Work Text:
The Black Manor always smelled faintly of ash and rosewater.
It was the scent of preservation, of dust that never settled and flowers that never quite died. The grand chandelier above the dining table burned with enchanted candles, their blue flames casting cold light across the long silver cutlery and the empty plates below. It might have been beautiful if it weren’t so terribly silent. Not that usual kind of silence, not really. Even when no one spoke, it hummed; with magic, with memory, with judgment. Portraits whispered on the walls and the old chandelier sang faintly from the weight of time, its candles burning a blue-tinged silver that cast no warmth. The silence was heavy.
Regulus sat very straight, the way his mother liked, his small hands folded neatly in his lap. His chair was slightly too tall for him, so his feet didn’t quite touch the ground.
Beside him, Sirius slouched in deliberate rebellion, like a challenge, picking at the embroidery on his napkin. His older brother’s boot tapped soundlessly against the chair leg, each thud sending an invisible pulse of irritation through Walburga Black’s temple.
Across from them, their cousins, Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa, sat in an uneven row of poise and discomfort around the long silver table, each pretending not to listen.
Bellatrix, twenty-one now and more striking than ever, stared at the flickering chandelier light like it might whisper secrets. Her dark curls framed a face that could look kind, if she ever allowed it to. She didn’t. Instead, her lips twisted in faint amusement at her aunts’ raised voice. She toyed with her fork and smiled to herself, a wolfish kind of smile that didn’t belong in polite company.
Andromeda, sitting beside her, looked tired of the whole thing. She’d chosen a softer shade of green than usual, one that clashed with the family’s preferred palette of black and silver. Her fingers traced the rim of her goblet as if she could drown out the argument with the sound of silver against crystal.
Narcissa, the youngest of the three sisters, sat the stillest of all. Her posture was impeccable, her long blonde hair shining like pale silk in the light. She was watching her mother and aunt, eyes darting between them like a spectator forced to attend a match she no longer wished to see. She looked perfect as porcelain and tried to keep her expression neutral, but her jaw tightened when the voices rose.
Their mothers were too busy arguing to scold them, their words slicing through the dining hall in clipped, angry French. The argument, conducted in sharp, slicing French, echoed against the marble walls. No one dared to ask what the argument was about. They didn’t have to. It was always the same argument, just dressed in different words. Something about Purity. Something about Power.
Sirius leaned toward Regulus, whispering from the corner of his mouth, “How long before they kill each other, you think?”
Regulus elbowed him lightly. “Don’t,” he whispered back.
“They can’t hear us over that racket.”
“Still. Don’t.” Bellatrix looked up, her dark eyes glittering. “If you’re going to whisper,” she said lazily, “do it properly, or not at all.” Sirius grinned. “Sorry, Bella. Didn’t mean to interrupt your… fascination with the ceiling.” Her lips curved into something like a smirk. “Better that than listening to the little rebels in training.” Andromeda sighed. “Can’t we have one meal without a duel breaking out?” Narcissa gave a tiny, brittle laugh. “Not in this family.”
Druella’s voice cut through the table like a curse. “What was that, Narcissa?”
“Nothing, Mother.”
“Then keep it that way.”
Bellatrix gave a soft laugh. “Oh, let her speak. We can’t all be pure-blood statues forever.”
“Enough, Bella,” Andromeda said, though her tone held more exhaustion than authority. Walburga turned on her nieces then, her voice low and venomous. “Your mother may allow you to speak to her that way, Bellatrix, but in my house—”
“—your rules apply,” Bellatrix finished for her, leaning back. “I know.” Her smirk didn’t waver, but her hand twitched against the tablecloth, a flash of movement that only Andromeda seemed to notice. Andromeda’s fingers brushed against her sister’s under the table — a silent, warning touch. Don’t. Bellatrix pulled away.
The silence returned, thicker now. The candles hissed. Outside, the faintest snowfall began against the tall, black windows of Grimmauld Place. When dinner finally ended, Walburga dismissed them with a clipped order for “quiet reflection.”
