The Altar of the Phoenix

When it comes to being lucky, she’s cursed me

When it comes to loving me, she’s worst

I still want you by my side

Just to help me dry the tears that I’ve cried

And I’m sure gonna give you a try

13th August 1976

One day, three siblings cheated Death out of company. Three rewards designed to wear them down, until Death could claim them, finally. Two driven mad by grief, but never the first. 

The eldest, a combative and loyal sister, would always be the first to go. Always the first to fall, victim to her own desperate clawing for salvation. To be free, of whatever it was that tied her to life. Whether bond or betrothal, love or lust, hope or hopelessness. 

That was the thing with wishing of Death. 

She had no need to be cruel. No need to be calloused or unyielding. 

Everyone came to her, in the end. 

Everyone. 

——

None of the Potters had known what to say once they’d finally uncovered Ara’s arm. Effie had burst into tears and fled the room, inconsolable for the next two days as she cared for Regulus. James had joined her in his shock, helping the boy recover as he tried not to think of the girl he loved. 

In that time, Dorea had gone into a flood of study. Exploring ways to remove the Dark Mark, how to stop its link to Voldemort. Fleamont had joined; feeling so very useless as he brewed potions and planned spells. 

Charlus had done as he always did. He looked after his child. He cleaned the Mark, wiping dried blood and dust and wrapping it in a clean bandage. Tucked her in bed soundly, taking up guard in the chair beside her. Waiting for the others to come around. 

It took a bit, but soon they did. 

Regulus came first - finally free from meetings with Aurors and signing his name as Charlus and Dorea’s ward. He sat by his sister’s side for days - her thin hand wrapped within his own. Soft tunes playing from her turntable as he gossiped and chatted and filled the silence. Desperate to give her some form of comfort in her long slumber; to comfort himself too, really. 

He and Charlus stayed with her during the day. But at night… they all knew that James stayed with her at night, so she wouldn’t be alone. 

At night, Charlus found himself preoccupied with another child in his charge. Regulus had begun to have nightmares; awful, wretched things that left him crying in his slumber. So Charlus spent his evenings in the library - a few doors away from those three rooms that belonged to his children. Three rooms, two more for storage than slumber. 

Regulus slept in his sister’s bed while she slept in the guest room, a floor below. And when he woke in howling tears, it was Charlus that came to his side and soothed him. 

“He didn’t want me.” Reg had sobbed in relief one night, crumbling into Charlus’s arms.

In another universe, a different Regulus would have been insulted and discounted. Too ambitious to spot the cliff at the end of his climb. But this Reg was not him. His relief far outweighed any other feeling. 

This Regulus had grown up loved. Not with some imitation of it that was dependant on his submission and loyalty or on his disobedience and similarity; instead, a refreshing kind of love. Like the first cool sip of water on a warm summer morning from a glass brought to his bedside. The feel of socks that were resting by the fire on a cool winter’s night, like a blanket draped kindly around his shoulders.

An accepting and whole kind of love. Nurturing and reassuring.

His defining trait was not ambition or cunning. It was his loyalty, and his kindness.

Still, he was changed by that summer. The little boy that had lingered on, shielded and fed by the love of his sister… well, how could it survive when she almost didn’t? How could he call himself a man, when he had let his sister be Marked in his place? 

And how could Charlus possibly fix it, when his daughter wouldn’t wake to tell his son just how wrong he was about himself? 

——

James Potter had always been the one to fix problems. 

When Sirius and Ara were fighting, it was him that got them to sort it out. When Remus was sick, he would bring chocolate and duplicates of notes from whoever had taken them best that day. He held Pete when he cried about his dad, about the fear of leaving his mother behind. 

With the turmoil of his mind, it made him feel right. Proper, like a person. Helpful. 

But he could not fix a coma. He could not march down to Grimmauld and get his best mate out, certainly not when the Aurors could not enter the home. It felt a little silly that he wanted to - foolish to believe himself strong enough for such an endeavour. Yet… he could not escape that awful sense of contrition. 

Because here he was, clutching the still hand of the girl he loved, knowing he could not save her twin from the family that had left her in this state. He had not saved her fate of her betrothed marking her as his. 

James Potter felt truly useless in a way he had never felt before. 

Her hair had begun to curl anew - whatever treatment had been placed was losing its strength as her dark roots grew above the indigo. The bruises were beginning to fade; the splatter upon her jaw, the dark stain upon her wrists and chest all slowly melting into her greyed skin. Dark lashes by blue eyelids, lips pale. 

