this visit.

It was more his frame than his face that intimidated them. He was a strapping man to be sure, but he was terribly handsome with a smooth jaw and pleasant resting expression that gave away his agreeableness.

She envied him a bit on that last account. If she didn't take care to be aware of her features, she'd often fall into a look of mild vexation. Like she'd nibbled something sour but wasn't willing to return the dish and insult her host. Though of course, she was exposed to far more insipid conversations than he on a regular basis, since it was expected of her to accept invitations to various parlors and inquire within...and endure the result. So, she liked to think it might be that.

Why if these street peddlers knew them better they'd know who was all bark and who was all bite. And who was the real one to fear. Why, they would cease their attentions to her forever.

Orion had insisted on accompanying her when she relayed her intention to visit on behalf of her father.

Pollux needed her to pick up papers of some sort and was unwilling to venture out himself. Being somewhat of a misanthrope, and generally unpleasant when he made the visit himself, the staff of the office in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures were always careful not to comment on the oddity of her coming alone.

She found it amusing and annoying at turns.

Honestly, women had been given the vote some time ago. The idea of a witch travelling on her own shouldn't have been quite so shocking.

Though...perhaps it was because she was one of the last old families...known for their adherence to tradition...that her, well, modernity was a cause for raised eyebrows. And she still felt many eyes on her as she passed through the halls to the correct division, even with Orion on her arm.

Unfortunately, the office denizens made the mistake of greeting her too familiarly and Orion was instantly suspicious.

"Do you come here often?"

"Father hates coming here." And she didn't.

Often, getting to come into London was wonderfully liberating and she liked hearing the sounds of her high heels on civilized, marble floors and even pavement. Since Alphard took full residence in Grimmauld Place, and Cygnus had married and moved out to Black Moor, she'd been forced to leave with Father for Black Manor, which was so far removed in the countryside that she often felt it may as well have been the edge of the world.

In one fell move of geography, it pretty well removed even the potential of suitors coming to call on her.

And in so doing forced a reckoning: the end of one footpath of life had come for her.

Thirteen years had passed since she graduated Hogwarts' halls.

No offers of marriage were made.

She was officially a spinster and as far as she could make out her future, her fate seemed likely to involve continually running errands for her aging father until his natural end.

It was a cautionary tale she'd probably share in the next two decades with Bellatrix and Andromeda when they were of age.

Not to be assured that their looks or position would be enough.

Somehow, she'd always assumed her beauty, her family name, and the power of her wandwork would've pleased any future husband…

Alas...

As she'd been warned repeatedly, her temperament was too harsh, her interests too unfeminine, her attentions too abrasive.

As her mother had sneered at her daughter, before she thankfully passed from the world and out of Walburga's life, "There's no softness in you. I could call you a son and no one would wonder at it."

"Why not send Alphard?" Orion asked shortly.

Like he was determined to be displeased, which was unusual for him.

"I'm certain he's busy with his own enterprises. As is Cygnus. I don't mind." She enjoyed the liveliness of the city, even if she didn't approve of all the inhabitants cluttering it.

"...how often does he send you?" he pressed.

"I was unaware we needed your permission, Cousin?" She remarked, cutting to the chase.

He frowned and struggled to articulate his feelings, "Just seems...untoward, letting a daughter out...alone-"

She felt a smile pull her lips, "Unchaperoned?"

He let out a frustrated sound through his nose but didn't comment further.

Deciding he deserved a good teasing, she fluttered her lashes. "I promise, I'm not nearly as adventurous as you."

He ought to have shrugged and conceded that yes, there was a great double standard between them. Because his indiscretions were well known and the foundation of more than one spectacle involving angry, protective relatives seeking revenge for jilted daughters or sisters or the like. Why, they happened with such frequency, that not having one occur at a public venue for several months felt almost ominous.

Or perhaps, he should have given her that easy, lazy smile he often gave when he didn't want to argue but didn't want to side with her either.

So she was a little taken aback, when his gray eyes gave her a hard look. "If it's a weekly occurrence, you really should have someone with you. Some riffraff observer could learn to expect you and cause trouble."

That brought forth several fantasies and after dismissing four that involved rescue because she just couldn't imagine herself standing idly by, she settled on one and half hoped it would happen. She envisioned that she would be approached by some unscrupulous character. She would then dispatch said rogue with a well-aimed spell, draw attention to herself with a flattering newspiece hailing her nerve and skill, and perhaps a Pureblood reader with excellent judgment would fall so madly in love with her through the article that he'd propose—

"If you endeared yourself to Druella or her family or-or even Luca..er, Lucretia, you could travel more safely."

"So what I am hearing is...you won't always be present to deliver me unaccosted?"

