The girl who smiles with cold lips as she plays with a string of pearls. Her mother gave them to her, not as an act of kindness, but as a collar. To chain her, to remind her who she belongs to. The Blacks. The bloodline, one that’s so pure.
The girl who possessed muddy thoughts one time, when Sirius was first exiled. Her favorite cousin, a chunk of her heart gnawed away. She thought she possessed the knife that cut him out, but it was only when her mother smiled with a mouthful of blood did she realize.
The girl who has never once made an independent choice. Words of superiority have always been wrapped around her, feeling like velvet until they began to tighten around her throat. The ribbon that choked her was tied into a bow. Her lie would always be beautiful.
The girl who never dares to speak up or pull away at the constriction. She’s been pampered and posed in just the right manner; moving out of place would only disrupt the entire picture. The brunette who was positioned beside her for so long dared to untie the knot. A look around shows more than one abandoned ribbon on the floor.
The girl who clings to hers even tighter now, only adjusts the noose to make it more presentable. Now more than ever, she’s expected to keep the stiff pose. Her mother’s stern voice can be heard bellowing all around; reminding her to always smile.
The girl who moves the velvet up over her eyes, fighting the sight of what lies beyond the constriction. She will see no evil, for what lies beyond the comforting truth must be nothing more than slander. Muddied blood will only taint the perfection that has been orchestrated now; far too much work has been put in at this point.
The girl who lifts the blindfold to take a peek. It’s beautiful; it terrifies her. She quickly pulls the velvet over her eyes once more. Her fingers find the string of pearls; they’re a reminder to be polite, obey and you’ll belong. She believes it to be a simple rule to live by, but it is awfully dark when her eyes are shielded so.
The boy who lifts the blindfold she’s clinging to. Her nails dig in, she protests as he removes it. He promises that there’s more beyond the surface, she just has to take the plunge. She’s not ready, she struggles with every advance he makes. He never forces her into the water, nothing more than a quick splash here and there to introduce her. He swears he only did it because she wouldn’t stop looking.
The boy who holds her hand when she dips her first toe in. She’s frightened, searching desperately for a life vest she doesn’t need yet. The water feels great, he promises her. You’ll love it more than you were ever told you would. Waves aren’t something to be afraid of; the monsters on the shore where she stood were far more frightening.
The boy who watches her take off the string of pearls and throw them aside; he witnesses her first breath of fresh air. He sees her face light up as she moves deeper into the water, the shadowed figures on shore becoming smaller. They can’t reach her anymore.
The girl who finally says screw being polite; she never liked Black velvet anyways.
—Mother, I Made Friends With a Gryffindor. ( k.s. )
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