Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it.
Day 32 (February 1st): Ice
In outward appearance, the three Black sisters all seemed to be the same – oh, they were quite different in looks, the oldest dark as night, the youngest fair as snow, and the middle sister somewhere in between, but the way they held themselves was the same, there was an iciness to each sister, a composure drilled into them by years of training. And yet each sister carried something quite different buried beneath that ice.
Under Bellatrix's ice there was a burning fire, a wild, untamed passion that sometimes frightened even those closest to her. There was a cruelty inside her, as if the fire in her delighted in reaching out to burn others, to consume and destroy all that stood in her way. The ice could not contain the fire, and Bellatrix raged, furious and dangerous as a wildfire across the Wizarding World, until eventually, the flames consumed her just as surely as they had her victims.
Under Andromeda's ice there was a warmth that surprised all but those who knew her best. Kindhearted, troubled by the darkness she saw in her own family, her ice was melted away by the love of a good man and a flame was kindled in her, a flame of defiance, a stubborn candle, refusing to be drowned by the darkness around it, a warm flame like a hearth in a happy home, like the home in which she would raise first her daughter, and then her grandson. Andromeda's flame was tested by the winds of grief and loss, but though it flickered and bent, it could not be put out.
Of all the sisters, Narcissa held onto the ice the longest. Truth be told, it never melted entirely, but for those she loved, it thawed: for her husband, for her only son, and later for her grandson. Haughty as Bellatrix, so too was Narcissa as devoted to her family as Andromeda, and when her son was in danger, the youngest Black sister found her own fire, a fierce, protective fire, held tightly in check, so much more controlled than the wildfire that was Bellatrix, yet no less strong as she blazed her way forward, determined to do whatever it took to protect her only child, no matter the consequences, and though the flames threatened to engulf all that had once been her life, when the ashes settled, she still had her son and that was all that mattered.
The three Black sisters were fire encased in ice. They were the same and they were different, and in the end, the differences were what mattered the most.
Well, this was a different sort of thing. It got rather metaphorical. Hopefully, it worked well as it was somewhat tricky to write. Leave a review and tell me what you thought.