Blood Ties (Sirius Black)

1. Dressing For The Occassion

I remember that day vividly.

Mother had ushered me into the bathroom at five in the morning, stating that I must make a great impression, after all, I was going to meet my prince. I didnt quite understand what she meant at the time, seeing as mother never let me wander into my world of fantasy, where a prince rode his mare into a battlefield just to save his maiden. Infact, she ripped my muggle fantasy books to shred the moment she found them hidden hastily under my duvet, before giving me a hiding. So to have my mother heat the bath next to scalding hot and scrub my skin until it was red raw was unusual as it was painful. I was to remain as silent as a nine year old could be as she worked up a lather in my hair and utter that our maid was a useless wench for handing in her notice only a few days before. It appeared mother was so infuriated, as she contitued to engrave her nails into my skull in attempts to soak my hair with shampoo.

Apparently, mother was too lost in her own world where she thrust pain on to the likes of frightened maids to notice the pain she caused me was barely tolerable. I attempted to wriggle away from her grasp, squirm until she was forced to notice my anguish. When she was finally out of her black hearted world of torture, my mothers beady black eyes turned to me.

"Hush child, wont you ever be a good, obedient daughter, like it is expected of you?" She snapped, sounding much like a teacher than a parent.

It hurt, knowing my mother would never be pleased with the outcome that she and father created - she tells me every day. So instead of whimpering in self hatred, I simply looked to the intricate detail of the bathroom, blocking all emotions.

Like the rest of the house, the harsh colours served to bring an essence of cold with it. Black tiled flooring was simply the sleek carpet of which huge, stone counters stood. In the center of the room, the thing that held the most attention was the large bath tub. It was black, like most of the other things in the room, yet it held a deep green tint to it. The taps were silver and polished, designed with snakes entwined round each of them, so when one was to turn the tap the snakes would slowly spiral around. To briefly put it, the room oozed Slytherin.

Suddenly, mother forcefully pulled my arm, so that I was standing, thought slightly unbalanced I'll admit. It was unnatural that a mother could force pain onto a child as young as I without being at all apologetic, yet she strutted out of the bathroom looking as regal as ever, after chucking a towel in my general direction. With the little time I had, I couldn't help but ponder what it was like to have a loving, caring mother as I draped the ever so thirsty towel around my sodden body, craving its warmth against me . Would life be better with a considerate mother? Would I wake up feeling prepared for the day? Or would it remain the same; a endless pit of horror and depression?

What ridiculous thoughts of a nine year old, I couldn't help but muse to myself, dwelling on my deep thoughts. It was all I had ever known though. Mother had always been as brooding and as bashful as father-though he wasn't around as often- and growing up had been a daunting, lonely task. To make my days less empty, I thrust myself into a world of literature, where a simple raindrop would become a cascade of pure anguish from the likes of the moon goddess, as she wept the depart of her love. The fact things could change and evolve in such ways gave me a sense of comfort-maybe life could brighten up?

With the thud of the heels she was wearing trailing behind her as she progressed to the door, mother twisted the knob of the door, to find me standing in the bath still. She tutted, shaking her head in disgust.

"I understand why your father wanted a boy! Hurry up, you fool! Sarah shall dress you" she spat in disgrace, turning on her heel and walking to what I presume, would be her own chambers.

Sighing, I stepped out of the tub. With my hand clutching the towel around me, I bent to pour the water down the drain. I didn't have the time to watch it, so I hastily ran down the corridor towards my very own chambers. I opened the door, to find Sarah waiting with her hand on her hip, eyebrow raised.

"Where have you been, you little tyke?" she said, her lips quirking up to form a smile.

I couldn't help but giggle in delight; Sarah was the only person in this household that held a hint of maternal instinct. Mother hadn't taken a liking to her, seeing as she's a squib[1] , but she did her job well and loathed blood traitors just as much as mother, so she was hired.

"The bath, silly! You see my hair, can you not?" I grinned, as Sarah plucked a strand of my wet hair from my back.

"Goodness, Miss Avery! We need to have this in perfect condition for today. Come on now, lets get you dressed"

Abiding her commands, albeit a bit annoyed at having to do so, I was dressed within fifteen minutes. The blue gown I was now drowning in was heavy and uncomfortable against my skin, though it did look presentable, if not old fashioned. The shoulders were padded, and there was a peter pan collar that hid my collar bone from sight, proving my age and status within society. It ended just below my knee, and was complimented by a pair of white stockings and black buckled shoes - mother didn't trust me with normal kind after I stepped on her toes as I stumbled out of my ballet flats.

Glancing at my reflexion one more, I came to a conclusion: I didn't like how stiff it made me look. Despite Sarah cooing that my prince will be head over heels for me, loving my courtesy and lovely honey locks. I could not supress the giggle that rose in my throat. Me? I was the child who had no individuality, no fire, not even ice in my gaze. I was so normal infact, mother considered leaving me on a hillside because she thought I was a squib. I guess that's the reason I don't take a liking to hiking.

"Sarah, who is this prince you speak of?" I asked curiously, as she brushed through my long hair, hoping that it would magically detangle itself. The joys of being a squib, I guess.

"Oh you'll love him dear, he's a good little boy, very well mannered. He will be quite a charmer when he grows up too" she said, smiling fondly as if to reminisce.

I frowned, both in pain of having my hair brushed and disgruntled that I didn't get to choose who I was to marry. Surely this was not just? Though if the boy was not all he lived up to, I could easily tell him that I did not want to be so childish and marry him- right?

Right.

"Have I met him before, at one of our banquets perhaps?"

To this, Sarahs brows scrunched up and she stopped brushing my hair for the moment. Im glad I mumbled mentally, I hated when people brushed my hair. It has always been something that I loathed, yet it had to be done. Sarah would abide my parents rules, no matter how minor they may be.

"Im sure you know of him Isabelle, but I do not think you have ever met him"

I hated not knowing these riddles, it was quite infuriating. Adults did not speak too well, the silly fools.

"What is his name? Why is he my prince? Why will mother love him?" I shot at her, all at once. I would not sit and live this torment, I am not Sarah. I am an individual.

Sarah simply shook her head, amused by antics. If only she knew what was running through my mind at this very instant; I am certain her features would change. But for now, I was glad someone took pleasure from this situation. Sarah didn't have to play house with a boy she knew nothing about, it was I who had to.

"All in good time- curiosity killed the cat, remember?" Smiling, Sarah lifted the brush once more, but before the object even touched my skin, she finished:

"And as for his name: its Regulus Arcturus Black".

[1] Sqiub is a term to describe a non-magical person who is born to magical parents.

*Just like to mention that Isabelle is still nine, and is unsure about the truth in her prince. Its just a childrens game, not a lawful document.

Thoughts? Opinions? Feedback is greatly appreciated.

-A.C Quinn