Log in

No account? Create an account
05 September 2009 @ 12:10 am
Fanfic: Photographs  
Title: Photographs
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Summary: It doesn't happen often, but the beach house had been bought for the purpose of taking the boys there, since it was good for children to get a little salt air in their lungs." Another Black!fic, and quite lighthearted, too. (Yes, another old story that I am still kinda fond of.)
Original Posting Date: Feb 9, 2008



The four of them were on holiday at the beach. It doesn't happen often, since Orion was often at work, and Walburga socialized and did whatever it is that rich, respectable women do. This often left their two sons to their own devices. But the beach house had been bought for the purpose of taking the boys there, since it was good for children to get a little salt air in their lungs.

The house was a quaint little thing, with four bedrooms—one yet unused, the boys were hardly old enough to have separate rooms—and two baths, a kitchen, dining room, and sitting room. It wasn't at all like their house in London, vast and extravagant. After all, a house on a beach should always have that simple, cozy pretend-feel to it.

Orion watched as his two sons ran out into the water, his wife calling after them to be careful. He'd follow soon, but for now he was just enjoying watching her. She was dressed in white, with a hat and parasol and dainty gloves, once again part of the fashion that one should always wear light colours on a beach.

Later, she was on the beach with the boys, having discarded her hat and gloves. Waves lapped at her bare feet and ankles as she crouched to help them with a sandcastle. She gave Regulus a small hug and he beamed. Sirius made a face, and his brother stuck out his tongue, before being chased off into the water. Walburga smiled lightly up at her husband as he came over, and she stood. He leaned down and gave her a small kiss.

“Ew.” Sirius, of course. He was so much more brash than his brother, and it was hoped that he might grow out of it. It wasn't becoming for a gentleman.

After dinner they were in the sitting room, Sirius and Regulus playing gobstones as their parents read books. They fell asleep without ever having put their stuff away, and the parents moved to pick them up for bed. Regulus's eyes opened a little as his father pulled him into his arms, but he just clutched Orion's robes and leaned against his chest. Sirius didn't wake at all as he was moved by his mother. Even after Regulus was tucked into bed, she sat there with her oldest son in her arms, petting his hair lightly.

“Dear,” Orion said, looking down at her.

“When was the last time you hugged Sirius?” she asked.

“I don't know.”

“It's been a long time,” she said. “He doesn't like it, I know. Never has, not even when he was little. I doubt at this point that he ever will.”

“He's an independent child,” Orion said. “But now it's time for him to be in bed.”

Walburga gave a sad smile, and nodded.


“Dad, who's this?”

Harry Potter looked at the pictures that his younger son was holding. After much begging and pleading, he had agreed to let his children look around 12 Grimmauld Place. They had been joined by Ron and Hermione, and their children. While the others had run off to explore, Albus had been content to look through stuff in the house, quietly and patiently.

The picture he was currently holding was of a couple sitting on a beach. The woman was wearing a white dress, that blew in the breeze. She looked at the man beside her, and when he snuck a kiss she glowed.

“Dunno,” Harry replied.

There were a couple other pictures that were obviously taken the same day. The woman sitting hugging a little boy, who beamed. Another with the woman and two boys building a sandcastle, and they smiled and waved up at them. Harry studied the new boy in the photo, and then the other, hardly believing his eyes.

“Hermione,” he said, turning to his friend. “Look at these pictures Al found.”

She studied them for a moment, and a look of realization dawned across her face.

“Why...that's Sirius and Regulus,” she said. “So the other two...they must be Sirius' parents.”

Harry nodded, and leaned over Hermione's shoulder to look at the two photos she had chosen—Sirius, Regulus, and their mother, and the couple sitting on the beach.

“She's really beautiful, isn't she,” Harry said quietly. “And they look really happy.”

Hermione smiled. “Well, Sirius can't be much older than five or six in this picture. I wonder what happened to her to make her like that horrible portrait.”

“I supposed the same if you lost Hugo and Rose,” Harry said.

They tucked the pictures into the small box they were found in, and Harry was about to put them back on the shelf when he changed his mind. He had only taken a few things from Grimmauld Place since the war ended, always small things that he felt shouldn't be lost. This box was one of them.


Notes: I'm trying to come up with some sort of formal format for posting really old stories. I like having current thoughts about what I wrote, but also like having the ones I had back in the day. So this is how it goes.

Original Notes:

I almost feel like I've subconsciously started a crusade to make people look at the Blacks differently.

Anyway, I was thinking about The Importance of Being Ernest, when it was said that it was stylish to have three addresses, and thought, 'eh, why not?' That, and I kinda wanted to write something with the Blacks that was a little lighter. Did anyone else notice how depressing all the stories about Sirius and his family are?

Someday I'll write a longer, light-hearted Black story. Maybe a cute little love-story with Walburga and Orion (cause I find it a little strange how there are no ships for them on SCUSA , despite all the weirdo ones with the giant squid and stuff).



Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative