The Bitch is Back
I entertain by picking brains
Sell my soul by dropping names
I don’t like those, my God, what’s that?
Oh, it’s full of nasty habits when the bitch is back
7th June 1975
Sometime Ara dreamed of her and Harry in a tent.
The wind like a whip across the canvas walls. Howling and biting against the warming charms. Faint glows of flames in jars - lining the edges of a threadbare sofa and a small bookcase by the corner of the space. The smell of burnt mushrooms and earl grey tea; a chill in her spine that she could not erase.
It was almost homey.
“Never have I ever set a teacher on fire.” Harry grinned from the armchair, a glass of amber liquid straddled in his hands.
“Oh, you’re rotten.” Ara laughed, taking a sip of her own glass and wincing at the burn. Hermione wasn’t a drinker. She’d learned that in the dreams. “Never have I ever lead an illegal extracurricular group.”
“Technically, it was your idea.” He pointed out, still taking a sip with a shake of his head.
“Yes, but you made a far better front-man.”
“Suppose so.” He huffed a laugh. “Do you think… they’re alright, yeah?”
“I think that we trained them as best we could.” She sighed, taking another burning sip of whiskey. “But I worry. I know you worry too.”
“Nev’s looking after them.” Harry spoke aloud, though it was clear it was for himself.
“Yes he is.” Ara spoke, though she didn’t feel like Ara in her dreams. Not anymore.
The more she understood, the more she felt like Hermione.
“I wish I… weren’t the ruddy Chosen One.” Harry exhaled a great sigh, slumping deeper into the armchair.
“Where would you be, right now, if it weren’t for all of this?” Hermione asked quietly, a faint smile pulling at her lips. It felt like a game they played. Something familiar, if infrequent.
“With you.” Harry breathed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “In this tent, but behind the Burrows. Drinking our way through this bottle, playing this game.” His lips pulled into the ghost of a smile. “But we’d be steps away from Molly’s cooking, and…”
“And George would poke his head in and offer us some dodgy sweets.” Hermione finished for him.
“And you’d tell me off but I’d take one anyway.” Harry laughed. “Really, Mione. Between you and Mrs Weasley, I’ll never wonder again what it’s like to be mothered.”
“Oh, hush, Harry.” She laughed.
“Truly, though, Mione. I’m glad to have you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Hermione straightened her shoulders. “No matter what, we’re in this together. I’m not leaving your side.”
Harry tensed, and she knew… she could feel his worry bleed between them as she reached to squeeze his hand.
It was different to how it was with Sirius. A bond of another kind.
“You’re mine, Harry.” She spoke softly, a gentle smile twitching at her lips. “You’re the only family I’ve got left. As long as I’m here, you’ll never have to face it alone.”
And, oh, how that felt like a vow.
——
“Oh not again!” Sirius Black burst outdone Saturday, already sprinting from the dorm. The remaining boys shared a brief look of utter bewilderment, before joining their friend in his trek - catching up with him in the corridor outside the dorms.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” Remus panted as they turned another corner, making their way to the staircases.
“Dolohov challenged Ara to a duel on the Quidditch pitch!” Sirius gasped as he thundered down the stairs, jumping from the staircase onto unmoving floor. The boys followed suit with horrified eyes.
“Fucking hell!” Pete gasped out, overtaking the herd as he moved to find his shortcut to the pitch - leading the boys past groups of confused students as they snuck behind a tapestry and out into the fresh air.
They were meant to be reading through the Potter’s animagus books that day, expecting Ara to swing by to discuss their next steps after she’d gone with Reg for a swim.
It seemed that plan had gone the way of Rome.
By the time they could see the grounds; exhaustion clung to them, adrenaline the only thing permitting their pursuit.
They followed the yelling. Sounds and screams that grew louder as they reached the pitch; darting past the spectator boxes to spy the crowd surrounding spellfire.
The duel was already underway.
