Ursa II
Before, as a young girl, Ursa had resented the cries and the unrelenting babbling that babies were prone to. The sound had grated on her ears and tore at her fleeting patience leading it to be a great source of amusement, even in her later years when she learned to tolerate the noisiness of toddlers, for her old family. She had made it her mission to avoid any and all children - not because she didn’t like children, but because the younger they were the so much more annoying they became.
Many things had changed about Ursa from her hair to her eyes to parts of her personality but this was not one of them.
She would have been able to sympathise with the bawling child if only it was not so loud. His chubby face screwed up, red and flushed as if this was not the first time he had had a fit although to be quite frank, if she were Walburga’s daughter, she would be screeching too. His tiny fists were clutching the blanket of blue and silver and Walburga was staring down at him not unlike how a snake would a mouse before snapping him up.
Ursa hid her frown behind a blank expression, practised from Cygnus himself although she was not quite up to the same standard of the man, and peered down at the babe. She imagined this was what Sirius looked like as a child with the red face and awful temper. His eyes were still blue and unfocused, switching wildly between Sirius who was almost in his mother’s lap and Walburga himself.
“Get back, Sirius,” Walburga commanded sternly because the matriarch of the house did not ask for anything. “You can see him perfectly fine from beside your cousin.”
Sirius pouted and Ursa did her best to pretend that she had not been closely following in his footsteps. Regulus, who looked tiny with the book on his lap, closed and set perfectly on his small legs, frowned. “I wanted a sister.”
What, is one more sibling not good enough? She thought, restraining the urge to roll her eyes. Walburga tensed, almost inconspicuously, before drawing herself up like a haughty bird. She gave her son a sweet, sickly smile that she had given more than one overachieving tea-goer when they overreached. “The House of Black already has four daughters, Regulus, you would do well to remember that.”
Druella cast her a nasty look behind her back.
“Come.” Walburga beckoned her sons - Narcissa had a tight grip on the back of Ursa’s dress and by God, she was strong - and, very slowly and with great reluctance, loosened her grip on the bawling babe to allow them access. Sirius was the first to approach and treated the situation as he would treat anything, boldly and with great confidence in his abilities.
Regulus followed after him and only after Sirius had quietly introduced himself, did he follow. “Hello, Aries.” He whispered loudly, so all the room could hear. “I’m your new brother.”
The baby didn’t quieten even in the presence of his brothers and it was beginning to grate on Ursa’s nerves. If she hadn’t been born with the patience of another life, she would’ve snapped some minutes ago. The sound could only be likened to nails on a chalkboard or a poorly played violin that was enchanted to sing you to sleep and Ursa dug her nails into the soft cushion to still the chagrin bubbling within her. It was therapeutic, admittedly, but it didn’t work.
“Shouldn’t Ursa introduce herself?” Regulus asked his mother innocently.
“I’m sure she’s fine where she is.”
“I’m fine, Reg.”
It was the only time in her life and the previous that she had ever, ever agreed with Walburga Black and it was a horrifying moment. Ursa was dying to see the baby, to see how it differed from the two brothers and how it shared features with both its parents and her own, but if she went any closer to the living air siren, she would scream. She had always been quiet, and so had Regulus and when she had met baby Sirius, he was long past the screaming and bawling phase and into the ‘crash and burn’ one.
(He had never left it.)
(Cygnus and Walburga were very alike - same curly hair, same silver eyes, similar sharp bone structure and Bellatrix was like Cygnus and Ursa was like Bellatrix. Strangely, Sirius and Ursa also had a resemblance - not a lot but enough that they could be mistaken for siblings. It was to do with the inbreeding, probably)
But Walburga was, beneath all her facades, a spiteful, hideous woman who truly deserved the title of Hag of the Year because her face immediately turned from one of quiet disapproval to hidden elation as she shifted the bundle of baby in her arms. She furrowed her brow spitefully, as she did everything. “Are you sure, Ursa? Wouldn’t you like to see your cousin?”
