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tw: family violence/toxicity
HE HAD BEEN somewhat enjoying his year. His 16th birthday was the best yet, they had won 2/4 Quidditch matches, and he had successfully avoided his brother for 4 months.
The year did have some downsides such as; accidentally outing his friend, finding out he can feel remorse, losing 2/4 Quidditch matches and worst of all, having to go home.
So there Sirius was, getting drunk at the annual Christmas party.
He usually didn't mind them, when Andromeda was there, they would talk and the hours would go by. Or, when he talked to Narcissa, they would gossip about the happenings at Hogwarts. But he couldn't do any of that, he couldn't even flirt or muck around with someone because everywhere he turned, he was closely related to someone.
The large ballroom was filled with delicate, white tables that were filled with fancy foods and champagne. There were flying china plates that floated above the supremacist's heads as they chatted mindlessly. The floor was so clean, that the purebloods smiled at the thought of the house-elves spending hours scrubbing it clean with just sweat and spit. The roof was aligned with gold and white, the only dark colours in the room being the Malfoy manor emblem. It was a common sight in Pureblood houses.
The women were in elegant dresses, many lined the floor in their respective colours. The men wore suits, all were expensive and intricate. Sirius adorned a lavender coloured suit, a pocket watch chain hanging neatly on his chest, swaying as he moved. His brother and father wore the same thing, complementing each other wonderfully.
He grimaced at the thought of tonight's events.
They were fighting, him and his mother. The threat of his hair came up in the yelling match.
A tug on his hair brought him back to reality once more. "You don't behave tonight at the ball, I won't hesitate to conjure the scissors," His mother was threatened, a lock of Sirius's shoulder-length black hair wrapped around her skeleton-like fingers. Instinctively, Sirius jerked back. Pain flaring along the line of his scalp when his mother failed to let go of his hair.
Sirius had been growing it out all year. He liked the weight of it, the way it made him look. It was important. It was part of him, and the thought of her cutting it, taking it away from him, made him feel sick.
Walburga's eyes narrowed dangerously. "It's a deal then," she smiled deviously.
The night was near the end, and dessert was being served. So far, each girl under the age of 25 and over the age of 6 had been body-shamed or informed of their marriage arrangement to their 2nd cousin.
And as Sirius was being served his golden chocolate pudding, the voices of his aunt and uncle travelled through his pierced lobes, "the lycanth's are despicable, all of them. They don't deserve rights. Disgusting halfbreeds."
