Born to Run
Baby, this town rips the bones from your back
It’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap
We gotta get out while we’re young
‘Cause tramps like us
Baby, we were born to run
3rd July 1976
To distract the twins from their trepidation, the girls spent the latter half of the journey to Kings Cross fiddling with their hair and smearing different products on their faces.
By the time they reached the station, Ara’s hair was pulled half-up - her eyes painted with with a red that made her hair seem bluer. Sirius had requested his usual look; a black liner around his eyes with loose glitter across his eyes and cheeks. It made his eyes pop.
They posed for pictures while Mary snapped away, accepting a polaroid in return for her keeping the rest. For a scrapbook of their teen years, she said. To keep the memories forever.
“You both sure you don’t just wanna come stay at mine?” James asked as they stood on the platform, glancing across at Pete and Remus.
“We’re sure.” Pete smiled sadly. “We’ll be round after a week, anyways. But mum needs a hand packing up the house before we move.”
“Then are you sure you don’t want us to come?” Ara queried, eyes soft as she looked to her best friend.
“You’ve got enough to deal with without my rubbish.” Pete smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. He glanced Remus’s way, an understanding between the pair.
Their mousy friend had been too secretive, recently.
But, at least, whatever he was hiding, Remus knew a chunk.
As the Marauders bid goodbyes, Ara caught a flash of golden white - eyes darting to spy as Pandora stalked towards her. Her fellow Wildflower kissed both of Ara’s cheeks with teary eyes, whispering that her back was too warm. Ara kept glancing behind them after that.
“What do you think Poppet will make for dinner?” James pondered aloud, swinging Ara’s bag over his shoulder before she could grab it - a twinkle in his eye at her scowl. With a little chuckle to himself, he sneaked her trunk before she could grab it and looked to Sirius to resume his thinking. “You know how much she loves it when we come home, I bet they’ll be a trifle.”
Sirius snorted. “Probably a massive chocolate cake. And jam tarts, treacle tarts - ooh and maybe those herby roast potatoes she makes that are just heaven.” He sighed wistfully as they began their little trek, filtering images of previous dinners at the Potters into Ara’s thoughts. She had to admit, it was a happy alternative to her other, far more frenzied and worried, thoughts about their family.
She scanned the station for Regulus, eyes whizzing over yellow scarves and ties as she searched for her baby brother. She didn’t like that he was nowhere to be seen. If there was one thing Ara could do, it was spot her brothers in a crowd. He was supposed to be meeting the Diggorys to use their Floo to the Potters. But the Diggorys were on the platform in a huddle looking worried, and Reg was not by their side.
“There’s mum!” James exclaimed, waving over the crowds. Ara’s eyes flickered in that direction instead, finding comfort in the warm face of Euphemia Potter as her eyes crinkled in a smile at the sight of her children. A hand snaked its way into hers and Ara looked up to see Sirius smiling softly at her, knowing all her anxieties.
“Just a few more steps. Nearly home.” He grinned lopsided, a habit he’d picked up from James, and Ara smiled lopsided back. They could do this. This wouldn’t be like in Hermione’s life, Sirius wouldn’t be hurt today. He wouldn’t have to run away - they could simply never go back.
She was so tired of not changing history.
They pushed lightly through the crowd - James taking the lead as he manoeuvred them through the throngs of students. So very close - only ten steps left.
James was already yelling over to his mum about how she didn’t have to scold him this time because he carried Ara’s things - his mum rolling her eyes lovingly. Sirius was loosening the grip on his trunk, ready to drop it by his feet for a moment while they’d discuss plans. But Ara… she couldn’t help but notice how easy this had all been. How simply they’d been able to make it to Euphemia.
It was too late, when the twins heard the pop of Apparation behind them. Ara spun to lock eyes with the steely gaze of her uncle as he grabbed onto her and Sirius - no time to even let out a squeak before the familiar tug of Apparation yanked her stomach.
All Euphemia could do was watch in horror as two of her children were stolen away.
And as the twins twisted into a new place, they gripped each other’s hands tightly - stumbling into place.
Blinking away disorientation, they spied the familiar wallpaper of the Grimmauld House entryway. The hanging elf heads and ugly dark curtains that blocked light in the dreary home.
Before either twin could think to confront their uncle, he shoved them further into the house. Taking advantage of their disorientation, he cast as they stumbled.
“Expelliarmus!” Their wands shot to his open hand as both tried to grip it. They spun to face him, only to see their uncle apparate away - their wands still gripped in his palm.
“Fuck.” Ara breathed.
“Yep.” Sirius nodded, eyes darting across the dour halls. “Do we… I mean, what now?”
“We find Regulus.” Ara decided. “We find him, and we get the hell out.”
It did not take long to find him. First, the twins followed the ruffles and yells - their path leading to the formal sitting room.
Their brother stood close to the door - Walburga and their father further back in the room, watching as their final children arrived. Both in their finest pureblood robes, styled to perfection. It merely showed their age, creases from stress and cruelty lining their faces prematurely.
“Reg!” Ara gasped, rushing to her brother and pulling him into her arms. He was too tall now to be truly comforted; his body twisting to hold his sister behind him and close. Sirius brought up the rear, a dangerous glint to his eyes.
“Why are we here?” He grit out.
“To finally do as you must.” Walburga replied primly, eyes cold as they roamed the makeup and muggle accessories the twins sported. “No more Potters, no more Aurors. Now, it’s just us and your responsibilities.”
“Is this because I broke that betrothal?” Ara spat, trying to move from behind Regulus. “I’d do it again, you heinous toad!”
“You broke nothing! Did you think that merely removing a bracelet would undo the Dark Lord’s words?” She tutted.
“You absolute cunt.” Ara bit out, eyes wide with manic fury.