“You have to wake up, Pebbles.” James sniffled, his fingers clutching Ara’s as though they might crumble to dust. “Please, you can’t…” his breath hitched, caught by a bubble of a sob, “you can’t leave us.” 

A soft exhale was her only reply. Slow and steady, though weak and shallow. 

His fingers itched to brush the stray curls from her forehead, to sweep the growing fringe from her eyes despite their sealing. James itched to see her in her usual dark finery - black denim and red t-shirts, brown skirts and purple shirts. 

There was only silence in the manor. The quiet of night that clung heavy to each movement, every shuffle so loud it felt like his ears would pop. 

And it was in that stillness that James’s ear twitched. A pop, faint but true, sounded behind him. His head swivelled to face the doorway as the telltale thump of footfalls grew closer. Breath hitching, caught in his throat like an unfelt gag, as each footstep grew louder and closer. 

Finally, the golden handle twisted, the lock clicking undone as - so carefully it was almost inhuman - the door flung ajar. 

“Sirius!” James blurted, his eyes wide beneath his frames. “How?”

The other half of the Black twins stumbled through the door - three wands clutched in his right hand. He was perhaps the sorriest sight James had ever seen; emaciated and bloodied. The lively boy’s cheeks were hollowed, his skin gaunt beneath the growing stain of red that pooled from his hairline. His clothes hung loose over him, all dark and heavy as he stepped forwards on shaky legs, crumbling to his knees as James rushed to his side. 

“Kreacher got me out.” He breathed, arms swallowing James as he held onto his friend desperately. His grip was tight in spite of how bony his fingers felt. “He told me to keep them safe.” The boy whispered in utter confusion, voice low enough that only James could hear - as evidenced by the way he gripped Sirius a little tighter. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” He mumbled behind tears. The grey eyed boy looked up at him, gaze unfocused. 

“Wally tried to get Uncle Cygnus to burn Ara and Reg off the tapestry.” Sirius shuddered. “That Dark Lord pillock cast the cruciatus to stop her. Said that he’d approach them, try to sway her back.” A laugh broke from his throat; strangled and high. “Merlin, he’s convinced she’ll be his perfect Pureblood wife.” He blinked suddenly, head perking up as he looked to James with a shine to his grey eyes. “She’s here?” 

With a nod, James helped pull his friend upright. Hands around his middle, arm wrapping around his side, James pulled his best friend to the seat he had claimed as his own. It was immediate, how the life came back to Sirius’s eyes as he gripped onto Ara’s fingers. Almost glittering golden against the grey as they roamed her sleeping form and clutched her hand tighter. 

“She… I…” his eyes darted to James with utter panic. 

“She’s alive.” The boy slumped to his knees beside the bed; one hand upon Sirius’s knee, the other knitted through the sheet that covered Ara’s still legs. His voice was soft against the calm of night, gentle and utterly heartbroken. “We… Merlin, Sirius, we were so sure you’d died too.” 

“I felt it.” His eyes flickered back to Ara’s face, roaming each feature with a steadily growing relief. “I… I thought she was still gone.”

Both hands were wrapped around Ara’s, thumb brushing over her knuckles. 

“I’ve been a twin, my entire life. And I have no idea how to not be one.” A tear slid down his cheek. “What am I, if not a half? Half a mind, half a man.”

There was nothing James could say to soothe that. 

After all, he was an only child. His past was held with his parents, his future with his friends. 

For Sirius, both were intrinsically linked with Ara. She was his constant companion. She was half his soul. The bonds that tied them together were something few could ever understand. 

As he moved his hands - the sleeve of his shirt pulled up, dark scratches peeking from the fabric. Without thought, James reached for it, pulling his wrist bare and staring at the lines in horror.

“What the fuck did Walburga do?” He hissed, refusing to relinquish his grip as Sirius fought to move back. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it bloody does!” James exclaimed. “She made you use a blood quill.”

“You know what those are?” He blanched. 

“I’ve been drinking tea with Dorea since I was four. I know.”

“At least she didn’t make me write our family motto.” Sirius shrugged, prying James’s hand away. 

“No, instead she made you write that.”

He pointed to the letters on his best friend’s wrist - the same lazy cursive his friend wrote in. 

‘I will never be Lord Black’ written across his flesh in his own hand.

