TRIGGER WARNING for abuse/domestic violence. Not my usual fare; definitely more mature than the rest of my writing. Don't read if this isn't for you.

Disclaimer: Characters, settings and events are all property of JK Rowling, no copyright infringement intended.

Note: I didn't realise until I came to edit this that Walburga is actually 4 years older than Orion (the Black family tree has them born in 1925 and 1929 respectively). I don't have time to rewrite this before the challenge deadline, so if you could kindly pretend that that bit of canon doesn't exist for the purposes of this fic, I would be most grateful! Everything else is as close to canon/widely accepted fanon as I could make it, however.

When she is eight, her annoying little brother Cygnus throws her favourite doll up into the branches of the old oak tree in Grandfather's country house. She's inconsolable until Orion bravely climbs the tree to reach the doll down for her, and she declares him her hero.

"You have to marry the hero," he says, matter-of-factly. "It's what the princess always does in stories."

She thinks this wouldn't be too terrible, and is about to say so, when his sister Lucretia, who is fifteen and therefore knows everything there is to know about anything, says scornfully that cousins don't marry other cousins. She's disappointed by this, though she can't really explain why.

In a tone he thinks is comforting, Cygnus tells Orion that it doesn't matter, he can still tell Walburga what to do because she's just a girl and girls have to listen to boys. Even Alphard looks up from his book at the explosion of accidental magic that comes out of a very angry Walburga at this pronouncement, and Orion laughs loudly at the tentacles his cousin is now sprouting. "I'd never tell Wally what to do," he says. "I'm not stupid enough to want purple things sticking out of my head!"

They're at school together, both Slytherins (of course) and part of a circle of friends where membership is limited by blood status, so of course they get to know each other quite well. He is there for her in their fifth year when Redburn Lestrange leaves her for Marissa Longbottom and agrees that Redburn is clearly the biggest fool ever to live. She is outraged on his behalf when he is expected to work with Thomas Anderson – a Gryffindor Mudblood – on a Potions project that will take up four months of their seventh year. Hogwarts is going to the dogs, she says.

"We should send our children to a proper school, like Durmstrang!" he replies, and though she knows that he means our children in a general sense, his words give her an illicit thrill.

Her parents ask her what she'd like to do when she finishes school, and she says she'd like to go travelling – do the old fashioned tour of the world. They're reluctant at first – tradition states that this tour is undertaken by young women with chaperones, and it will be difficult to find a suitable companion for a Black – but Orion offers to accompany her.

Her parents think that this is a wonderful idea, and so does she. But her excitement is only partially down to the fact that she will finally get to see the seven wonders of the wizarding world... Still, she's happy. And so are her parents. It's rare in the Black family that everyone is happy about the same thing, and she enjoys the moment and doesn't ruin it by saying something stupid.

They introduce her to Adalmund Gamp over the Easter holidays of her seventh year, and she supposes they could have picked a worse potential husband. She knows she has little say in whom they think are suitable matches, but Adalmund doesn't seem too bad. Her role, she knows, is to not dishonour the Black family by turning down his proposal, and then to provide the Gamp family with sons and heirs, like a proper Pureblood lady should.

He sends her roses every day of the holidays; spends time talking business and politics with her father; buys a book for Alphard and a new Beater's bat for Cygnus and praises her mother's housekeeping skills – or rather, how well she controls her House Elves. Her entire family is in love with him. It helps, of course, that he comes from a distinguished line of Purebloods himself, has a mansion ready and waiting for her to move into (he is ten years older than she) and is charming and reasonably handsome. But there's something about him that seems not quite right to her, though she can't put into words what it is. Still, it's not like she has any real say in the matter.

When the proposal comes – to her father, of course, and then to her via a letter – she knows what she must do.

She sits her Potions and Charms NEWTs, but her parents pull her out of school before she can take her History of Magic and Ancient Runes exams, for, once she has accepted a proposal, she has no more need of education or employment. She is to become the perfect Pureblood wife, and that is final.

He tells her that she's not allowed to go on her trip abroad. "It's not the done thing," he says. "Maybe I'll take you to France for our honeymoon." There's an unspoken "if you're lucky" at the end of that sentence.

Surprisingly, the hardest part is telling Orion she can't go with him. He looks so crestfallen it brings a tear to her eye, and she has to look away. Blacks don't show weakness.

(Gamps can show weakness, she thinks bitterly. Adalmund's weakness is greed – desire is written all over his face when he sees the riches and jewels in their home. Maybe she'll be allowed to cry when she's a Gamp.)

Their wedding comes quickly, just two months after they're engaged. It's a lavish affair, but incredibly formal. Still, she looks over at Lucretia, who looks truly happy with her husband of five years, Ignatius, and can't help but feel hopeful. Her cousin had not wanted to marry a Prewett at all, but had done so because, like a good Black, she did what she was told. Now, though, she was happy, and had grown to love her husband – so there was hope for her, Walburga.

Their wedding night is quick, too, and rough and painful. He leaves her after he's done, and she's glad, because she cries for an hour afterwards. The House Elf comes to change the sheets, and leaves her a cup of tea. She almost doesn't drink it – because who wants to be pitied by a House Elf? – but she's so lonely she wants any form of home comfort she can get.

She goes to dinner at Lucretia's one November evening, it gets late and Lucretia offers for her to stay in the guest suite. She accepts, sends a note to her husband and goes home the next morning. Everything is as it should be, or so she thinks.

Adalmund doesn't come home until late the following evening, smelling of Firewhiskey and hatred when he finally does arrive. He yells for her and she comes running, thinking something's wrong. "Where were you last night?!" he shouts.