He frowned again, "Is it usually this day of the week?"

She rolled her eyes and then studied a manicured hand. She should've worn gloves, her skin looked dry. "I'm joking, Orrie."

"Don't call me that," he snapped.

She craned a look up at him and arched a dark eyebrow. "Why?"

His lips curled back and he gritted through his teeth. "Because I hate it. It's infantile."

He'd never expressed such an aversion to it before.

"You still call Lucretia, Luca. And I know she still calls you Rye, with impunity, why can't I have Or-"

"She's my sister."

Walburga smiled meanly, "But you're my baby cousin. I should have rights to some kind of pet name for you."

"Am I allowed the same?" he asked with a sharp-toothed grin.

She snickered, "You could try. We both know my name doesn't lend itself to such a thing...but you could try. I probably won't answer though, should you call it in a crowded street."

Walberga accepted a folder containing papers for her father and the two departed. Had her companion not insisted on a carriage, she would've just apparated to the gate of her father's estate (his paranoia made apparating directly into the premises an impossibility), but Orion could be inflexibly traditional in some matters.

As the carriage bumped along at magically enhanced speed, she took off her hat, because the pins holding it on were bothering her, and it was only Orion sitting across from her.

There was a certain margin of impropriety they allowed for when it came to each other.

Why, if there wasn't, he'd have never come to her rescue that summer Cygnus had sown coins into her petticoats without her knowing and then set nifflers on her. It had been at one of her aunt's garden parties. She'd been seventeen then and if her thirteen year old cousin had been more prudish, there was no telling how she might've injured herself during her panic trying to deal with those horrid creatures alone.

And she'd lost track of the amount of times she'd been in Orion's bedroom helping him decide what robes and suits to wear for various occasions of business and pleasure. He didn't have any modesty about changing from one outfit to another in front of her, either.

For a long while, he'd been young and it had been innocent and then...quite suddenly, or so it seemed, he was grown and the habit was too established to fix.

"Would it be so terrible to indulge Druella?" he sighed in exasperation as he smoothed the lapels of his suit and fixed his cloak to lie better on his shoulders. "She wants to impress you."

So he was back to that again.

He just didn't understand the way women did battle.

"For God's sake, Wal...er Wally? Walla?" His solemn expression struggled against a smile that sought to undo his tone and air.

She straightened a twisted earring and looked at him, amused. "I told you. It. Doesn't. Work. Not with my name."

"For God's sake, woman, she's expecting. Have kindness for her if you can. Or pity if you can't."

While he waxed on about the necessity of her having female allies, if not friends, since Walburga just couldn't seem to keep any and he'd accepted that as a moot point, she noticed a corner of a paper sticking out from his pocket.

She cut his scolding short with, "What have you there?"

"Oh," he shrugged. "Some bloke...handing out fliers when we were walking-"

"May I see it?" The word "duel" had caught her eye and a sudden inexplicable sense of excitement had flooded her.

He handed it over and she smoothed it out, drinking in its contents with her eyes.

It promoted the annual tournament held by the British Wizard Dueling Association.

He tapped it with a finger. "You know? I watched last year's with Cygnus and Parkinson. Emilia? Remember her? We were uh...yes, well, that uh, that didn't work out. I mean, we had some good times before then of course...but...she made it clear she wanted to be there with me...don't think she realized how...er...violent the tournament can get. Well, after that it was all...spoiled and she thought us rather brutish for enjoying such a sport. Bleeding heart, who'd have thought? But...I think...I think you would enjoy it though. I could see about securing us a...well...a more suitable spot than where we were last..."

She nodded absently.

They were looking for contestants.

Now, that was an idea.

She thought longingly to her schooldays where she'd been a co-captain of the Slytherin Dueling Team.

Captain Black…

She sighed...well, maybe she was romanticizing it a bit.

She'd been known more commonly and infamously as, Captain BattleAxe Black.

Nonetheless, she'd been very gifted at dueling. Always had. She'd lost track of the number of times her brothers insisted on her being their second during their schooldays. Her, rather than each other. And sometimes, merely hearing that it was her accompanying them was enough to dissuade her brothers' rivals from showing up at all.

The flier didn't say that witches weren't allowed to participate. Probably frowned upon, but not barred. A visit to Abraxas Malfoy could confirm it or secure him in supporting her cause by the wording of the document. He was good with those sorts of legal things and he owed her. She'd endured a long dinner party last month with his wife where all she could talk about for nearly three hours was her precious Lucius.

Granted, he was a pretty child. But Walburga learned entirely too much about the toddler's bodily functions and wasn't sure she'd ever be able to look him in the eye once he was an adult—having been privy to potty training tales of terror.