“What happened, Sirius?” James asked softly, pressing his glasses higher up his nose. 

“She just… almost all my life, I’ve known that my mother hates us. I’ve just known it.” Sirius began, tiredly shrugging as his eyes remained fixed on his sister. “But I always had Ara with me. She was always by my side. And every time Wally went for me, Ara would try her best to lure her away.”

“And you were finally alone.”

“Yep.” He popped the syllable. “I’d never been alone before.” The words slipped out, unaided and so very raw. “It was always us against the world and even apart we were together. And she died, Prongs. I felt it. I can’t… I… she can’t do that again. If she goes, I’m following behind.”

“Pads!” James exclaimed with a frown. 

“She’s half my soul.” He spoke flatly, voice course and weary. “Half my mind, half my heart, half of who I am. And I’ve been ignoring her all year, just ‘cause I couldn’t handle her. Just ‘cause I can’t bear to watch her grow up, just to be killed anyway.” His eyes pinned James; dark and tear-lined. “And then I felt her die, miles away from me.”

“Oh, Pads.” James leapt to wrap his best friend in his arms; clutching the boy close as he let out a sniffle. “Do my parents know you’re here?” 

He shook his head, wiping his eyes unkindly. 

“I practically ran here from the hallway. I… I had to see her.” Grey eyes roamed his sister’s face, flicking down to spy each bandaged blemish. “She… she died on me.” 

It was spoken so simply. So very soft and utterly surprised. 

“Pads-”

“She promised she wouldn’t leave me alone, and she… I felt it.” His hand rubbed his heart absentmindedly, eyes still fixed on his twin. “I don’t… I can’t.” With a shudder, Sirius’s voice hitched - eyes darting to James with utter panic. The other boy rested his hand on his shoulder, squeezing faintly. 

“We got her back.” James ignored how his voice cracked, how his own eyes began to tear as he tried to smile at Sirius. The gesture came across more of a grimace, really. 

“She told me I’d be alright.” Sirius murmured, brow furrowed as though he couldn’t quite understand it. “She was dying, and she gave me her final breath.” 

“That’s Ara.” James sighed, knowing despite the simplicity just how true that statement was. 

Ara Black would burn herself for her family. And she would take her final moments to promise them future happiness, as though she wasn’t the most crucial aspect to such a thing. 

It was perhaps the cruelest thing she did. 

“Is Reg… fuck, is Reggie alright?” Sirius blurted, eyes almost bulging as they locked onto James. 

“He’s okay, Pads.” James reassured, pressing softly against Sirius’s shoulder. “Uncle Charlus has been keeping an eye on him and he’s… well, he’s as alright as he can be.” 

“Thank fuck.” Sirius breathed, shoulder drooping. “I… Merlin, I was so worried.” 

“He’s alright.” James promised again. “He told us we’d have to get the new T.Rex album for your turntable. Never quite understood you’’re obsession with the band.” He huffed a faint chuckle.  

“I wanna be like Marc Bolan.” Sirius smiled, eyes hazy. “He plays guitar and he’s got mad curls like me. Though, I’m far prettier.” He smirked, prompting James to snort in fondness. 

“Go on.” James grinned after a moment of quiet. 

“I wanna be like Bowie too, dress as cool as the guy in Queen.”

“So do it.”

“I know, I can now. That’s the thing. I’m barely five minutes into freedom and I’ve suddenly got all these possibilities, and all I can think about is my wardrobe.” He sighed. “I feel like the world’s shittiest person. ‘Cause I’m thinking how great life will be now I can wear jeans, and my baby brother just lost his innocence. My twin is in a coma ‘cause they tortured her.” His voice broke on the final words, face curled in his hands as heaving sobs escaped him. 

“I don’t know what to say that will help,” James admitted, pushing up his glasses, “but I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Auntie Dorea won’t stop until Ara is free, I know that in my bones. We love you guys.” 

“I know. I just…” he looked to Ara, eyes soft and determined; voice so very gentle and certain.“If she told me she wanted to run, I’d be by her side as we legged it.”

“Even if Reg begged you to stay?”

“Don’t ask me that.” Sirius spoke very quietly. “We’d both pick her first.”

“What if I asked you to stay?” James asked nervously. 

“Don’t ever ask me that. Please. Never again.” He spoke, unwaveringly. 

