zoomy_yy
Cassiopeia Black should have been a son. She should have listened to her mother. She should have been born with working ears. She should have unlearned her father's rage. She should have been a better daughter. She should have unfisted her hands and set down the broom. She should have been a Black brother, not just their sister. Cassiopeia Black should have been a son.
But she wasn't a son, and that's what made Cassiopeia, Cassy.
The queen of Slytherin had always been Bellatrix, but everyone knew that Cassy was their golden girl. At the top of their class for three years, she was also their Quidditch captain. Even when she spent her entire fourth year being bullied by her house, that somehow only certified her even more as their golden girl. She belonged to Slytherin. Even when they despised her.
Her twin, Regulus, was perfectly comfortable sitting back and watching his classmates treat her like an unreal being, for good and bad. In fact, he and Sirius both had not concerned themselves with Cassy since their 2nd year. They were the Black Brothers, and she was the Black Daughter; the two hadn't intercepted in three years.
Cassy was still getting used to that fact, but she didn't have much time to, especially now in her fifth year when her time was being pulled between Quidditch, two certain Hufflpuff boys and her friends scattered between the houses. Cassy liked to pretend she didn't know how Slytherin perceived her; she was slightly disgusted by it - she had fought far too many of them to idolize her. But at the end of the day, the bruises on her knuckles had faded, and her last name had not. Unfortunately for them, she had yet to take anything at Hogwarts seriously.
Sirius let out his trauma in late nights. Regulus bit his tongue and let it sit in his throat. Cassy liked to pretend it had never happened while it lingered like an infection in the back of her mind. But the infection was spreading, and Cassy didn't know what she'd do when it consumed her.