Content Warning: This chapter contains mentions of child abuse. Skip from "When the sugar doesn't work, the adults turn sour." to "If Sirius Black was golden, then Antlia Avery was silver." if this bothers you. There are skip points bolded throughout the chapter. Please don't read that part of the chapter if it makes you uncomfortable!

The train ride away from Hogwarts was a tense affair. Antlia sat in the Slytherin compartment that they always claimed as their own, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Her fingers played with the bracelet clasped loosely on her wrist, twisting it around and around again. A quiet murmur lay underneath a thick layer of stress.

It pressed down on everyone in the room, bending backs and forcing those usually proud to bow. The ones who sat upright and thought about going home with glee, they were the ones you had to watch. They had already gone over, tipped the scales of fate in an irrevocable decision. Their presence brought more anger and fear to the minds of those who had yet to submit. With every Death Eater in the room, the chance of discovery grew exponentially.

Most of the seventh years were either one of two things. Engaged, a death eater, or both. It was more common to see young girls engaged and married before they were sworn in, where their new husband could assist them in their duties. The pureblooded culture was stuck in the Middle Ages, hanging on to ideals that had long gone out of fashion with the rest of the world. It allowed blood purity to decide your worth, and anyone who disagreed was labeled a traitor. It didn't help that there was a dark wizard breathing down the necks of everyone, pushing and pushing his ideas onto young, impressionable minds.

And that's when most were converted. Grown men and women didn't wake up one day and say that they wanted to be dark. They were shaped by those who came before them, those who lived and died and bled. Some went willingly, some were forced into molds like pulled candy. But all swallowed up what was fed down their throats, half-truths hidden in a pill of sugar.

(Skip point)

Children like sugar, they like the sweetness. They will gobble it up, consuming as much as they can find. And they won't stop until their parents catch them. Their parents spoon-feed them sugar lies, coaxing with every hidden truth. When the sugar doesn't work, the adults turn sour.

Their mouths pucker down into frowns and their wands are pulled out from where they were hidden. They cast curses and spells upon their unsuspecting children, ruining the wide-eyed innocence of childhood. The young scream and plead for them to stop, tears flooding down round cheeks. But they never listen, too caught up in trying to make their child perfect.

From there, feelings turn bitter. The children grow up and their conception of love is tilted. They think that love exists only on opposite sides of the spectrum, sweet and sour, no in-between. They grow up with tainted souls, and then they do what tainted souls do best. They darken, the seeds of ebony planted when they were children sprouting and spreading over a fleshy organ.

It's a cycle, hurt and harm repeating over and over. It takes courage to break out, a heart made of stronger stuff than just flesh and blood. Sirius Black had a heart of gold, enabling him to escape. He broke the cycle, drowning out the bitterness in his mind.

(Skip point)

If Sirius Black was gold, then Antlia Avery was silver. She lit up in the moonlight, her real smile hidden away in dark corners and under dark skies. The bitterness remained in her body, not entirely exorcised. She could still taste the sourness in her mouth every so often, certain memories triggering the sensation.

On that train ride away from Hogwarts, Antlia let her heart absorb a little more light. She let herself keep a spark burning, determined to not let anything put it out.

—

Antlia looked into her mirror, her mind going back to a time when things were simpler. She thought of the first time that she met Sirius, six years old and he was already defiant then. They had met at a dinner quite like the one she was going to now, a Pureblood gathering where mothers gossiped and fathers conversed. Only at this dinner, the mothers were on the prowl for potential wives.

It had been happening for a while by then, and Antlia suspected that once the holiday was over there would be an abundance of new engagements to announce. Some would be happy, but others would be bittersweet as lovers were separated from one another. Star-crossed lovers, they would be called as whispers followed them in the hallways.

They would spend stolen moments together, savoring every second, until one of them broke it off. They would cite the fact that they didn't want the other pining after them when they were wed, but it would happen anyway. One would be trapped in a loveless marriage and the other would watch them from the back of the room.

Antlia stood up from her chair, moving around her room as she collected what she needed for the party. She pulled her jacket off of the chair, sliding her arms through the sleeves.

Her dress was specially commissioned by her father, designed to enhance but also to hide. The sleeves went down the whole of her arms, cinching at the wrists. No one could tell if she was marked or not, dodging suspicion from the prying mother hens. The dress was tight around her bust, but the neckline was high. It swooped in at her waist, falling in folds all the way down to her ankles. It was all a dark green color, fitting for the Slytherin Princess.

Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, strands of silver thread braided throughout it. Her lips were colored a pale pink, eyeshadow and blush minimal. They covered her imperfections and made her into the perfect model. Antlia was the girl who mothers pointed out to their children, whispering to them how they should try to be like her. She helped dole out the sugar medicine, smiling out of a sour-coated mouth.

Smoothing her skirt down, she did a once over of herself in the mirror. Every inch of her looked like the perfect daughter, no hint of her inner turmoil making its way to the outside. Her father had been very specific on what she was supposed to look like. She had to present the facade that nothing wrong was happening on the Avery household, the image that she was perfectly secure with her future.

On the inside, Antlia was terrified. Her father hadn't made any mention of her receiving the Dark Mark after his letter since she had arrived home, and she was pleading with whatever god was up above that he had forgotten about it. She doubted that he had. She didn't want the Dark Mark, didn't want the permanent ink stained into her flesh as a constant reminder.

She had seen her father's Dark Mark, watched it burn and writhe with pain whenever he was called into the Dark Lord's service. He was constantly at the beck and call of someone who didn't care for his wellbeing. She didn't want that, she didn't want any of this. She would rather have the Shrieking Shack for a home with a happy life than live the life she did in the house that she lived it in.

Descending the stairs from her bedroom into the foyer, Antlia caught sight of her father sitting on one of the plush armchairs that littered the room. He was relaxed, one leg crossed over the other at the knee as he read a letter.

"Father," Antlia said softly, letting her presence be known to him. One of the things that her father hated the most was being snuck upon. An incident that occurred when she was seven made sure that she never did it again.

Arcturus looked up, smiling when he locked eyes with his daughter. His lips peeled back, revealing yellowing teeth. The smile didn't reach his eyes, stopping at his cheeks. "Antlia, you look lovely."

Antlia's hand tightened its grip on the banister, her knuckles turning white from the pressure. "Thank you, Father," she said. Her voice was blank and devoid of emotion, a fake smile pasted onto her lips. It stayed there throughout it all, her mouth frozen in time. Tears would drip from her eyes but the smile would stay in place. The smile was like titanium around her father, a shield against him. He could never break it, as much as he tried. He would knock her down and she would get back up with the smile on her face.

At school, the smile was not seen as often. There wasn't as much need for it, not as much requirement for the protection that it provided. Around her father, it was a constant, muscle memory pulling her mouth open. She wanted to taste the sweetness of sugar medicine, her belly growling for more. Around her father, Antlia felt like a scared little girl desperate to be given a treat. In the world, you are either given a trick or a treat, and she was begging for a treat. But if she was tricked, it would not be the end if her.

Author's Note
Thank you for reading! I hope that you enjoyed! This chapter is brought to you by daniellawrites02 yelling at me to go to sleep. So thank her. As always, if you enjoyed please vote and leave a comment! Thank you for reading!

- Nicole