A circle surrounded the spat - split rather distinctly by red and green. Scatters of blue and yellow - predominantly on the red side. Save for a few Ravenclaw girls, hissing at the scene.
As the boys pushed their way through the crowd, Sirius whistled a signal to his dorm mates at the sight of ginger and blonde.
The two girls were at the very front of the crowd, hands interlocked as they yelled encouragements and warnings.
And there, surrounded by a ring of yelling students, were Ara Black and Antonin Dolohov.
Her face was bloodied; nose crooked and purple above the sneer of her lips. Dolohov hardly looked better with his swelling cheek and ripped shirt - the collar torn and red.
She’d just managed to pin him to the ground - his arms flailing as she tried to grab hold. He snarled at her and she growled back. His wand was on the grass beside them - her own held in her fist as she forcibly straddled the boy to punch him flat in the nose. Casting, for the first time in her life, a nonverbal petrification spell.
The Marauders froze on the sidelines - pushed forward by the crowds as they watched one of their own in bloodied combat. Sirius’s face was pale, his fists clenched so tightly they were shaking. Remus and Pete were hardly much better as they fretted between winces and screamed encouragements.
And James… oh, James Potter was simply terrified. Barely able to glance at Ara for more than a moment before his heart clenched and his knees felt wobbly. He’d heard the stories, seen her wounds, but watching her violent habit was far different than hearing about it. His eyes darted back to the crowds as Dolohov grew rigid. Roaming the numbers, scanning for familiar faces within the Slytherin lot as they tried to cheer Dolohov on.
The Avery twins were naturally the loudest and most annoying. Rosemary screeching for someone to undo the spell on the boy, to make it a fair fight. As Lily screamed back that it hadn’t been a fair fight when Dolohov jumped her earlier that day and broke her nose, James Potter spied the disappointing sneer of Severus Snape in the crowd.
James could have sworn there was a momentary disgust on Snape’s face as Lily Evans spoke in favour of their Mad Gryffindor. A disappointment that faded as the ginger looked his way in pleading.
The sallow Slytherin merely looked away, a subtle wave of his wand. And thus, Dolohov unfroze - shoving Ara backwards and fumbling in the grass for his wand. Before his curse could even graze her, a shield had erupted before her with a scream of protego; their witch snarling as she fought against the boy trying to reach for her indigo hair. Nails like claws as she scratched at his face.
There was only one Slytherin looked a little uncomfortable in the crowd.
Barty Crouch Junior stood a little aways from the rest, closest to an older Slytherin named Wilkes. As the others grinned at Dolohov marking Ara, the boy frowned almost imperceptibly. With all his fights with Ara, they had never made the other bleed. A few scratches, sure, but none that drew more blood than droplets. Only bruises and broken bones, as though that were better.
His tongue darted between his lips, nodding as Ara gained the upper hand and smacked Dolohov with a closed fist.
Her face was already forming bruises; darkness forming along her jaw and eye. Blood both splattered and streaming - her nose painfully darkened as the blood pooled across her lips. As Dolohov’s wand tumbled into the grass with a well-placed expellius, she wiped her mouth; her teeth stained pink as she grinned and tugged his hair to smack the back of his head against the earth.
Further back, James could spy the tell-tale dark curls and yellow scarf of the youngest Black sibling. Turned away from the scene - hands gesturing wildly to a blond boy in green.
And there, in the distance by the Ravenclaw stands, stood their DADA professor. Half-masked by flapping tarp as he watched over the scene. A furrow formed in James’s brow as Professor Ananke simply watched over the scene; arms by his sides, no sign of planned intervention.
As he swallowed, James mouth was sour, not only by the mandrake leaf stuck beneath his tongue.
At a loud thump, his eyes pulled back to the ongoing fight. To a truly wild Ara Black; face contorted into a sneer as she knelt above Antonin Dolohov with steely eyes. The boy was trashing below her; caught as her wand dug into his throat.
