Emerald green ~ Sirius Black

[001] 𝘉𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘉𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴

Yosemite (Lana Del Rey)-

We did it for fun, we did it for free,

I did it for you, you did it for me,

We did it for the right reasons

【＝＝＝】

1967

Scars tell stories. Some are silly fables, mistakes made by children, not yet understand that pain leaves a mark. But others... those scars hold tales of horror. The kind that makes people gasp, seeking comfort in the embrace of the nearest person or hiding beneath layers of rough fabric. Those scars are darker, more sinister. And for me, they are a lot more common.

I like to call them battle scars as if they were marks of heroism rather than fear. I try to make the stories less about horror and more about bravery. But deep down, I know they aren't battle scars. Because my family was meant to be on my side. Sworn to protect me from the day I was born. But the best villains are the ones no one suspects.

It's something very few people know. The Travers family's affinity for leaving scars behind. Their willingness to welcome hatred and resentment into our home. My parents despise muggleborns, halfbloods, Gryffindors, bloodtraitors... even their own daughter.

No matter how hard I tried, my parents couldn't look at me in any way but a disagreeable one. They would scowl on my arrival and promptly leave the room after I sat down. 

The other members of the Sacred 28 families never knew of this hatred. I was the perfect cookie-cutter daughter to them.

My parent's animosity was harbored from the very day I was born. My mother had been diagnosed with group 3 ovulatory disorder one year after she got married. My father had been meaning to file for divorce, instructed by his parents to find a better woman who would be able to give him an heir. By some miracle, Eileithyia Travers had managed to conceive a child despite her condition.

All was well in their marriage once more as it was announced a baby boy was on the way. My father, Polonius Travers, was finally satisfied as he would have a perfectly healthy baby boy as a son.

When May 31st came, the singular heir to the Travers family was born at 11:58 pm. The nurses could hear my father's screams and my mother's wails as they learned that the perfect heir had one fatal flaw. I was a girl.

As the clock ticked over and June 1st rolled around, I got my very first scar. The deep cut was no accident, it wasn't an adolescent fable, it was a horror story and it would have many, many chapters. 

【＝＝＝】

The night that I met Sirius Black was a cold one. 

The many purebloods flooding to the Blacks' large manor put heavy coats and jackets over their finest clothes, wearing umbrellas to stop the faint trickle of rain from undoing all the effort that the ladies put into their hair.

I was part of this fancy charade in which I was made to squeeze into a tight black corset that did nothing but accentuate my already stick figure waist. As a 7-year-old, I found little use in such a silly dress, but my mother insisted. "Must we stand out in the cold any longer?" I asked, fidgeting with the skirt of my dress as we stood on the Blacks' front porch. "It's a party, they won't notice if we slip inside."

My suggestion of going inside without a formal invitation was met with a scowl from my mother and a roll of the eyes from my father. "We will wait until we are greeted," Eileithyia instructed. "It is good manners."

Falling quiet, I looked at my shoes, inspecting the faint glitter on my 2-inch heels as I waited patiently, trying to ignore my mother's judgmental stare. When the door creaked open, I looked up in relief, smiling as I felt warm air hit my face.