Sacred

Minerva McGonagall had never seen such blank, unexpressive children. She sat across the table from the four kids, three of whom wore the same vacant expression. Bellatrix was the only one who seemed incapable of wearing that mask, radiating a barely contained fury.

“Start of term is coming up,” Minerva began. “We’ll need to collect your school things soon. We can go into Diagon Alley tomorrow.” None of them deigned to answer, instead spooning porridge into their mouths silently. Minerva gripped her own spoon a little tighter as her own frustration mounted. “I’ve received all your letters,” She powered on, ignoring their silence. “Except for yours, Bellatrix. I’ve owled Dumbledore about it.” Bellatrix glared at her.

“I’m not going,” She snapped. “I’ve already finished my seventh year.” Minerva pressed her lips tightly together, inhaling deeply through her nose before answering.

“You will be going,” She said stiffly. “You will be returning for your eighth year. All of you will be finishing your eighth year.” She watched as color mounted in Bellatrix’s cheeks and she braced herself for the outburst.

“I am not going,” She said venomously. “I have already finished my schooling and I am engaged to be married this summer. I shall not be wasting my time at that piss poor excuse for a school when I should be planning my wedding!” Minerva surveyed her mildly as she absorbed her words. Bellatrix was engaged.

That was news.

It still didn’t change anything.

“Betrothed or not, you shall still be finishing your education.” She said simply.

It was all Bellatrix needed.

The bowl of porridge exploded against the wall. Minerva did not miss the way none of the children at the table even blinked at it.

“I will not be going!” She screamed. “I am going to be married, I have no need to go back there for another stupid fucking year!”

“And what will you do once your married?” Minerva snapped, her patience growing thin. “What will you do? Make flower arrangements, plan grand balls, pop out babies for you husband?” She could hardly keep the derision out of her voice. “What will you do for you, Bellatrix?”

“I will be taken care of,” Bellatrix said, her voice wavering with anger. “I can do whatever I wish.”

“And that’s what you wish then,” Minerva said, her own voice laced with venom. “To be taken care of? To have nothing of your own, to be completely dependent on your husband?” Bellatrix stood up, her chair tumbling to the floor and slapped her palms on the table. Narcissa’s bowl clattered as she dropped her spoon, and she folded her hands primly in her lap. But Minerva noticed how her already pale cheeks lightened even more.

“My family has more money than you will ever see in your paltry life!” She roared. “I will never be dependent on anyone! Furthermore,” She hissed. “Just because you decided to live your life as a pathetic spinster does not mean I will.”

The words cut Minerva more than they should’ve, but she steeled herself, refusing to let the girl win.

“Your family’s fortune,” She hissed with equal fury. “Has been seized by the ministry. The only thing you have left is a dowry left for your husband. For your husband, Bellatrix. You, Miss Black, have nothing.”

“That dowry is mine.”

“That dowry is his. The second you take his name. Perhaps he will give you access, perhaps he won’t. I suppose that all depends on if the ministry has seized his fortune as well.” She saw the words sink in, saw the way a flicker of fear flashed in the girl’s eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“You’d have me work as a shopkeeper then?” She snapped.

“I’d have you have prospects,” Minerva countered. That steely fire reignited in Bellatrix’s eyes.

“I’m not going.” She said once more. Minerva shrugged. She picked up a spoon, forcing a bite of porridge down her throat.

“After we finish school shopping for the others, you and I shall go searching for an apartment.” Bellatrix’s brow furrowed, the comment succeeding in confusing her enough to temper the rage.

“What are you talking about?” Minerva forced another mouthful of porridge down.

“If you are insistent that you won’t go back to school, then I will assume you’re ready to embark on your own life. We shall look for an apartment within your budget, and you can begin your life anew.” Bellatrix stared at the woman with narrowed eyes.

“Fine.” She snapped.

“Fine.”

Bellatrix whirled out of the kitchen, stomping up the stairs to her bedroom and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the dishes in the cupboards. Minerva swallowed another lump of porridge, aware of the way the other kids stared at her.

