Untreated Wounds | Sirius Black

Chapter 1

My life was ending. 

I had never been in love. I would never be in love. Not that I ever dreamt of such, there were greater battles to triumph. I would never grow old. I had been seventeen since I was eleven years old, what was another final year?

Since I was eleven, I'd been told that I bit off more than I could chew and that it would be the death of me. That one day I would sink my teeth into the wrong man's flesh and he would kill me for it. My tongue always drew first blood. It was too sharp for their liking. Too sharp for a woman. A woman should be docile and her tongue should be gentle. A woman's tongue should never be sharp enough to cut. 

The roast mutton on my dinner plate was dry and tough. Not to mention the roast potatoes and asparagus that were soft and inedible. The gravy was too bitter and salty for my taste and even the wine I'd been offered tasted of vinegar. My gaze had not lifted from my cold dinner plate all evening as I listened to monsters argue about my future.

"My son is an ideal suitor for Lillian!" Walburga Black's voice had always been nasally. It was loud and sliced through tight air. 

"Do not be ridiculous," My mother scoffed, placing down her cutlery, "He is not even old enough to serve the Dark Lord yet!"

It did not matter who I married, my life would end when I did. 

Most summers, I spent in the South of Ireland, Cork, to be exact. I would spend the hot days running from my duties as heir and befriending the forbidden muggle children of the town. The summer of 1977 was spent meeting suitors from houses across the Wizarding World. They had come from the stretches of Europe to indulge in balls and dinners with me. When I was not meeting men who intended to break me into their broodmare, Uncle had been training me down in the graveyard. He was the only man who believed my bite was powerful and I deserved to be feared.

I could feel a familiar set of grey eyes burning a wound into the side of my head. Regulus wanted us to marry. He thought it would be a good compromise, considering we were friends.

"Enough of this!" Uncle bellowed, "This discussion does not need to be held at the dining table!"

Everyone fell silent at his command.

"Lillian," Uncle said, forcing me to lift my head and turn to him as he sat at the head of the table, "Is Regulus who you would prefer to marry?"

I just shrugged, turning back to my untouched dinner.

"Answer him, girl," My father snapped, "Don't be so disrespectful -- The Dark Lord asked you a question," 

I ground my jaw, refusing to lift my head, "I don't want to marry anyone." 

"Not this again," My mother scoffed, "Lillian, you don't get a choice. You are the heir to the House of Gaunt, it is your duty to marry!"

My mother was Freja Gaunt, Morfin Gaunt's only child. 

The inside of my cheek was bound to rip apart from the amount I chewed on it one day, "I'm only seventeen,"

"Your father and I married when I was seventeen."

Look how that turned out.

My father was Cian Cox. He was a cruel man.

I was ashamed to share the same blood as him. I had been since I was only young. What I was even more ashamed of was how similar we looked. I had his speckled hazel eyes that were so dark they were often mistaken for amber and his untameable auburn curls and even his freckled skin. My mother's traits were far more beautiful, icy blue eyes and pale blonde hair with fair skin but at least I had her straight nose.