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chapter thirty. ( the disgraces of the black family )
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BLOOD WASN'T NECESSARILY THICKER THAN WATER. It was a common misconception — to assume that you were obligated to love and adore your family because they were your blood. However, if you had the relatives Ascella Black had, you'd think rather differently. Bellatrix Lestrange, Walburga Black, Druella Black; the list goes on and on. And each of them are just as twisted and tainted in the head as the next. Ron Weasley wasn't her blood, but he's more family than any other Black relative would ever be.
Ascella wanted to murder Lucius Malfoy. She wanted to tear his heart from his open and lacerated chest as he spluttered and choked on his own crimson blood. The amount of hatred that was engulfing her own body was overwhelming. She could hardly touch anything in the entire household, otherwise sparks of magic would erupt from her very own fingertips, which would inevitably risk her own exposure of her abilities to those who were oblivious to it.
Caelum Lestrange grunted as he leaned back in a wooden chair in the kitchen, only Ascella, Seraphina, Sirius and Remus present. Seraphina cleaned his wounds as Caelum attempted to explain what had occurred that night, through an abundant doses of pain all at once.
"Try and tell us what happened tonight, Cae," Seraphina urged softly, her voice mellow. "What you can remember, at least. We just want to help you, that's all."
"Well," Caelum began, drowsily. "It was like any other night, really. Lucius doesn't really talk to me much, and, when he does, it's mostly just to order me around and stuff. Narcissa looks at me like she wants to cry most of the time, so I really didn't expect much to happen. But then, at dinner, Lucius started talking about how I should start becoming a proper man and become a true Lestrange. I argued with him, saying how I didn't want to be a true Lestrange or whatever, and he got really angry. And, now, we're here."