“Well?” She said gruffly. “Either finish your breakfast or clean it up.” Andromeda and Narcissa stood up silently, disposing of their dishes and thanked Minerva in soft, demure voices before they retired to the bedroom. Regulus continued eating, his movements stiff and mechanical, his face as impassive as ever. Minerva didn’t speak, and neither did he.

She finished the last bites of her porridge and moved to the sink, depositing the bowl and spoon in it and began to fill it up. She didn’t often wash up the muggle way, but she could stand a few minutes to think.

“She won’t do it.”

She glanced back. Regulus was still eating his porridge in that mechanical way of his.

“She won’t do it,” He repeated, never taking his eyes off his bowl. “She’ll never leave them.”

Minerva sighed, and tried not to feel guilty as disappointment washed over her.

The next morning she made scrambled eggs and toast. Andromeda, Narcissa and Regulus marched into the kitchen in perfect formation, like miniature soldiers and took their places at the table. Minerva didn’t ask, and none of them offered the information. She thought of Regulus’s words yesterday, his confidence that Bellatrix would eventually acquiesce and wondered if perhaps he’d been wrong. She placed plates of breakfast in front of each child, not bothering to respond to their soft, mechanical thanks, when Bellatrix flounced into the kitchen. Her unruly curls bounced as she collapsed into the chair next to Andromeda, and kicked her feet onto the table, barely missing Andromeda’s plate. Minerva’s lips thinned as she fought to ignore the girl’s blatant disrespect, disrespect she knew would never have been tolerated in her former home.

“Narcissa will need new robes,” She announced as she snatched a piece of toast of Regulus’s plate. “As will Andromeda. They’ve both had a growth spurt this summer. We order from Mademoiselle Babineaux, I’ve already sent a letter. She’ll be here by tomorrow.” Minerva didn’t respond. There were only so many battles she could choose to fight. However, she could not keep her silence as Bellatrix loudly announced she would also need new robes.

“You’re going back to Hogwarts, then?” Minerva could barely keep the sneer out of her voice. Bellatrix pointedly did not meet her eyes, instead taking an obnoxiously large bite of toast.

“Yes,” She said primly. “As the eldest Black and head of our household, I’ve decided we shall all be taking our eighth year.”

“Oh you’ve decided that, have you?” Minerva drawled. “And what, pray tell, of your betrothal and upcoming wedding?” Bellatrix exhaled noisily.

“There’s no point in discussing weddings until this business with the family fortunes are dealt with. I have no intention of shackling myself to anyone until my assets are back in my possession.” Minerva smirked.

“The Blacks will not be beholden to anyone,” Bellatrix said emphatically. “That goes for you as well, Regulus.” Regulus stare down at his plate with the same blank expression as he ate another mouthful of eggs. Neither Andromeda nor Narcissa responded.

“I’m assuming as the eldest Black you’ll be informing Sirius of his educational direction?” Minerva stopped at Regulus’s thickly venomous words. Bellatrix surveyed the younger Black with shrewd eyes.

“He will fall in line.” She said simply. Regulus snorted, the only emotion Minerva had ever seen from him, but Bellatrix did not acknowledge it.

The trip to Diagon Alley was far more uncomfortable than Minerva could’ve imagined.

The four children followed her in one line, each one of them silent and impassive. Even Bellatrix had tempered her fiery rage and had adopted that blank passivity Minerva now recognized as a default setting for the Black children.

Nevertheless, she marched them through the streets of Diagon Alley, a master list of supplies clutched in her hand as she hunted for supplies. She was relieved to see other families with similarly uncomfortable children shopping as well. She recognized Septimus Weasley and his wife and their three unruly children, Arthur, Billius and Charlus, but was more surprised to see a young Barty Crouch laughing alongside the boys.

It shouldn’t have surprised her. Barty was always more animated than the company he kept, flitting easily from group to group. It helped that the Weasley boys were notoriously easy to get along with, if a bit scatterbrained. Still, it warmed her to see him behaving so normally. She waved at them, and Septimus gave her a broad smile. Cedrella waved as well, but her smile faltered as she took in the four children walking sullenly behind her. Minerva furrowed her brow as the Weasley’s hustled along, ducking into the quidditch shop.

“Traitorous bitch,” Bellatrix muttered. Minerva whirled around.

“I beg your pardon?” She snapped. Bellatrix didn’t cower under Minerva’s withering glare.

