Groomed

(Pt 1)

Life wasn't something I feel is important. Fun or easy. It's hard and exhausting.

My mother wakes me at the crack of dawn. Before the alarm on my headboard can go off, she pulls me off the mattress and to the washroom. I yawn as mum turns on the shower and pushes me underneath.

"Wash up, we've got places to be." Mum instructs as the water pelts on top of my head.

Wiping the streams from my eyes, I tilt my chin back and grab the shampoo.

I've learned never to question my mother or father. Simply do as they say. Follow their orders.

Omegas don't get freedom. Don't get education.
They are taught to be traditional muggle housewives from the nineteen-fifties.

Drenching my hair in shampoo and conditioner. I wash the expanse of my body before I'm pulled out of the shower and mum dries me off with a quick air spell.

"Open your eyes."
I do, feeling as she pulls the eyelids back and places a contact in each of my eyes. They water, burning from the contacts before I'm allowed to blink.

She has me clean my face and teeth before handing off a pair of clothing to me. I pull on the stuffy fabric on top of my boxer briefs and the undershirt.
The suit is tight around my sides and tugs at my thighs. It's uncomfortable as mum tucks the black shirt into the trousers before buckling the belt and pulling up the black suit jacket.

I'm sat on the toilet lid before Sleekeazy is wrapped in my ratted hair. It's not as if I wanted dad's hair, but still, mum mutters her normal complaints about the tuffed black strands as she flattens them and pushes the overgrown bangs back on my head.
I feel her flatten my bangs when the scar on my forehead shows. Mum has never liked it, always complaining I'd hurt myself. I don't know how I got it, but it doesn't matter.
Mum says it, it's my fault and every time I do apologize.

She tugs me to my feet, before fixing the calic standing to attention. Washing her hands, mum spreads gloss on my lips and powders the bags underneath my eyes.

"Put on your good shoes." She says.

We walk out of the bathroom, and I grab the pair of dress shoes in my dresser. Tugging them on, I tie the laces and walk down the stairs.

Dad is sipping coffee from one of his named mugs in the cabinet.

"We're leaving." Mum says.
Dad hums, kissing mum before she walks to me and takes me out the front door.

We spin and I'm tugged at the navel into a Side-Along Apparation. I squint, the lack of protection from my glasses making the whipping air burn my eyes before we've landed outside a large iron gate.
I stare across the wide land as the iron gates creak at a pattern mum waves with her wand.

Ducking my head, I take a step behind mum as we walk across the gravel pathway to the towering Manor.

I've been here before. Once when mum and dad first joined as Death Eaters. Being their only child at the time, I was introduced to the outer court then the inner circle.
It was the one time they properly introduced me to anyone. Afterwards I was left at home whilst they brought my siblings —Lila, Gabriel, Luke, and Max.

Mum knocks on the front door, before it creaks open. A House-elf stares up at mum with large tennis ball green eyes.

"I've come for the meeting with the Dark Lord." Mum says.
The House-elf lowers his head and cracks the door wider. Mum steps in, ushering me after her. The House-elf closes the door and skitters in front of us to show us to the Dark Lord.

I'd never cared to wonder who this Dark Lord is. Their presence affects my life in only that my parents choose him over the man named Dumbledore who once came around.