Sirius shot up first, desperate for air. Regulus followed quickly, though less because he wanted to and more because he didn’t dare leave Sirius alone to cause trouble. The three sisters drifted from the table with more grace, Narcissa following Bellatrix and Andromeda down the dim corridor toward the parlor.
The house felt larger than ever when it was quiet. Its portraits muttered disapproval from the walls, their painted eyes following the young Blacks as they moved through the ancestral dark.
Sirius made it to the drawing room first. “I swear, if I hear the word pureblood one more time, I’m setting something on fire.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Regulus said softly.
“Wouldn’t I?” Sirius grinned, wild and boyish, the grin that later generations of Hogwarts would know well. “I’ve already thought about how to do it. Start with that awful tapestry.”
“The family tree?” Regulus’s voice wavered. “You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s ours,” Regulus said. He didn’t mean it in defense of his mother’s ideals — just in that strange way children cling to what’s familiar.
“Exactly.” Sirius turned toward the faded fabric that stretched across the wall, the Black family tree embroidered in silver thread. Some of the names gleamed proudly, others burned into ash. “Ours — and rotten to the roots.”
Bellatrix appeared in the doorway then, her presence slicing through the brothers’ argument like a knife. “Careful, Sirius,” she said softly. “You speak like that and one day they’ll burn your name off too.” Sirius met her gaze. “They will anyway.” For a moment, the future hung between them — unspoken, inevitable. Bellatrix looked at him. “If you hate it so much, you can always leave.” Sirius met her gaze. “Maybe I will.”
A muscle twitched in her jaw. For a moment, she looked almost… sad. Then she smiled again — a sharp, dangerous smile. “No one leaves the House of Black,” she said softly. Bellatrix’s lips parted again, maybe to laugh, maybe to warn, but before she could speak, Andromeda entered the room. “Don’t encourage him,” she said sharply. “He’s a child.”
“So are you,” Bellatrix replied.
“I’m nineteen.”
“And already acting like you know better than the family.”
“I do.”
Narcissa lingered near the door, eyes darting between them. “Please don’t start this again,” she said quietly. “Mother and Aunt Walburga—”
“—can argue themselves to death for all I care,” Andromeda snapped. “I’m tired of it, Cissy. All of it. The bloodlines, the lectures, the—” she gestured vaguely toward Bellatrix, “—fanaticism.”
Bellatrix’s expression hardened. “Fanaticism?”
“You’re falling into something dangerous, Bella.”
“I’m falling for something stronger than the rest of you,” Bellatrix said. Her voice was low, fervent. “You’ll see. He’ll change everything.”
Regulus blinked. “Who?”
Bellatrix’s eyes softened briefly when she looked at him. “Someone who understands what power really means.”
Andromeda crossed her arms. “Someone who will destroy you.”
Bellatrix smiled — a small, terrifying smile. “We’ll see.”
Before another word could be exchanged, their parents’ voices rang out from below:
“Bellatrix! Narcissa! Andromeda! Ici. Maintenant!”
“Sirius! Regulus! Downstairs this instant!”
The cousins shared one brief glance, equal parts dread and exhaustion, before they descended the marble staircase into the storm waiting below.
The scolding was swift and merciless. The moment the girls sat down, their parents’ eyes were everywhere at once.
“Bellatrix,” their father sighed as though the name itself exhausted him, “must you constantly twist your hair like that? It makes you look… feral.”
Bella’s fingers froze mid–curl, jaw tightening.
“Andromeda,” their mother cut in without even looking at her youngest, “a lady does not slump over her plate. Straighten your back — you look like one of those scruffy public-school children.”
Andromeda blinked and sat upright, shoulders stiff with effort.
Then their mother noticed the smallest thing — it always was the smallest thing.
“Narcissa. Your bow.” She reached out, tugging sharply at the ribbon in Cissy’s hair. “If you’re going to be presented to the family for Christmas, you should at least look polished.”
