(no subject)
Title: Ties That Bind
Author: sholmes87
Featuring: Alphard Black with Albert Deschamps
Rating: G. Nothing objectionable.
Summary:Alphard leaves home and doesn't look back. But family has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it.
Author's Notes: Thanks very much to westwardlee for letting me play with Alphard and Albert. I hope I didn't overstep.
Alphard Black had never for a moment regretted his decision to leave home. After his last day at Hogwarts, he had packed up his trunk and taken the Hogwarts Express back to Kings Cross just as he was supposed to. But then, instead of apparating back to Grimmauld Place where everyone was expecting him, he’s told his younger brothers Arcturus and Altair that he had some business at Gringotts that he needed to attend to first. Alphard had spoken to the goblin in charge at Gringotts, closed out the account he had ostensibly started for his father, and, retrieving his trunk from Platform 93/4, he’d gone through the barrier, emerging between platforms 9 and 10 in Muggle London and had left the Wizarding World.
Left and not gone back for six years. Alphard had no idea if his family had looked for him. Undoubtedly his father had found out about the account; but since he’d taken money that would have been his anyway as part of his inheritance, Alphard felt no guilt at all about it. He had managed quite well, securing employment with a small firm of accountants that had been left short-handed by the war. Explaining that he had a bad heart and couldn’t enlist, Alphard had so impressed his supervisor with his investment acumen, that they were delighted to have him even if his background was a bit murky. He was British, and smart and that was enough for them.
Alphard had also managed to convince Albert Deschamps that he did in fact, really love him despite the difference in their ages, and for the last two years, they had been living in the flat that Albert kept above his studio.
But now Alphard was going back to the Wizarding World. And it was for the best of reasons he thought. Albert’s birthday was coming up and Alphard wanted to get him a book about wizard artists. He knew Albert would be enchanted by the portraits, pictures and landscapes in the book and he also knew Albert wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Hieronymus Bosch had been a wizard.
Still, there was no point in taking chances, so Alphard wore a heavy cloak and a hat pulled down over his eyes as he went through to Diagon Alley and into Flourish and Blotts. He looked so much like his father and his brothers that he didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing him. The clerk didn’t give him a second glance however and Alphard found himself purchasing some new quills and a copy of the Daily Prophet, as well as the book for Albert. He hadn’t seen the wizard paper since he’d left, and he saw no harm in carrying it back to muggle London with him. The people he encountered were so engrossed in their own business they’d never even notice the moving photographs.
With the package containing Albert’s book tucked safely in his pocket, Alphard perused the front page as he rode the bus home. Just before his stop, he turned to the inside pages. A headline caught his eye and he froze. Hurriedly scanning the text, his face wooden, Alphard studied the accompanying picture with intense interest. Sighing heavily, he got off the bus and trudged to his flat.
Albert heard him come in and, laying down his brush, turned to Alphard with a sunny smile.
“Mission accomplished successfully then?” he asked, turning to face Alphard.
The smile vanished however, when he saw Alphard’s face.
“What’s wrong?” Albert asked, alarmed. “Are you all right?”
Smiling grimly, Alphard answered.
“I’m fine. Couldn’t be better.” He tossed the Prophet onto the table. “I’m an Uncle,” He announced in tones that would be better suited to telling someone their dog had died.
Albert’s eye widened in surprise and he looked at the paper. He saw a photograph of a man who looked very much like Alphard seated next to a woman Albert would never consider painting. The woman held a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms and both adults were smiling fatuously at it. Albert read the caption:
Mr and Mrs Altair Black are proud to welcome the newest addition to one of the Wizarding Worlds finest families. Bellatrix Black was born at St Mungo’s Hospital on 23 April, 1949. The Prophet offers hearty congratulations to Mr and Mrs Black and wishes Miss Bellatrix a long and happy life.
Author: sholmes87
Featuring: Alphard Black with Albert Deschamps
Rating: G. Nothing objectionable.
Summary:Alphard leaves home and doesn't look back. But family has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it.
Author's Notes: Thanks very much to westwardlee for letting me play with Alphard and Albert. I hope I didn't overstep.
Alphard Black had never for a moment regretted his decision to leave home. After his last day at Hogwarts, he had packed up his trunk and taken the Hogwarts Express back to Kings Cross just as he was supposed to. But then, instead of apparating back to Grimmauld Place where everyone was expecting him, he’s told his younger brothers Arcturus and Altair that he had some business at Gringotts that he needed to attend to first. Alphard had spoken to the goblin in charge at Gringotts, closed out the account he had ostensibly started for his father, and, retrieving his trunk from Platform 93/4, he’d gone through the barrier, emerging between platforms 9 and 10 in Muggle London and had left the Wizarding World.
Left and not gone back for six years. Alphard had no idea if his family had looked for him. Undoubtedly his father had found out about the account; but since he’d taken money that would have been his anyway as part of his inheritance, Alphard felt no guilt at all about it. He had managed quite well, securing employment with a small firm of accountants that had been left short-handed by the war. Explaining that he had a bad heart and couldn’t enlist, Alphard had so impressed his supervisor with his investment acumen, that they were delighted to have him even if his background was a bit murky. He was British, and smart and that was enough for them.
Alphard had also managed to convince Albert Deschamps that he did in fact, really love him despite the difference in their ages, and for the last two years, they had been living in the flat that Albert kept above his studio.
But now Alphard was going back to the Wizarding World. And it was for the best of reasons he thought. Albert’s birthday was coming up and Alphard wanted to get him a book about wizard artists. He knew Albert would be enchanted by the portraits, pictures and landscapes in the book and he also knew Albert wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Hieronymus Bosch had been a wizard.
Still, there was no point in taking chances, so Alphard wore a heavy cloak and a hat pulled down over his eyes as he went through to Diagon Alley and into Flourish and Blotts. He looked so much like his father and his brothers that he didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing him. The clerk didn’t give him a second glance however and Alphard found himself purchasing some new quills and a copy of the Daily Prophet, as well as the book for Albert. He hadn’t seen the wizard paper since he’d left, and he saw no harm in carrying it back to muggle London with him. The people he encountered were so engrossed in their own business they’d never even notice the moving photographs.
With the package containing Albert’s book tucked safely in his pocket, Alphard perused the front page as he rode the bus home. Just before his stop, he turned to the inside pages. A headline caught his eye and he froze. Hurriedly scanning the text, his face wooden, Alphard studied the accompanying picture with intense interest. Sighing heavily, he got off the bus and trudged to his flat.
Albert heard him come in and, laying down his brush, turned to Alphard with a sunny smile.
“Mission accomplished successfully then?” he asked, turning to face Alphard.
The smile vanished however, when he saw Alphard’s face.
“What’s wrong?” Albert asked, alarmed. “Are you all right?”
Smiling grimly, Alphard answered.
“I’m fine. Couldn’t be better.” He tossed the Prophet onto the table. “I’m an Uncle,” He announced in tones that would be better suited to telling someone their dog had died.
Albert’s eye widened in surprise and he looked at the paper. He saw a photograph of a man who looked very much like Alphard seated next to a woman Albert would never consider painting. The woman held a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms and both adults were smiling fatuously at it. Albert read the caption:
Mr and Mrs Altair Black are proud to welcome the newest addition to one of the Wizarding Worlds finest families. Bellatrix Black was born at St Mungo’s Hospital on 23 April, 1949. The Prophet offers hearty congratulations to Mr and Mrs Black and wishes Miss Bellatrix a long and happy life.