And Merlin did James understand. Because if Ara Black turned to him and asked him to run away with her, he wouldn’t even hesitate. Loathe as he was to admit it, he’d chose her over anyone else. 

How could he not?

“I’d pick her too.” James admitted. “If you three ran away, I’d be helping pack snacks and plotting places to go. You’re my best friends.”

“And you’re my brother.” Sirius replied. “I love you, James.”

“I love you too, Sirius.” 

They could only handle the sorrowful air for a moment before Sirius shook out his hair and wiped away his tears. 

“Ugh, we’re such girls.”

“Speak for yourself, hairspray.” James snorted. 

“It defines my curls!” Sirius declared in a slightly shrill voice. 

“You’re such a twat.” 

“Pillock.”

“Dickhead.”

“Toerag.” 

The two held eyes for only a second longer before they fell into a fit of chuckles. 

“Where did Lily even learn that from?” James laughed, wiping a tear. 

“I’ll let you in on a Wildflower secret,” Sirius grinned, tilting his head towards James. “She made it up!”

“It’s fake?” He cried out in shock. 

“It sure ain’t Muggle.” Sirius guffawed. 

For a moment, the pair let the humour wash over them like a healing balm. But it washed away as soon as it had caught them, for between them still lay the sleeping Ara Black. 

“Can I… can I get you a new change of clothes?” James asked kindly. “You sort of smell.”

That statement brought a bubble of dumbfounded laughter to his friend. Sirius’s head ducked to his armpit, sniffing before his nose scrunched in distaste. 

“Godric, yes.” He sniffled a chuckle. “But…” his eyes pulled back to his twin. 

“We’ll come back.” James promised. “I don’t… I never leave her alone for long. Come on,” he smiled, offering a hand, “let’s get you cleaned up, mate.”

With a nod, Sirius let himself be pulled to stand. In James’s haste to help his friend, neither noticed how Ara’s eyelids fluttered, how her fingers twisted at the absence of warmth. Both boys were too caught in their minds, too desperate for Sirius’s comfort to hear how her breath hitched. 

His weight was pressed firmly against his worried friend as the pair gently eased through the Manor, towards Sirius’s bedroom. It was dark, lit only by faint flames in jars - lining the hallways. 

They hadn’t been there for long, those faint flickers. A new investment, one that showed up a year or s prior. After all, none of the Black siblings liked the dark. The door to Ara’s room was slightly ajar - the soft snores of the youngest sibling filtering through the gap. The pair took a moment for Sirius to peer inwards, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly as he spied Regulus in deep slumber, Charlus asleep in the armchair beside him. The older wizard was propped by his elbow, chin rested on his palm in an angle that would certainly cause a crick to his neck. 

Satisfied, Sirius pulled James towards his own bedroom - carefully silent as he twisted the handle. Once inside, he let James move him around the space. He drank the potions the boy handed him - those vials that had rested on his desk for so long, just in case… well, in case of this exact situation. Offered a pile of comfy trousers and a thick jumper, the boy took barely five seconds to lock himself in the bathroom joined to James’s bedroom. The taps ran softly, and James flopped onto his mattress with a soft huff of exhaustion. 

His eyes fluttered shut, however briefly, as he willed them to stay dry. He could not cry yet. Not when Sirius was barely holding himself together, not when there simply wasn’t time for him to fall apart too. But by the Gods, was he tired. There was a storm on the horizon, a terror blooming in his chest like on his worst and most silent days. 

The bathroom door creaked open and James snapped to sit back up with a frown. Sirius’s hair was damp, though barely so. He wore James’s clothes - the jumper thrown messily as though done in haste. And though James had thought his stomach could not drop any further, that his limbs could not tighten more than they had already tensed, he learned that his panic could grow more than ever before. Sirius was frozen, eyes slightly glassy as though barely seeing through the bond. 

“Ara?” He breathed, brow furrowed briefly before his face erupted into a wide and childlike smile. 

Without further comment, Sirius jumped from his spot on James’s bed and rushed from the room with clumsy steps. Calling after him, James followed - chasing after the dark haired boy as he sprinted through the house. Their footfalls pounded through the house and it was… well, it was by a miracle that no one had found them yet.

Sirius wretched the door fully open, freezing in the frame and completely blocking James’s entry. The bespectacled boy tumbled into his back, leaping backwards as he twisted to spy the room over Sirius’s shoulder. 

The bed that Ara had slept in for the past two weeks, totally unmoving or responsive, was empty. 