“Stop looking at Pandora. I see you even glance her way, you’re dead. You hear me?” She grit out, pressing her wand deeper into the boy’s neck. “I’ll kill you myself, you bloody fuckwit.”
“I concede.” He gasped out, looking away from her as she finally pulled her wand from his flesh.
“Consider this your final warning, Antonin.” She rolled his name in her mouth as though it were too bitter to stomach. “No one fucks with a Black.” She spat blood across his face, spinning away and striding calmly towards her friends.
The surrounding students stood in silent horror; eyes fixed on Dolohov as he wiped her blood from his skin, shakily trying to prop his arms up.
They let her slide through the gaps with a faint birth. Her legs swaying with each shuffled step; blood staining her shirt collar more and more.
“I lost the leaf in the fight.” Ara sighed as she reached the boys - wobbling more with each step. “It got dislodged when he knocked my jaw, I’m sorry.”
“No apology needed.” Sirius sighed, eyeing her battered form. “You beat Dolohov. We’ll be dining on that for the next year, at least.” He mustered his best grin, wrapping an arm around her shoulders casually, as though it weren’t the only thing holding her upright. Nodding to the girls; an understanding that he would deal with her if they dealt with the crowds.
They barely made it to the castle before Ara crumbled into her twin’s arms; the boy pulling her up and carrying her against his chest. They were careful to avoid crowded areas, making their way back to the dorm with worried expressions.
Once in the boys dorm, Sirius set her down on his bed - searching though Remus’s healing supplies to pour dittany on her cuts as she slumbered.
They couldn’t go to the Hospital Wing again. Not after the last time resulted in a ruddy secret meeting with the Headmaster. He was still pissed that Ara waited until after to tell him.
As soon as Sirius was certain she was healed, the boy flopped to the ground - hand extended upwards. Wordlessly, Remus fumbled in his pockets, pulling his pack lose and offering a cigarette to the boy. They sat together on the ground, puffing at their fags in silence as the others boys watched on from their bunks.
“What’s the plan?” Peter spoke, finally - looking to Sirius expectantly.
“I dunno.” The boy shrugged.
“It’s been amping up, Sirius, you have to admit it.” Remus sighed deeply.
“I know, mate.” He took a drag, holding a cough in as he tried to enjoy his twin’s favourite pastime.
“First it was getting into scraps with Crouch in corridors, now it’s full on duels with creeps like Dolohov. She’s going to burn herself out before we even sit OWLs.”
“I get it.” Sirius snapped, before wincing at his tone and shooting Remus an apologetic look. “I don’t know how to help. Not anymore. If we were kids, I’d just show her happy memories or tell her that I think she’s cool. I wish it was that simple again. Because she’s growing up different to me, and sometimes I look at her and all I can see is out differences.”
“So what?” Peter drawled, rolling his eyes; finally done with his best mate’s self-loathing.
“So what?” Sirius repeated, incredulously.
“Yeah. So what?” Peter snapped. “In case you’ve forgotten, mate, you are different people! Of course you’re going to grow apart as you get older; that’s how shit works. But you’ve got a bloody link between the two of you, so no matter what, you won’t ever stray too far. You keep… you always look for the worst outcome to everything, and you blame yourself for all of it. But you aren’t to blame for everything in the world! You aren’t the centre of the universe, Sirius! You’re just a star, just one in a long bloody list. Get a grip.” He crossed his arms at the end of his tirade, leaning back against his bed as he heaved breaths.
The other boys blinked at him; utterly taken aback. Peter Pettigrew was endlessly patient, and consistently their cheerleader. And Sirius had broken him.
“Shit.” Sirius suddenly burst out; heads turned to gawk at him as he spoke the following words. “You’re right.”
“I am?”
“He is?”
“You are.” Sirius looked to Pete with an affirmative nod. “I’m going to work on it.”
“Alright then.” Peter huffed, nodding affirmatively as he slouched into his bed.
“Might need some help, I think.”
