The Altar of the Phoenix

So this is Christmas

And what have you done?

Another year over, a new one just begun

And so this is Christmas

I hope you had fun

The near and the dear ones

The old and the young

December 1972

Yule was becoming Ara’s least favourite holiday. 

Despite the awfulness of her summer - and the awful summers of her childhood - she was half-certain that the winter holiday was turning into the worst one of all.

Last year she had discovered that her mother burned all her letters to her little brother. She had been banned from her twin’s room and faced several awful rants from her mother about how she was disrespectful and would make an awful wife one day. 

This year, there was a thick dread to the air. The very moment the three siblings entered Grimmauld, their mother shot a barrage of hexes and curses; screaming of dishonour and disinheritance. It had been hours before the three could limp away. The twins held Regulus as he sobbed out his anguish at the very first true punishment he had received. 

Since then, he’d hardly spoken at all. Instead settling himself in the twins’s room and enjoying the silent company of whichever twin was present. Writing letters he couldn’t send; his eyes pulled to the window. 

Her mother was acting odd. She hadn’t touched Ara since. Things that usually prompted a burst of beatings and hexes, didn’t. At least, for her. Sirius had taken to locking himself in their room just to escape it all. Muted in all but the mischievous sparkle to his eyes; not daring to press his luck

Ara joined him as often as possible, which wasn’t as often as she liked. Because this Yule, her father was taking an interest in her. 

She spent her time in his office with him, by his request. It was odd. They’d read in silence, save for when he would ask her questions that she was certain he knew the answer to. He was testing her knowledge. Of school work, of the books she was reading and her opinions. He gave her things to read too. Books on Pureblood traditions, on how to be the lady of a House. He’d quiz her too.

It was clear that her parents had a plan for her this holiday. She’d thought there’d be more time. It was her only request in the whole ordeal; that she be given the last few years of childhood.

But of course Walburga could not provide her that. Would not, rather. 

Even if she was still too young to be for it all, she was old enough to hold the burden of knowledge.

Still, she tried to pretend that it wasn’t happening. They hadn’t explicitly stated what would occur, and so she was vaguely optimistic that maybe she was being overly paranoid. Maybe this was just them testing the waters. 

Godric, she hoped so. 

She hoped it for half the holiday. Hoped it over Christmas dinner; a stiflingly silent affair in which her mother had deliberately given her half the portions that her brothers received. And half the presents; a single book on beauty charms and hair care. Her brothers both received books on the Dark Arts that she would be confiscating to burn. Reg was also given a switchblade with a green handle and a warning that it didn’t take well to ‘Mudbloods’. Her twin opened a box containing a remembrall with a warning not to forget his allegiances to their House in future. 

The entire thing was rather ominous and incredibly intimidating. After dinner, the siblings had quickly made their escape up to the twins’ room; hosting their own secret Christmas. Ara gifted both her brothers new house scarves; their initials embroidered on the ends. She had written Euphemia to ask where she bought her scarves from, and ended up receiving the two scarves instead. Regulus also received a Muggle book on the Muggle wildlife and a promise to smuggle him some lemon sherbets from Lily after the holiday. He had tried them a week prior and absolutely adored them. Sirius had been somehow more difficult to shop for, despite the bond. Eventually, she had found him the perfect gifts; a new book on Muggle vehicles (one about motorcars and bikes), and a model kit to make a fighter jet. His obsession with the cars in Petey’s comics had reached new heights, and he had squealed as he opened the model kit that evening. 

Regulus gifted both his siblings new jumpers, both in a soft shade of grey, with a gentle red and yellow  trim. They immediately put them on, thanking him with ruffles of his hair. It was long enough now that it stood on end - much to his annoyance as he failed to pat it down. 

Sirius gifted both his siblings a free prank of their choosing, for if anyone was ‘pissing them off too much’. For Reg, he bought a new watch - a simple black leather band, gold face. What was special about it, was the numbers. They each were stars, glowing faintly with the hour as it reached them. The younger boy had sniffled slightly as he wrapped his arms around his brother; thanking him profusely. Finally, he sheepishly handed Ara a small red box. Curiously, she pulled it open; gasping at the lovely gift her twin had given her. 

