He was talking about his family again. Moaning about how awful they had been to him. I knew he was doing it to hide his hurt-the fact that he really did care about what his family thought of him. I knew that, I knew that he didn't mean for me to hear, that he didn't want anyone to butt, I knew I shouldn't but I couldn't help it. His words reminded me too much of something I tried to forget. In the noise of the Gryffindor, no one would hear.
"I mean, honestly, what kind of mother-"
I stood up, knocking over my chair. The three boys looked over at me in shock. I walked over to them.
"You know what? I think I'm sick of hearing you moan and groan about how awful and terrible your parents were to you. What did they do? Crucio you twice? Not feed you for a day? Lock you in your room? I mean honestly!"
James Potter looked murderous, springing up to defend his friend. "What the hell are you on about? Have you ever been crucioed? Do you know how much that hurts? Mothers are supposed to love you and Sirius' mum purposely tortured him! I think you need to keep your damned opinions to yourself!"
If I hadn't snapped before I did now.
"Actually, I know a mother is supposed to love you, but I have no delusions that my mother ever has or ever will. My life doesn't quite work out right. Sirius should be happy he had someone to run too!"
Sirius looked furiously at me, "You think I'm a wimp for leaving? Even though they would've killed me?"
I laughed bitterly, "They wouldn't have killed you. The Ministry would've been able to pin that on them. Trust me."
Even Remus looked pissed now, "Look little girl, I don't quite think you understand-"
I looked them all in the eyes, "I do understand. More than you could ever know, if you could bother to care."
Sirius' mouth twisted, "I'm sorry you and your mother don't get along but my mother actually hates me."
I felt rage color my eyesight. "Don't get along? Don't get along? That, Black, is the understatement of the century. You and your mother don't get along- my mother hates me. She doesn't give a shit about me or my wellbeing except that I don't embarrass the family. 'Don't get along' is being locked in your room, being crucioed once or twice in the heat of the moment, not being fed as punishment. 'Hate' is when your mom chains you up in the basement, doesn't feet you for a week and crucio's you for fun three times a day. 'Hate' is when she doesn't call you by your name, doesn't bother to buy you clothes except for when you have to be seen in public. 'Hate' is when you realize the only thing keeping you alive is her fear of the Ministry and you live in fear that the Voldemort will take control of the Ministry and the first thing to go will be you. Recently though, I realized that I'd rather die than spend another day alive with her. I understand that you had somewhere to go, but I think you have no right to complain while others have no where to go, have no where to turn. I don't think you're weak, Black. I envy the fact that you could leave." My shoulders slumped.
The three of them stared in shock and horror. My eyes shined with tears, with pain I had suppressed for as long as I could remember.
"You know what though?" I said drawing my wand suddenly, "It doesn't matter at this point. I'm too broken. There's a point where you stop being human, when you stop loving anyone. And I've reached it- I don't need anyone anymore." I pointed my wand at them,
"Obliviate."