The Black Heiress | h. potter

023

Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.

Sirius Black used to be an avid smoker. He would go through a pack a day. In a time where therapy and speaking about one's mental health issues was completely frowned upon (especially if you were someone of high prestige). Thus, the cigarettes acted as Sirius's therapy.

His home life, in simplest terms, was shit. His mother was shit. His father was shit. And his brother was — never mind.

The abuse had been implemented into the very core of what was supposed to be his safe place, his home. Each "break" from school was a chance for the hurt that has plagued his first eleven years to continue. All the pain and suffering would return. And no matter how big he got, whenever Sirius came back to that house, he was the same, scared little eight year old he was when his mother hit him. When his father used an Unspeakable on him. Like a chronic disease, the abuse infected his entire life. He was like a cancer patient and his parents were the cancer. Infecting him. Killing him from the inside out.

The day that the eldest Black left for the Potter's home was the day that the cancer had finally been cured. It was the day that the new flowers began to bloom. The day that a new book had started to be written. His story was wiped clean with only his scars and memories to be reminders of her previous life.

But, Cassiopeia didn't know any of this. And who could blame her? She was from a new era. An entire new series written by a brand new author. She didn't know her father.

So here she is, smoking a cigarette on the top of the Astronomy Tower, mascara stains on her cheeks. If someone walked by, it would be like looking into the past. Into a mirror that showed what life was like about 15 years ago.

After all, like father, like daughter.

▲▼▲

"Cass! Cassiopeia?"

"Huh?"

Blaise stopped the girl, "I've been running after you for a whole minute now, where are you going?"

Cassiopeia looked at him with confusion in her dull eyes, "Potions. It's Potions time Blaise. If I'm late Snape will be upset."

"Cassiopeia," Blaise spoke worryingly, "It's a Saturday. Which means no classes. Plus, you're holding your Herbology book."

"No I'm no-" Cassiopeia looked down, and in her hands was the cover of her Herbology textbook. "Oh."

"Oh? Oh what Cassiopeia? If you're on some sort of substance, please tell me so I can help you."

"I'm not high or drunk or on drugs Blaise. I'm fine."

"Well, you don't look fine. You're confused about the day, you've been wandering down the halls, and your eyes Cass-"

"What about my eyes Blaise? Say it."

"They look dead. Respectfully, you look like a mess. And plus, no one has seen you all day. Theo's been worried."

"What? That's bullshit. I just saw Theo."

"No Cassiopeia, you saw him yesterday at dinner. No one's seen you since."

Cassiopeia paused. Has no one really seen her? After all, she was only on the Astronomy Tower for...

"Good Merlin. Was I really up there for that long? It felt like a couple hours."

"I- just come with me."

▲▼▲

"Why did we come to your dorm Blaise?"

"To talk."

"Talk," Cassiopeia scoffed, "About what?"

"Anything," Blaise replied softly, "I'm really worried about you Cass."

"No, you're not. We're not friends Blaise. I'm just helping you. I understand that you're grateful, but you don't have to pretend to care. Okay?" Cassiopeia snapped.

Blaise was silent for a moment. He sat with his hands in his lap and his head fallen. However, when he looked up, Cassiopeia immediately saw how deep her words hurt him.

"You...you don't think we're friends?"

And it wasn't so much the actual sentence that broke her heart, it was how he said it. Like a hurt child. Like how she asked her mom why she did the things she did when she was a child.

"Wait Blaise,"

"No. It's okay. You don't have to be friends with me. I understand."

And after he left the room. Cassiopeia just sat. Just sat and stared. Wondering why she was the way she was.

▲▼▲

And maybe it wasn't her fault. Just like Sirius's behaviors might not have been his fault. Maybe they were just two screwed up individuals. Hurt by those sworn to protect them. Treated like vermin in their own homes. But then that poses the question, whose fault was it? Their parents? Their parent's parents? The parents parent's parents?

How deep does one have to go to find the root of the problem? How deep does the generational trauma go? How much deeper will it go? Like a cancer that is genetic, will it continue to spread through the family lineage, infecting who it chooses?

The cycle continues, with one generation swearing they will not repeat the mistakes of the other, then increasing them by tenfold. Like a seemingly eternal flame it blazes through the ancestry. Unknowingly started by one individual and then unknowingly fanned by all that follow.

Hurt and pain and suffering all continue to fuel the fire that keeps on getting larger. Braver. Stronger. And the people who fan it just keep on getting weaker. And soon they get so weak that the fire takes hold of them. And it's burning tendrils grip onto your arm and your leg and your face and as your flesh is bubbling from the extreme heat and your body is crying, "Please, no! Stop! Run!" you continue to stay in the fire because that's all you've ever known. Because that's what mummy and daddy have taught you. That the world is burning, and it needs you to help it. That it's best for the world to burn. And that's what they've been taught. And that's what you'll teach your kids. And they'll teach theirs. And so on.

After all, like father. Like daughter.

▲▼▲

✿✦❤︎ She Speaks! ❤︎✦✿

heyyyyyyy......heyyyyyyyy.....how ya'll doing......

no but like hi.

so, i'm back. and i feel terrible.

so, i've missed a lot! apparently the story "MILO" is now a PAID STORY?????? WHAT???? I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF READING THAT :(

dang i've missed a lot, but i'm back now!

so, per usual. have an amazing day/evening/night. ily, drink some water and eat some food.

xoxo,
pandora

(ooh that felt good to type)

word count: 1218