Her touch wasn’t gentle; it was a correction.
Father continued, eyes narrowing, fingers drumming the table.
“And all of you — try to behave like proper young witches tonight. No whispering, no giggling, no childish nonsense.”
His stare sharpened on Bella in particular. “Especially you.”
Bella opened her mouth — maybe to argue, maybe to breathe — but Mother’s nails tapped the table once. A warning.
They sat there — three daughters dressed in their best — still somehow never enough.
Too loud. Too messy. Too alive.
It was similar for their cousins.
Sirius came down the stairs first — not because he was eager, but because Walburga had called his name with that sharp, echoing tone that meant don’t make me ask twice. Regulus followed a few steps behind, quieter, already pulling his shoulders in as though he could make himself smaller than his brother’s shadow.
Their father barely glanced up from his glass before finding something wrong. “Sirius,” Orion said, voice low but cutting, “your shirt is wrinkled. Try to look like you belong in this family.” Sirius didn’t look down. He kept his chin up — a silent refusal to acknowledge the flaw.
Walburga’s gaze slid to Regulus, cold and appraising. “Regulus, darling, don’t hover behind your brother. Stand properly. You mustn’t let anyone think you lack confidence — you’re a Black.” Regulus stepped forward immediately, spine rigid, trying so hard to be what she wanted.
But that wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Sirius shifted his weight, one foot tapping restlessly against the carpet, a tic of energy he could never quite contain. “Stop fidgeting,” his mother snapped without even looking his way. “Honestly, you move like you’re about to sprint off with the house elves.”
Then — the worst sting — spoken gently, as if it were kindness: “Why can’t you be more like your brother?” Regulus stole a quick glance at Sirius… apology in his eyes. He didn’t ask for comparison, but he lived in it.
The Black Christmas tree glittered with silver and emerald ribbons, ornaments carved from heirlooms and superiority.
It looked perfect.
The people did not.
And no matter how tightly they were wound, Sirius was always too wild and Regulus never wild enough.
⚪ ❄ ☃ ❄ ⚪ ❄ ☃ ⚪ ☃ ❄ ⚪ ❄ ☃ ❄ ⚪
In the corridor, the manor seemed colder than before. Candles guttered in iron sconces, their shadows long and uncertain. Regulus and Sirius had barely been herded halfway down the corridor toward the stairwell before Sirius muttered under his breath, “I hate Christmas.”
“You hate everything,” Regulus replied.
“That’s not true. I like snow.”
Regulus glanced at him, puzzled. “Snow?”
“Yeah. Snow doesn’t care about bloodlines.”
Before Regulus could answer, the three sisters came into view. Bellatrix moved like she owned the house, every step deliberate. Andromeda followed with less grace but more warmth, and Narcissa trailed behind, her expression thoughtful.
Sirius gave a mock bow. “Cousins.”
Bellatrix arched an eyebrow. “Rebels.”
“Fanatics.”
“Children,” Andromeda murmured.
“Exactly,” Sirius said brightly. “So why are we all acting like seventy-year-olds arguing about blood purity instead of enjoying the one time of year we get sweets and snow?” Bellatrix tilted her head. “Because some of us are thinking beyond snowballs.”
“Some of us,” Andromeda said, “could stand to think a little less about power and more about happiness.” Bellatrix’s eyes sharpened. “And throw it all away for what? A smile?” Andromeda hesitated. Her fingers twisted around her sleeve. “Maybe. A smile’s worth more than fear.” Sirius blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Nothing,” Andromeda said quickly.
⚪ ❄ ☃ ❄ ⚪ ❄ ☃ ⚪ ☃ ❄ ⚪ ❄ ☃ ❄ ⚪
Hours later, the manor was asleep. Snow had begun to fall in earnest outside, soft and heavy, blanketing the grim London streets. Sirius sat on the windowsill, watching it gather against the glass. Regulus padded in quietly, his robe too big, his hair mussed. “You’re not sleeping?” Regulus asked. “Couldn’t,” Sirius said. “Too many ghosts in this house.”