The carriage slowed to a stop.

She gathered the folder for her father—making sure it was right and ordered. Because anything besides perfection ruffled him.

"I'll walk you up, shall I?" Orion offered gallantly, descending from the carriage and lifting a hand to assist her in exiting also.

It was nice to be remembered. Since Cygnus had been married, he often forgot about assisting her out of carriages or holding the door for her in favor of his wife.

Which she understood of course, it was right and natural for him to be more concerned about...Druella...but it was rather embarrassing to have a door shut in her face despite being part of his party when they entered a ball or event!

She hated Druella's smug smirk even more whenever this happened.

Walburga tried to drag Alphard to such things whenever she could because he at least remembered to perform those little delicacies when they were in a public space, but he'd inherited much of their father's distaste for galas...and whenever she did succeed in taking him out for an evening, he was disapproving and depressing...which often sunk her mood and ruined the festivities for her.

While she was certain her cousin, Orion, would remember her, despite usually having a date of his own to entertain, she never asked to share his carriage on such nights out. She just wasn't ready to subject herself as a witness to sordid interactions between him and a paramour in such a confined space.

Perhaps, it would be helpful to drum up a more friendly acquaintance with Luca and her husband, for matters of transportation at least.

It wasn't as though they were on bad terms. They were the same age and had shared a Slytherin dormitory for seven years. Perhaps, they weren't bosom friends but they knew enough of the other to be able to tolerate spells of time together...and they were family. She should be able to count on her for something. And it wouldn't be terrible to be called on for favors in return, it would at least get her out of her father's house. So she wouldn't be trapped there collecting dust like his collection of taxidermied mythical creatures.

She folded the flier and slipped it into her purse. "You needn't trouble yourself more on my account. I daresay I've squandered enough of your afternoon from you."

"No. I was just saying to myself, now, which family member would least like to see me?"

She laughed in spite of herself. Because Pollux hated guests. Even when they were relations.

"I know!" he crowed, "I think I'll stay for dinner!"

She shook her head while he dismissed the carriage driver. "You're a brave man, to court his wrath purposely."

He shrugged goodnaturedly, "Good practice, I think."

"Why? You think you'll face down a manticore some time in the immediate future?"

He didn't reply, just smiled.

Arm in arm they made their way up the steep incline leading to Black Manor.

A tournament…

If she entered and placed well…

She might make a habit of it.

Might make a name for herself.

Some witches traveled the world, like Bathilda Bagshot, and wrote books. It was a new age. That was acceptable now.

Walburga knew she didn't have the right skillset for that but...that wasn't to say she couldn't fashion some sort of career for herself.

Plenty of women gave lessons on singing or dancing...perhaps, she'd see if dueling was a sought after skill.

It really ought to be part of a curriculum for summer finishing schools.

"Your mood seems improved," Orion observed with a smile.

"Yes, I feel...I feel…"

His grey eyes watched her expectantly.

"As much," she finished lamely.

She found she was not quite willing to impart the reason for her joy.

Lest he kill it stone dead with an incredulous look. Or bring it up to Pollux over dinner and let him be the one to execute it. There was nothing like weeding out a dream that gave her father sadistic pleasure.

No.

Nononono.

She'd enter and then let him know. After she knew the proper way to articulate her reasons for participating. Of course.

She was certain he'd support her. Eventually.

Orion had always been terribly fond of her since they were children. A tagalong since he could walk. And rather than be irritated by his near constant presence, she came to enjoy it. Though his being four years younger was sometimes an impediment to how much he understood when she made jokes or complaints. He was so different from her brothers. So much more agreeable. And whenever her mother or aunts banished her to play in a child-sized kitchen and parlor house with dolls (instead of letting her do battle with the boys with wooden swords and shields and a dragon dummy), Orion would follow her into exile.

In school, he'd often had her back, playing look out for her when she dueled classmates that dared insult their family. And he was rather good with enchantments and hexes, a talent she found employment for against various enemies.

The dynamic hadn't really changed since they'd entered adulthood. Though, she would readily admit he now had far more misadventures than her. (And she wasn't sure if it was good or bad that he took care not to involve her in them.) Still, whenever she announced a desire to venture out to Knockturn Alley (regardless of which relative she told), she always found herself accompanied on the outset or followed and caught up by her kinsman.

She gave his arm a playful squeeze, "I don't think he'll send you right off. But I do expect him to be cross, as that is his normal condition. You've brought down a dismal evening upon yourself, Orrie."

He sighed tiredly and gave her a firm frown, "I'm twenty-six years old, Walburga. Do I look like an Orrie to you?"

She laughed.

And was surprised when he didn't join in.

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