The sheets pulled back, pillows crumpled from where she had lay for days on end. 

They did not stay to investigate. Instead, her twin dragged James through the Manor, hunting for any trace of Ara. 

She was not in Dorea and Charlus’s wing. She wasn’t in the library either. 

James knew that, because he and Sirius had checked every room of the Manor. Every odd bedroom and music room - all the hidden parts of the garden and the small spaces in wardrobes that Sirius said she had liked to hide in as a child, back at Grimmauld. 

He hadn’t known that. 

Neither had he known that their mother had turned it to punishment. 

So much time spent in the cupboard under their stairs, watching the world through her brother’s eyes. 

It was hard to communicate exactly what he wanted to say to that. From the insults of their mother that rested on his tongue, to the questions he dreaded asking the boy that would always answer honestly. 

In the end, all he could think was how sorry he was. I’m sorry, he thought, though he was not connected to Sirius through any bond. His best friend would not hear his musings. I wish I was there. I would have poured dittany on your wounds. I would have held your hands and woken you from nightmares. 

But those words were hard to express. Harder still, to admit to the boy that prided himself on his detachment from anything traumatic in his past. 

“Can you see her?”

He shook his head.

“The bond is… weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Like… since everything, it crackles. Like there’s too much energy built up between us. I can’t see her through it.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know how to fix it. Or if it’s…” he left his worst fear unspoken. 

What if it was broken forever?

“Let’s check the room.” James rested a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “She might… there might be a clue in there.” 

His mother would have been proud of his logic, in that moment. For on the desk, propped by a snapped quill, lay a piece of parchment. 

Though James did not spy whatever was scribbled upon it, judging by the way that Sirius huffed and crumpled it in his fist, he suspected it was likely grim. Rubbing his eyes, Sirius turned back to James with a grave expression. 

“I think I know where she is.” Sirius grumbled, stepping closer and clutching James’s hand with a scowl. “Bloody menace, she is.” 

His eyes screwed shut, a huff of focus, before James watched as his home twisted like a kaleidoscope. It was dizzying, sickening - a lurch of his stomach that had the boy swallowing roughly before his feet thumped on gravelled earth. With a horrified widening of his eyes, he wretched his hand free of his friend’s. 

“Did you just… we bloody apparated!” James squawked - pushing his glasses up his nose and willing the nausea to fade. “That’s illegal, Pads.”

“Only if they catch us.” The other boy winked, though the gesture felt rather lacklustre as he dragged James through the alley and out onto the street. 

“How’d you even know how to do it?” James raised a brow. “We don’t learn until sixth year.” 

Sirius merely shrugged - clearly uncomfortable as he glanced around them. 

“Kreacher taught me.” He spoke flatly. It was clear he would not offer more than that. 

They were in a muggle neighbourhood - caught on the corner between several bars and nightclubs as music clashed across their ears. With a wince at the cacophony, James let himself be again pulled towards the next location. This time, it was some new pub. 

The air was heady with thick smoke as muggle tunes blared through the room and chatter engulfed whatever James could possibly offer in reply. It was the sort of place the Marauders always chattered about but had not yet seen. A hove of muggle shenanigans; patrons drunk and giggling as they clinked pint glasses and leered across wooden tables at their companions. 

Any other day, and James might have taken a moment to breathe it in. To gasp and goggle at the cultural contrast. Instead, his gaze flickered the varied heads before hazel settled upon a familiar halo of indigo curls. 

Ara Black was no longer wearing the plain grey dress that his aunt had placed her in, days before. Her hair was still wild and unbrushed, her face still unmade. Her bag was clung over her shoulder - a thin leather strap against the pale fabric. 

She was perched on a bar stool - surrounded by a group of eager blokes. A cigarette perched on her lips, a dozen lighters at the ready when she asked for one. Her fingers caught the cigarette as she exhaled, laughing at something one of the men had said.

Sirius and James exchanged an uneasy look. 

Ara Black was drunk. 

Still, she was perceptive enough to turn towards the door - as though sensing the boys presence. Her face erupted into a pleased grin as she tumbled from her seat. Some of the men around her tried to offer a hand, but she swatted them away with a comment that seemed to sate them. 

“The boys are back in town!” She sang at her boys in an unfamiliar tune, beaming smile as she stumbled her way over and wrapped her arms around them. 

“Merlin, Hermie. How much did you drink?”