Regulus hesitated. “You meant what you said, didn’t you? About leaving.” Sirius nodded. “Yeah. One day. I’ll find somewhere where I can just… breathe.” Regulus joined him at the window. For a moment, they said nothing. For a moment, Regulus looked small.
Like a child who’d just realized monsters were real — and lived downstairs. They sat together in a fragile silence.
Then Sirius’s eyes sparked — trouble and hope in one heartbeat, a spark of mischief breaking through the gloom.
“Race you outside,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Come on. Before Mother wakes up. Let’s have some fun before we all turn into them.”
Regulus blinked. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.” Sirius popped the latch on the window, letting icy air bite his skin.
“We deserve one night of being us before they crush it out of us.”
Regulus’s hesitation melted — he grinned.
“Bet I beat you.”
“Not a chance.”
They tiptoed into the corridor — giggles and adrenaline tightly bottled — then bolted, bare feet pattering over ancient carpets.
Down the stairs.
Past portraits that hissed and clucked disapproval.
Through swinging doors into the kitchen, where Kreacher snored loudly by the stove.
And then—
Sirius threw open the back door, and the cold night embraced them like freedom finally remembered.
⚪ ❄ ☃ ❄ ⚪ ❄ ☃ ⚪ ☃ ❄ ⚪ ❄ ☃ ❄ ⚪
Upstairs, doors cracked open almost simultaneously.
Narcissa had heard the hurried footsteps first.
She peeked into the hall — Andromeda already stood there, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.
“Sirius?”
“Obviously,” Andromeda replied, barely masking a fond smile.
Bellatrix appeared last — robe perfectly tied, wand already in hand.
“If they wake the parents, we’ll all hang for it.”
Narcissa ignored her warning.
Instead, she looked toward the stairs, eyes bright with something close to longing.
“Maybe we… go ensure they don’t?” Andromeda laughed under her breath. “Just say you want to go play in the snow.” Narcissa’s cheeks flushed. “I do not play.”
“Then supervise,” Andromeda teased, grabbing her arm and dragging her along. Bellatrix remained still for a second too long — caught between disdain and curiosity. Finally, she muttered,
“They’ll get frostbite without proper coats. Idiots.”
Which, of course, meant she was coming too. And she was bringing coats, boots and scarfs.
They crept after their cousins, trying not to giggle, excitement bubbling like a secret spell. When they reached the back door, the cold air rushed in — sharp, exhilarating.
⚪ ❄ ☃ ❄ ⚪ ❄ ☃ ⚪ ☃ ❄ ⚪ ❄ ☃ ❄ ⚪
Outside, Sirius already had a snowball in hand.
“Well, well,” he smirked. “The princesses have joined the rebellion.”
Narcissa huffed. “We’re here to keep you from dying of stupidity.”
“Good luck,” Sirius grinned — and threw the snowball.
White explosion.
A gasp.
War declared.
Bellatrix wiped snow from her face, eyes narrowing.
“You’re dead.”
And for the first time in a long time her laughter wasn’t cruel.
The night air was freezing and pure — sharp enough to sting lungs but clean enough to feel like freedom. It smelled like winter and quiet rebellion. Snowflakes drifted in slow spirals from a sky hidden by London fog, turning the manicured garden of Grimmauld Place into a blank canvas. Their footprints — and future chaos — would be the first to disturb it.
Sirius stretched his hands out like he owned the night.
“No rules,” he declared, eyes bright with mischief. Regulus barely had time to squint suspiciously before a packed snowball exploded against his chest. He gasped. Then — he laughed.
It burst out of him uncontrollably, a bright ringing sound he didn’t even recognize as his own. Sirius grinned like he had just successfully cast a Patronus. “You’re going to regret that!” Regulus shouted, already scooping snow with frantic determination. “Oh no,” Sirius gasped mock-dramatically, hands to his chest. “The little prince is angry—”
Regulus’s return shot slammed into Sirius’s shoulder.