Walburga merely lazily cast a stinging hex in reply - the red spark hitting Ara directly in the forehead. She stumbled into Sirius’s chest, his arms moving around her shoulders to hold her steady.
“You are not a child, anymore!” Walburga snapped. “After this summer, the two of you turn seventeen. And you have responsibilities! It’s time for you to stop this misbehaving, and do as the family dictates?”
“Then why am I here?” Regulus winced.
“Collateral.” She replied stiffly, not looking his way. “In a month, we are expecting a visit from the Dark Lord. I only need one child to offer him.”
“You cow!” Sirius spat.
“No! I am your mother!” Walburga shrieked. “I birthed you to do as this family needs. Not to gallivant with Mudbloods and half-breeds! You are the end of a very pure and long line and I will not see it broken. Not when the continuation of our family name replies on you.” She glared at each child. “One of you will be marked. And since you claim to be no longer betrothed, stupid girl, I am willing for it to be you.”
“Fuck you.” She spat. “None of us will sign up for that bullshite.”
“Give it a month.” Walburga rolled her eyes, spine stiff. “Husband, take them to Regulus’s room. They shan’t be leaving until a decision has been made.”
It was then, that the three siblings finally took view of their father. It was difficult in the presence of Walburga; so very shrill and attention demanding that their father faded into obscurity. They looked at him now. Finally, and truly saw him.
The man beside their mother simply wasn’t their father. Not anymore. He was some kind of shell. Hunched into himself, a mask of eerie calm slapped over his features. He didn’t appear to have a single independent thought in his head. And yet… his eyes were clear. This was no spell.
He was just a man that had been a coward for so long, he’d forgotten how to be a man.
It was the most heartbreaking sight they had ever seen. All it had taken for their father to finally give up, was for his children to leave.
He’d chased them away too.
Orion Black had never truly been a father to them, anyway. In just a few years, Charlus bloody Potter had cemented himself in their lives with such tenderness and loving that looking upon Orion Black was so very odd. Like seeing a thestral for the first time - realising there has always been this hollow creature pulling their carriage.
This man they had thought to be better, was… well, he had never been anything but pointless. One decent act did not make a man decent. It made him pathetic. Spineless as his forebears and unworthy of the Lordship he possessed.
At least Walburga had tried.
All Orion did was politics and silence.
So they too were mute as he led them through the hallway. They simply had nothing to say to him. Nothing to do; knowing their parents had ensured their gaol would be impenetrable. Even if wordless, their father would be their gaoler; their warden. There was no escape this time. No Potters to run off to.
They simply let Orion lock them in. And they held each other, falling asleep in a huddle of limbs and fear. The room, the same as it had always been. Untouched in their absence; a shrine to a childhood the three had hoped to flee.
A month of roaming the walls of Grimmauld Place, their skin paling and bones protruding as the survived on each other’s comfort and meagre food Kreacher left on the desk each mealtime. More water than they could drink; the only comfort he could give them. Every night when they tried to sleep, there would be clock chimes every hour - forcing the three of them back awake.
No books, not a single form of stimulation. Blocked windows and not a single clock in sight. They’d even taken their watches. It was a prison designed to degrade their spirit. To use the most inhumane methods to shatter their hope, to make them finally answer Walburga’s demand.
And they tried their very hardest not to let them. Sirius belted Queen lyrics at the doors - hoping their mother could hear it. Ara practiced new hairstyles on the three of them, hosting catwalks with the stuffy robes in their wardrobes; ripping the fabrics to form new outfits. Sirius turning into Padfoot and Ara slinking across the room in her cat form - cuddling up with Reg as he whispered about his dreams of being an animagus too. They laughed so very much in that first week. Able to keep their wits through their certainty of salvation. The Potters would be there for them, any day now. They’d always promised to.
It made sense that Ara was the first to stop believing. Though she loved them deeply, she had never truly trusted that she could be saved.
By the end second week, she took to lying in silence for hours on end; only coaxed out by the feel of a hand in hers or the gentle humming of a Bowie tune. Her only comment on their escape that no one would ever come for them. Not this time. Sirius was hardly better; struggling to help his sister while dealing with his own fear. The doubt of her mind infecting his. By the third week, they stopped speaking completely. Half their time spent as animals, curled in the centre of the bed.
Every day that passed was a reminder that they had not been saved. No one had come for them. All those promises, and for what? Legal guardianship over Ara hadn’t saved her fate.
Every day, they hoped their parents would let them out. And every day they huddled together to sleep; hoping maybe it would be tomorrow already.
Their parents wanted to break their spirits first. The siblings wished they could say it wasn’t working.
But they were tired. And hungry. And so very lonely.
Regulus was the toughest of them. He forced the twins to eat; coaxed them into brushing their hair and dancing about the room so they wouldn’t get sores from lying in bed all day. Made them be people for a bit, even though it hurt.
Even he had a breaking point.
And by the first week of the next month, he too lost his voice. His hands stilled in his siblings’s fur, and he stopped caring.
They didn’t eat for two days; simply lying on the bed; only moving to go to the bathroom or hold each other a little closer.
Unable to even recall why they were trapped there in the first place - of the demand their mother had made. Unmoving under Kreacher’s rousing and pleas. And then, as the siblings curled in feigned sleep, the crash of the bedroom door shook the trio to life.
Cloaked figures came into their room in the dead of night; ripping the Black siblings apart as they struggled to stay together. The twins half-feral despite finally being in their human forms, Regulus screaming murder as hands wrapped his middle and heaved him away.
The three siblings clawed and screamed as they were forced into different paths - the boys dragged towards the library, and Ara towards her mother’s preferred room of torture.