A pair of earrings, with a simple gold studs and a pear cut pearl dangling off it. They were simply perfect. Excitedly, she pulled her hair back to fit them in - showing them off with a wide smile. 

Now, sitting in front of her father on Boxing Day - she could feel the earrings pull at her lobes uncomfortably. 

He sat still, hands folded as he regarded her with a neutral expression. 

Sirius and Reg were still in bed, enjoying the early morning. Unfortunately for her, Walburga had dragged her from her bed - first with a warning to stop sharing her room with her twin (as if they would listen), and then with another to get dressed and go to her father’s office. 

Since her arrival, neither had spoken a word beyond the polite greetings, and him imploring her to take a seat. 

They sat opposite; both regarding the other cautiously. Wondering who would crack first. 

Ara decided that it would not be her. 

“Ara, il est temps d’arrêter d’être un enfant.” Her father sighed lightly, breaking the silence. “You are an heir of House Black, and have responsibilities. I do not care about your school House or your associations; you will grow out of them.” Orion spoke firmly, as though he believed his words. But Ara knew he didn’t, she saw that flicker of doubt. 

Of all his children, Ara was the one most able to read him. 

“Your mother has been in contact with several families to discuss your future.” He continued, smoothing his mask until he knew his daughter could not discern his motivations or true feelings. “We have selected our family’s most avantageux match, and have begun preparations.”

Ara blinked through the words, her mind racing as she began to realise what he was saying. They’d finally picked a husband for her. The betrothal wasn’t just a thing looming over her head, a future threat. It was present, and it was imminent. 

“Quand?” She asked, throat dry - looking at her hands.

“The commencement dinner shall occur this evening.”

“Today?” She whimpered, blinking up at her father with disappointed eyes. 

“Indeed.”

“Very well.” She replied cooly, willing herself to stay put together as she stood to leave. 

She nearly made it out the room, nearly left with her dignity and pride intact. Her fingers on the doorknob, attention spun back to her father as she realised that she couldn’t let this moment go to waste.

This was the only time she would get the chance. 

“You know, Sirius has always thought that you’re just as bad as mother.” A crack formed in Orion’s mask, and she watched with satisfaction as she saw his regret. His embarrassment and self-loathing. “But I never have. I figured out the truth, years ago. You’re simply a coward.” She shook her head at him in disgust, shutting the door softly behind her as she finally ducked through the door. 

His look of shame stayed in her mind as she continued down the corridor. 

What the fuck was that?

With horror, she felt the bond on the tinges of her vision. 

Sirius had heard everything. 

——

Surprisingly, Sirius didn’t freak out. 

He sat there, calmly, as Ara begrudgingly told him about what had happened that summer. That Reg had known before him. Once she had finished speaking, Ara had waited for the blow up. For him to snap and scream like they had at the Potters.

So when he stood and wrapped his arms around her, promising to find a way out of the whole thing, she blinked back in shock. 

Why aren’t you yelling? She frowned at his laughing reply. 

Of all the secrets to be kept, I get why you hid this one. He sighed, a serious expression fixing his face as he matched her. I’m not mad at you for wanting to pretend that this wasn’t happening. I’m a little mad you told Reg first, but I get it. 

And that was that. They spent the day in their bed with Reggie - letting the bond wash over them as the siblings relished in the quiet. 

Their mother was running around setting preparations for that evening. Their father, naturally, had not left his office. 

As the sun set in streaks of purple and gold, Ara was yanked into a tight gown and robes by her mother. Her hair charmed into an curled updo, face coated with a beauty charm to hide the scars. 

By the time Walburga was finished; the girl in the mirror was a stranger. Some pureblood princess in black and green. For a moment, Ara frowned at the sight of herself. Without the burn that streaked across her nose and brow, she was reminded of that dream she’d had in first year. Of the girl in the bathroom with that ruddy troll. 

Godric, she really did look like her. 

Blinking away those thoughts as Walburga tugged her down the stairs; Ara squared her shoulders and stilled her chest. Warnings hissed in her ear, of what her disobedience would mean for her brothers. 

