Emerald green ~ Sirius Black

[009] 𝘛𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬

Falling asleep (Dominic Fike) -

If you think nobody's watching you would do it too,

'Cause you're just like us,

Dont you play the role and disappoint all of the people who adore you,

Or you can run away from here right now,

And take me with you

【＝＝＝】

September 9th 1971

It's strange how quickly kids forgive. How easily a parent's anger can be brushed off and how the pain can slip through their minds.

Perhaps it's because they are so used to pain. Tripping over, falling, banging into things. Let's face it, kids are designed to experience hurt and to grow from it.

I always assumed that you reached a limit and then suddenly the pain wasn't as forgettable, it wasn't an age limit it was how much pain you could experience. That's why some people mature faster than others.

I felt this deeply as I navigated the first eleven years of my life, focusing on one main goal, forgetting the hurt and focusing on getting to Hogwarts. The seven years I spent in those walls would give me what almost every Pureblood child dreamed of: freedom and independence from their family.

Unfortunately, I failed to realize that freedom -as easily as it is given- can be taken away.

I'd never been in love, not with any people or place, but I had been for a second. For a second, I knew a life that others were accustomed to and that I craved desperately. I knew that fuzzy feeling that made my lungs fill what felt like honey. A sickly sweet emotion ran through me that was so unfamiliar but like a drug—not that I'd ever done any drugs, of course.

In hindsight, I think it's quite cruel. I'd for once seen people who weren't like me, who weren't scared every second and turned quiet and hard by life. 

Since I was young, I've always been told that I'd end up in trouble. I was cautious, biting my tongue so much that it bled, but sometimes, I got fed up. It was mostly when Sirius was around; that he brought out the strongest part in me.

Of course, my parents hated that. Being strong and sharp was the opposite of what you wanted for your daughter. It meant you wouldn't break as easily.

The decadent meal in front of me sat untouched. Steam rising from the roast lamb, hitting my face making my cheeks rosy and flushed. I wouldn't eat, I couldn't. My stomach kept churning.

"8 days," My mother spat, picking at her meal with our expensive silverware, "you lasted 8 days at that bloody school." My mother was always pessimistic, for as long as I've known her at least, but she's gotten worse since the war started brewing. I knew conflict well enough to know it changed people but I thought she would have an easier time dealing with it.

"Longer than your marriage was happy," I said pointedly, my lips pursed as my parents glared at me.

My father sat at the head of the table, he looked mad, although his face was always showing at least a little bit of anger but now it was twisted. contorted in anger as he chewed on his lamb like it was cardboard.

"Want to weight in on this discussion dear?" My mother asked him, taking a sip of wine as we both watched him eat.

He stared at her for a second, a manic look in his eyes. He's gotten worse too, from a few meetings in the fireplaces I've overheard I think he's part of something big, to do with the war. "The lamb is dry," he told her slowly, chewing blankly with a withering stare.