More Walburga Gen
Title: In Which Walburga Shoots No Messengers
Pairing/Rating: gen/PG
Summary: Walburga is going to kill everyone.
A/N: A companion to Walburga Holds It, though you don't need to read that to get this. Also, withserendipity took up the noble, ancient cause of keeping me sane, so, many thanks to her.
Walburga is going to kill everyone.
Starting with Sirius. She will hunt him down like a dog-he is probably still with the Potters, or else slumming it in some disgusting Muggle tenement in the worst parts of London; he has always had a flair for the melodramatic, probably got it from her side of the family-and she will corner him, and she will not use her wand, oh, no indeed. She will drown him, like she should have done almost two decades ago, like she did to the puppy he found in the gutter when he was six. She wants to hear him gurgle, wants him to thrash, wants him to ache at least some tiny fraction of the way Regulus must have.
Next, Orion. She'll poison him with his own Firewhiskey. That vile stuff, she can't stand the smell of it anymore, she spends upwards of fortnights at a time simply not talking to him at all because the smell of his breath makes her want to vomit. Then, she shall leave his corpse in his precious study, so he can spend his death the same way he spent his life-holed up, drunk, hiding, and stinking.
Then Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa. All at once, because those three hated each other so much that it would serve as extra punishment for their last moments to be together. Walburga rather fancies the idea of cracking their skulls together, yanking out their precious hair (all of them too proud, too beautiful, to be allowed to live) so that it's bloodied and torn, so that they'll leave ugly corpses. She'll make sure Bellatrix dies slowest.
Dorea, then. Simple Avada Kedavra, she thinks, but make sure to do it in front of her son and husband. Make sure these idiotic Potter men see the life go out of her eyes, dead before she hits the ground.
Walburga will have to kill Alphard, for helping Sirius. And Cygnus, for not.
She might go and get Sirius' body and see if she could kill him twice, actually.
And then, having rid the world of the worst, the deadened, cancerous branches of the tree, she will burn the house down, and she and Kreacher will sit together in her parlour, and they will talk cheerfully about their hopes that this will set the whole Muggle neighborhood around them alight-nothing like a great inferno to destroy even the oldest and darkest of wards. Orion's books will burn, Sirius' horrid posters will burn, Regulus' safety blanket will burn, the house-elf heads will burn, the doxies in the curtains will burn, the generations of junk in the attic will burn, the toxic bottles in the cellar will burn, the tapestry will burn, the motto will burn, maybe all of London will burn. It's been too long since the Blacks have burned down a whole great city, Walburga will tell Kreacher. One has to keep up the old ways.
(Instead, she throws the tea tray at Severus Snape, who is the one to deliver the news, and then she goes to write some owls to see about having her portrait commissioned. Let it never be said that the Noble and Most Ancient House has produced nothing but maniacs: Walburga is, as she always has been, the very picture of restraint.)
Pairing/Rating: gen/PG
Summary: Walburga is going to kill everyone.
A/N: A companion to Walburga Holds It, though you don't need to read that to get this. Also, withserendipity took up the noble, ancient cause of keeping me sane, so, many thanks to her.
Walburga is going to kill everyone.
Starting with Sirius. She will hunt him down like a dog-he is probably still with the Potters, or else slumming it in some disgusting Muggle tenement in the worst parts of London; he has always had a flair for the melodramatic, probably got it from her side of the family-and she will corner him, and she will not use her wand, oh, no indeed. She will drown him, like she should have done almost two decades ago, like she did to the puppy he found in the gutter when he was six. She wants to hear him gurgle, wants him to thrash, wants him to ache at least some tiny fraction of the way Regulus must have.
Next, Orion. She'll poison him with his own Firewhiskey. That vile stuff, she can't stand the smell of it anymore, she spends upwards of fortnights at a time simply not talking to him at all because the smell of his breath makes her want to vomit. Then, she shall leave his corpse in his precious study, so he can spend his death the same way he spent his life-holed up, drunk, hiding, and stinking.
Then Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa. All at once, because those three hated each other so much that it would serve as extra punishment for their last moments to be together. Walburga rather fancies the idea of cracking their skulls together, yanking out their precious hair (all of them too proud, too beautiful, to be allowed to live) so that it's bloodied and torn, so that they'll leave ugly corpses. She'll make sure Bellatrix dies slowest.
Dorea, then. Simple Avada Kedavra, she thinks, but make sure to do it in front of her son and husband. Make sure these idiotic Potter men see the life go out of her eyes, dead before she hits the ground.
Walburga will have to kill Alphard, for helping Sirius. And Cygnus, for not.
She might go and get Sirius' body and see if she could kill him twice, actually.
And then, having rid the world of the worst, the deadened, cancerous branches of the tree, she will burn the house down, and she and Kreacher will sit together in her parlour, and they will talk cheerfully about their hopes that this will set the whole Muggle neighborhood around them alight-nothing like a great inferno to destroy even the oldest and darkest of wards. Orion's books will burn, Sirius' horrid posters will burn, Regulus' safety blanket will burn, the house-elf heads will burn, the doxies in the curtains will burn, the generations of junk in the attic will burn, the toxic bottles in the cellar will burn, the tapestry will burn, the motto will burn, maybe all of London will burn. It's been too long since the Blacks have burned down a whole great city, Walburga will tell Kreacher. One has to keep up the old ways.
(Instead, she throws the tea tray at Severus Snape, who is the one to deliver the news, and then she goes to write some owls to see about having her portrait commissioned. Let it never be said that the Noble and Most Ancient House has produced nothing but maniacs: Walburga is, as she always has been, the very picture of restraint.)