Whispers in the Dark-Fred Weasley

Chapter Forty

I glance around the room, at the dark, peeling wallpaper, the high-backed chairs, the old silver trays engraved with the Black family crest. Everything about Grimmauld Place feels like it's been trapped in time, preserved in dust and bloodline superiority. "I know that feeling," I say quietly. "Like it's sewn into your skin. No matter what you do, you'll always be one of them."

His gaze flickers to me, something guarded in his expression. "Do you really believe that?"

I swallow hard. "I don't know."

Sirius studies me for a long time before leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Let me tell you something about the Black family." His voice is quieter now, more controlled, but laced with a quiet rage that simmers beneath the surface. "They don't just teach you their ideals. They breed them into you. Make you believe it's in your bones. That blood is the only thing that matters. That loyalty to the family comes before everything—before right or wrong, before yourself." He scoffs bitterly. "My mother used to say that a Black who turns against his family is no better than a common mutt."

The bitterness in his voice is like rusted iron, jagged and corroded.

I don't dare interrupt.

"She tried to make me believe it," he continues, shaking his head, lost in the memory. "Tried to carve it into my mind the way they tried to do with all of us. Bellatrix? She took to it like breathing. Regulus..." His voice falters for a moment, just for a moment, before he schools his expression again. "Regulus was different. He believed it too, until he didn't."

I hesitate before asking, "And you?"

Sirius exhales sharply. "I fought it from the moment I understood what it meant. I fought it so hard that it broke me." He gestures vaguely to the house. "And yet, here I am. Right back where I started."

There's something so profoundly exhausted in his voice, something that makes my chest ache.

Sirius sighs, his expression shifting slightly, less teasing. "I know what it's like to want to disappear, Serena."

I freeze at his words, but I don't look at him. Because of course he knows. Because he did disappear. Because he left his family behind in the way I should have, in the way I couldn't.

My throat tightens, and before I can stop myself, I ask, "What was my mother like?"

Sirius' expression flickers. He wasn't expecting the question. For a long moment, he doesn't answer, just studies me carefully, like he's trying to decide what to say. "She wasn't as bad as the rest of them," he finally says, voice measured. "Not like Bellatrix. Not like my mother." He pauses, crossing his arms. "Narcissa was... careful. Calculated. She always knew how to say the right thing, how to act the right way. She was never openly cruel, not the way the others were. But she never fought against it either. She never questioned it."

I swallow, my fingers tightening around the blankets beneath me.

"She loves Draco," I murmur, because that much, at least, I know.

Sirius nods, his gaze distant. "Yeah. She does. And I think, in her own way, she loves you too. But love in the Black family is..." He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "It's conditional. It's based on loyalty, on obedience. That's why my mother hated me. Because I refused to play their game."

I look down at my lap. "Do you think she ever wanted to leave? Like you did?"

Sirius watches me carefully before shaking his head. "No."

My chest tightens.

"She was never like me, Serena," he says, softer now. "She never wanted out. She wanted safety. She wanted power. She wanted a place in that world. She chose it."