Dirty Little Game ♠ Professor Lupin

Seventeen: Sweet Child

When my parents laid their eyes on me that day, chaos broke out.

They told me what a crude child I was, what a disappointment. They shouted over each other, the whole house shaking with their insults. I wanted to be able to say that it didn't upset me, that their words didn't hurt me, but I was clearly a weak pussy because it wasn't like that at all.

I stood with my eyes closed, unable to look at them, tears streaming slowly down my cheeks. Neither of them held back anymore, aware that what I did today completely shattered their plans. I had no idea how the Girnsle reacted to this, but it was very possible I embarrassed my parents not only in their eyes, but also in the eyes of other equally important wizarding families.

When I finally heard "get out of my sight" I ran up the stairs, if only to get away from them. I burst into the room and closed the door behind me, then crashed to the floor with a throat tearing whine. The tears ran down my face in an uninterrupted stream, as if they had been waiting for ages for me to let them.

I didn't know what else to do with myself, so I just lay there curled up crying out loud. All the bad things I had accumulated in myself for several years, without giving any outlet to negative emotions, finally took over me. I was the type of person suffering in silence and loneliness, not letting others see my pathetic self. All this time, I thought that this way I would learn to deal with it, that by keeping my face unfazed, I would be like that inside.

It was just an illusion. Another thing in my life full of lies, insincere intentions and deception.

In the evening, my parents paid me a visit. They found me sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed frame, with bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks, most likely.

"And what are you crying for? Aren't you proud of yourself?" I heard my mother's crisp voice, drowned out by her heels on the wooden floor.

I wouldn't have let them see me like that if I had known they were coming. Crying was seen as a symbol of weakness in this household. People like us shouldn't even have vulnerable moments.

They didn't sit down, so I got to my feet. It would be an insult to them if I remained sat during our conversation. "So what happens now?" I asked, looking from Lianne to Vance. "You give me detention?"

I felt the pain before I realized what had happened. Father hit me across the face in one swift motion without blinking an eye. I touched my throbbing cheek that was already beginning to burn. He started talking.

"Don't think that we will allow such behaviour. I'm not sure what you think, but one thing is certain: you are not in a position to do whatever you want. You did exactly the opposite of what you were supposed to do."

I opened my mouth to answer him, to stand up to him, but he didn't let me speak. "I'm not going to argue with you because you have nothing to say here. Know that you'll still be attending the banquet tomorrow and that you must be at your best. We will not accept anything else."

And with that, they left.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. I wanted to squeeze some lemon juice into my eyes.

The next day, I discovered that Vance's hand had left a red mark on my skin. It was the first time my father had raised his hand on me, I had no idea what to do with it. Only under a thick layer of makeup did the memento of his hit disappear. Just to be sure, I put blush on my cheeks.

I knew very well how to behave at my parents' celebrations. As the only child, I was their signature, so I walked through the guests, smiling and welcoming them, and exchanging a few words with everyone whose name seemed significant. When Vance gave a speech, I usually stood by his side as the proud daughter of a successful father.