And then…
Chaos.
Bellatrix shrieked as a snowy missile clipped her hair. Her perfectly curled strand had been disturbed — a crime punishable by death. Her dark eyes narrowed. “Narcissa Black,” she hissed. “You dare?” Narcissa lifted her chin like a queen. “Consider it… incentive to join the game.”
She ducked and rolled with alarming grace for a girl who cared more about spotless robes than athletics. She popped up behind the garden bench and sent another snowball flying, this one hitting Bellatrix’s neck with a gloriously wet smack.
“You will rue this day,” Bellatrix growled, brushing snow off with dramatic slowness, plotting murder. “Rue?” Sirius laughed. “Who are you, the Shakespeare of frostbite?” But before Sirius could dodge, Narcissa — with perfect precision — struck him square in the face.
He sputtered. Regulus nearly collapsed laughing. “Unfair!” Sirius shouted, flinging snow blindly. “You three are trained by actual dueling tutors!”
“Then consider this remedial practice,” Andromeda said with a sparkle in her eyes. She flicked her wand — a gentle charm — and a small cloud of glittering snow mist burst above Sirius and Regulus, raining sparkles over them like enchanted stardust.
“What is that for?” Sirius asked suspiciously. “To make you fabulous,” Andromeda deadpanned.
Regulus squealed — an actual squeal — when Bellatrix fired a volley of controlled, compact snowballs like a one-woman artillery unit. He dove behind a hedge, his tiny boots disappearing into the white mess.
Bellatrix smirked, a wild glint in her eye. “Come out, baby Black!” Regulus peeked out, terrified and thrilled. “No!”
Sirius leapt in front of him, arms spread.
“You leave my brother alone!”
“Aww,” Andromeda cooed. “Sibling loyalty. How heartwarming.” Bellatrix smirked. “More like foolish.” With a flick — she sent a snowball straight into Sirius’s stomach, doubling him over dramatically. “Betrayal!” Sirius gasped, collapsing into the snow.
“You are very dramatic for a Gryffindor,” Narcissa said dryly. “Loud. Emotional. Bad at strategy.”
“Hey!”
Sirius lobbed a snowball at her. She dodged with a dancer’s grace.
“Oh this is war,” Sirius muttered, eyes narrowing.
Regulus scampered behind Sirius, breath coming out in visible clouds.
“We need allies,” he whispered, clutching a lopsided snowball. Sirius surveyed the battlefield.
Bellatrix — terrifying snow war general
Narcissa — sniper queen
Andromeda — whimsical chaos mage
“Andromeda!” Sirius called. “Truce? Help a Gryffindor out!”
Andromeda placed a gloved hand to her chin, humming thoughtfully.
“What’s in it for me?”
“I’ll… I’ll tell you which pantry shelf Walburga hides the chocolate biscuits on.”
Andromeda gasped. “You monster. Deal.” Bellatrix spun around, betrayed. “Andi!” Andromeda shrugged. “Art of war, Bella. Never pick the side of the person with anger issues and external hair priorities.”
“My hair is a weapon and you know it!” Bellatrix snapped. Sirius and Andromeda clashed hands in a sloppy, excited handshake. “REGULUS! TEAM UP!” Bellatrix ordered, pointing a threatening finger at him.
Regulus flinched — then nodded furiously and scrambled over to Bellatrix’s side, nearly face-planting into the snow on the way. Sirius stared at him. “Traitor!”
“She scares me more than you do!” Regulus yelled back. “That’s fair,” Andromeda admitted.
Narcissa, elegant and aloof, had taken cover behind a stone urn like a very posh general surveying peasants.
“I’m neutral,” she declared. “Until a winning side becomes clear.”
“Oh come on!” Sirius shouted. “Pick a side!”
Narcissa’s lips curved.
“The side that keeps my hair clean, obviously.”