“Well, I told the nice fellows by the bar that I’m underage, so they’ve been very kind. Won’t even let me pay.” She laughed to herself, and the two boys looked towards the bar - eyes narrowing on the group of hungry-eyed and clearly disgruntled men. James estimated they had about five seconds before one came over. Finding Sirius’s eyes, he shot the boy a look. 

Receiving a nod in reply, they wrapped their arms around Ara’s sides and lifted her off the ground and out of the pub. She hardly seemed to notice, continuing to natter about the nice Muggle drinks she’d had. Something called Absinth and a ‘dirty’ martini. Neither of which the boys liked the sound of. 

Once free of the pub, the boys scanned the scene to confirm they were safe, and agreed on Apparating her away to the Manor. Uncle Charlus would sort it for them in the morning if anyone asked why, they were sure. Ara’s dead weight pulled them to their knees as they landed. The boys yanked her up (after a brief pause for her to be sick on the floor). 

“That was very rude.” She groaned out, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“No. Leaving after having been comatose, without warning anyone… that’s rude.” Sirius bit out, vanishing the puddle of vomit. She scowled at him. 

“I left a note.”

“Oh yeah. Cheers.” He rolled his eyes, sarcastic bite to his tone. “Don’t worry, will be back after a drink. Sure was a reassuring note.” James shot a look his direction, unaware of just how ridiculous the bloody note had been. 

“At least I didn’t just leave you alone with nothing.” She growled. “I woke up all by myself. What else was I meant to do?”

“Come find us, and not go drinking?” James scoffed, bristling at her words. Neither boy wanted to admit just how much they had stung. 

“Piss off, Bambi.” Ara rolled her eyes, sticking out her tongue like she was eleven again. 

Surprisingly, James let out a great laugh - familiar with the film from his Muggle Studies elective. 

“It seems very unfair that I’m the only drunk one here.” She scowled at the two. “If Panda was here, she’d have elderflower wine.”

“We can’t exactly summon her over, Hermie. It’s two in the morning.” Sirius pinched his brow.

“That early?” She gasped, trying to hunt through her bag. “We could go dancing. Lily loves dancing.”

“We’re not going dancing.” Sirius pulled her away from her rummaging and onto the sofa. She fell ungracefully, head falling into his lap as they flopped onto the loveseat that resided by the base of the staircase - caught between two ornamental busts and below a tapestry of a witch swimming, covered by flowers

“But Lily loves dancing!” She exclaimed, looking up at him with unfocused eyes. 

“Lily isn’t here.”

“We could invite her over.” Ara gasped with excitement. “And Panda! We should show them the pond. They’d love the pond.” 

“It’s the middle of the night. They’re sleeping.” Sirius sighed, carding his fingers through Ara’s hair. The gesture softened her instantly. 

“I used to know this girl that liked goats.” She muttered to herself. “Goats look silly.”

She proceeded to pull back from her brother’s touch; yanking a scarf and a pair of gloves from the very small knapsack. 

James’s eyes widened as he flopped down beside the pair.

“How much stuff have you got in that bag?” He cried out incredulously. Ara looked to him with a gasp of indignation. 

“That’s personal.” She frowned, tugging a bottle of wine free of the fabric. Immediately, her twin snatched it away - matching her scowl as he vanished it completely. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed. “You… fuck, Ara!” He snapped, unrelenting as she winced at the sound. “I had to claw my way out of Grimmauld, and when I was trying to clean myself of it, you ran away!”

“I…” she blinked at him. Eyes wide and brimming with tears as a sob wretched free of her throat. At once, James pulled her to him - wrapping Ara in his arms as her breath faltered. Her fingers reached to cling to his front, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. Ara’s forehead fell against his chest as she wracked with sobs, as her tears bled onto his shirt. 

For a moment, James’s eyes met Sirius’s. And… he simply could not figure how his best friend felt. It was an odd revelation, an uncomfortable moment, to be caught lacking in the skill that had kept the Potter heir surviving so long. He had always had his mother’s Burke gaze, always known to spy all the micro-expressions that bled into a portrait of emotion. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought Sirius was occluding. 

But as soon as that moment had come, it washed away. Sirius’s expression - so unreadable, so unfamiliar - warped to something that James understood. It was raw and utter misery. A burning guilt in his pinched brow, a twist to his lips of heartbreak as he looked at the pair with watering eyes. 