Narcissa pinched the skin of her back and hissed something intelligible beneath her breath but the tone of her voice was more than enough to convey the message. Ursa hauled herself to her feet, casting her sister a dirty look before plastering on her nicest smile. “If you’d let me.”
“Of course.” Walburga enjoyed with bared teeth twisted into a mimic of a smile. Surely, her mother’s glare must be burning straight through her fine clothes and into her skin. “Come, dear.”
Every step she took was a test of her patience. Her footsteps sent jolts of wild irritation up her spine and her blood boiled with tested patience, a warning not to push her limits any further than she was. Everything had a limit, even her - in her opinion - legendary patience. Her hands clenched on air that didn’t soothe her disgruntlement and she lost the faux smile on her face as she peered down at the bundle.
Its eyes were screwed up, face red and ruddy, and she felt true anger well up in her veins before she could tap down on it and she just wanted him to shut up. She felt herself lurch but her feet were stuck to the floor and something unknown joined the fire in her veins, joyful and consuming-
The room shuddered to a silent stop.
The baby continued to wail soundlessly.
In the doorway with a tea tray in her gnarled hands, her Great Aunt Cassiopeia began to laugh. But when she did, no sound spilt from her mouth. Rationally, being forcefully silenced would have made anybody furious but in her half-mad aunt’s case, she only laughed harder and harder until she was forced to place the silver tray to the side lest she spill it over the floor. Nobody joined in her maniacal laughter but between those aware of the events, there was an air of amusement.
There was the sharp flick of air against wood and- “Well… that was…” Her mother started, blinking rapidly as pride and victory curled around her like a dragon, draping over her figure. “Very impressive, Ursa, very good.”
“Impressive!” Aunt Cassiopeia wheezed. “Brilliant! I haven’t had a laugh like that since Cedrella got old Sirius drunk and had him dancing jigs all night!”
“We do not mention that name in this house.” Walburga snapped off automatically as she did when she felt an unworthy Black had been mentioned in her presence - or in the house. She had an uncanny ability for it. “That was… unexpected to say the least. Druella, did you-?”
“Ursa had the right idea about that, at least.” Druella pointed her wand at the still-silent baby. “He’s worse than Sirius ever was. At the very least, all my daughters are dignified, infant or otherwise.”
“It shows he has good health, at least.” Callisto Malfoy murmured. Ursa jolted having forgotten the woman was even in the room. She was a waif of a woman and suited more to gazing out the garden window solemnly than anything pureblood life could offer. She twisted a lock of hair around her finger mournfully, as she did everything.
(Cassiopeia was still cackling, but silently. It wasn’t because of any spell, she just wasn’t making any noise beyond a few hoarse wheezes.)
Walburga preened. “Good breeding wins out after all, then, Druella?”
“Well when you only have the Black constitution to choose from, I suppose there isn’t any other option.” Druella threw over her shoulder, swooping to take the abandoned tea tray from the grizzled old woman and placing it on a side table beside her. The metal glinted in the light of the house, shimmering with polish and high-quality care.
A light hand on her shoulder pulled her back to the couch, where Narcissa sat down next to her with a soft smile on her face. There was a crease in her eyebrow and her left sleeve was wrinkled from where she had been pulling at it, Ursa noticed and gave her a returned smile if only to make her happier.
“Well, there’s no worries about you being a squib then,” Narcissa said, sounding as if she had stopped carrying the weight of a building on her chest. She breathed. “That’s good. There was talk of sending you to Marius - or, well, Bellatrix said that so it's not entirely true-”
“But how could they be sure?” Ursa said, feeling as if the air had been punched from out of her. Had they been ready to toss her out already, without definite proof or reason?
Narcissa hummed, absently fixing a stray piece of her hair and tucking it behind her eye. Her hands were warm. “As I stated, it was Bellatrix who said that. Bella, who’s currently… well, nevermind, and besides, do you really think that Mother would let you go?”
Well, yes. Wasn’t this the woman who would boot out her own daughter for marrying a muggle-born or, at least, dating one? The woman who made Ursa take a shower every time she came back from the muggle village as if to wash away the filth she might have caught from them like they were no more than animals living in a sty?