Bellatrix gathered snow with frightening speed, shaping perfect spheres with military precision. “Sirius,” Andromeda whispered, “she looks like she’s enjoying this too much.” Bellatrix let out a laugh — sharp and triumphant — before launching her first attack. The snowball struck Andromeda right on the head, sending her headband flying.
“Oh it’s on,” Andromeda said darkly. The field erupted in flying white streaks — Bellatrix and Regulus vs. Sirius and Andromeda, while Narcissa leisurely provided opportunistic potshots. Sirius slipped on ice and crashed into a bush — Andromeda tried to help him up but ended up falling too, both drowning in powdered snow.
Bellatrix cackled like a victorious villain. Regulus scurried forward and tossed a snowball that somehow — miraculously — struck Sirius between the shoulder blades. “My brother!” Sirius dramatically screamed. “Betrayed by my own flesh!” Regulus looked stunned, eyes wide. Bellatrix patted him on the head. “Well done, darling.”
Regulus grew two inches taller from pride.
⚪ ❄ ☃ ❄ ⚪ ❄ ☃ ⚪ ☃ ❄ ⚪ ❄ ☃ ❄ ⚪
Sirius brushed snow from his hair and smirked.
“Alright. Fun’s over.” He crouched, snow squeaking beneath his palms, and began packing a massive snowball — no, a snow boulder. “Sirius,” Andromeda warned, “don’t be stupid.”
“No rules,” Sirius reminded her, sticking his tongue out. Regulus shrieked when Sirius charged — giant snowball overhead — and dove behind a bench, boots sticking out. Sirius launched the enormous projectile at Bellatrix. The impact sent snow everywhere — including into Bellatrix’s mouth.
She spat flakes angrily.
“You lunatic!”
“You started it!” Sirius replied triumphantly.
“I always start it,” Bellatrix growled.
Narcissa had, until now, kept herself clean. Snow barely dusted her shoulders. She observed Atlas-like chaos with the poise of royalty. Then Sirius made a fatal miscalculation.
His wild flung arm tossed loose snow directly onto Narcissa’s pristine hair. Time slowed. Narcissa froze. She reached up — touched a melting snowflake — and stared at her wet glove like it was BLOOD.
“…you shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered. Sirius gulped. And then the youngest Black daughter unleashed a rapid-fire assault so precise, so coldly efficient, even Bellatrix gasped in admiration.
“SHE WAS HOLDING BACK?” Sirius screamed while diving to avoid annihilation. Narcissa merely adjusted her stance.
“One must maintain an air of civility until pushed.”
A truce — impossible, unbelievable — formed in a heartbeat.
Bellatrix and Sirius found themselves back-to-back, surrounded by the combined assault of Narcissa and Andromeda, who had united in sheer delight.
Bellatrix hissed through clenched teeth,
“Just this once, cousin.”
Sirius grinned fiercely.
“Just this once.”
They pivoted in perfect tandem, launching volleys while laughing like lunatics — a strange, electric joy. For one shining moment, the two fiercest fighters in the Black line were a flawless team.
Regulus stared, mouth open.
“I didn’t know they could… cooperate.”
Narcissa replied,
“They can’t. This is temporary insanity.”
When Bellatrix charged ahead — leaving him exposed — Regulus scrambled, searching desperately for a hiding place. His hand brushed something cold and round.
Not snow. A snow-covered garden gnome. Metal. Heavy.
Regulus blinked, then slowly smiled. He hurled the gnome. It didn’t go far — he was eleven — but it THUNKED against a tree beside Sirius, spraying him with a shower of snow.
Sirius stared at him. Regulus stared back. Then both burst into uncontrollable laughter. “I’m telling Mum you threw a statue at me!” Sirius wheezed. “She’ll probably congratulate me!” Regulus countered-shrieked.
The battle devolved into absolute nonsense. Sirius tripped over Andromeda. Andromeda dragged him down with her. Narcissa tried to help them up but slipped and collapsed too, squeaking indignantly. Regulus attempted a daring leap onto Bellatrix’s back — only to slide right off and into a bush. Bellatrix crashed on top of all of them, cursing and laughing.
