Chapter 1 : My World
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Yay, new story. I might be a little slow on updating this one (big surprise). I’ve been in school two and a half weeks and my two AP classes are killing me. Good news is that I already have about five chapters of this already written.
This is a new kind of story, you’ll see what I mean as it develops, but I’m really excited about it. Reviews please.
IF ANYONE COULD MAKE ME A BANNER, I WOULD LOVE THEM FOREVER.
Title and Summary song:
“My World” by: 3 Doors Down
This world you made yourself.
But that's not the world I live in.
This is not the life for me.
“Capella.” My name barely caught my attention. It was a good thing I wasn’t completely disengaged from all conversation, or I would have totally fallen asleep right into Aunt Elladora’s precious teacups (“Family heirloom, you know. Yes, those spoons are goblin-made. Pretty little trinkets, aren’t they...?”). And if I had happened to break one of those, all hell would have broken loose, you could have banked big money on that one too.
“What?” I returned, rather ill-tempered. I hated tea at Aunt Elladora’s with the white-hot, burning intensity of a thousand Incendio spells. In fact, anything regarding the family rendered me apathetic. What did I care if your stupid spoons were goblin-made or not? And please, write me out of the will regarding your plaqued house-elf heads. Yes, I was sure cousin Regulus would like them instead. And did it look like I really cared where cousin Sirius ran off to? He wasn’t my aberrant kid, leave me out of it.
We were all seated around Elladora’s giant, winged armchair, which, by the looks of it, seemed highly uncomfortable. I shared a loveseat with my mother, who sat completely ridge-backed as though she had a pole strapped to her back, or a stick stuck up her- well, I wouldn’t go there. Aunt Druella was situated on the couch across from us, her two charming daughters, Narcissa and Bellatrix with her. Yes, that would make them my dear cousins.
Aunt Elladora peered at me over her thick spectacles, pursing her lips. She always gave me this intense once-over. Why? I didn’t know...nor did I care. I’d been dealing with it too long to really care at that point. And what did a lady’s, who beheaded her old house-elves and stuck their heads on the wall, opinion really matter to me?
“I asked you what your plans were for after Hogwarts,” She said sharply, her eyes never looking away as she raised her teacup to her mouth. I rolled my eyes, having been asked this question by every other prying, over-bearing relative who, quite frankly, creeped me out just a tad.
“Aunt Elladora asked you a question, Capella.” Came my mother’s clipped tones. Ah, how familiar that voice was. I’d never really heard any other tone but that one directed at me. I’m not a bad kid, and its not like I don’t listen...I just chose what I want to listen to.
“Calm down, Porrima. Let her think.” Elladora brushed my mother off with a dismissive wave.
I sat for a while, attempting to pull a face of concentration on. These petty games of question-and-answer bored me so! Only two more days and then I get to go back to school. And even though I wouldn’t really call Hogwarts a sanctuary, I’d rather be in countryside-nowhere than be shuffled amongst every dusty pureblood mansion of relatives I didn’t know I had or ones whom I could care less about. Which would be all of them.
Bellatrix was seated on the couch across from me and upon this new question, she had rolled her eyes as well and theatrically rested her chin in her hand as though bored. A few years my senior, Bellatrix and I hadn’t really gotten on. Maybe it was our stubborn conflicting personas that kept us from being buddies? Or maybe it was the fact that I didn’t care enough about hating Muggles to join the Dark Lord. I, personally, believed was the latter. I was more concerned about my own self-interest, what did “keeping wizards pure” do for me? Nothing. Therefore, Death Eaterdom did not really suit my fancy. Trixie could keep her tattoos, and I’d keep mine.
Narcissa was, of course, seated beside her sister. The two of them diverged so much that it almost made me laugh. Narcissa with her white blond hair and Bellatrix with her nearly black tresses. They really couldn’t look any different. I found Narcissa was a little more palatable than Bellatrix. She was a little mindless when it came to the whole Muggle debate, and took whatever side forced their opinion more adamantly. Usually, she just agreed with Bellatrix. But still, when Bellatrix wasn’t around (which wasn’t often), I could actually stand Narcissa.
