The only sounds were the scraping of silverware against china. Talking had always been kept to a minimum during meals, reserved only for necessities.
Meals at Hogwarts were lively affairs; so many people, so much noise.
Here, the silence was oppressive; the clink of cutlery making it even more so. It was as though even the smallest of whispers could shatter the illusion they had created.
"Could you pass the butter?" The sound carried loudly through the room, despite the hushed tone used.
Wordlessly passed, wordlessly received.
The charade continued.
Growing up in such an environment, it was no wonder Sirius had been so eager to leave. He wasn't meant for the subtleties of their family life. He was always obvious in his words; deeds; intents.
This was no place for him.
They burned his name from the tapestry; removed any evidence of him they had left.
The charade continued.
The Mark stood out clearly against his pale skin, forever branding him.
He was owned now; merely a possession to be thrown away when it lost its usefulness.
He would see to it that his value remained, right until the last minute.
The charade continued.
He instructed his House-elf to take the locket; to destroy it at the earliest opportunity.
He would not live to see the end of this - that much was certain - but he would keep the illusion alive.
The illusion was still going; barely hanging on by a thread, but it was still alive.
For now, the charade continued.
Only when there was no one left to continue, did the game finally end.