It was supposed to be her bedroom, now abandoned and dusty from its years of being forgotten. Her vanity and desk still sat under the window, a bookcase in the corner and a half dozen of drawings and diagrams stuck to the walls - faded and weathered by time.
Unkind hands released from her ribs and shoulders as the heiress of House Black was released onto the dusty floor; her knees slammed the tiling with a sharp inhale of a wince. Spinning cloaks slammed the door locked, and Ara was left in a room with one of her worst nightmares.
Walburga Black had always been a terror to her daughter. Now, with her severely tight hair that matched her severe, tight expression… she was more a ghoul of childhood bad dreams than a true person. To the sleep deprived and wearied teen, Walburga was little more than another spectre of her troubled past - now stood before her as flesh and blood and promised torture.
“Will you finally submit?” Walburga asked, her voice surprisingly even. “Your betrothed has been concerned, as has our Lord-”
“Your lord.” Ara grit out, forcing herself to her feet - unsteady as a newborn foal.
“Our Lord has seen something in you that I have never understood.” Her mother continued with eyes as sharp and bright as the blades that the women of the Black family so often carried. “Despite it all, you could be your brothers’ salvation.”
“How is servitude any form of salvation?” Ara spoke sourly, the words repulsive as they spat from her tongue. “House Black bows to no one, yet you demand we bend the knee for some wanker you went to school with!”
Walburga flinched, her eyes wide and manic.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out exactly who Tom Riddle was?” Ara almost laughed. “You’ll burn our legacy, and for what? Some fool’s favour?”
“Everything I do, I do for love of this family.” Walburga glared, her pale skin pinked under the weight of her anger.
“You never loved us.” Ara spoke simply, fist clenched at her sides as the teen forced her voice to stay level. “I don’t know if you could even feel such a thing.”
“You’re foolish if you think I have not loved you!” Walburga snapped. “I did as Blacks do. I did my duty!”
“Your duty?” Ara half-cackled back - all calm lost. “How is torturing your children a duty?”
“It’s what my mother did too!” She screamed, voice so awfully young against her wrinkled face. And it froze Ara. “Do you think I did this all on a whim? Do you think this is any different to how it has always been? Even the Longbottoms throw their children from high ledges to test their magic! My mother used to whip me until I showed the signs.”
“Then why did you continue?” She roared in reply, wiping tears away unkindly.
“Because you were never how a Black should be.” Her mother sighed. “I spent… it took me years to get Orion to let me make my own decisions. Years of dealing with mistress after mistress before he took me to bed and we finally had children. Sirius was meant to be the end of it all. You were supposed to be a boy! But a daughter is a great shame, and a spare was demanded of us. I know I am nothing but a monster to you, but it is what I had to be.”
Walburga Black had been her, once, hadn’t she? It was a bitter revelation. In a time before a Dark Lord pressing and pushing for soldiers and subjects… Walburga had been a mad teenage girl with a legacy she could not escape. Married to a cousin and left in a house she hated in a city she hardly knew.
She had been an eldest daughter, almost destined for greatness were it not for what did not hang between her legs. Just another girl, followed by two brothers.
Ara wondered if she’d sung them to sleep too. As she had done for Sirius and Regulus, had her mother held her little brothers close and whispered that it would be alright? That thanks to their luck of the draw, they wouldn’t be betrothed or made to pop out heirs, that they could marry later and find their own careers and paths. Had she kissed their bruises, too? Curled up beside her little brothers, closest to the door in case of parental intervention.
“Cygnus used to beat Bellatrix bloody, every time she refused to write back Lestrange.” Her mother continued, voice tainted with acidity and so many wasted dreams. “Every time she would not use Dark magic, he would demonstrate on Andromeda until she acquiesced on whatever muggle he’d found. I wanted… I wanted you to fight back. I wanted you to scream and show me that you were a Black witch too. But you aren’t. You never were. Your brothers are as loyal and vicious as they were raised to be, but never for me. No. You took every teaching and you thrust it their way, but you never accepted them. Not truly.”
“You think I didn’t?” She laughed bitterly, so very devoid of humour. “They call me the Mad Heiress. They call me Angry Ara. I am exactly as you raised me. I am every bit as clawing and violent as you designed.” She bit out. “But my brothers… they are not your making. I am. I have always been the goddamn heir to this tainted House, and I will see it through.”
“Then say yes!” Walburga snapped, eyes desperate. “Just say yes!”
“I will not sign my life away!” Ara spat, venom to her words. It surprised her, that after a month of silence she could find such energy. “Not when it solves nothing! This will destroy our family, it will destroy my brothers.”
“If not you, it will be one of them. Spare their fate.”
“Like it spared Narcissa that Bellatrix joined?” She retorted. “I will not sport that ugly mark, and I will not marry any man you pick! Just let us go.”
“You think this is a choice?” She hissed. “None of us ever had that privilege. Either submit, or it just gets passed on. You think Narcissa stood a chance with hair that blonde in a family named Black?” Her breath hitched on the name as though it were some joke Ara was not privy to. Something only the elder generation knew, that Walburga found foul and shameful. “With Andromeda gone, we were lucky Cygnus didn’t kill the girl to purify the family! It comes down to us! You might be eldest, but you are not the only heir.”
“Don’t you dare!” Ara fought against her mother, desperate to find her brothers. “They are not yours!”
“I birthed them!”
“And I raised them!” Ara screamed, shaking from the force of her words. “I sang them to sleep and I kissed their bruises and told them that I loved them because you didn’t! Damn the Black family way of rearing children! I kept those boys alive, my entire life, I kept them safe from you! Where’s the gratitude, huh? Where’s the thank you for my hard work? I did your job!”
“How dare you?” Her eyes narrowed, lightning crackling in the stormy grey.