“I haven’t decided,” I said finally. This answer, as always, made Porrima set her jaw; she found it embarrassing for her daughter to not be concerned about her future. Its not that I wasn’t concerned about my future, but did I have to discuss it with people who really didn’t care what my answer was unless it included the words “marry” and “pureblood”?
“No marriage in your outlook then?” Elladora asked, raising her eyebrows as she gingerly set her saucer down on the table. I shrugged again.
“Not everyone needs to get married right out of school. I enjoy my independence.”
I could feel Bellatrix seething at my words. She had been wedded to her husband, Rodolphus, almost the second after they left Hogwarts. But what was the point? I hated people. Why would I want to be bound to someone forever right after escaping a place where I’d been stuck with stupid people for seven years? It didn’t make sense, by my logic.
“Antisocial?” Elladora inquired, a thin sarcastic smile playing on her lips.
“I think of it more as autonomous,” I replied seriously.
“Just because you’re married doesn’t mean your incarcerated.” Bellatrix now added her lovely livid timbre. I turned to her and saw her face steadily becoming a bright shade of burgundy at her outrage and cocked my head to the side, as though innocent to her flaring temper.
“But why would I want another person telling me what to do?” I returned, my voice innocuous, though I knew she sensed that it was dripping with sarcasm.
“It’s a choice,” Bellatrix retorted. Everyone in the room could sense the looming argument and made no move to quell it. I myself was rather enjoying watching Bellatrix fume.
“And I choose to march to the beat of my own drum.”
Bellatrix stood up so fast, I was a little taken aback by her speed. The teacup, which had been clutched in her shaking hand, was flung across the room and hit the opposite wall. With a loud crash, it smashed into a million tiny fragments upon impact, dousing the old wallpaper in hot tea. Suppressing a smile, I chanced a glance at Aunt Elladora at the sight of her precious heirloom teacup shattered to bits. Her old mouth was in a thin line and her eyes kept darting from Bellatrix’s angry form to her ruined wallpaper and ancient teacup. She seemed to be calculating what other heirlooms Bellatrix could destroy within her given space.
“What is your problem? Why on earth wouldn’t you want to join the Dark Lord?” Bellatrix screamed at me. My expression read pleasant surprise as my cousin breached this subject, as I knew she would. She always assumed that every jab I took at her was dissent against Lord Voldemort and that I was going to soon proclaim that I was a Muggle-loving blood traitor.
“Is this about Voldemort?” I asked, really fighting a grin as I tried to remain puzzled. Bellatrix shrieked, pointing at me as her eyes bulged in her fury.
“You dare speak his name-?!” I put up a hand to stop her progress.
“I really don’t care. I don’t care about Voldemort and I don’t care about Muggles. Just leave me out of this. Let me mind my own damn business. If you want that mark on every inch of your body, by all means, do it. Just leave me the hell alone.”
Bellatrix screamed again and seemed to be in the conflict of whether to hex me or throw more antiques. I was opting for the antiques. But she surprised me again when she stomped out of the living room, leaving us all in silence.
Elladora cleared her throat, once again glancing at the broken teacup. Snapping her fingers, her ancient house-elf appeared with a crack and bowed to her, questioning in its high-pitched, nails-on-a-chalkboard voice what it could do for her.
“Clean it up,” Elladora commanded, snapping her fingers again and then pointing to the wreckage. Slowly, the house-self made it way to the damage site and began to rub circular motions on the wallpaper with an old, gray washcloth.
Elladora clucked her tongue, scrutinizing the elf’s sluggish progress just as she had scanned me only moments before.
“Getting old, this one,” She said, trying to fuel the thick tension in the air with polite conversation, ignoring Bellatrix completely. She then took a sip of her tea added, nodding towards the elf, “You’ll see it on the wall sooner than later.”