“She wouldn’t. Father might, but only because he would be forced to, Ursa.” Narcissa frowned. “I wouldn’t. Neither would Andy, even if she’s stuck to Bella like a leech more often than not.”
They weren’t stuck together this summer. It was part of the reason that only two of the four children that Druella Rosier had been at Grimmauld Place. Bellatrix was away… somewhere… again and Andromeda had been locked inside her room since she returned from Hogwarts. A rift had formed between the sisters during the last term of Hogwarts, leaving Bellatrix harsher and more belligerent and Andromeda parched tinder that had only just found it’s spark; raging with the force of a forest fire. Her mother had asked Andromeda to come, if only to give the basic platitudes, but had been answered with the resounding slam of a magically locked door.
It was half a relief because the thought of Bellatrix stalking through the halls sent an unwelcome shiver up her spine and the thought of Andromeda lurking at the precipice like a war omen had fear making its home at her bedside. On the other hand, for two people who were so close unexpectedly because so reserved meant there had to be a more significant reason at work.
Narcissa didn’t know, certainly, otherwise, Ursa would know and her mother didn’t either because then the whole thing would have either been resolved or aired out like dirty laundry. For someone so talented in the arts of subtle insulting and intrigue, Druella was not a woman to end things quietly when it came to family matters.
Narcissa gave a sigh, turning to check on the squabbling adults. Their Aunt Cassiopeia had stopped trying to choke herself on laughter and instead was mumbling beneath her breath, cackling spontaneously and injecting into the current argument when she could with a gleeful, stretched smile. Callisto Malfoy was trying to blend into the wallpaper and Druella and Walburga were… well. Being Druella and Walburga.
The sun beamed through the window panes, the good summer day making itself known as the occupants of 12 Grimmauld Place moved without acknowledging it. How many people must be outside- and it was then that Ursa knew that the meet-and-greet with the newest baby Black was over. Struck with sudden inspiration, she tugged on Narcissa’s sleeve, “Cissa. Can we go outside? To the park?”
The muggle village by the manor had one; it contained two rusted, rickety swings, one battered slide and a singular bench that was stained with foreign substances. The ground had been made of hard concrete and at night, if muggles had stayed the same through every universe, teens would gather there and drink their miseries away. Ursa had narrowly avoided the place ever since the village kids had branded her and her sisters “freaks.”
Kids were cruel.
The park outside Grimmauld Place was not a large thing, as Sirius’ had regaled to her many times, but it was certainly not the barren playground she had to deal with. It had a few playsets and scattered trees that would be green and blooming at this time of year. Off to the side, there was a murky lake with sparse fish inside of it and if that was normal for a small lake, Ursa didn’t know. She wasn’t a marine biologist.
Walburga, Ursa knew, disliked being located close to the park immensely despite her adoration for Grimmauld Place and fought with her son’s over the topic in question when it was brought up. On the days she did relent, it was only when Sirius had brought her husband ire and Orion wanted them out instead of in where the portraits could scrutinise their every move.
“That’s not-” Narcissa faltered at her hopeful gaze, as she was hoping. “I’ll try, Ursa. I can’t promise anything more.”
Ursa nodded rapidly, scrambling away from her sister to tell the news to the Black brothers. She bounded over to the two, which wasn’t very far and only a few steps and dug her claws into Sirius’ sleeve with a vengeance, the silk fabric otherworldly in its softness in shades of blue, black and a turquoise-green, using his body weight as leverage to swing around to face them both at the same time.
Sirius screeched. “Get off me!”
“Cissa says that we can go to the park!” Ursa figured that a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anyone too much beyond Sirius’ ego, standing up onto her toes to stare directly into his eyes. Both brothers were taller than her if only by a few centimetres. “You can show me like you said you would! Didn’t you promise?”
“What’s got you so excited about a park?” His brows furrowed as he tried to pry away from her tight grip. Ursa hid her disappointment at his lack of reaction, feeling oddly off-put and tucked away her emotion into a tightly secured box. “You never were interested before.”