“How dare you!” Ara bit back. “Time and time again we have proved that we want nothing to do with you. Not with this family, this bloody House! I spent fifteen years agreeing that I would do as you said, to save my brothers, as long as I got my childhood. But you tried to take that too! You promised me! You promised I’d have until I was seventeen!” Her voice broke, hand reaching to shakily wipe tears from her cheeks. “We have nothing left to give you, and nothing left to say. You are no mother of ours.”
“Crucio!” Walburga screamed, casting again and again and again at the hunkered form of her daughter. Unleashing years of resentment - crackling hatred and Black madness crackling in each spell as it shredded through Ara.
And she screamed.
Walburga shut her eyes for a moment, finally having accomplished a goal she did not know she had.
All those years, all that torment. And Ara had never given in. Never screamed, never let Walburga truly break her beyond empty words. Not after she’d broken her, a decade ago.
But she’d done it this time. Convulsing as hoarse screams escaped her gritted teeth. And it was too much to bear. To finally realise her true goal, that her madness had won so many years ago. That this daughter of hers was exactly the witch she had raised her to be.
Same nose, same eyes, same ferocity that clung to Walburga Black.
All those years… and she had done exactly what she had always feared. She had raised her daughter exactly as her mother raised her. To be the exact same Mad Heiress that Walburga had once been.
It was the biggest lie of the House Black. The biggest myth was that they did not love their children. Of course they did.
It took love and envy in perfect coordination to raise their children to become themselves.
No wonder she had always hated her Ara. She had always hated herself, after all.
So when Olin Flint ripped open the door and strode through, a wicked glint in his cold eyes - she let out a sigh. Because she had nothing left to do.
Sirius or her little Heir would be most likely to give up. Especially with the knowledge of their sister’s breaking. Ara might agree to anything anything right now, and the thought terrified her. After years of pressure, of backroom deals and screaming arguments; Walburga had won.
And it was a hollow victory.
“How goes it here?” Flint grinned.
“She simply won’t cooperate.” Walburga huffed, eyes fixed on Ara on the floor - forcing herself to shaky feet despite the fear in her eyes.
“Well then, perhaps I should step in?” Flint spoke dangerously, a wicked glint in his eyes. Casting wordlessly, Olin flicked his wand; Ara petrified in place in an instant. He moved closer to Ara, her eyes widening in terror as he reached her, bending slightly to run a cold fine across her cheek - smiling as she flinched.
“By all means.” He mother waved a hand dismissively, turning and fleeing the room at once.
I’m so sorry, Sirius, Ara whispered over the bond before shutting it down and blocking her twin from witnessing this moment.
In his separate room of captivity, he screamed - begging his father to let him go, warning them that Ara wasn’t safe. For a second, he could have sworn he saw guilt and regret in his father’s eyes; but it was soon crushed by a cold mask of indifference as his mother entered the room.
Regulus however, looked petrified. As his mother began casting, he slipped from the room and made his way to his sister, half-sprinting through the Halls of his home.
Desperation flooded his thoughts as he tripped over carpet - feet carrying him down the hallway toward the place he knew his sister would be.
And Merlin, she had saved him more times than he could count. It was not his nature to let it be; he would not be a coward today. He was a Hufflepuff. Loyalty was his greatest trait.
It was his saving grace.
So when Regulus reached the door, his hands fumbled the doorknob, feeling the lock shudder under the weight of his body as he tried to shove the door undone. He forced his weight against it again; continuing until the frame creaked dangerously. Wishing he had his wand on him as he punched the lock, trying to force it apart.
Over the door of his sister’s bedroom, Mipsy’s small head watched over the hallway. He shuddered as he glanced at the decapitated elf head, eyes pausing on the hint of colour in her straw-like hair. Her ribbon this year was blue. A faint, almost turquoise shade. Mipsy would have loved it.
“You took off my gift. How dare you!” A muffled scream broke out and Reg tried again to unlock the door. “I’ll give you a gift you can’t ever remove.”
There was another scream, cut out quickly by a muffled cry.
With a final, great heave - the door ripped open; wood splintering as the frame itself snapped in half. Magic crackled around the younger Black as he marched in, eyes stormy as he took in the sight of his twin - caught under Flint on the wooden floor.
Her lip was bloody, teeth marks embedded in her flesh.
Her shirt torn open, brassier exposed and sliced marks across her collarbone - blood dripping onto the fabric.
“Enough! My mother will not tolerate you sullying her before marriage.” He was shocked at the confidence of his voice.
Clearly, so was Flint. He froze in place, staring at Regulus as though he had never seen him before. The moment was over quickly, however, the man’s face turning to a sneer as he pulled Ara’s hair to inspect her face.
“It’s pointless to interfere. She’ll receive a firm hand once we’re wed.”
“Exactly. Once you’re wed.” The two held eyes for a moment; Reg narrowing his at the older man’s gleam.
“Very well.” Flint spoke, realising he would not win this battle of wills with a teenager.
He fled the room with a single look to Ara.
And as soon as he was out of sight, Regulus was on the floor beside his sister. Pulling her into his arms; cradling her close as he brushed the hair from her face.
Her eyes were flickering, struggling to open. Fingers twitching as she tried to hold on. The crackle that shook her body - lightning in the blood from rounds of cruciatus.
“Rest for a bit, Hermie.” Regulus whispered, soothing the side of Ara’s face. “I’ve got you, I’m here.”
“Run.” She horsed, desperately trying to keep awake. “Save yourself.”
“And leave you and the twat to die? Piss off.” Regulus stroked her cheek. “We’re getting out of this. I’m getting you out.”
“That’s a nice dream to have-” her voice faded, eyes finally ceasing their flickering as her body slumped into his hold.
He moved his ear to her face, crumbling with relief at the feel of her shallow breath on his cheek.
With that, he pulled her into his arms - careful not to jostle her too severely.
