start wearing purple

explosion9@gmail.com — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 03:07:28 GMT

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Name: Amanda
Email: explosion9@gmail.com
AIM: afterwards3

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Name: Walburga Hedva Reinheld Black
Age: A proud 38, and Walburga has no qualms using her seniority within the family to get her way.
House: Slytherin, the (other) house of her fathers.

History: With a screech and a howl that echoed for days, Walburga entered the world on February 7th. The eldest child, Walburga was regarded as the family heir even after her two younger brothers were born, mostly because Walburga struggled tooth and nail to prove herself superior to them in every imaginable way. It didn't hurt that she was her father's favorite, of course, plus Walburga's natural competitive streak and absolute spite for her mother -- who favored Alphard and Cygnus -- helped her get quite a jump start on the competition.

She was the first of the children in her family to do anything, be Sorted into Slytherin, become prefect, Head Girl, and graduate. Walburga worked hard all through her school years to make sure neither of her brothers would ever take a step out of her shadow. The only thing that they ever managed to succeed in was quidditch -- all her life, Walburga has been deathly afraid of flying. By the time Walburga was eighteen and her father died, she was already written into his will for the majority of his money, leaving her two insignificant brothers to divide the remains.

Unfortunately, with that absolute hag Irma (Walburga had stopped referring to her as 'mother' in her second year at Hogwarts) breathing down her father's neck, Walburga's stake in her father's will remained hinged on the provision that she would marry before the age of twenty, or else her brothers would get her share. Walburga raged for days on end, a temper tantrum for the ages, hardly even calming enough to sleep or eat until she passed out on her third day. Apparently the fainting spell was all that was needed to give her a plan, because when Walburga awoke, she immediately sent a house elf for ink and parchment. She wrote a letter then and there to Orion.

The arrangement was in truth more business than pleasure, but Walburga was satisfied with her end. Orion was of excellent breeding, how could he not be and have the Black name of her father?, he was handsome enough that she might show him off at parties, he seemed to have no qualms with Walburga's male high strength of heart, and, most importantly he came with his own family fortune and promised to let Walburga's alone. Nevermind that he was a distant cousin, he must be removed or something or other. It wasn't illegal or anything, as Walburga sharply reminded those suicidal enough to ask about it. Between her cold stare and her quick wand, no one ever asked a second time.

Walburga was married and satisfied, like a dragon sitting on her hoard of gold, for roughly a year before she noticed that people were beginning to whisper about her marriage. People were saying she was only married for Orion's money, that her own fortune was running out, that she was involved in sordid affairs with a muggleborn, that Orion wouldn't dare touch someone so soiled. Again, Walburga had a fit that lasted days, included hardly veiled threats to life and limb of anyone within her sight, and then made herself so sick with rage that she had to lay in bed for almost a week. But again, by the end of it, Walburga had a plan.

She produced two pretty little brats of her own, inherently superior to her darling sister in law Druella's litter because Walburga's were boys. Although Walburga had always sworn that she'd want a little girl to spoil in addition to the heir and the spare for her husband, she found herself to be perfectly contented with two. Walburga actually decided she understood that absolute hag Irma for once, baby boys were such a pleasure to keep around.

Walburga's life was once again going according to plan as her children grew. It was no surprise that Sirius was her favorite, he reminded her of herself in the way he rebelled, questioned authority, and never accepted less than exactly what he wanted. Walburga spoiled Sirius mercilessly, and although she'd had her worries when he was sorted Gryffindor, eventually she became to be very very secretly proud. Her darling baby was so unique.

And then, just when once again Walburga's life was everything she'd always planned it to be, it all came to a screeching halt. Her son, her favorite, her ever-so-precious-never-do-a-thing-wrong-darling Sirius was spotted sticking up for some nasty little mudblood halfbreed creature. It was one thing for Sirius to be hanging around that Potter, even if he was a bit uppity, a touch too pityingly noble, he was at least pureblooded. Walburga had a fit, another one of her temper tantrums that had done so much good in the past. Somewhere in the back of her mind she expected to heave around her anger, get sick enough to be confined to bed rest, Sirius would apologize for making his mother sick (he loved her, she was certain of it), and everything would go back to normal.

But somehow it didn't work that way. Somehow Walburga had remained blissfully unaware for the past sixteen years that Sirius had inherited the same penchant for dramatics that his mother had. Their argument was epic, hardly a piece of china in the house left unbroken. It was there, surrounded by shards of porcelain and glass in the middle of the dining room at Grimmauld Place, that Walburga laid down her trump card: either obey, or be blasted off the family tree. Sirius called her bluff and walked out.

Let it never be said that Walburga Black does not follow through on her threats.