“Naturally.” Pete snorted, eerily reminiscent of Remus in that moment. “And maybe apologise to her for constantly ignoring her this year.”
“Will do.” He winced, knowing the blond boy was right. In his paranoia about his twin, he really had been leaving her out. “I need to get better at accepting she’s not me.”
“I get it, Sirius.” Remus nudged him. “Ara told me once that you helped build her back up, after The Incident.”
“But I just made her like me, I know.” He sighed in reply. “I just… I wanted her to be happier.”
“Neither of you seem particularly happy right now.” James pointed out. “So quit all the moping and tell her that when she wakes up. ‘Cause I’m not explaining to Auntie Dorea again about why you’re both fighting over summer.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Especially when its ‘cause of your stupid ‘saving people thing’.”
“Oh bugger off.” Sirius huffed, flashing James two fingers.
“He’s not wrong.” Peter piped in, still with that steely look to his eye. “You both do have a thing about saving people. Ara especially, which leaves you running around saving her.”
“It's getting bloody exhausting.” He sighed, running a hand through his curls.
“You know you’ve got help.” Remus knocked his shoulder.
Sirius Black took a moment to regard his friends. Each one, their own form of complete mess, and still so willing to help with his. And he loved them. It was simple as that, really.
When that had become the case, he couldn’t say. Somewhere between running through the corridors of Potter Manor, prank plotting, and nights of hushed chatter… that was as close as he could pinpoint it. Something in all those days he spent with his Marauders, something in living in close proximity had softened his heart to them.
And he would always be more glad than words could say that he had been sorted a Gryffindor.
One by one, the boys fell asleep. First was Sirius - the exhaustion from his sister leaking over the bond. He had rested his head on Remus’s shoulder, and simply never picked it back up. Peter was next to follow, once the boys had gotten Sirius into bed. Remus followed, clearly drained by the upcoming full moon. One by one, the three boys fell to Remus’s bed and snuggled within it. Covered by a thick blanket, bundled together as though in a practiced manner. Perfectly laid.
Except for one.
There, sat by Sirius’s bed, was James Potter. Ara’s hand wrapping his - fingers interlocked.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed.” He whispered as Ara’s eyelids fluttered; never quite opening under her fatigue.
“What future is there for me to celebrate, Jamie?” She murmured, voice soft and rough with sleep and previous overuse. “Better to be dead than anyone else’s.”
She didn’t need to say the name. They were all too aware of who her parents had promised her too. After the betrothal, the boys had gone to the library, pulling out old yearbooks to find evidence of the man that decided he wanted a child bride.
Olin Flint. Captain of the Quidditch team for two years, prefect for Slytherin. Always smirking in school photos, flashing those prominent teeth under his rat-like nose. James shivered at the thought of it all.
“We’ll fight him, Ara. We’ll break the contract.” James swore, squeezing her hand with his promise.
“Oh, Jamie,” her fingers shifted, clearly trying to latch on tighter as her eyes opened - only slightly. James was caught by the grey, brow furrowing as her own creased in pain. “If your aunt and uncle haven’t figured it by now, I suspect they never will.” Her eyes closed again. “I’ve already resigned myself to… well, however long I’ll get of this life. At least my brothers will be safe.”
Her breathing levelled again, the crease in her brow smoothing into slumber.
There were those words, the ones Ara Black used to justify everything. She would burn down the world, let it burn her too… just for their safety. Even when she hated them. Even when her twin helped him make her most personal business public.
Even when his actions had lead to her mother and her betrothed tightening the noose.
It was something James tried his hardest to understand. But he was an only child. And as much as he loved his friends, as much as he loved his parents and his aunt and uncle… he would never truly be able to comprehend her words. Her certainty of it all.
He had never met a person that cared, quite so much. Of course he loved her. If he was being honest with himself, really honest… James Potter had never loved anyone as much. Not like he did her.
In the end, James Potter did not sleep that night.
He kept her vigil, instead.