to break free.
(an andromeda story)
She was born on a summer day. July 21, 1953.
Her mother says she was crying because the light stung her eyes that fine day.
She never told her mother how much that hurt her.
Instead, when her mother repeats this story, she listens and puts on a false smile.
She should have known all Blacks were false.
Her mother repeats it constantly.
She never shows her pain.
Druella also continues with the births of her elder sister Bellatrix, how that night was deathly cold, but she and Bella were strong. December 2, 1951. Bellatrix, her first child, the one inheriting the Blacks' beauty – beautiful black hair, thick and straight, stunning black eyes, glowing with an unblemished sparkle, and the elegant, willful aura about her. Druella speaks of Bellatrix's birth with a haughty air, unlike Andromeda's – in which she uses a slightly more disdainful tone.
That hurt even more.
Then she continues with Narcissa's. Delicate Cissy was born during autumn. November 1, 1955. During the harvest season. While the maple leaves blushed red. Druella speaks of this birth as hard, as fragile Cissy almost didn't make it. Youngest child Narcissa Black was blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and picture-perfect.
Narcissa was treasured, like a jewel.
Their mother speaks of this, and there is always a glimmer of hope in her hard grey eyes, the ones that have seen so much, but thinks so little of it.
Andromeda also thinks she notices a glint of a tear, a slight quaver in tone, probably from the thought of losing dear, fragile Cissy.
But Blacks never cry.
They stay strong, for their reputation.
Crying is a symbol of weakness, they say.
So Andromeda would never admit seeing the tears gather themselves in her mother's almond-shaped, grey eyes Andromeda herself had inherited.
Druella herself wouldn't disclose her tears either. She pretended no fears.
Blacks are strong
They sit primly in high-class rosewood chairs on high-class scarlet cushions, drink from high-class delicate teacups, sip high-class rose tea, with a high-class perfectly-shaped pale pinkies rising to a perfect degree.
Never shed a tear.
It was another one of those Black rules, the ones never spoken aloud but all Blacks (and perhaps even others) knew by heart. Except for Sirius, but her naughty little cousin was a different story. But she knew them.
She knew the laws, and followed them unwillingly.
She was a coward, yes, but a logical one.
She couldn't break free.
One day she would.
Merry Christmas, Grey!
(one thing: this may be reposted, after I get it beta'd again - but for now - well, I couldn't resist the temptation to post it xP)
And reviews are muchly appreciated : so you should give one.