Christmas '74
24 December 1974; Laurent Residence
Violette sat in the upstairs study with Theo. She sat with her legs up on the brown leather couch, and Theo sat poised on the grand armchair which they had brought to London from their French estate in the countryside. Violette flipped through the Daily Prophet, while Theo sat reading one of his lengthy classics, and in the phonograph, spun a The Zombies record.
The door creaked open, and only Theo quickly shot a glance at who it was.
“Mother says that the guests will be arriving any moment now.” Said Juliette at the door, “Violette, come help me set the table.”
The girl’s eyes did not leave the newspaper.
“Haven’t we got someone to do that for us?”
Juliette scoffed, rolling her eyes, “God, you’ve been spending far too much time with your brother.”
Theo chuckled, “My influence is strong, you see.”
“Oh, please.” She grinned, “Wrap it up here. Be downstairs in no more than ten minutes.”
When Juliette was gone, Violette sighed, setting down the newspaper and staring out at the bookshelves.
“Why did we have to host Christmas dinner?” She asked, “I’m sure Walburga Black would have been more than happy to have everyone over. Isn’t that what they usually do?”
Theo turned the page in his book, shrugged, “Mother insisted.”
“But, why?”
He exhaled, dropping the book onto his lap. “I don’t know, Violette. We always hosted back in France.” He huffed, “And anyway, I bet those other ladies probably convinced her to do it.”
Violette sat up and brushed her hair, getting herself in order before going downstairs.
“But, if–”
“You aren’t that thick, are you, Violette?” Theo stood up, straightening out his shirt and sweater, “All of those people want to see our house. They want to be able to say that they’ve been here and had dinner with us. For brownie points.”
Violette scoffed, standing up and patting down her plaid skirt. “You’re so full of yourself, you know that?” She chuckled, and Theo playfully shoved her as they headed downstairs, “Oh, shut up.”
The two of them went down stairs as people started arriving. Two butlers were setting the table, a long dark oak table shipped to them from their home in Paris. It was set with candles and poinsettias, and a velvet runner in the center. Everyone was gathering in the front sitting room. The dark brick fireplace popped, filling the room with a sweet warmth that combated the Christmas chill outside. The kid’s stockings hung over it, beautifully stitched with detailed embroidery. Each person was offered champagne and hors d'oeuvres upon entry. The first to arrive were the Malfoys, and then the Rosiers, and then the Blacks.
Violette drifted about the room, saying hello and flashing smiles. She ran into Evan’s mother, Marie.
“My, you are even more pretty than Evan had said you were.” She said, then she frowned, “Oh, I’m sorry he couldn’t make it. He feels terrible, but he’s been sick for days now.”
Violette nodded, suppressing her disappointment.
“Well, we hope he feels better soon. What a drag, sick on Christmas.”
Everybody at the party was dressed nicely, some people in their finest jewels and clothes. Violette looked over to her mother who was talking with Lucius’s mother, and she thought that she was far more beautiful than the others. She did not need all of the glitz and glamor, and jewels and exaggeration. Juliette dressed rather simply, too, a white blouse and a long skirt, and her hair did not need much to shine as beautifully as it did.
Everyone was well acquainted with each other when the Black’s arrived. Walurga, Orion, Regulus, and Sirius. They were all dressed quite nicely, and Walburga entered the house with her nose up in the air. Violette suppressed a smirk when she saw Sirius and how properly he was dressed. Surely, he was forced into the ensemble. He and Regulus were wearing matching suits, and maroon ties, and neatly folded handkerchief’s in the front pockets. Sirius looked like he wanted to disappear. When they arrived, Sirius drifted about the sitting room with his hands in his pockets, having absolutely no desire to socialize. He and his parents had gotten into an argument just before they left for the party, a pretty severe one, at that.
“Hi, Violette.” Said Regulus, “You look nice. I heard Evan couldn’t make it.”
“Right.” She nodded, “He’s sick.”
