DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.
Written for Musical Chairs Competition
Prompt: Lucretia Black
Lucretia Black had fallen in love. Yes, it was a pureblood—as if she would ever marry a Mudblood!—but her parents simply would not approve.
The pureblood in question came from an honorable family that was not so honorable anymore. Ignatius Prewett. He had captured Lucretia's heart in their seventh year at Hogwarts.
But, there was the matter of his not so honorable family. Blacks did not associate with those that were not worthy of their attention. That was an unspoken rule. And Lucretia had broken it.
She had finally decided to tell her father today, on her birthday. Surely he would be more pleasant on her birthday?
Lucretia crept up the stairs, flinching at every creak. She stopped, scrutinized herself, and wondered why, in the name of Merlin, she was being so timid. Blacks were not timid. No, Blacks were proud and fearless. With this thought, she raised her head, threw back her shoulders, and strolled up the stairs confidently.
Brushing back her ink black hair, Lucretia knocked on the door of her father's study. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to placate her racing heartbeat. You can do this, Lucretia.
"Come in," said a gruff voice. Lucretia opened the door quietly and stepped in, trembling slightly. She walked closer to her father's desk, glancing down at the floor.
"I have to tell you something, Father," she said, bowing her head. All she wanted to do now was run away, far away. Why did she decide to do this?
"What is it, Lucretia?" Arcturus asked, not looking up from his letter. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he wrote rapidly, the quill growing blunter by the second.
Lucretia mustered all the courage she had in her and curled her hands into fists. "I've fallen in love, Father."
Arcturus' head snapped up, eyes wide. His quill dropped to the floor, unnoticed, followed by the ink pot. He stood up and walked to Lucretia, placing a firm hand on her quivering shoulder. "What?"
Lucretia focused on the black ink spreading out, staining the pristine red carpet. She took a deep breath again.
"I said, I've fallen in love." This time, her words were louder, more defiant.
"With whom?" Arcturus demanded. Lucretia could feel his intense gaze burning on her head and her heartbeat grew quicker.
"A pureblood," she whispered. Arcturus sighed in relief.
"Which pureblood?"
"Ignatius Prewett," she said, finally raising her eyes to meet him.
"I knew that boy was trouble from the time I first saw him," Arcturus muttered, turning away. His gaze was dark and troubled.
"Father?"
"Leave him. I've already made other arrangements with the Malfoys," Arcturus said, facing her again. His tone left no room for questions.
Lucretia gasped. "I can't, Father! I'm in love with him!"
"Your so-called love for that scum will have to stop, Lucretia. Do not dare to defy my words." With that, Arcturus left the study.
Lucretia decided that moment that she had had enough of this nonsense. She didn't care what her father said. She was in love with Ignatius Prewett, and nothing could stop them from being together.
Oh, how Lucretia loved the tingly, enthralling feeling of defiance. Defiance was her new favorite. She had never felt so free. And she loved it.
She loved Ignatius, and she would marry him. That was defiance's award.