Sirius sent warmth through the bond, a promise to be by her side throughout this. Regulus curled in bed beside him, reading some textbook. 

The Floo burst to life the very second that she reached it; green flames rippling out from the fireplace as a man stepped through, brushing soot off his tailored robes. 

He straightened, and Ara shivered as she inspected him. 

This man was entirely unfamiliar; certainly not a Hogwarts student. Not with his forehead creases and lines around his lips. Black hair, long and tied at the nape of his neck, showing his face with full clarity. A perfect view of his beady dark eyes and protruding teeth. Pale skin of a sickening variety - not at all like the porcelain paleness of the Black family. 

He was ugly down to his bones and organs, revealed in the rodent nature of his nose. 

He wasn’t a boy her age, or even just graduated. This was a grown man, old enough to have already wed. 

Oh, ew, Sirius sputtered in their mind, this was their best option? He looks like a drowned rat.

“This is your betrothed. Olin Flint.” Walburga presented her, shoving her forwards when she didn’t move. The man bent forwards, taking one of her hands in his own and kissing it lightly. Ara thought it was impressive that she didn’t vomit at the gesture. Instead, she curtseyed and looked up at him through her eyelashes, willing herself to just get this over with. 

“A pleasure.” The man was clearly trying to be charming, but was failing miserably. She could feel her twins disgust over the bond, the comfort of his presence in her mind. 

“Shall we adjourn to the Dining Room? I’ve had the elves make a twelve course dinner.” Walburga spoke, placing an arm around Ara to lead her as if she’d ever touched her without leaving a mark before. Meanwhile, Ara’s eyes were bulging at the number of dishes. 

Twelve was an important number to Purebloods. It signalled many things - death of an heir, birth of a new one, and an engagement being formed. 

They were doing everything by the book this time. 

Damn. I guess Wally’s finally feeding you. Ara had to hold in her snicker, pursing her lips together as she found her place at the table. She shivered as Flint tucked her chair in. 

The first few courses trundled along painfully slowly. Her only merriment was found in Sirius’s commentary through the bond; narrating the dinner as though it were a Quidditch match. 

“She seems well-trained. I had heard… well, some less than positive depictions of the Black twins.” Olin Flint spoke as they ate the fish course - some kind of pinkish ordeal with far too little seasoning, on a bed of green. 

Walburga barked out a laugh, never quite as delicately feminine as she wished to be. 

“I was worried too, yes, but I have spent time making sure this one does not stray from the cause. Unfortunately, her twin may be too late to be saved.” She sighed, as though Sirius was the true bane of her life. This dinner kept getting more and more odd. 

Ooh! Walburga appears to be suffering from a memory deficit. Is it time to pull her from the game? Sirius commented over the bond, forcing Ara to hold in a giggle. This was so much better having her twin with her. 

“I’m very glad to hear it.” Flint showed his pristine teeth. “Shall we discuss our terms?”

“Oh yes. Our families serve the same Lord.” What? This was new information. What bloody Lord? Was this that group her Mother kept going on about? “As such, I believe a union of our houses will benefit his goals for our society perfectly.”

“Indeed.” The man nodded. “I am perfectly content to begin the process today, however I do have a clause to your previous documents.” 

Walburga’s eye twitched slightly, but she smoothed it immediately and Ara was certain she was the only one to notice. 

“How so?”

“I do not seek a wife immediately. After all, your daughter has some more growing to do before she is fit to produce heirs.”

Oh thank Merlin! Ara cheered internally. 

Just wait, Sirius warned in response. 

“Understandable.” Orion spoke, making sure to have somewhat of a presence in this entire thing his wife had concocted.

“I seek to claim her now, but to marry once the girl had turned of age. Would that be acceptable to you?” He asked Walburga, knowing who the decision maker of the marriage was. 

“Oh certainly!” She beamed, relieved that he still wanted to rid her of her pesky daughter. “We can schedule the bonding ceremony for the Yule break. She needn’t return to Hogwarts after.”

Fuck, the twins thought in sync. 