The two of them stood quietly, nodding slightly and glancing about the room. Everyone else was deep in conversation, but words between the two of them were few and far between. It wasn’t long until Regulus started about quidditch, which Violette had no real interest in, but she didn’t mind standing and listening.
Across the room stood Sirius with his arms crossed and his head down. He did admire the house a bit, and was not at all surprised by the scale of it. The rugs were fine maroon, immensely detailed. All of the furniture was dark oak, shiny and oiled and dressed with artifacts and framed photos and such. Every now and then, he would flicker a look up at Violette. She looked nice, she always did. It was interesting to see her at home, as he was so used to seeing her at school.
Dinner was served in the dining room. It was dimly lit for a warm atmosphere by candles and lamps, and the chandelier that hung from the ceiling glimmered like a diamond. Everyone took their seats, marveling at the Christmas decor, and the butlers set the courses before each guest. Juliette had organized the seating arrangements, and she put Violette’s seat adjacent to Narcissa Black, one of Druella’s daughters. Across from her were Sirius and Regulus.
“Your home is beautiful.” Said Narcissa. She had kind eyes, and a sweet voice, and her hair was light and blonde. Her thick curls sat delicately over her shoulders and her green dress. “I can’t imagine what your home in France must have looked like.”
“Thank you.” Violette replied, humbly. “Like this, actually. Though, in truth, it was a bit bigger.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Narcissa smiled, taking a bite of mashed potatoes, “What has been the best part about moving here so far?”
“Well, I think I’ve adjusted quite quickly. London has such a different atmosphere than Paris, and it’s been fun to explore and get to know the area.”
“You must miss France, though, don’t you?” Said Bella, who sat on Narcissa’s right. She was pretty, but not as much as her sister. Violette thought it rude to think that, but she couldn’t help it. Her hair was a darker brown, taking after her father’s Black genes rather than her mother’s Rosier genes. Her cheeks were gaunt-like, similar to Sirius’s mother, and she had big, dark brown eyes.
Violette blinked at the sudden question. Bella tilted her head, awaiting an answer, and reading Violette’s reaction to the question. Narcissa seemed surprised by it too, and even Sirius looked up at Bella when she’d asked.
“Of course I do.” Violette answered. “But, London is wonderful.”
“It must be hard to leave the place that you’ve spent your entire life.” Bella went on, “So suddenly, as well. It would just kill me to leave London, really – can’t imagine how you feel, so young, too.”
Violette maintained a friendly expression, but was confused at Bella's pointed tone. Narcissa seemed uncomfortable, clearing her throat and tapping her napkin across her lips.
“It definitely wasn’t easy.” Violette said, inhaling slowly and straightening her posture, “But, change is inevitable in life. Surely, I would have left France at some point.”
The corner of Bella’s lip curled, and she sat back in her seat, picking up her glass of wine and holding it to her mouth.
“Indeed.” She sipped her wine, “Speaking of France, such a shame my Rodolphous couldn’t make it. He’s there, now, in Paris.” She turned to Juliette, who sat across from her, “You know him, don’t you? My Rodolphous Lestrange?”
Juliette nodded, “Of course.” She fronted a smile, and Violette could see that it was ingenuine. There was a dark gleam in her eye when she looked up at Bella. It was the first time the two of them had met, “His father was – well acquainted with mine.”
“Yes, I’ve heard. He tells me that your families go way back.”
“Yes, the Laurent’s and the Lestrange’s are two of France’s most ancient pureblood lines.”
There was a thick tension over the table from all parties, then. Everybody knew that the Laurent’s and the Lestrange’s were rivals. House Lestrange was always number two to House Laurent, all throughout history. Over time, everything they did started to be a clear attempt to top the Laurent’s, but they could never do it. Now, of course, with the death of Violette’s father, things were easier for the Lestranges. The Laurent’s were out of France, and although they still held an immense amount of power, the Lestrange’s were quick to claw at whatever Arthur Laurent had left behind.
