I am still alive... I don't think I will ever really get around to updating Welcome to Class... It needs help with things like plots and character development and keeping me interested for long periods of time. This had been kicking around for a while before I bothered to type it up. (I'm awful at transferring things from paper to a computer.) I wrote this during my Harry Potter phase (which of course still exists). To be really honest (and I am rabbling, I know) I doubt I'll be writing much of anything for a while. I am working on my NaNoWriMo project which didn't get finished (real life starts) which may get published on this site, depending on how crazy I feel like seeming. Its a crazy crossover between DC, Marvel, Psych, Chuck, and Harry Potter. Yeah, I know...
Here you go!
The Five Things She Said When She Didn't Know What Else To Say
"For the last five hundred years the Black family has done it this way and so shall you."
It was her usual response to the question "Why?". When she was a child, her siblings took it as the single best reason to do anything. Tradition was everything for the old families. It wasn't until her eldest son said that was the stupidest thing he had ever heard that her confidence in it was shaken. Then when he defied said five hundred years of tradition by getting sorted into Gryffindor, it was shattered. She began to wonder if tradition was really worth anything. But when her youngest asks "why?" it's the first thing out of her mouth.
She called her son that, her brother, old childhood friends, anyone and everyone who stood against her. In her mind Blood Traitors were worse than mudbloods. Mudbloods weren't taught better, Blood Traitors were. End of story. But, a long time ago, she had sworn to herself that she would never declare her children that. She kept that until he got sorted into the wrong house, and he becomes one anyway without her declaration. She tried to say that he was misguided, but that would mean she was at fault. She did not want to be blamed for his (her) failings, so when someone brings up her eldest son, "Blood Traitor" tends to be one of the nicer things out of her mouth.
Out of the room, out of the house, out of her life. She didn't care. They became, if family, just one more little burn mark on the tapestry. If not, they were already worth less than the dirt on her shoe. She knew that if she just talked to them, listened to them, things might be okay. But Blacks were made to be uncompromising, something she and her eldest son knew just a little too well. The last time she said "get out" to him, he did, out of the room, out of the house, and out of her life. She hates herself for it sometimes, but she knows deep down inside that it's probably better for him this way. But it doesn't mean she doesn't want him to come back to the family (to her).
It's a maxim in her life. It answers the questions that tradition ignores and makes them (her) better than everyone else. Her marriage to her cousin was not her first choice, but it was her family's choice. She, of course, gave the family two sons, strong and handsome, bred to produce equally strong and handsome children with equally pure wives. She wasn't stupid and nobody would ever call her that. She knew that without new blood they would die out. But Blacks deserved the best first simply because they were the best. The girls had it much easier. Plenty of families of good blood were willing to give anything for a pureblood wife. For her sons, it was harder. She had found only a few females she deemed suitable and even they weren't really good enough for them. For a while, she had thought about marrying Bellatrix to her eldest, the two brightest stars of their generation, but she didn't want them to end up like her, cold and miserable. Bella ended up with the young Lestrange boy, and her son ended up all alone. It was life, pure, simple, and unfair.
Sometimes it said more that her words. It was another thing she and her eldest son shared.