“Wonderful.” Flint showed his teeth again, and Ara began to realise it was meant to be a smile. “Shall we discuss betrothment jewellery?”

“Oh yes.” Walburga nodded, her happiness tangible. “As you know, House Black is one for propriety and tradition. I’m afraid we would accept no less than to receive the bracelet and first payment by the end of the holiday.”

“I had figured.” He was smirking now. Ara thought it looked more natural on his face. “I am prepared to commence immediately, but I understand if you would like to discuss terms again.”

“Oh no,”  she waved a hand dismissively, ignoring her daughter flinch, “I believe my husband and myself are more than accepting of yours and our Lord’s terms. Why not commence at once?” Her eyes twinkled. 

“Certainly.” With that, Flint stood from his chair with a flourish, and stalked over to Ara’s seat. She felt her mother pull her up by her arm - nails digging into her flesh. 

She was spun to face the man, composing her face as he knelt before her, grasping her left arm and kissing her fingertips. 

“My Lady.” He whispered low, a frazzled attempt at seduction. It seemed to work on Walburga, who sighed happily beside her. Wordlessly, Ara turned over her arm to bare her wrist - her matching bracelet with Pandora pushed up to her elbow below her sleeve. She gulped down bile as the man slid an emerald box from his pocket. He opened it graciously, presenting the jewellery to her mother and father first, before letting her lay eyes on it. 

It was a simple silver bracelet, depicting a snake eating its own tail. Down the spine there were several pale green diamonds, cut in a teardrop shape. The eyes of the beast were emeralds, twinkling in the candle light. 

In short, it was beautiful. But for a different girl. A proper pureblood with a green and silver school tie and a bed below a lake. Not Ara Hermione Black, who wore gold and red and slept in a bloody tower. Still, she plastered a nervous smile on her face as the man whispered an incantation and watched as the snake opened it’s jaw. He slid the piece onto her wrist, whispering again so the snake would chase up it’s tail and turn to an Ouroboros anew. 

He removed his hand from her arm and she stared at the piece, feeling its cold weight. 

It’s so ugly, Ara sniffed. 

He’s certainly got no taste.

“Did you perform the charms you asked permission for?” Walburga asked the man, prompting a slight chuckle as he looked over his child bride. 

“Yes. There are three in place as discuss. One to ensure only I can remove it, another for protection - and the final charm.”

“Which is?” Ara whispered out her question, feeling her mother’s fingers pinch her flesh at her daring to speak. 

“My final charm is to maintain your wellbeing.” He lied. “It will ensure my presence in our time apart.” 

Bullshite. Sirius growled. We’re going to have to speak to Dorea. 

Agreed.

——

31st December 1972 

New Years came with a surprise for the three siblings. A Ball; hosted by the Malfoys that they would be forced to attend, in ‘good faith’ before Narcissa’s wedding this summer. 

It meant being wrangled into more stuffy pureblood robes - these a deep plum, marked with silver stitching of stars along the hems. The boys in matching styles, Ara in a gown that corseted her waist and made it difficult to breathe.

It was why she had clung to her brothers all evening, their arms linked with hers. The fact that Olin Flint was roaming around certainly helped the matter; the boys so very careful to ensure she was always half a room away from the man. 

They’d stuck close to the ice sculpture; a thestral preening and occasionally shaking it’s head with a snort. Magic truly was a wonder, sometimes. 

The others of the younger lot - the Carrow twins, the Rosier cousins and Ava Clearwater (the youngest by a decade of all the Clearwater cousins) - stuck by them. 

After all, their only other option was the Avery twins and they were truly awful company. Rosemary would spend the evening forcing them to compliment her and falsely playing bashful despite her badgering. And Hercules would simply sit there and indulge her, looking like he wished to be anywhere else in the world - accidentally insulting everyone who tried to speak to him. 

The Black siblings were far better company for affairs like these. They would tell stories and jokes - sneak extra nibbles and drinks. Plus, the Carrow twins and the younger Rosier were childhood playmates of Regulus, which certainly made him a superior option to the snippety Averys.