“Such a shame you all could not make it to the wedding!” Said Bella, smiling, “It was beautiful.”
Juliette gritted her teeth, but smiled, still. Both Violette and Theo glanced up at each other. Sirius noticed the concern hidden in Violette’s eyes, but did not know why it was there.
The truth was that Juliette once loved Rodolphus, way before they packed up and left for London. He used to send her flowers, roses, all the time, and chocolates. Juliette used to sneak out of the house to be with him, and it got to the point where almost every night she would be off with him, having dinner or dancing. It was always a secret. She knew that her father would never allow them to be together. Juliette was young, she didn’t understand the rivalry as well as her parents did.
Rodolphus asked to marry Juliette, and her father denied immediately. When he found out that Juliette had already been seeing him for months, he was furious. They argued and fought, and Violette remembered sitting on top of the stairs when she was supposed to be sleeping, peaking her little head through the railings and hearing Juliette’s sobs.
“Il souhaite vous épouser uniquement pour hériter de ma fortune, ne voyez-vous pas, ma chère?” Her father shouted.
He wishes to marry you only to inherit my fortune, can't you see, my dear?
Juliette refused to accept that to be the truth. Still, she was forbidden to see him ever again, and the rivalry only intensified. She held a grudge toward her father for months after, and she hated the fact that even after his death, she felt angry toward him. She knew better now, though, but the truth still hurt.
He’s found a different family to leech off of, Juliette thought to herself, but looking at Bella still stabbed at her heart.
“I’m sure it was–” Juliette said, “ – very beautiful.”
“Same day as our summer solstice ball, though. It would be a crime to miss that!” Theo joined in, swirling his wine in his hands and diverting the conversation. He sat up, “Perhaps we can show you all some photographs after dinner. People prepare their outfits for months, it’s quite a sight. We decorate the ballroom with gold, and statues of the god Apollo.”
Violette cleared her throat, sat up, “Yes! Then, at night, everything is switched out for silver, and the staff install statues of his twin sister, the goddess Artemis. Everybody goes out into the gardens to continue the festivities.”
Juliette seemed relieved, and thankful that her siblings pushed the conversation in a different direction. Sirius had been paying attention to everything, eyeing each of the Laurent siblings and wondering why they had reacted the way that they had. He knew that Bella liked to push people’s buttons, though. He had been in Juliette’s position many times before. He always described her as his deranged cousin.
“Do you have one every year, the ball?” Asked Narcissa, and as the conversation flowed, the tension dissolved, but Juliette refused to look at Bella again.
After dinner, everyone floated about between the dining room and the sitting room, chatting over wine and cheese and crackers. When everyone was well distracted, Violette took it as an opportunity to slip away. She hadn’t expected dinner to be as stressful as it was. She went into the downstairs study. It was smaller, and had less books in it. It was more of an office than a library. A petite sitting room. When she was alone, she felt like she could finally breathe. Standing at the window, the little cat, Mr. Darcy hopped up onto the dark oak desk and made himself comfortable. Violette pet him, gently as she stared at the window, watching the street lights flicker. The window glowed red and green and warm white from Christmas decorations outside.
With the wave of a hand, the fireplace was set ablaze, popping and crackling, and warming the room. She could faintly hear a Christmas record spinning from out in the front room, and the smooth bass hummed through the floors and walls. The door creaked open behind her, and she assumed that it was her mother, or Juliette.
“I’ll be right out.” She said, plainly, “I needed some quiet, that’s all.”
“What do I care?”
She turned around, then crossed her arms and scoffed.
“Following me again, Black?”
He huffed, walking in and shutting the door gently behind him.
“Does every room in your house look like this?” He asked, looking around, “Like an old library?”
Violette shrugged, “I suppose. Mother likes it this way, and so do I.”
“I’m sure.”
He dragged his feet across the carpet, then sat down on the couch. The fireplace and the vintage lamp on the table beside him filled the room with a soft warm glow. Mr. Darcy hopped off of the desk and joined Sirius on the couch.
