Prologue
Calypso
I was young. I was naive and foolish, believing that the peaceful, laze-about-doing-whatever-you-want time would last forever. It was a year after the fall of the Dark Lord, Voldemort, and Ministry employees and other fools were rushing around, trying to clean up the mess, the remnants of the war. Not Mother and I. I'd had little to no contact with the outside world in my life, having been tutored, as Mother preferred to keep me above the common people. Adding to that, I think she didn't want anyone to know that I existed.
Mother ruled our lives with a just, if heavy, hand. Ever since my father died, when I was still in Mother's womb, she had taken control of our affairs, our lives, our schedule.
Father. I never really knew much about my father. Only that he was a Death Eater, and he joined because he was against Muggles and Muggle-borns, Also that other Death Eaters killed him when he refused to torture and murder a pure-blood. Father had protected a pure-blood, and had gotten killed for it. Talk about injustice. Anyway, the rest of his family knew of his death, and maybe the reason, but they never knew that Regulus had a wife and conceived a child just before his death. I was the child conceived, and before the end of the war Mother and I were reclusive, afraid that someone will find out that we're related to a late Death Eater and . . . my uncle.
My uncle, my dad's older brother, was said to have blown up twelve Muggles and a wizard with a single curse. I learned, just after the second war ended, that my uncle was innocent, and that he died in a fight with a Death Eater, seven years ago now. The Death Eater that killed him was his own cousin. My second cousin. My uncle, Sirius Black, was murdered by his family, my family. I'm grateful that Bellatrix Lestrange was captured by Aurors.
Anyway, I've grown to know that good times just cannot last. I have been through trauma and survived. I'm quite experienced with trauma. Nothing close to Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, but quite enough trauma to last my life. But the main bout of trauma was being told that I was to marry my third cousin.