She placed on a mask of indifference and shrugged, impatience becoming a fine friend. “I’m bored. Are you happy or not?”
“Who’s taking us, then? Mother won’t let us-”
“Aunt Cassiopeia offered to chaperone us. I believe she’s getting tired of irritating Aunt Walburga and Mother. Aunt Walburga will cast a muggle-repellant spell to keep you three from being noticed by them.” Narcissa’s smooth, indulgent voice swept over them like a balm and she eyed all of them suspiciously. “Go wait quietly.”
“Told you so,” Ursa muttered to Sirius as they shuffled out. There was no need for coats so far into the summer months. If it did perchance get chilly then every decent witch or wizard knew how to cast a warming charm, or so Narcissa claimed. It was more likely that Cassiopeia would shunt them all off into the lake and let them drown than cast any spells.
Her Great-Aunt Cassiopeia had remained unmarried, had no children and was more of a hag than Walburga which made her a hot topic of discussion during tea parties. She had come over more than thrice during Ursa’s life and all three visits, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair and heard only shrieks, cackles and bangs of askew spells as Bellatrix learnt all she could from the highly-trained, highly-respected - in the Black family, at least, and everybody else had a healthy fear of her - highly dangerous witch.
They bundled out onto the bright streets with Aunt Cassiopeia sniffing disdainfully at every rock, tree and gate and Narcissa keeping a keen eye on the trio. Sirius looked brighter outside, his mood unencumbered by the houses’ atmosphere and the overbearing nature of Walburga. Regulus was the opposite, eyeing every muggle object on the street as if it would jump out and bite him which Ursa and Sirius took great pleasure in taunting him on.
“‘S not my fault.” He huffed, pouting. “How am I supposed to know it’s just a light?”
Which a shove at Narcissa, which pushed Ursa into Regulus which pushed him into Sirius, Aunt Cassiopeia gave them all a nasty stare - although when her gaze landed on Ursa, she looked torn between laughing or spitting vitriol - and swept away with a flash of her cloak and the click-clack of her Victorian-era boots, her ancient skirts swishing behind her in a show of grandeur.
The park was as grand as Sirius made it out to be; not very. On the various playsets, there were a few other children tossing themselves around as a few adults hung around the treeline anxiously, watching and waiting in case one of them broke their neck. One of them must have been a babysitter because there were too many different children and not enough parents.
“C’mon, let me show you this really cool thing!” Sirius grabbed her hand and suddenly, it was Ursa who was being pulled along enthusiastically, tripping over her own feet to keep up with him. “If someone pushes it, it spins and spins! I bet we can get Reg to push it. Reg hates going on it because it makes him dizzy but I think it needs to suck it up.”
“That’s mean!” Ursa spouted off on instinct as she connected the dots quickly. A round-a-bout being one of Sirius’ favourite things was not at all surprising for a boy so full of heedless energy and never-ending courage. A whirlwind of speed and adrenaline that everybody else around him hated with a passion suited him perfectly. She wondered if he had been thrown off yet. It was an awfully Sirius’ thing to do.
“Well, come on!”
The roundabout was something she hadn’t seen since she was… twelve? Maybe. Being somewhat of a recluse in her teenage years hadn’t helped in the slightest but she could still remember begging her dad to push faster as she swung around wildly before stumbling off to be sick in a bush. If she thought hard enough - and that gave her a migraine, so she stopped immediately - she might be able to taste the rancid acid burn at her throat.
This one was red and whilst there was rust clumped around its joints, it was sprightly and springy and well into its long youth. Sirius beckoned her forward and sat on one of the small, wooden seats that reminded her of the tables used in American high schools. He leaned over the bar, a wide grin on his face as he pats the space next to him eagerly and without abandon, shifting to allow room for Ursa to sit down on. He looked nothing like the pureblood heir he should be in the moment, only another child wanting to play.