Lifting her as he stood, eyes flicking around the room, caught on a glitter on the ground.
There, on the ground by the table, lay a woven blueish thread. Regulus adjusted Ara in his grasp, bending to inspect it. In the pale light, he spied the mix of shades; some blue, some green. Memories of the first birthday he’d ever witnessed flooded to his mind; the ghost of a smile haunting his lips. The feel of the necklace he’d received that day grew stronger.
Picking up the cut string, Reg stuffed it in his trouser pocket, eager to try and mend later. Maybe Pandora remembered where she’d bought the bracelets? He could replace it.
And then, with all the courage he could find, the teenager forced his feet through the dark halls of his childhood home, all to find the monster he knew could make this finally cease.
Regulus half-dragged his sister into the room - most of her weight pressed against his side. His shirt was wet with her blood; his hands covered in it. His mother was stood by Aunt Dru, the two in rapid discussion. Flint stood by Malfoy and Nott; Bella wringing her hands behind them. Father was sat behind his desk, face expressionless.
That is, until the door hit the wall harshly and all eyes shot to face the Black siblings. The look of absolute regret on his father’s face, the masks his mother and aunt put up were nothing compared to the sick grin that overtook Flint’s features.
Bella rushed towards them, distracting the younger boy - her eyes wide with crazed panic - placing her hands on the sides of Ara’s face to check over her. She winced at the sight, seeing her cousin barely register the hands on her face. Her thumb ran along the blood across her lip and Ara flinched away - even in her devastated state. With that, the panic turned to cold fury; it was brittle and would rip if anyone dared to get too close. To Regulus, it was the most terrifying thing to witness.
The woman turned to the group of three men and narrowed her eyes.
“Who bit her?” Bella ground out the words, expression dangerous as she scanned the men of the group. At least Malfoy and Nott had the decency to look afraid. Flint merely glanced over, almost demure in his pride.
The Dark Lord looked towards them with a mournful gaze, striding over to help Regulus bring his sister to an armchair that had been transfigured into a fainting couch. He placed her down gently, and ran his wand over her, clearly dissatisfied with the outcome.
In his rare meetings with the man his parents wanted to sell their souls to, he had always seemed an unworldly figure. The Lord come to save them all, with his pale as ice skin and reddish eyes. Akin to a marble sculpture brought to life; eerily beautiful. Not someone tangible, someone gently brushing the hair away from his sister’s face and looking at her wounds with disappointment. His eyes trailed along her body, finally stopping as he grasped her shirt and pulled it aside to reveal the words carved into her flesh.
The silence that followed in the wake was physically shrinking. Everyone hunched in on themselves, as their Lord ran a finger over the cuts, spelling it out silently. Without warning, he sprung to be fully stood and slipped his wand from his sleeve - spinning to face Flint.
“What is this?” The Dark Lord hissed towards the man, a wordless crucio bringing Flint to his knees. The man howled out, far louder than Ara ever had under the curse.
“You gave her to me, my Lord!” The man coughed out.
“To sire heirs, not abuse as you please.” He cast another Cruciatus. “That is how we treat Mudbloods and half-breed vermin unworthy of magic. Not how we treat a Pureblooded heiress.”
“My Lord?”
“No, Olin. This is simply an intolerable gesture.” He cast anew. “I nearby rescind my acceptance of your terms and nullify this betrothal.”
The crackle of magic was felt by all in the room. A magical contract being shredded to pieces, as the man guilty for it howled in pain on the floor.
He had wet himself.
Reg hoped he was embarrassed. He hoped the others in the cause never forgot it.
“I will punish you appropriately later.”
The man, though as he glided towards Regulus’s sister he felt more than just mortal, made his way to kneel by Ara’s side. The Dark Lord placed a hand, such a gentle touch, upon her cheek. A thumb brushed the blush.
“Miss Black?” He spoke softly. “Ara?”
Her eyes fluttered, shoulder tensing briefly - though quick to relax, too tired to stress - as Ara Black blinked back to reality.
“Tom?” She muttered faintly, a furrow faint in her brow that the Dark Lord was quick to brush his thumb across to smooth the crease.
“You betrothed has hurt you terribly.” He whispered to her, tucking a curl behind her ear. She winced at the action, too feeble to swat his hand away. Besides, she was so very pained and his voice sounded so very gentle. Perhaps she would allow herself this moment of weakness. And so, she let Voldemort - the man whose entire plan was to burn their world down - stroke her face softly as he sighed. “Did you know our wands share cores from the same bird?”
She blinked at him in shock, memories of Ollivander’s words almost fresh in her mind.
‘The other wand… I am not certain of it’s owner now, but he was a powerful boy.’
“Two feathers from the same phoenix,” he continued; those empty eyes dragging her in. “I’ve spent a long time trying to make sense of my legacy. If finding you isn’t a sign, what else is?” He laughed humourlessly.
“What are you trying to say?” She winced out, words breathy and winded. Her ribs were definitely broken. He took note with a flicker of glare towards the crumpled body of her former betrothed.
“I have secured my everlasting future. But I wish for a legacy too. I am like every other man from a great House; I seek an heir.” He brushed her hair from her face. “Join me, and I’ll make you my wife. No one will ever hurt you again.”
Her eyes flickered across the room, to her family. Reg stood completely still - completely startled and utterly befuddled.
But Bella… she looked absolutely petrified. As her eyes met Ara’s, she shook her head ever so slightly - eyes wide with pleading.
“Will you let my brothers go?” Ara breathed out, returning her gaze to the Dark Lord.
“Of course.” He soothed, smiling so oddly gently down at her. His fingers traced the side of her face; Ara’s eyes flickering softly at the soothing. She reached to touch his cheek - all her strength in the movement. His skin was cool, rough from a five o’clock shadow. In the dim yellow light, he nearly looked human. Worse, he nearly looked kind. “If you accept the Mark, I will let them be. I need only you. Once you’re well, we can arrange events further.”