“I said she’s a traitorous bitch.” Minerva felt rage bubble up inside of her, as it so often did ever since Bellatrix had moved into her home.

“Cedrella is a blood traitor,” Andromeda said softly, before Minerva could snap back at Bellatrix. “She was supposed to marry Octavius Nott. But she ran off with Septimus. Eloped.” There was a hint of.. something in Andromeda’s voice. Longing, perhaps? “She was removed from the family tree, has been branded a blood traitor.”

“Aren’t the Weasley’s part of the Sacred 28?” Minerva asked, although she knew they were. They, like the rest of the members of the elite group, had been subjected to questioning, although they were unsurprisingly found innocent.

“They’re blood traitors,” Bellatrix snapped. “Sympathetic to muggles and mudbloods alike. They don’t deserve to be a part of the Sacred 28, and Cedrella deserves to be blacklisted for her disgusting affiliations.” Andromeda’s face shuttered, whatever flicker of emotion that had been present disappearing behind that impassive mask.

“They won’t be a part of it, once the Ministry decides to disband it.” Regulus said in that dull voice. Bellatrix didn’t bother responding, but Minerva could see the way his words unnerved her.

“Right then. Books first?” She said, pointedly changing the subject. None of the kids bothered responding, so she marched on, questioning her every life’s decision with every step.

By the time they’d finished shopping, Minerva had more packages shipped to her house than she’d maybe bought in her entire lifetime. She was grateful for the stipend she was given from the Ministry, well aware that the cost of sending four children to Hogwarts would’ve bankrupted her, and she felt a pang of pity for all the families who did this on her own. She resolved to question Dumbledore about it, to see about initiating a sort of financial aid program for those families who may struggle.

She led the children through the cobblestone streets, her feet barking with pain, but she had one final place she wanted to stop. Florean’s had been an indulgence of hers every time she came to Diagon Alley. It was a tradition begun by her own mother when she was just a child, and it had become one of her favorite places. In the years after her mother’s death, Florean’s ice cream parlor became more than just a sweet indulgence, it had become a place of safety for her, a place of solace.

She pushed through the door, her shoulders immediately slumping with relief as she entered the familiar shop.

“Ah, Minnie!” Florean greeted her warmly, coming out from behind the counter and enveloping her in a large hug. He was one of very few people in her life who she would allow to embrace her. “How are you doing, my love?”

“Wonderfully, Florean, thank you.” She allowed the man to survey her.

“You look thin, Minnie,” He said after a moment and she shook her head, barely fighting back her smile. “I think a triple scoop today, no?” He walked back behind the counter. “Mint chocolate chip?”

“You know me so well, Florean,”

“You are predictable as always, my Minnie.” He glanced behind her at the children. “And you have kids now, Minerva McGonagall! Were you not going to tell me?” Minerva smiled thinly.

“My wards,” She said, and he smiled knowingly. Of course, he already knew. There was very little the man did not know.

“What can I get for the children?” She gestured them forward.

“Whatever they want,” She said shortly, waving at them. “Pick your favorite.” But Bellatrix shook her head.

“We won’t be getting any.” She said firmly. Florean raised an eyebrow.

“No ice cream for any?” He said incredulously. “You may be the first children to come into my shop and refuse a treat!” Minerva watched as Bellatrix shook her head firmly, her curls whipping in front of her face.

“Absolutely not.” She said again. Minerva shrugged and paid for her own ice cream.

“Lovely seeing you, Minnie,” Florean said, coming out for one last hug. Minerva waved heartily as she walked towards the door. She held it open, allowing the kids to go out.

“Narcissa!” Bellatrix snapped. Minerva glanced back. The youngest Black girl was standing at the counter, staring at the different colored ice creams.

“Narcissa,” She said slowly. “Do you want an ice cream?” Narcissa looked at Minerva with those unnerving icy blue eyes.

“No, she doesn’t!” Bellatrix exclaimed. “Cissa, now! Let’s go.” Narcissa walked slowly away from the counter, and Minerva frowned.

