A.N: This will be a series of oneshots and drabbles, each one specific to every listed member of the Black Family (that is, members born with the Black family name and women married into the Black family, not the non-Black husbands as well or I'd be here forever). Starting with the oldest and ending with the youngest (or, approximately, as some birthdates are unknown.)

i

Licorus Black

Like the rest of my family, I had been sorted into Slytherin House when I was sent to Hogwarts in the year 1819. However, it wasn't my fellow Slytherins that I ultimately befriended.

I despised the way the other Slytherins treated me; like I was some kind of royal. I had grown up listening to my delinquent father telling me things like that; that the only house worthy of me was Slytherin, and "Licorus, if you dare to taint our family honour with traitors or impurities, you will be disowned without further ado." Of course, I agreed with him on some level, I do think that pure-blood should be supreme, but I still didn't think that people needed to worship me.

Frankly, I hated the attention.

So, it wasn't much of a surprise to me when I found myself sitting next to a white-blonde Hufflepuff boy in Transfiguration class, aptly named Xavier Rastrick. He was an unusual boy, who sat alone most of the time, usually in the library, reading.

Xavier and I became fast friends, much to the disgust of my father, when I told him during the summer holidays, after my first year at Hogwarts.

"I was in the same year as Xavier Rastrick's father," he sneered, curling his moustache around his finger. "He was named Xavier, too. Awful fellow, he was."

"Why, Father?" I demanded to know. "I personally find Xavier quite entertaining, and he speaks nothing but highly of his father. He's an entertainer, you know, performs magic tricks for muggles."

"Ha!" Mr Black scoffed. "Have you heard yourself, boy, spouting off tripe like that? You will be joining your beloved friend I assume, in his fathers…Freak Show!" He spat the last two words, glaring nastily at his me. "No. You will stop this nonsense at once – you're not to be friends with that…lunatic. When you go back to school, you will break off this…friendship…with the Rastrick brat, and start interacting with someone a little more appropriate," Mr Black reached towards the astray, situated on a small table near his chair, and withdrew a fat, smoking cigar. He took a long drag, and breathed out slowly. "The Malfoys have children at Hogwarts, I assume."

"I hate those pretentious Malfoys," I murmured, more to myself than to Father.

But nonetheless, when I returned to Hogwarts for my second year, I swiftly avoided the beaming, innocent face of Xavier. I spent a week dodging him in corridors, classrooms and the library, but I was unlucky when Transfiguration rolled around, and I was once again, placed next to Xavier for a second year.

Xavier edged up as close as he could get to me, and whispered softly; "Have I done something to upset you, Licorus?"

I stared firmly forwards, my dark eyes focused on the lesson ahead. Xavier nudged me sharply, with his pointy elbow, making me flinch and glare at him. "No!" I hissed in response. "Just leave me alone, Xavier."

So Xavier did just that. He shrunk back from me, and tried to mask the look of hurt that washed over his watery blue eyes, but I caught it. It made my heart sting, at the pain I was obviously causing my friend, but there was nothing I could do. Inwardly, I cursed my stupid bloodline, and my stupid father, and his stupid fathers before him, for making the ridiculous, unspoken rules about blood purity.

For years, I had nothing to do with Xavier. I did as Father wished, and made friends with the other pure-blood Slytherins; with family names such as Bulstrode, Yaxley, and of course, Malfoy. By my seventh year, I had a whole gang of new friends that my father was pleased of, but I still always thought of Xavier. From afar, I watched my old friend grow into a strong young man. His childhood innocence seemed to fade as his clock ticked, and by his seventh year he was tanned, muscly from playing as a Chaser in the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, his hair was no longer the colour and texture of duckling fluff, more like soft, golden waves surrounding his face in a halo.

Every day, I regretted that I hadn't stood up to my father. My feelings of attraction to Xavier were impure; and I knew what the x-rated dreams I had during the night meant. I tried to push aside the swell of jealousy that rose in my chest when I saw that Xavier had started to court with my little sister, Phoebe (much to the dislike of their father). He told her he liked her pretty blue eyes, but he wasn't aware of the amount of spells that were placed on her eyes, after a previous accident…

There was nothing I could do, now. My story was just the first thread of the web – of generations and generations of pain, suffering, and impurity – all thanks to my desirable bloodline.