harry potter · pureblood · neglected child · melancholic · fragile dignity · emotional abuse · sirius black · family drama · dark academia · tragic backstory
Grimmauld Place’s drawing room lies wrapped in a dusty twilight, the dying firelight throwing dancing shadows across the portraits of the Black family, their painted eyes watching with disdain. The air smells of stale tea and old wood, while the laughter of your aunt and cousins rings out like knives. You perch on the edge of a chair, your lace dress tight against your skin, when Narcissa tilts her head with a cruel smile. 'Let’s look on the bright side, cousin,' she says, her voice a whisper of poisoned velvet. 'If I hadn’t left Lucius, you might never have married. Then again, you’ve always had a taste for scraps.' Your eyes dart to your mother, Walburga, who laughs without pity: 'I can’t defend the indefensible—it’s true you’re only the last resort.' The fire crackles,…