Ara looked to her brother and cousin in silent apology, hoping they’d forgive her naivety as her hand slipped away.
“Swear to me that if you Mark me, they will never be Marked.” Ara looked into the man’s red eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly.
“I swear on my magic.” He vowed, a gasp sounding in his soldiers at the serious oath he had undertaken for a teenager. The air in the room crackled, magic taking his words in and weighing them justly. It was accepted.
Ara, despite her exhaustion, forced her right hand to move once more - pulling her left sleeve up to her elbow.
“I don’t want him to see.” She spoke, eyes flicking to Bella. The witch nodded, gently ushering Regulus away; his eyes wide and dazed as he let her move him. She barely lingered a second at the door - the look she gave unforgettable. It was one of utter sorrow. No judgement, but bitter understanding. She had made the same choice, after all.
——
It was half an hour before Ara was finally brought to her twin - carried in the arms of her first betrothed; Lord Nott. He winced at the sight of Sirius, releasing Ara into the boy’s grasp with careful ease.
“Rest assured,” the older wizard drawled, “Flint will not be welcomed back into the fold. Not after this.” With that, he departed with a grim look.
The girl slipped further into Sirius’s hold, eyes blinking without vision as she let out a hint of laughter. Like a bubble of a giggle, forced through her ragged throat, as Ara forced a trembling hand to find that of her twin. His fingers clutched her skin, pressed nails beside a smudge of black and blood.
“What did you do?” His voice was hoarse from screaming, shallow and bitter as he held her left arm.
“I had to do it.” She whispered, unseeing eyes finding his as they implored him so desperately. “Better me than you both.”
“Please tell me that’s all.”
“He wanted me to marry him.”
“Who?”
“You know who.” She deadpanned despite her clear pain.
“Please say you didn’t…” he trailed off, voice freezing in his throat as he tried to force the words out.
“I let him Mark me so you both could be free. So we had time before he came to ask again.”
Memories leeched from her side of the bond through to his - all greyed and darkened along the edges.
“I’ve spent my whole youth waiting to marry that wizard, and you’ve only just broken it apart,” she hoarsed, arm rested beside Tom Riddle’s - Mark to bare flesh. His eyes so very focused on hers; damn all the rest in the room. “I need to think. I can’t… I don’t want to marry a man over double my age.”
“We can discuss it, in time.” He nodded. “One must be allowed the frivolities of youth, and the freedom to court before settling down.”
“Really? Do you promise?”
“I will give you time, little one. Time to heal, and time to grow into your magic. I can help you to learn incredible things. All I need of your family, is one to stay.”
“Please Ara,” Sirius’s hands clutched at the fronts of her robes - his fingers tugging at the hem desperately as he shook her from the memory. “Please let me stay.”
“No Sirius, no.” She shook her head like a child. Incredulous eyes at the idea of ever leaving him behind. “They won’t stop at torturing us. Let this have meant something.” She forced her spine to straighten, forced her arms to raise and placed her hands on the sides of his face; desperate for her twin to please just follow her.
“It does. They can’t Mark me. I’ll be alright.” A tear slipped as he blinked. She moved to catch it with her thumb, flicking it away.
“It won’t be enough. They won’t give you the chance to disobey too.”
“But if I leave, they’ll never let you go. Mother will want us all back. If one stays… the other two have a better chance. And Reg won’t cope here.” He left the words unspoken. That he would be trapped so the other two might just survive, and he would not know if he had succeeded. That if Reg stayed, if sweet and gentle Regulus was left behind, his chances would be worse. He would be the easiest to turn.
“I’m not leaving you here.” She refused, shaking her head again, failing to notice how the act prompted her eyes to roll back slightly. Sirius scanned her uneven pupils and sighed worriedly. A concussion to add to her tally of injuries.
“We don’t have a choice. We turn seventeen in four months. If you stay, you won’t ever escape. They’ll marry you to that shit and you’ll never be free again.”
“Bullshit.” She sobbed. “Please, Sirius. Please don’t make me leave you.”
“We don’t have a choice. You can’t stay here and neither can Reg.” He laughed weakly, tears blurring his vision. “And I’ll be okay here. I’m okay. As long as you’re safe.”
“Pads.”
“Please let me look after my big sister for a change. Let me make it up to you. Please just… let me save you and then you can save me. They won’t hurt me.” He implored.
Her eyes screwed shut for a moment as Ara let out a long sigh of understanding.
In another life, her brother had run. He’d fled Grimmauld and never looked back. Not even for Reg.
In this one… he would sacrifice himself, just to apologise for his worst act. For shattering her secrets that night in March, over a year ago. For the fact that his plot had led to their mother knowing Ara’s sin with Remus. For the cruelty of Flint in the aftermath.
“I forgive you.” She acquiesced, clearly too dizzy to think any longer. They had maybe another minute before someone came to check up on them. A minute to grab Reg and run. And damn it all, she was going to get her twin in that Floo with her. Somehow. “I think I’m… forgive me?” She whispered.
Sirius blinked at her, brow contorting as he watched her eyes roll and body droop into his hold. Her mind quietened and he willed himself not to feel fear as he pulled them to stand - Ara safe in his arms. He had one task, one final job.
Even if it killed him, he’d keep his sister alive. He’d keep both his siblings together.
The halls of Grimmauld were dim and eerie as he silently carried his twin through the dank and dreary place. Careful as he crossed corners - ears pricking at each trace of footstep and mutter from the floor below.
He found Regulus in the old school room, pounding on the door with desperate please. Without thought, did Sirius Black rip the lock undone; the wood splintering and cracking under the force of his magic.