"At Lucretia's," she responds, puzzled. "I sent you an owl."

"Don't lie to me, woman!" he shouts, and strikes her across the face.

There's a moment after the crack! across her cheek when everything stops. The only sound in the hallway is their breathing, out of sync but both ragged. Then she runs.

The House Elves bring her a cold compress, as if there's anything they can do for Mistress. She yells at them to get out because she can't be seen like this, she just can't, and they leave. She spends the night alone.

The next day, he apologises profusely, says it won't happen again. He leaves her flowers, and she masks the bruise with a glamour charm. They have dinner and make polite chitchat about the weather and the deplorable state of the Ministry, with all the Mudbloods in positions of power.

None of it helps.

He hits her again when she comes home with new dressrobes after a day in Diagon Alley because he told her not to buy anything new (which is ridiculous, because she bought them with her own money). He hits her again when she has the House Elves cook a pie instead of the steak he wants. He hits her again and again and again, because he can.

And at night, oh, Salazar, at night! It's tortuous. (She doesn't tell him when he's two months late, and he hits her in the stomach and then she bleeds and then she's not late anymore. The House Elves bring her potions and herbs and glasses of water over three horrible, horrible days and she hates herself for feeling grateful to them.)

She wants so badly to tell someone, but she can't, because nice Pureblood ladies do not discuss the events in their marriages with anyone. She has to—

She has to—

She sleeps.

She wishes Orion came to see her. He's never visited her new house and she never sees him any more because she rarely goes back home to her parents' home.

Things might be a little more bearable if only she could visit him. She misses him.

Come springtime, they've fallen into an easy pattern. He'll hit her, she'll cover the bruises with glamour charms and potions, and they'll carry on as though nothing unusual is happening. It's what nice, respectable, Pureblood families do.

She's going to be Matron of Honour at Cygnus' wedding to Druella Rosier. Druella has the entire bridal party over to her house in June to try on their dress robes, and Walburga completely forgets that she's only used the glamours on her face when she unbuttons her dress until she hears her mother's stifled cry, the gasps of her cousin and soon-to-be sister in law.

This is it she thinks. This is when it will stop. I won't have to say anything. I'll still be a Pureblood lady who did the right thing, but I'll be okay now. They will help.

And then her mother asks Madam Rosier about the exact colour of the bridesmaids' dresses and the sudden halt in the conversation is over and everyone's talking about weddings and children and catering and everything except her.

And oh, Salazar, she thinks she might just break in two. But she sits there, stiff, as the dress is fitted around her bruises because that's what Blacks do.

Her father comes around the next day, to check if she's okay. She knows her mother will have sent him – that he'll want to come when he learns what's going on, but nothing's specifically mentioned. He asks lots of vague questions about her health, about her happiness and Adalmund answers them for her and her father doesn't push it and then he leaves.

The calculating look Adalmund gives her when he's gone chills her to the very bone. But when he draws out his wand to crucio her, she doesn't flinch or cry out and eventually, he gives up and leaves.

She falls to the floor when he's gone, legs to weak to hold her up any longer, and the House Elves come rushing in to help her. She yells at them to get out, get out now because proper Pureblood ladies aren't used as Unforgiveable practise by their husband and if no one except she knows it happened, it won't have happened, yes?

The next day, Orion arrives. She sees him through an upstairs window and thinks she's never been so happy in her life to see someone appear. She has this idea that he will rescue her, but Adalmund storms out and sends him away. Punches and hexes fly, but in the end Orion leaves, deserting her too.

Adalmund prowls the hallways of their house, calling for her, but when he eventually finds her in the drawing room, she is ready for him. She won't go down without a fight—because somehow, she knows this is the end—and she'll take him with her if she has to. She's not fighting to kill, at least at first, but then the floorboards become hot and scorched, and she's ducking jets of green light so she says the two words, Avada Kedavra and then—

Orion comes back in an hour, or maybe two hours, or maybe a day or a year, bringing a squad of Hit Wizards with him. She sits in a chair in the drawing room, straight-backed and proud, with not a hair out of place. "Potions experiment gone wrong," she hears Orion say – which is clearly the stupidest lie ever because there's absolutely no evidence for it – and the Hit Wizards hum and ahh and then she hears the chink of gold changing hands and then they're gone, taking his body with them and she's free.

"I should have come sooner," Orion says, holding her in his arms, some time later. "I should have..."

"What's done is done," she shrugs, as though they're talking about a spilled butterbeer, not a death.

"You are so strong," he whispers, and then – then – she crumples. And she hates herself for it because she's a Black (not a Gamp, never a Gamp) and Blacks don't cry and they are properly strong, not whatever imagined version of the word Orion thinks she is.

But he lets her cry and he promises her he will make it okay. And she believes him.

They marry in a quiet ceremony early in the summer. If they weren't Blacks, she knows there'd be talk – her husband died in suspicious circumstances; she's marrying again after only a few months and they're cousins? The Prophet should be having a field day!

But they are Blacks, and she'll stay a Black now, for good. Their parents are happy because it means the bloodlines stay purer than pure and she's happy because it means she gets to go back to being a proper Pureblood lady. Within a few years, everyone's forgotten that Walburga Black was briefly a Gamp, particularly after she's supplied them with two healthy baby boys to carry on the family line.

Orion doesn't forget, and she's grateful for that. He reminds her how strong she can be, and helps her when she can't be, behind closed doors. Lots of façades are destryoed behind closed doors, she's learnt, especially the façade that all Purebloods are noble and respectable individuals.

But with Orion, it's okay. She is safe.

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