“Hold on,” She said, and she walked over to the youngest girl. “Narcissa, do you want an ice cream cone?” Narcissa glanced past her to Bellatrix. Minerva crouched down. “Look at me,” She said softly but sternly. “Do you want an ice cream?” Very slowly, very cautiously, Narcissa nodded. Minerva gave a quick, jerky nod of her own head. “Very well, then. Go on and pick a flavor. If you’d like to try one before committing, just ask Mr. Fortescue. Go on now.” She stood up as Narcissa went back to the counter and turned to the other kids. Andromeda was almost vibrating with excitement and Regulus was watching her with an odd expression. She gestured towards the counter and Andromeda took off, pointing at several flavors at once for a sample. Regulus moved with the same slow, mechanical movements as always, but still went for an ice cream. Bellatrix, on the other hand, was vibrating with rage.

“What’s wrong now, Bellatrix?” Minerva asked wearily. “Tell me why we’re about to have an explosive argument over ice cream.” Bellatrix flinched, almost imperceptibly.

“We don’t eat sweets,” She said after a moment, her chin lifted high with indignation. Minerva sighed.

“You’re allowed to indulge in a treat every now and again,” She said. “It’s not going to kill you.”

“It will ruin our figures.” Minerva gaped at the girl.

“What do you mean it will ruin your figures?” She asked. Bellatrix, although several inches shorter than Minerva, managed to look down at her nose at the woman.

“We shall never entice a husband if we are constantly slopping sweets and becoming nothing more than fat cows.”

Minerva closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she fantasized about all the ways she might slaughter Druella Black.

“Bellatrix,” She said. “One ice cream will not ruin your figure for the rest of your life. Furthermore, there are things you should allow yourself to do if for no other reason than to bring you some modicum of joy.” Bellatrix stared at her in silence. “You don’t have to have one if you don’t want, but you will not prevent your sisters from enjoying a treat.” She turned away from the eldest Black, focusing her attention on the three children who very clearly had never indulged in their lives. Florean was laughing gaily as he handed spoonful after spoonful of different flavored ice cream to a bouncing Andromeda, who had apparently decided she must sample every flavor before making a decision, and Narcissa was actually giggling as she tucked into an oversized fudge sundae. Even Regulus had lost the blank expression he constantly wore and was wide-eyed as he indulged in a plain chocolate ice cream cone.

Warmth spread through her as she watched them. They were just children, she realized. Children who had never been allowed to be children. Minerva was a stern woman, strict and regimented in a way that suited her well in the classroom.

But they were not in the classroom.

These children had had decorum and responsibility beaten into them from the moment they exited the womb. They didn’t need more rigidity, more sternness, more responsibility. They needed to learn to be children.

They needed the fucking ice cream.

She marched up to Florean’s counter.

“I need a sample of cotton candy.” She declared. Florean didn’t question her, just handed her a heaping spoonful of the blue and pink swirled ice cream. She took it and marched back to the doorway where Bellatrix stood, arms folded.

“What is that?” She sneered. Minerva held it out to her. “I’m not eating that!”

“You will.” Minerva stated. “It will not kill you, Bellatrix, to indulge in something simply for pleasure.” Bellatrix shook her head.

“We do not eat sweets.” She spat. Minerva simply held the spoon out. Florean’s ice cream was all spelled to not melt. She could stay there all day.

“You didn’t eat sweets,” She corrected. She became acutely aware of the silence that had fallen over the shop, and she knew that the three children were watching this exchange.

She also knew it would be a turning point for all of them.

“Eat the ice cream,” She said softly. Bellatrix glanced at her sisters, at Regulus.

And slowly, ever so slowly, she opened her mouth.

Minerva guided the spoon gently into Bellatrix’s mouth. She watched as the girl’s eyes widened as the cold sweetness hit her tongue, watched as she swallowed it, watched as her hand flew to her mouth and a surprised squeak escaped her lips.

“Good, wasn’t it?” Minerva asked softly. She waited for the snide response, for her eyes to narrow and that explosive rage to erupt out of her, but she simply nodded, her brown eyes still wide in amazement.

“One cotton candy, coming up for the beautiful girl with the beautiful curls!” Florean announced loudly. Bellatrix jumped, that wariness slipping back into her eyes. But she didn’t deny him.

Minerva counted it as a win.