“Walburga said that we–” He mimicked his mother’s voice, “ – mustn’t touch a thing!”
“She’s polite.”
Sirius scoffed, “Pfft. Maybe to you, she is.” He petted the cat, “Who’s this, anyway?”
“That’s Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Darcy?” Sirius questioned, looking up with a puzzled frown, “Ridiculous name.”
“Did you come in here for any particular reason?” She dropped her arms, “Or just to bug me?”
“You said it yourself, needed some peace and quiet.”
Violette took a breath, let out a long exhale through her nose, then turned around and faced the window again.
“I didn’t know you were invited to Bella’s wedding.” He said, sitting back comfortably, “Beautiful isn’t the word I would use to describe it, either.”
Violette shrugged, “We wouldn’t have gone to it, even if we could have.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s none of your business, Black.”
Sirius chuckled to himself, shaking his head.
“I’m guessing it’s all of that pureblood rivalry mess, isn’t it? A load of rubbish, I think.”
Violette sighed, “Well, nobody asked for your opinion on the matter, anyway.”
“You really don’t like me, do you?”
“Why would I?” She turned around, keeping her arms crossed, “All you seem to do is mope around and make fun of me.”
“I don’t make fun of you.” He said, “And… I don’t mope, either.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that Lily was muggle-born?”
It was silent. Sirius furrowed his brow, tilted his head, “What?”
Violette kept her voice low, and her tone soft. “You knew all this time, why didn’t you tell me?”
Sirius blinked, parting his lips in confusion. It was so random, so out of the blue.
“I– what?”
“Evan told me, back in Hogsmeade.” She shook her head, “I could get into serious trouble for that, hanging around with muggle-borns. You know that just as well as I do.”
He stood up, “Are you blaming me for that?” He scoffed, “Your little minions could’ve told you, too, you know.”
“I’m not blaming you.”
She stood in front of the fireplace, watching the logs burn.
“I just want to know why nobody told me.” Her voice was quiet, “Not even Lily.”
Sirius licked his teeth, crossing his arms and puffing his chest out. He huffed out a breath, almost chuckling, “Well, can you blame her?”
Violette turned around, stared at him firmly.
“I mean, we tried to tell her.”
“Tell her what?”
“You’re a Laurent. Why would you hang around with muggle-borns, knowingly?”
The corners of Violette’s lips curled downward. She looked up.
“You’re a Black. You hang around with muggle-borns all the same.”
“That’s because I don’t care about all of that rubbish. I pay the price for it, clearly, but I don’t care.”
Violette straightened, swallowing back the knots in her throat. Reputation, she thought. With her arms crossed, she straightened, and looked up at him.
“Well, I’m not like you.”
Sirius scoffed, smirking and raising his brow. It was clear that she was shrouded in shame. Sirius found it peculiar, and he knew that there was something more to it.
“Do you care?” He questioned.
She said nothing, though, the words danced on her tongue like spice, and tingled on her lips. Slowly, the realization came to him, creeping up on him like a shadow, and he felt his lips curl. There it was, written all over her face.
“Oh…” He said, his voice a slight whisper, then he straightened. “You don’t, do you? You don’t care about all of that rubbish. But–” He shook his head, “ – you’re too afraid to admit it.”
Violette remained silent. She looked down at the carpet, and the popping of flames and wood in the fireplace taunted her. His words surrounded her like storm clouds, and her throat thickened with the beginning of tears. Sirius’s gaze was stuck on her, but she refused to look up. The door opened, and both of them glanced over at Regulus who was standing there.
“We’ll be leaving now.” He said, feeling the tension slither around him like snakes.
“Here I come.” Said Sirius, and Violette stared at his pretty polished dress-shoes as they left the room.
The door shut, and it was quiet again. Violette didn’t move from that spot, and as the fire died out, the green and red glow from outside filled the room, as did the chill of Christmas night.