Inside, faintly bloodied and frenzied, did his brother fall to his knees in terror - a flinch before the boy related at the sight of his siblings.
“Sirius!” He gasped.
The word seemed to spark Ara back to reality, as her silver eyes flew open and her stance strengthened. Her eyes roamed across Regulus with rapid worry, settling upon his fist clutched against his chest.
“Did they hurt you?” She shuddered, weakly reaching towards him.
“I think I broke my hand, getting you out.”
“Effie will fix it. Come on, we haven’t got time.” Ara pleaded, feeling her vision blacken briefly as she sunk deeper into Sirius’s hold.
The boys shared a single look, nodding to each other minutely as Sirius extended his free hand and helped his brother to his feet.
“We need to get to the Floo.” Sirius grit out as he adjusted Ara into Regulus’s hold - the girl’s eyes fluttering as she twitched and winced. The younger sibling nodded vigorously, his voice hoarse but clear as he called out:
“Kreacher, please!” Reg gasped, eyes wide and desperate.
The house elf blinked to their side - his own gaze equally as frantic as that of his charges.
“Quick, quick!” Kreacher gravelled; the elf’s hands reached for the children, gripping their legs as he apparated the trio towards the Floo. There were screams from above, yells of their names, of curses and worries as the house elf thrust the three towards the Floo. Regulus pulled Ara’s arms higher around his shoulders, clutching at her cold skin as he looked to his elder brother.
“I’ll be right after you.” Sirius reassured him, though the words were fake. “The Floo can’t fit all of us at once.”
“You have to promise me.” Regulus pleaded as his brother thrust the powder into his palm. There were footfalls getting closer - thundering footsteps as what sounded like a half dozen people sprinted towards their location.
There just… there simply wasn’t the time for Sirius to say all he wished to say.
“I love you, Reg.” He spoke instead. “I’m really proud to call you my brother.”
“Siri…”
A slam sounded, barely down the corridor from them - it pulled their attention with a shudder of their hearts and spines. With great fear did the brothers meet eyes anew.
“You get here out of here, alright? You both get the fuck away, and I’ll find a way to meet you. I promise.”
With an uneasy nod, the youngest Black let himself be pushed back into the fireplace. His eyes stayed on his brother, soft and afraid.
“I love you too.” He promised with a nod, eyes flicking to the “Potter Manor!” Regulus hoarsed out, throwing the Floo powder weakly as he tried to hold up the dead weight of his sister.
It was a second too late. For, as the green roared to life, as did the door fling undone. Three familiar faces, three failed parents met their eyes as the eldest Black brother spun to meet his fate. He watched the wand rise, tense in preparation, though he did not spy just where the aim would sing.
“Crucio!” Walburga screamed, pointing her wand towards the wretch of her womb. Her aim shot clear but not true - hitting Reg in the split second before the Floo flared to life and sent them away.
His screams would haunt his siblings for the rest of their lives. His first experience with the curse they knew too well.
Their last glimpse of Sirius being the boy lunging for their mother as the flames roared to life.
The siblings fell from the Floo; collapsing onto the floor. Ara clutched her brother, strength finding her as she wrapped an arm around his side and forced herself onto her feet. To move, despite the unbearable pain.
“PLEASE HELP!” She screamed through the halls, her voice horse and raw from its previous overuse. She wiped blood from her eyes and repositioned her brother as she searched for any of the Manor’s inhabitants. “JAMIE! CHARLUS! PLEASE!” She sobbed, foot catching on a tile of the floor and sending her skidding. The thump of her back against the floor was irrelevant, she had to keep her brother alive.
Frantically, she checked over him again, before pulling him to her lap and cradling him to her. All she could do was repeat his name like a mantra, begging him to wake up.
——
6th August 1976
“PLEASE HELP!”
James Potter bolted upright, all traces of sleep gone. He grabbed his glasses from the nightstand; scanning his room with bleary confusion. It was dark out, probably the middle of the night. And Ara was screaming for help but he couldn’t tell if he was still dreaming.
“JAMIE! CHARLUS! PLEASE!”
This was not a dream.
He was out of the bed instantly, sprinting down the familiar halls of his home as he searched for the origin. In his journey, he skidded into his parents and uncle - all wide eyed and frantic, in sleepy disarray.
From that, his father took the lead. James hardly kept track of where they were, only blindly running after his dad.
It was in the Main Hall of their home that the three Potters found the source of the screams.
Ara Hermione Black sat on her knees, arms like wings around her brother as she held his crumpled form to hers; a guardian angel apologising to her fallen kin. There was smeared blood on the floor beside them, as if she had fallen. Frankly, there was blood everywhere. It clung to the Black siblings like tar, dripping down Ara’s face like tears as she rocked her brother and whispered his name. There was a brutal beauty to it. Akin to some Muggle Renaissance painting; the wounded praying to survive. The dim orange lights of the room glowed across the gold accents and blues - fire across their backs. He would never be able to get that image out of his mind. It would haunt him for years to come, always there when he worried for Ara’s safety. This night could never be anything more than the worst night of his life, surely?
With no hesitation, the Potters rushed to their side - Euphemia casting a diagnostic on Regulus as Charlus and Fleamont helped Ara to lift him and carry him to a spare room nearby. Fleamont moved the limp boy into his arms and told James to help Ara. Without a thought, James swung an arm under her arms and hooked it around her waist, helping keep her upright as they made their way over. He was not blind to how her body twitched and shook with curse aftereffects.
