Chapter Text
Orion Black sat stiffly in the largest receiving room on the ground floor of Grimmauld Place, glaring at the warded door across from him.
Grimmauld Place, the ancestral home of the Blacks since they first crossed the ocean from France, was pulsing with magic, strong enough for Orion to feel it even as just the heir.
The magic of this house was old, a weighted and almost physical presence infused with generations of Blacks, generations of dark power and family tradition.
Orion twisted the ring on his finger, willing the door to catch aflame or blow apart or disintegrate.
The house protested sharply as Orion’s own magic rose to respond to his will despite his wand still resting in its holster.
“Orion.” Arcturus Black said gravely, automatically drawing his son’s attention and forcing him to straighten his already ramrod straight back.
Despite being well into his thirties, Orion wasn’t ashamed to say that his father inspired great feelings of both condescension and humility in him.
Arcturus could give him all the warnings he liked, but Orion knew there would be no punishment forthcoming and therefore diligently kept up his match of wills against the manor, trying to use brute strength to force his way into the birthing room.
Something was wrong.
If Orion could feel it, he knew his father could certainly feel it too.
The house shuddered.
Creaked.
“Father!” Orion hissed, standing up, shoulders tense.
The wards of the birthing room didn’t allow any sound to leave (to not scare the weaker men, his grandmother had always joked whenever they’d all gathered here to witness the birth of a new Black).
This receiving room was made to hold up to thirty people, yet so few sat there with him now.
Walburga’s brothers, Alphard and Cygnus, were mostly drunk. They were leaning against each other on the purple sofa as they had been for hours now, only occasionally getting up for a fresh bottle of liquor to share between themselves.
Orion’s aunt Lycoris and Walburga’s aunt Cassiopeia were glaring at each other from opposite corners of the room. Lycoris was sneering in a very familiar way, and Orion could see Cassiopeia’s wand clutched tightly in her hand.
Arcturus still refused to tell Orion what had happened to drive such a wedge between them, considering how much aunt Cass used to look up to Aunt Lycoris.
Orion’s father sat primly on the loveseat to his right, while his older sister Lucretia was a silent rock sat on the edge of the middle cushion of a couch made for eight people.
Both of them stood up sharply when the door opened, standing on either side of Orion to provide silent support.
Lucretia squeezed Orion’s hand sharply at the silence that spilled out of the now-open door.
No woman should be silent giving birth.
“Lord Black-“ Healer Yaxley started, her dirty blonde hair coming loose from the polished bun it had been in six hours earlier.
“What’s happening?” Orion cut her off, eyes darting between the healer and the door that was left cracked open.
He thought he saw a glimpse of both his own and Walburga’s grandmothers through the crack in the door.
Walburga had refused absolutely everyone she could from being in the room with her, damn near banning Healer Yaxley herself.
She had originally only wanted her grandmother Violetta in the room with her, telling her own mother to not even be within the wall of Grimmauld Place.
Orion hadn’t understood, but also hadn’t particularly cared about Walburga’s pregnancy eccentricities until she tried to ban his mother Melania- the sitting Lady Black, from the birth of the Black Heir, and only then had he put his foot down.
“Lord Black,” Healer Yaxley tried again. “Time is of the essence here. Lady Black and Mrs. Black are keeping your wife and son in stasis, but we cannot hold them much longer.”
“What?” Orion asked blankly, mouth dry.
An oppressive silence had spread through the room, and it was all Orion could do to remain standing.
Lucretia had become a statue next to Orion, and Arcturus was squeezing Orion’s upper arm hard enough to leave bruises.
Orion blinked as Healer Yaxley’s mouth moved with no sound coming from it.
Cygnus was passed out at the foot of the purple sofa, but Alphard was staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes.
Aunt Lycoris’ hands were shaking at her sides where they were clenched in tight fists, and for the first time that night Aunt Cassie had holstered her wand.
“We cannot save them both. Your wife’s magic is sustaining your son for now, but it will give out. I’m sorry, we need to know where to place our priorities.” Healer Yaxley’s voice finally filtered through, leaving Orion’s mouth dry.
The floorboards in the corner of the room popped free, flying across the room but managing to catch no one’s attention.
The world spun.
“My son.” Orion said, voice barely coming out in a whisper but ringing with conviction.
This wasn’t a choice at all, not for Orion.
“Orion!”
“What the fuck?”
“You dare-“
Orion tuned out the rest of his family, keeping his gaze firmly on Healer Yaxley’s to make sure she understood just how serious he was in his decision.
“Of course, Heir Black.”
Healer Yaxley thankfully didn’t waste time, turning sharply on her heal and closing the door to the birthing room shut behind her.
“What have you done?” Orion’s father, the sitting Lord Black, looked at his own son in incomprehension, face drawn.
“I did what I had to. What is right.” Orion answered simply.
“You’ve gone and killed my daughter!” Pollux suddenly shouted, getting in Orion’s face.
“No.” Orion whispered. “You wanted me to marry Walburga at any cost. For what possible reason I couldn’t fathom, but I did. For family, for duty. You wanted an heir out of this union, a union of two Blacks by blood and by name.” Orion wasn’t shouting by the end, but his voice echoed. “Well, congratulations. You got everything you wanted.” His eyes settled on Pollux. “This is the cost.”
The lights blew out in the room following Orion’s pronouncement, but he was almost certain that he hadn’t been the cause of it.
Orion had a tight hold on his magic, and it never reacted so explosively to begin with.
“What happened?” Alphard asked, using his wand to remove pieces of glass from Cygnus’ hair where he was still slumped unresponsive on the sofa.
Healer Yaxley opened the door to the birthing room again, face set in stern determination but shoulders slumped with exhaustion.
“Heir Black, Lord Black.” Healer Yaxley urged, catching their attention just as Lady Melania emerged from the birthing room with a bundle of blankets.
Orion’s breath caught.
“Come here, Orion.” His grandmother said softly.
Orion, as if pulled by Magic herself, floated over to his son.
Melania handed the precious cargo to him, stabilizing the boy in his father’s arm to make sure he was well supported.
Orion couldn’t speak, couldn’t feel his arms at all. He could stare in awed silence at this new life in his arms, his son.
“Walburga had named him Sirius before she passed.” Melania said over Orion’s shoulder, reaching out to gently pat the baby’s soft cheek.
“We need to feed him, how are we…?” Orion asked his mother, eyes not straying from his son.
Instead of an answer, Orion was handed a small squeeze bottle, and then his arm was being guided to hold it gently to Sirius’ mouth.
Not even needing to squeeze, the little boy immediately latched on, and Orion felt his elbow be released.
Orion cooed as Sirius blinked at him slowly, twice showing his brilliant sterling eyes echoed from his blood before they fell shut again.
“Sirius. The brightest star in the sky.” Violetta echoed from his other side, voice tight.
“Mother…” Orion barely heard Pollux as he came to stand by his mother, face a mask of fury born from grief.
“She fought.” Violetta said, not allowing her son to pull her into an embrace. “She fought with every ounce of blood and magic she had so her son could live.”
Turning away from Pollux, Orion saw in his periphery as she came to sit between her grandsons. Patting Cygnus’ hair softly, she plucked the bottle of gin from Alphard’s hand and took a few deep gulps.
“He’s a strong boy. A true heir. Walburga made sure of it.” Melania echoed with pride.
“That girl always said she would die in battle.” Violetta smirked wryly, cadence and propriety softened with alcohol. “Now she’s gone and done it in the way only a woman can.”
The House of Black may have lost its fiercest daughter tonight, but it had gained an Heir.