And suddenly—
They were a tangled pile of coats, boots, and giggles. Bellatrix’s manic grin softened as she lay breathless in the snow. Narcissa’s cheeks flushed from laughter, not embarrassment. Andromeda’s head rested on Sirius’s shoulder, wheezing from amusement. Regulus snuggled instinctively against his brother — tiny and warm and safe.
Their laughter stilled. Their smiles lingered. The snow fell quietly over them, tucking them into a moment that should have lasted a lifetime.
Slowly, they disentangled — sitting together in a circle like a strange snow worshipping ritual. Steam curled from their mouths with each breath. “Do you think,” Regulus whispered,
“that when we grow up, we’ll still do this?” Sirius ruffled his hair.
“I will. Even if I have to drag you out of whatever dusty library you hide in at Hogwarts.”
Bellatrix scoffed.
“Children’s games are beneath us.” But her voice trembled — barely. Narcissa leaned her head against Bellatrix’s shoulder.
“You laughed, Bella.” For a moment, Bellatrix looked like she might deny it.
Instead, she softened — just slightly. “One last time,” she murmured, eyes shining with something too vulnerable to name.
Andromeda smiled sadly.
“They’ll try to make us choose. To obey. To fight for things we don’t believe in.”
Sirius’s fist closed around snow.
“Well, they can bugger off.”
Regulus giggled.
“Language!”
Sirius booped his nose with snow.
“Snow is a corrupting influence.”
They all watched the flakes drift down.
Each one unique.
Each one doomed to melt.
Sirius suddenly vaulted up again, defiant grin returning.
“Race!” he shouted. “Around the garden! Winner gets bragging rights for the rest of forever!”
“Forever is a long time,” Narcissa warned. Sirius winked.
“Good. I’ll enjoy every second.”
They tore across the snow — shoving, slipping, screaming joyfully.
Bellatrix cheated by using her wand for a small push.
Andromeda retaliated with a charm that made her boots skid.
Narcissa glided like a fairy queen, ignoring the chaos around her.
Regulus ran with surprising speed.
Sirius tripped, rolled, and kept running.
At the finish — a cracked stone fountain — they crashed into each other like dominos and collapsed again, gasping and howling with laughter.
“You all cheated,” Sirius accused without breath.
Narcissa flicked snow in his face.
“We’re Blacks. Comes with the bloodline.”
For those few moments — under the falling snow, beneath the stars hidden by London fog — there were no curses, no bloodlines, no destiny. Just breathless laughter, flushed cheeks, and the sound of snow crunching under boots.
They were children again. Just cousins. Just the next generation of a family not yet broken.
Time slipped.
Snow deepened.
Their cheeks burned red; their fingers numbed.
But none of them wanted to go inside.
Not yet.
Not while this moment still existed.
Andromeda stood by the wrought-iron gate first — staring out at the faint glow beyond the square.
A farewell forming in her heart.
“Goodbye,” she whispered.
Not loud enough for anyone to hear.
But maybe — the snow did.
Back by the fountain, Sirius caught Regulus in a headlock.
Both laughing.
Both whole.
Bellatrix brushed snow from her hair, still smiling — a real, unbroken smile she would never show again.
Narcissa tilted her head back, eyes closed, letting snowflakes kiss her lashes.
A family.
A moment suspended in white.
⚪ ❄ ☃ ❄ ⚪ ❄ ☃ ⚪ ☃ ❄ ⚪ ❄ ☃ ❄ ⚪
Soon —
Bellatrix would choose devotion over devotion.
Andromeda would choose love over blood.
Narcissa would choose truth over death.
Sirius would choose freedom over family.
Regulus would choose rebellion over his very soul.
But tonight —
Tonight, they chose each other.
Tonight — in the falling snow of 1972 — the House of Black was whole.
The last time they ever would be.