“What happened? Where’s Sirius?” He ground out, too enraged to be soft right now. He looked to Ara, whose head was downturned slightly - her curly locks frizzled by the blood that coated them. Her head tilted towards him and it was all he could do not to wince at the sight. The cut across her forehead wasn’t as severe as it had seemed from the blood - a thin scratch that would scar with spells. It was the rest that was worse. Her nose ring had been ripped straight from her nose, blood crusting around her nostril. Her cheek sported a dark red bruise as if she had been punched. And her lips… there was a split to the upper one, but it paled compared to the bloody bite mark across her lower lip. He was not foolish enough to not know who had done that.
Eyes like storm clouds; raining tears onto her cheeks.
“Ask Dorea to check her tapestry.” She bit out, voice scratchy and weak. James frowned, confused, but before he could ask what she meant, they had arrived in the spare room and Ara was forcing herself to Regulus’s side. The teens helped the older Potters get Regulus on a bed and stood back - watching as the adults set to work. Euphemia started casting spells while Fleamont called Mipsy and requested bandages and supplies. The Elf’s eyes bugged at the scene but she left and returned quickly.
In the frenzy, none of the Potters noticed as Ara pulled backward, the weight of the day catching her. She was completely exhausted. She had been stripped bare to her soul and then forced the pieces together to get her brother to safety. But he was safe now.
She found a chair, slumping down on it as her legs finally gave up.
It was alright. She could hear the Potters rushing at Reg’s side, fixing him. He would be alright.
“Ara.” She heard him croak. He was alive. He’d help Sirius for her.
Everything is going to be alright. I promise you, Sirius. I swear it, she called to afar, feeling her twin’s desperation. You’ll be alright.
Ara?
She felt the final tear escaped the corner of her eye as she sighed in relief. A final breath.
When she opened her eyes next, the frenzy felt diminished. Her body felt light - as though the years of cruciatus were washed away. She felt newborn.
“Hello.” Ara blinked once, looking up at the kindest face she had ever seen. A dark skinned woman knelt by her chair, black eyes full of sympathy and loving. Donning simply black clothes; a vest and jeans, her only jewellery a pendant hanging low on her chest. There was an odd feeling of faith in Ara’s gut. As though this woman - though she did not recognise her face - was so totally familiar and trustworthy. She held a hand out - and Ara took it hesitantly. With that, the woman smiled and gripped her hand, rubbing a soft thumb over her knuckles.
“Hello?” Ara replied, shifting to face the woman properly. “What’s happening?”
The woman offered her a delicate smile, eyes watery.
“Oh little one.” She offered a watery smile. “Would you care to walk with me?”
She stood, and Ara stood with her, letting the woman lead her through the halls of the Potter Manor.
“Who are you?” The teen asked - eyes burning with curiosity and fear. Please don’t let me be gone, please don’t let me be gone.
“When the first living thing existed, I was there.” The woman smiled, eyes glazed in some fond memory. “When the last living thing dies, I’ll put the chairs on the table, turn out the lights, and lock the universe behind me when I leave.”
“Death?” Ara whispered, prompting a little giggle from the woman. Well, from Death herself. She stopped walking and turned to face Death, watching her eyes flicker from the Manor to her scarred face.
“It’s one of my names. I have been angels and reapers too. Men and women and children and concepts in the cosmos.” She stepped closer. “But my favourite form has always been my first, and most simple. I remember last time, you were burning with questions. Today, I suspect you will only have few.”
“I’ve met you before?”
“Yes. But I forgive your ignorance. You see, I stole away the memory to protect your mind.”
“Can I get it back?”
“I’m afraid not yet. But, this time, I can send you back with memory of this. And I can heal the gaps in your mind.” She soothed. “I will give you back your previous life.”
“Why?”
“It is time you face your past. It is time to put away your ignorance, and accept the truth of your situation.” Death smiled sorrowfully, placing a gentle hand on her cheek like she did for her brothers. “I am sorry, little one, for this burden is more than any human should face.”
“Can’t I stay here?” She didn’t know why she’d asked. Except, she did. The idea of not having to continue… it was intoxicating. But, she suspected it was also foolish.
“No. Not yet, anyways. I should not have claimed you as I did now, but I’m selfish. I wanted to give you your best chance at life, and I figured this would be it.”
“How?”
“You were not meant to be in this time. My brothers and sisters did not approve of my decision to place you here, they thought me cruel for prolonging your suffering.” She sniffed. “But I have seen too many futures of blood and decay to not send through magic’s best chance. Dear girl, you were made to break chains and restore honour. You are the heart of a dying star, and all of its power too.”
“What if I don’t want to be?”
“I know. But I cannot take you before your time, and I cannot stop your destiny.”
“I’ve never much believed in divination.”
“Divination is not destiny. You are not a Seer, after all. And your destiny is still intact.” She wiped a tear from Ara’s eye. “Please save them all. I cannot reap that many souls again. I will not go to your battle grounds and find both sides waiting for me. I refuse.”
“I promise to try.”
“Thank you. I will see you again, in the birth of a new decade. We can discuss your earlier query then.” She kissed her forehead, and Ara’s eyes blinked open to see an unfamiliar face.
“Oh thank Merlin.” The woman breathed. “She’s alive!” She exclaimed. Ara barely listened, forcing herself up despite the woman’s hands on her, trying to hold her down. She was still in that room, and her brother was still on that bed.
She ignored the new voices, the feeling of hands trying to hold her and continued trying to force her way to Regulus’s bed.
She managed to rip free, dragging her broken body to his bedside - finally sighing with relief as she grasped his hand and even in his unconscious state, he gripped on tight.
Knowing her baby brother was alright, she could finally sleep; her Marked arm still covered and resting on the bed.
In her fall, her shirt had flung open anew, the carvings across her collarbone bare and on display.
Some of the blood had dried and flaked away. Enough that a pattern began to emerge.
Two words, carved into her skin.
SEMPER FIDELIS **
**(always faithful, a wedding vow)