“I can’t believe your cousin is moving into Malfoy Manor.” Amycus scoffed as she regarded the decorations. 

Narcissa’s touch was clear in the soft hues of blues and lilacs - iridescent fabrics cascading from the ceiling in twirls and curtains. Orange and yellow hued lanterns trickling from the ceiling. The space resembled some ice cave - glittering and cool. Trickles of curled fabric hung like icicles; twisting in time with the music. 

The room was well organised too, with tables around the edges, for older guests to sit and drink. A wide space to dance in the middle - with the buffet and sculpture to the side by the band. 

Somehow Narcissa had turned the dark and grey interior of the Manor ballroom into a bright and warm wonderland. It was truly impressive. 

“Considering the effort she’s put into this, I recon she’s got a whole plan to remodel.” Sirius barked a laugh, the group agreeing amusedly. 

“The Malfoy crest is a light blue. I do wonder why they don’t utilise it more.” Ava mused. 

“Ah, but that would be too similar to Ravenclaw’s colours, and they’re a proudly Slytherin bunch.” A sharp female voice interjected from behind them. The group spun, gawping at the curly haired witch’s jesting. 

“Bella!” Ara gasped, untangling herself from her brothers and jumping into her cousin’s outstretched arms. They snapped around her, the two wrapped tightly; the act shielded by Bella’s large dark robes. With a nod to the boys, Bella pulled Ara up and carried her quickly behind a curtain as the other Black siblings distracted the others. 

There were different bonds between each cousin. And none could rival that of Ara and Bella; a bond fused by madness and likeness that the others simply didn’t equate to. Regulus and Narcissa got along, as younger siblings did. As those left behind. Andromeda and Sirius bonded over rebellion. But she was gone now. She got out. 

“I’m sorry I took so long to come over, mon chou.” Bella hummed as she released her cousin, casting a couple nonverbal spells for privacy, “I got stuck with all Rastaban’s colleagues.” She shuddered. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t spot you earlier!” Ara gushed, her breath coming out short as she struggled to catch it despite the corset. “How are you?”

“How are you, is far more important a question.” Bella frowned, her hands moving to cradle the sides of Ara’s face. She hesitated, pulling back nervously - hands lingering in the air. Wordlessly, Ara reached out, placing her cousin’s hands on her face.

“I missed you.” She breathed, pale grey eyes meeting a shade akin to black. “Can we not just move past that summer? I need you, and I just want to pretend that we never parted.” 

“That sounds parfait.” Bella laughed wetly, brushing imaginary tears away from her cousin whilst her own slipped free. “Je suis tellement désolé. For everything.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You’re forgiven.” Ara pulled close, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Bella’s cheek. She pulled back, releasing Bella’s hands and sitting on the grey marble - leant against a wall hidden behind blue fabric. Bellatrix joined her, slumping against the cool floor with a sigh of relief. “What’s it like? Being married.” 

“It’s like any other thing in this life. It’s a chore that we endure.” Bella admitted, never one to sugarcoat or lie. “But being tethered to a man does not take away from us. Who we are. Lestrange might be written on forms, but I am still Bellatrix Black. I’ve been spending time at the Black propriété in France. I’m lucky, I suppose.” She shrugged absently. “He’s not that interested in me beyond meetings with… anyways, he seems to enjoy playing quidditch with his brother over anything else.” 

“Bella, that hardly sounds like a good life.” Ara’s hand found hers between them, wrapping fingers together tightly. 

“No. But it’s my life. I give it meaning.” She insisted. “They let me alone in France, and I have gotten comfortable in my solitude.”

“Write to me when you’re not. And one day, you can do the same for me.” 

“Maybe.” Bella smiled sadly, tucking a curl behind Ara’s ear. “Perhaps.” She poked her nose. “But enough sorrow. Tell me of your schooling. How’s the House of the Brash?” She grinned.

“It’s awesome.” Ara admitted. “And Reg is settling really well into Hufflepuff. He’s making friends and everyone in his House is protective of him.” She beamed. 

“I’m glad.” 

“Me too. I was so worried. But we all knew…”

“That he’d never be a Slytherin? Yeah.” She exhaled through her nose. “But we had hope he’d at least be a Ravenclaw.” She jested. 