“Where have you been?” I practically shrieked to my sister as I watched her form pass by my open bedroom door. It was a rare anomaly for me to keep my bedroom door ajar, but since I had been staking her arrival out, it remained so.
Lucida stopped dead in front of my room, looking behind her as though it had been someone else to call out to her. I knew she thought it was mother, since the surprising octave my voice had hit was reminiscent of dear Porrima. However, I had to admire her new level of density when she didn’t think to look at the ajar bedroom door beside her. I sigh, slapping my hand against my head and jumping off of my bed.
“Over here, Ravenclaw,” I teased, taking a jab at her lack of wit. She had been, like I was, a Slytherin. Like everyone else in the family (save for the couple of oddballs here and there). Finally, Lucida looked over at me, a flash of shock playing across her face. She pointed to the open space where my door would have normally been.
“This new?” She commented, grinning. I rolled my eyes, beckoning her in and then putting an end to the alteration. My door shut with a satisfying snap, making me feel a little more at ease.
“I thought you were Mother for a second,” Lucida remarked, flopping herself onto my bed.
“Because I really sound like her squawking,” I retorted derisively, furrowing my brow in agitation of her comparison. Lucida shrugged, folding her hands on her stomach as she stared up at my black velvet canopy.
“Squawking’s genetic,” She replied, mildly amused by my annoyance.
“Thanks Luce,” I bit back, turning the chair at my desk to face her at my bed.
“Why were you out so late?” I asked suddenly, recalling that I had been stalking her return home.
“Hot date,” She returned, her tone rather bored.
“So I see...with who?”
“Mind your own damn business,” Lucida retorted, though her attitude didn’t match her words.
“Mother set you up?” I inquired, already guessing the truth.
“That’s why she wasn’t stalking you,” I answered my private inquiries aloud. Lucida, however, shrugged again.
“She probably was. She’ll interrogate me first thing in the morning.”
I stood up and began pacing the length of my room. Lucida was not bothered by this and didn’t question me, my guess was because she probably didn’t care. But still, I answered the unasked questions with vehemence.
“I hate that. I hate that she has to set us up with every pureblood in Britain. We’re confined to a fraction of the population because that’s what’s expected of us. That’s why I don’t feel the need to get married right out of school. What’s the point anyway?” Lucida now sat up, swinging her legs against the side of my bed and watching my progress.
“Trouble at Elladora’s today?” She asked and I nodded, pursing my lips.
“The same shit every time,” I snapped.
“Hey, at least they’re not physically setting you up with anyone. God, I’m twenty and Mother thinks I’m a damn spinster because I’m not married!”
“That’s exactly what I mean!” I practically shouted, pointing at Lucida, “This isn’t the freaking Middle Ages, we don’t have to be married at twelve and have ten sons by fifteen! These are modern times, it won’t kill us to be single. And it certainly won’t kill us to enjoy being single!” Lucida nodded in agreement, sighing heavily as she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands.
My sister got off my bed, standing and extending her arms over her head, cracking her elbows and shoulder sockets. I saw her glance at the clock that blared one in the morning and she yawned. She made her way over to me, where I stood in the middle of the room. Lucida grinned, patting me hard on the back a couple of times. She then began to take my long tresses of hair and braid them.
“Too bad I couldn’t have inherited this color,” She mused, her eyes on my hair, “Such a pretty golden blond.”
“Looks don’t even matter to me,” I said stubbornly, frowning as Lucida finished the plait. She back away from me, physically turning me around by the shoulders. She had a half-cocked smile on her lips.
“So no prospects then?” I swatted the back of her head and she dashed away, wrenching the door open and sneaking off to her room. I sighed, groaning as I stretched my tense neck, looking up at the ceiling.
“No,” I said to myself, placing my hands defiantly on my hips, “None at all.”