Without comment, Sirius snatched his twin from James’s grasp. He yanked Ara into his embrace; a gentle hand soothing her frazzled hair as he whispered quiet reassurances. And James, as much as he wished the opposite, was reminded of his place. He was not Sirius’s brother, nor was he Ara’s… more than just a friend. He was an observer, a boy who had opened his home to a broken family and thought he was perhaps part of theirs. As Sirius held his sister, as her head slotted so perfectly against his neck, James understood that this was not his battle to fight. He had not been in that house, nor did he truly know the horrors of their capture. 

Instead, he was merely the observer. A saviour, of a kind, but not a participant. It was cruel of him not to feel thankful to have a family free of torture, because in that moment, he wished he understood. He wished that he knew the right thing to say, the right way to express all his heart murmured. But he simply did not have the words. 

“Come on, Pebbles.” Sirius spoke a little louder, placing a soft kiss against his sister’s hair. “Just rest while I make your bed.” 

With a shaky nod, Ara extracted herself from his arms. A little clumsily, she flopped backwards. An arm reached for James’s as she blinked between the pair with a wet smile. Sirius’s eyes met James’s, a terse nod - a plea he knew all too well expressed in those soured grey eyes. Watch my sister, they told him, I trust you with half my soul. The Potter heir could only nod in reply, watching as Sirius spun to clamber up the staircase. 

Carefully, James tucked Ara into his side. Ara groaned a little at the movement, but settled easily. With drunken clumsiness, she pulled her slippers from her feet and flung them across the room. 

And James almost winced at the sight. She’d gone out in her slippers. Clearly disoriented after her coma, barely enough sense to don a jumper and jeans before she’d fled in a fit of bizarre action. 

“Why’d you go out, Pebbles?” James whispered. “We were… we were just about to come and find you.” 

Her eyes flicked up to his - that silvery grey flashing bright as she regarded him. It felt as though she were seeing him for the first time again. That same calculating tilt as she scanned each feature, twisting over his eyes to simply stare at each brow, his lips, the way his hair rested upon his forehead. Then, with a smile that spoke only of love, she let out a breath of giggle. 

“You look everything and nothing like him.” She breathed. “You’re too beautiful to be a cursed boy.” 

“Thank you?” He raised a brow, a little lost by her comment. It was the kind of thing Pandora might have said. “Ara… I, I missed you.”

She frowned a little, blinking away her drunken stupor. 

“I was right here. You sat with me.”

“You remember?” He blinked. 

“I felt it.” Her hand pressed his chest, pressed to the left of his sternum. 

“Oh.” He whispered - a blush hidden by his dark complexion and the darker lighting. 

“Sirius will need you now.” She suddenly straightened, a cool space where her hand had rested against his chest. “More so than he’d need me. You’re… you’re the pillar that keeps the house stable. It’s your biggest strength, but also your biggest weakness.” 

“That’s my weakness?” He repeated. 

“Everybody has a weakness.” She lamented, trying to shove her feet further below James’s leg. “We’re all fighting for some stupid shit. Some personal reason that makes it all worthwhile. I remember mine now.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, Jamie.” She sighed, sloppily reaching over to pat him on the cheek. “My reason doesn’t exist yet. Might never.” Her head tilted on its own accord, leaning down to brush her lips over his. It was faint but so very felt. His lips burned at the contact, his head ducking closer, just as she parted. “I’m so sorry for the day you find out. I hope you forgive me.” She whispered against his cheek. 

“Pebbles, you have never done anything needing forgiveness.” He whispered back, pulling away to place a hand on her cheek. Her skin was so very soft, despite the scarring. Gently, James ran his thumb along the burns that dissected the middle of her face - finger tracing across her nose and to her brow. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I promise I’ll never do that again. That must have been so lonely.” 

Ara blinked at him, clearly surprised by his words. 

“I see it now,” her voice was horse and raw; pained knowing lacing each word as she uttered the phrase: “the last enemy we defeat is Death.” 

He blinked at those words, a little taken aback. 

“She’s following me.” Ara whispered, eyes darting slightly behind him. 

“Come on, Hermie!” Sirius called from the staircase - James flinching at the intrusion as his mind raced through Ara’s words, even as she offered a mock-salute and stumbled upwards. He watched her go, and he thought of Death. 