It wasn’t that Sirius wasn’t wild; it was there was a certain elegance to all purebloods that was almost literally beaten into them at childhood, at least in the Black brothers' case because Walburga was a taskmaster who demanded nothing short of perfection. There was a poise that they all carried regardless of their regalia or alias and it was rarely lost even in anger or defeat. For once, instead of looking like the miniature version of Walburga - whether he admitted it or not, there was a resemblance between the two that was uncanny, from the eyes to the hair to the high cheekbones - he looked… normal.
How very strange that her old normal was her new weird. Ursa hadn’t taken note of when Narcissa’s elegant grace and Regulus’ forced perfect punctuation had become normal and unnoted, or when the smooth actions of Druella had become unnoticeable or the cadence of their voices had melded with hers. Had her own bearing changed accordingly?
Sirius narrowed his eyes. “What? Are you scared?”
Shaking herself out of her stupor of realisation, she gave him a grin that she hoped wasn’t forced. “I bet you’ll be sick first.”
He gave a bark of laughter. “Never! Hey, Reg-”
“On it.” Came the resigned sigh of the youngest of them.
Guilt welled up at forcing the younger Black to push them instead of letting him play. Sirius must have noticed or she was getting worse at masking her emotions. “Don’t worry about him.” He nudged her shoulder. “He can’t stand it, at all. Hates it more than Mother hates the park. He’s fine, aren’t you Reggie?”
“Please don’t make me think about getting on.”
Sirius cackled and Ursa gave him a reassuring smile, wrapping her arms around the bars. How very strange to be back here, after all these years.
It started as it ended; with Sirius cackling in the background as one of the trio miserable.
Ursa stumbled away on wobbly legs, feeling bile bubbling merrily in her stomach and waiting for the last call from her brain to haul it all up. She’s lucky she didn’t take the offer of a large breakfast and instead stuck to picking at the food; although, half of it was nervousness at an Aries Black even existing.
“Are you okay?” Reg asked her because he was a snitch, but he was a kind snitch.
Ursa managed a weak smile that felt pathetic on her face but Regulus accepted it anyway because he was a kind snitch. “I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna…”
She gestured to the bench that sat, lonely, under the shade of a tree. The tree was tall and green as was typical of a tree; its leaves glistened cheerfully under the sun and its bark was strong and sturdy, unyielding. Regulus looked back at Sirius and then squinted suspiciously at her, the picture of a fretting mother hen. “If you’re sure…”
“I am.” She said weakly. The bench seemed like the answer to all her problems.
“Alright, then.” He conceded finally and backed off but not without a final. “Just be careful.”
She all but threw herself upon the green bench. Ursa straightened out her skirts - Aunt Cassiopeia didn’t care, but if Narcissa were lurking about somewhere instead of picking flowers as she liked to do, then Ursa would have a kinder fate drowning herself in the lake - and ran a hand through her windswept hair. Today, her mother had pinned it in an awkward up-do that had come lose some minutes early and fell onto her shoulder in a tiny braid.
She had always loved braiding her hair. Having hair fall to your waist was a nuisance but one large benefit of having long hair in her old life had been spending ages and ages just running through the motions. This time, Ursa had contemplated keeping her hair short because she had always wondered how she would look, no matter how much she protested, but Druella would have a fit. Narcissa might, albeit grudgingly, accept it over time but her mother would rip her own blonde hair out in rage.
Then Walburga would mock the living life out of her.
Well, she decided suddenly, that’s just not an option. Her hair was long enough and quite frankly, if she did want it longer, magic did half the cleaning. So, perhaps just for her childhood-
“You look lonely.” Came a voice from beside her. “Are you alright?”
It was a girl who looked roughly her own age. She was a muggle, Ursa noticed, with her blonde hair in two rugged braids and wide, green eyes. The muggle girl wore a yellow sundress with a pair of sunglasses sitting on her head, abandoned. It was a stark contrast to her own grimmer and darker demeanour; dark eyes, dark hair, dark dress that looked two decades older.
(What? According to Walburga and Druella, who were high-society witches, this was what high-society was into. The style was pretty and elegant but personally, Ursa preferred trousers and t-shirts. Not that that was happening anytime soon.)