“He’s too kind.” Ara shrugged. “There was never anywhere else for him.”

“At least we lucked out with our colouring. We suit all House crests.” 

“Very true.” Ara giggled. 

They spoke of silly stories, little things they’d missed and promises to hold on now that Ara was following Bella’s path. But there was a lingering tension; a question still fluttering in the air, unspoken and waiting. 

Eventually, it could no longer be held back. 

“What did you do to Cissa after I messed up my face?” Ara asked, almost timidly. She looked past Bella’s startled expression - laced with guilt - and continued on. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. In first year, she asked me to check up on Andy for her. And… I asked her why she hated me so much. She looked at my scars and told it it was because I was your favourite.” Ara locked eyes with Bellatrix, who looked guilty and torn behind her best mask. 

“Ara.” She whispered her name softly; a prayer to stop, to leave this as it was and move past it. 

“I wondered why that was such an issue. After all, she didn’t hate Sirius as much and he was Andy’s favourite. So why me?” She looked at Bella so seriously that the older witch actually gulped. “What did you do?”

“Tu ne me pardonneras jamais.”

“I’ve already forgiven you. And no matter how awful it is, I won’t abandon you. Je promets.” She grasped her cousin’s hand, firmly. 

“She got betrothed to Lucius Malfoy. He was already in service to our Lord,” she winced at the endearment, hating that it was her instinct, “and the Dark Lord wanted to know who would be next in his ranks. He wanted promised children.”

“Oh Bella.” 

“Father approached me and told me that I had no options post graduation. As the oldest of our generation, I had been promised to the Dark Lord’s ranks. To fight for him, and birth a new Pureblooded heir to continue the fight. He forced me to be marked, threatened to do it to Andy if I didn’t comply - you know Andy, she’s too soft.” She exhaled slowly, painfully. “I wanted to protect my sisters and my cousins. But then, right before I was to be marked, Cissa harmed your beautiful face. And I wanted to hurt her like she hurt you. She took away your best chances for betrothals, took away your best potential future. I wanted to take away hers.”

“Bella? You didn’t?” Both girls were fully sobbing by this point.

“I did. I told father that in exchange for me joining the cause, it would be Cissa’s children promised to the Dark Lord instead of mine. Cissa’s known since she was thirteen. And she’s always known that the reason why was because of how she treated you.”

“That’s… messed up.” Ara shuddered.

“It’s more messed up that she’s sort-of excited about it.” Bella sighed.

“Really?”

“To have Lucius gaining the favour of a new Lord, one promising to make our families better than all others? Yeah. She’s excited. Keeps going on to Mum about how Lucius has already taken the mark and how her future home is the Headquarters of his operation.” She rolled her eyes. “I blame the Malfoys. There’s a reason they got kicked out of France.” 

“Well, they have always operated in bad faith.” She quipped, prompting a surprised laugh from her cousin. The older girl wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in - relishing in unpainful touch. 

They stayed that way, a short while. Both so caught in their own spiralling thoughts that they missed the other’s panic. Bella had seen the wives of Death Eaters. None of them looked happy, but at least they looked usually well. It was those in service to the Dark Lord that looked pained. After all, their loyalty was conditional on their ability to suffer. To suffer and prove their loyalty. It was a hideous cycle. 

And Bella hated that she was so good at surviving through it. 

“J’ai peur, Bella.” Ara whispered to her cousin, leaning further into her hold. She felt like a kid again.

“I know. It’s not right. I’m married to a man a decade older than me. You’re betrothed to a man nearly double that. It’s fucked.” Bella sighed. She wasn’t one to sugarcoat truths or pretend that a situation was better than it was. It was something Ara really appreciated about her cousin. Something she had missed terribly. “But you have four years to figure out what you want. If you want to be like me or Andy.” 

With that, she placed a hand on Ara’s face - not gently, she hadn’t been gentle in years - and stroked her cheek with a sad smile. 

“Please don’t be like me.” 

The words were spoken so quietly that it almost felt like it wasn’t real.