Wounded
"I killed my brother with malice in my heart. Hatred destroyed my family."
- Coach Boone (Remember the Titans)
Ch.2: Cassandra
I used to be beautiful. I used to be the stunning Cassandra Whiteleather. When I was a little girl everyone would tell me how beautiful I was, how superior I was. They taught me how to be a proper lady so I could charm a proper pureblood man from a good family. Everyone in my family was delighted when I captured the heart of Castor Black-everyone but me.
I should have been married in a black dress when I was married into the Black family for it was the start of my chronic mourning. As it turned out, I had not captured the heart of Castor Black, for he had no heart. He thought of me only as a pretty woman to provide heirs for him, which I did. And it was one of those two boys that broke me.
My eldest son, Sirius, was my pride and joy. Sirius was everything I could want in a son-he was proud, headstrong, loyal, and cheerful. Regulus was my baby, but that's all he ever amounted to-a baby. But Sirius…I used to pretend I was happy when I was playing with him. So of course I tried to teach him to be a proper Black, like I was taught to be a proper Whiteleather. He was already half-way there, but to my despair he never learned the other half.
I believe, like everyone should, that purebloods are better than anyone else. I can't understand purebloods who don't believe that, they must be stupid, but people who hate me for my beliefs I really can't understand. I don't hate muggles, mudbloods, and blood traitors, I just have knowledge that I am above them.
I tried to explain that to Sirius, and though he didn't seem to fully understand, I was convinced for eleven years that he believed it all. Then he went to Hogwarts, was sorted into Gryffindor, and my world came crashing down. I cried myself to sleep that night, and the next morning I found a grey hair among my light brown curls.
But I pulled myself together, telling myself that this didn't make him a blood traitor, it was just a mistake. When he didn't come home for the holidays, I told myself that he had made nice, pureblood, Slytherin friends despite the Sorting Hat's mistake, that he had become popular like I knew my little boy would be. Well he was popular alright, but with all the wrong people.
I hung onto him as long as I could though. I lied to myself about him, did my best to change him, to keep him mine; it wasn't until he physically left me that I was broken. When my happy baby boy who did what he wanted, thought what he wanted, and wanted what I thought left me, everything left me. He took my heart with him and reduced me to something as cold and heartless as my husband, left with a son as lost as I was.
I used to have a heart. I used to love. I used to be beautiful.
A/n: Next up-Bellatrix