Not that Ara particularly noticed, too preoccupied with not tripping on the carpets. The girl climbed the staircase, forcing her unsteady feet up to the next floor as her brother waited impatiently. As soon as she stumbled close enough, he snaked an arm around her waist and practically dragged her towards one of the bedrooms the Potter’s made up for the Black siblings. In their walk, however, his annoyance soon turned to amusement. 

After all, it was a little hard to stay angry when he was so relieved she was alive. Too tricky to be truly peeved when it was rather entertaining to watch her drunkenly sway as they strode through the silent halls. Once they arrived at the bedroom, Sirius helped her onto the bed, laughing faintly as she fell against it and immediately snuggled into the duvet. 

Yanking off his shoes, he scrambled in after her, forcing his way beneath the duvet, until his sister’s head lay beside his own. 

“Come on then.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s talk it all through.” 

They did not need more words than that. Instead, as his eyes fixed her own, Sirius watched the dam burst and the truth flood freely. 

“Maybe I needed a day to grieve. To mourn it all. My childhood, my teens, my adulthood that I may never reach. I am a body.” A tear slipped from her eye, punctuating her words. “That’s it. All this magic and life shoved into me, but I’m still just a body. And I’m going to die again, someday. And all that magic and life will bleed out of me. All I get to be is this body.” 

Her eyes rested on her bandaged arm; a mournful expression. 

Ara Black grieved the experiences she should have had, and those she wished never happened. 

“And I’ll never get to bury Mipsy.” She sniffled. “She won’t have a new ribbon this Christmas. She’ll get dusty.” That seemed to be the final straw. Ara’s face fell as she broke into guttural sobs, clinging to herself. 

“I’m so sorry, Hermie.” 

She blinked at him, a depth to her eyes that he hadn’t seen in a very long time. She looked at him how she always had as a child - before their mother had cursed her memories out of her head. 

He could have drowned in it.

“Hermione.” She breathed. “I was Hermione.”

“You are still.” She shook her head sloppily. 

“I’m not. But I was once. I was Hermione Granger. I remember now.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“I died, Siri. I lived for eighteen years and then I died. And it was horrible. I fought and I was killed for it. Hermione Granger died and I was born.”

“Show me.” 

The bond bled between them, gold seeping into their vision as she closed their eyes; and showed him her memories. 

They consumed them. These visions of a time beyond their own, of her existence in the near future. He watched as the images rapidly shifted, hungrily lapping details that she hadn’t known before. Watching her fight against those same forces that hunted her, even now. Quidditch games and Death Eater battles. Yule Balls and attacks at weddings. She remembered absolutely everything. Not just the crucial information, or random events that she’d probably thought of on a loop in her prior life. No. She knew everything. Every random scar, every Christmas dinner, every fight with Ron and those freezing nights in the tent with Harry, huddled together for warmth. Whispering to her best friend that she would never leave his side. All the proof that she never had. And she let her twin see it all. 

For the very first time in his life, he finally saw his sister in her entirety. Finally understood just who Ara Black was. 

She wasn’t just some Pureblooded princess, nor some blood-traitor of the House Black. 

She had been a Muggleborn fighting for her existence, fighting against prophecy regarding her very best friend. A warrior fighting in a war that she should not have been championing. Dying for a cause that had been thrust upon her when she was still a child. 

And it hadn’t even stopped. Still, she was part of a war before she was even of age. Two lives of missed childhoods, of going to Hogwarts while it was a battleground. Being born to a family that had tormented and tortured her in another life. 

As they blinked away from her memories, a tear slipped from Sirius’s eye, raw horror in his gaze. 

“Fuck, Hermie.” His voice wavered. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not as though I’m dying.” She rolled her eyes, suddenly back to a content state. It had cracks along the edges - crackles of despair so tied together by casualness. “And it was a good life. I had purpose, and I had love.” She smiled faintly, Harry’s crinkled smile in their mind’s eye. “And I got to be your twin in this one. I got to have siblings, and friends worth fighting for - all over again. I wouldn’t trade you for anything, you know?”

“I know.” He really did. Their love for each other would always be a constant; a soft golden humming in the backs of their mind, strengthening their magic. “And despite all the shit of it, I’m so glad I get to live my only life with you by my side.”

Always and forever, isn’t it? 

Always. 

With that, the twins collapsed against the plush bed of their Manor bedroom (ignoring the second double, still in the corner just in case they decided to sleep apart). Hands joined between them, glowing faintly gold. It spread over them; all the pent up energy between them washing over them. 

Finally, they were whole again.