The sickly low that always followed one of Walburga's fits was worse than ever this time. She drowned herself in her bedsheets, absolutely refusing to get out of bed for a whole month, hardly even stirring except to hex a house elf or two for being too noisy or looking at her too long. Even Orion was beginning to worry. Walburga demanded to see the post the moment it arrived, in the hopes her golden son was writing for forgiveness. She couldn't give it, of course, but it would have been nice to have been asked.

And then, like a light, Walburga was back to normal. No one could ever say why exactly, but one day she simply got out of bed, wrapped herself in Orion's smoking robe, and walked down to the kitchens to demand breakfast. She's only been recovered for the past two weeks, however, and the family is still whispering about her poor tragic breakdown, but Walburga plans on giving them nothing at all to gossip about from here on out. She's determined for the upcoming holidays to live forever in the collective family memory, a testament to her excellent hostessing.

Personality: Walburga's biggest flaw is truly her pride. She has the typical Black Family Pride to the nth degree, almost maniacal about her social standing and prestige. Walburga's pride often translates into competition as well: whatever she sees the Joneses doing, she's got to do too, and a thousand times better. She has a stubborn streak a mile wide too, from the Crabbe side of her family, that means Walburga's going to keep slamming her head against the same goddamn brick wall until she gets what she wants.

And may the same God Damn save you if she doesn't, because when all else fails, Walburga, despite all her age and maturity, reverts to being a spoiled rotten five year old pureblood little girl, and has the biggest loudest angriest tantrum she can possibly fathom up. She throws dishes and hexes people and always, no matter how she tries, ends up sobbing furiously by the end of it. Walburga never cries when she's sad, only when she's angry.

Usually, however, if you manage to weather the storm of Walburga's hissy fits, you come out on the other side to find her heaving sick, shaking and livid, but humbled. She'll shut her mouth and do what she has to with a quiet insolence, but just because she doesn't say anything, don't think Walburga's given up. She's just retreated into her mind to plan.

Walburga is the type of woman who laughs to hear about cruelty in the world, a little bit of a sadist in all things. It's great fun to kick house elves and spread hurtful rumors about family members who have crossed her. Believe it or not, Walburga does have the ability to laugh, but it's never ever a pleasant thing to see. It means she's about to commit murder.

Still, like anyone, Walburga does have her weaknesses. She just covers them up and goes on the offensive if you get close to them. Anything that frightens, offends, or confuses her, Walburga hates automatically. Although she has great depth of emotions, Walburga was always taught that it's bad form to show them to anyone, unless you want it taken from you by your enemies, so if Walburga doesn't say anything to you, it most likely means she likes you. She's a mess of too much good breeding and too little places to feel safe.

Reputation: It's a bit of a marvel that with all the things that have gone wrong for Walburga, she's still very much the queen bee within the family. She's headstrong and without an ounce of decorum, has already borne one blood traitor into the world, and unless the youngest Black shapes up, she might have begotten two. Not to mention the worrying fact that she married her third cousin. But because Walburga still carries herself with pride, still demands respect from everyone, no shame at all for what mistakes she's made, she still receives it -- and if she doesn't? Walburga will take respect at the business end of her wand.

Details: IT IS HER DAMN CHINA, DRUELLA. Also, never lets go of a grudge, does not touch her husband in public, and is still rather secretly heartbroken after having to burn Sirius off the tree. She's been trying to replace this hurt by making Regulus her favorite, but it's not quite working. He's too much like his father for Walburga to ever really love him.

First Person Sample: IF I HEAR SO MUCH AS ONE SINGLE GOD DAMNED "YES MA'AM" FROM ONE OF THESE DISGUSTING UNEDUCATED CRIPPLING CREATURES THAT INSIST ON FOLLOWING ME ABOUT, I WILL HAVE THEM SPLINCHED INTO PIECES MOUNTED ALL OVER THE BEAUTIFUL HOME OF MY FATHERS.

I have HAD IT with these house elves. I am up to bloody well HERE with all of their yes ma'ams and no ma'ams and as you like ma'ams without the singular ability to THINK FOR THEMSELVES that would make them at all useful!

It's not a wonder why Daddy always insisted on muggle help. Oh they're a bother to catch and keep, so messy and so dirty, but at least they have the PATTERN RECOGNITION to be able to anticipate your needs without having to go through the whole bloody song and dance with them every time all you want to eat is a boiled egg.

I am starving and not at all liable for my actions until my fragile thin blood gets some nourishment. I WILL HAVE NO QUALMS AT ALL CRUCIOING SOMEONE IF I AM NOT FED BY THE TIME I COUNT TO THREE.

ONE.

TWO.

THREE.

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