She gave the girl a blank look - smiles were reserved for family. “I’m fine. Why?”
“I haven’t seen you around before. I know almost everyone around here.” The girl smiled cheerfully, an odd glint in her eyes, hands clasped in front of her. “What’s your name? I’ll tell you mine; Maia Thomas! Nice to meet you!”
Ursa eyed the outstretched hand, which was surely sticky if her past experience with children meant anything. She returned it. “Ursa Black.”
For such a tiny girl, the handshake was awfully tight.
“Oh!” She said, her voice squeaking. “Do you know Walburga Black? I met her here once but she didn’t seem very happy. Is she coming back? She wasn’t very nice but not everyone can be nice when they’re sad, you know-”
“Uhm, not for a while.” Ursa ripped her hand out of the girl’s grip, wiping down the sweat and stickiness on her skirts and praying to whatever gods there was, that Narcissa wasn’t near. “She just had my cousin, Aries.”
“Aries?”
“It’s tradition to be named after stars or have names based on them.” She hummed. “My father’s called Cygnus and my cousins are called Sirius and Regulus. The only person in my family not named after a star is my mother, but she doesn’t count because she’s a Rosier.” Ursa stopped for a moment, recounting her family members. “And my older sister, Narcissa.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Not all of us are named after stars, just most. I think I’m the first of my name, though, unless you count the Ursula we had.” Ursa retraced her known family history, remembering Ursula Flint. “But she wasn’t even a Black.”
Maia nodded, her smile strained on her face. She was good at hiding it but Ursa had been raised by liars and - probably - cheats, in this life. You learn things with a dysfunctional family like that. “So you have a sister?”
“Three, all older.” She told the girl, purposely omitting the late Rigel. It would be better to not mention him, at all. To everyone in her family, bar perhaps Sirius or Regulus, she didn't know about the boy before her. “Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa. But Bella and Andy are fighting so they aren’t here because otherwise, they’d light the house on fire and even Uncle wouldn’t get them out of Az- prison.”
Ursa cursed herself for messing up so early in the game.
Maia made a soft ‘oh’. “My family pales in comparison, I guess. I only have my brother and he’s still a baby, like, newborn.”
“Huh, like Aries.”
“I guess.” Maia shrugged. “All my other family live away from here, except my parents and my grandma but that’s because she has a bad back.”
Ursa had forgotten that normal ailments, like arthritis and old age, affected people so much. Aunt Cassiopeia was half-decayed and she was still hopping around like a decrepit old doxy. Any illness caused by age was advanced age, for example, being one hundred and fifty because, after a century and a half, potions started to lose their effect and thus the elderly were forced to bear the wear and tear until a new potion came along or they kicked it.
She opened her mouth to say something but then- “Hey, Ursa!” Sirius hollered, waving wildly, a grand grin on his face. He had clambered over the bar of the roundabout, hair batting his face in the wind and sticking to his mouth. “Reg wants to play on the swings! Wanna do it?!”
She didn’t give the blonde girl on the bench must consideration and cupped hands around her mouth. “I’ll be over in the minute!”
Sounds of victory echoed over the park.
“It’s alright, you can go,” Maia said, although Ursa was only turning to say goodbye and not apologise. Had she gotten meaner than she presumed? “Will I see you again?”
Ursa thought of Walburga’s great distaste, Druella’s fussing and the timid nature of Callisto Malfoy that couldn’t persuade a teddy bear to be kind and shook her head. Quite frankly, the girl was creepy and odd, with her strange overbearing kindness and the glint in her eye that had Ursa on the backfoot. The strict guardians were only an excuse, now that she thought about it.
“Probably not,” Ursa told her, running off in the vague direction of Sirius’ yelling and Regulus’ protesting against his relentless teasing. She let a small smile slide on her face as she bounded into the conversation.
Maia placed down her waving hand with downcast eyes, fiddling with the buttons on her dress absently as the dark-haired girl ran to play. “See you in a few years, then.”