UPTOWN GIRL | Marauders Era

10 | the rumours are most definitely NOT true

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ALICE'S GASP TORE through the room as her hands flew over her mouth, and suddenly Perenelle's mind was racing, the walls of the lavatory suddenly closing in on her.

"What?"

Marceline had let go of her, her own hands imbedded in her light brown hair, "Pera please don't make me say it again..."

"They—people—oh Merlin.. people actually think that he and I would— that we would..." Perenelle led off, her eyes glazing over, suddenly unable to take in Alice and Marcie's reactions as her brain repeated Marceline's words over and over,

You.

Sirius.

Shagging.

The most hilarious detail in the downright ridiculous equation was that Sirius was barely capable of acknowledging her, let alone— that. Perhaps in another world where their family hadn't semi gone to shite their parents would have betrothed them... though that thought was one that made Perenelle's stomach turn and bile rise in her throat.

Which is exactly what it was doing.

"Oh bloody hell!"

"Pera!"

Sprawled out of the mouths of her friends as she quickly ran towards the toilets, slamming open the nearest stall door and collapsing against the porcelain seat, whatever was left of her breakfast expelling out of her at such haste her body's convulsions were involuntary.

Marceline's hands had immediately pulled her long dark hair away from her face, Alice was rubbing her back— the three of them cramped in the small stall as it seemed with every heave of Perenelle's stomach, and every drop of liquid to hit the toilet, a larger and larger piece of the Black heiress' dignity went with it.

Her. Prefect, pureblood— socialite. Capable of that! Did the common population of Hogwarts honestly think so low of her? So disgustingly infatuated with the possibility?

It felt like a stamp— a dirty Scarlett letter branded into her skin by the means of her own family crest... her family which held such esteem, such esteem! It seemed as though high esteem meant morally questionable marriages to secure bloodlines and vomit inducing images.

For the very first moment in her life— Perenelle Lycoris Black's skin crawled at the thought of her last name. A last name that meant practically royal, a name that got her nearly everything she had ever desired.

Though it had given her humiliation, and that she had never desired.

It was no secret that the purest of the pureblood elite dabbled in familial relations— her aunt Walburga and uncle Orion were only the latest in a long line of cousins wedding cousins in order to purify what is supposed to already be the purest, though the thought of such an outrageous claim against her made her heart squeeze itself dry.

Perenelle hadn't even noticed the nausea had stopped until she felt the tears streaming down her face dribble from her trembling chin— her face scrunched— teeth chattering, as she felt a wave of mortifying sadness sink itself into her chest and tether itself to her bones, depressing tendrils slithering and knitting themselves to her ribs.