House On A Hill by The Pretty Reckless
The living, living still
Their intention is to kill and they will, they will
But the children are doing fine
I think about them all the time
Until they drink the wine and they will, they will, they will
July 13th, 1973
Lingering behind Hazel, Ivy hummed as they walked through the gardens, watching the sunlight bounce off her sister's ash blonde hair, which was tied back loosely with black ribbons. Enjoying the feel of the breeze rippling across her skin, they reached a grey-stoned archway, which had been erected in the middle of a cleanly trimmed hedge.
Hazel kissed the pad of her index finger and tapped it against the stone, before passing through the entrance. Ivy did the same, prolonging their superstition that if they did this every time, their parents would never find the secluded space. With how tense things had been between their parents and the newlywed Lestranges -Bellatrix and Rodolphus- she doubted they would come looking; the gesture was more for their own reassurance than anything.
The lingering tension in her shoulders instantly seeped into nothingness as she stepped through the archway.
Their space was small compared to the rest of the Estate. It was surrounded by half-broken mossy stone walls that still remained from the cottage their ancestors had lived in hundreds of years ago. A small, neglected fountain sat in the middle of the area and a large tree branch stretched overhead, a swing hanging from it. The only other element of note was the black-stemmed Moly plant flowering in a corner, which had been placed there by the house elves when their parents started whispering the S word.
Her little sister hopped on the swing and Ivy joined her, the two of them squeezing onto the worn plank. The scent of honeysuckle reached her nose as Hazel leaned her head on her shoulder. Pumping their legs back and forth, they swung slowly, lowly.
"Happy birthday," Ivy said quietly. "I wanted to get you presents so I tried to nick something, but… well, you saw what happened."
The aftermath of being caught trying to steal from her mother's personal jewellery collection hadn't been pretty; she had bruises all down her arms from Rhaen grabbing her and screaming in her face. It was the reason why she was wearing long sleeves despite it being far too warm for such clothing.
"I'm sorry," Hazel said glumly. "Did they say why I can't have presents?"
"No," she lied.
The truth was that she had asked her parents the same question, only they'd told her that Hazel being born wasn't something that should be celebrated.
Hazel looked up at her. "How do I stop being a Squib?"
"I don't think you can," she said hesitantly. "I think it's something you just are. Like how we're human and can't be otherwise."
"But if Mudbloods steal magic, can't I steal it too?"
"I don't know." The thought had never occurred to her. "I'll research it when I go back to Hogwarts."
"I don't…" Hazel started. "Why can't we just run away?"
"We've talked about this," Ivy sighed. "We don't have money. Or anywhere to go."
"I want to leave!" She got off the swing to sit on the edge of the fountain, arms folded with a pout. "I haven't even left the Estate since you started school!"
"Look, you know the plan. When I'm of age, I can withdraw however much I want from Gringotts. We'll get a house and for all I care, we don't ever have to see them again. We aren't going to stay here longer than we have to."
Hazel splashed the water angrily and sniffled.
Chewing her lip anxiously, she glared not at her sister, but at the long sleeves she too was wearing. She couldn't be sure of the severity of Hazel's bruises, but if they were anything compared to her own…
"What if…" Ivy thought aloud. "What if when I go back to Hogwarts, I find someone?"
"Find someone?" She glanced up, putting her small fingers in the waterfall that steadily flowed into the main pool.
"I'll find someone to take you in."
"The only people you know from school are like mother and father."
"Well, what if I talk to the Professors once I get there? If I come to school all bruised up, which I'm sure I will, maybe they'll take us both away."
"You think so?" Hazel sounded hopeful for the first time in a long time.
"Yeah!" Ivy said brightly, hopping off the swing with renewed energy. "The second I get off that train, I'll find a Professor, maybe Slughorn -he's the Head of Slytherin House- and tell them everything!"
"You don't care that I'm a Squib?" She looked down at her feet, lower lip wobbling.
Ivy was silent.
The only difference between Hazel and Ivy was that Hazel couldn't use magic. She understood that Mudbloods were bad because they stole magic from purebloods, but Squibs couldn't do so to her knowledge.
"No," she finally said. "I don't care. We're getting out of here and we're doing it soon."
"Do you promise?" Hazel wiped her eyes.
Ivy sat on the edge of the fountain and took her hand. "I swear."
August 6th, 1973
Taking small bites of her meal so Avdima wouldn't scold her in front of company, Ivy sat stiffly, listening to the adults talk. The Lestranges had come over for dinner, as they often did nowadays, and she'd been bid to join them. It was odd, seeing as her parents usually excluded both Hazel and her from the get togethers.
Bored, she chewed her roast with her mouth closed, as was polite, and wished she wasn't stuck in the dark blue dining room. She also wished the sun was up so she could at least look beyond the window across the table and daydream about running around the grounds with Hazel.
Sighing under her breath, she glanced up at the twenty something Lestranges, thinking how she hoped to marry someone as handsome as Rodolphus one day. His hair was dark and nicely accented the bright blue of his eyes. Gaze sliding to Bellatrix, she thought how beautiful her black curls and aristocratic features were.
"How are you liking Hogwarts, Ivy?" Bellatrix asked from across the shiny chestnut table, having caught her eye. "I know your parents were hoping you'd be a Ravenclaw, but I'm glad that we have Slytherin House in common."
"It's great," she tried not to fidget with the dress she'd been forced to wear, which made her look like a doily with legs. "I've made friends with a lot of good families."
"Like who?" Rodolphus asked.
"The Greengrasses and the Blacks."
"Sirius Black?" Bellatrix inquired sharply.
"No, Sirius is a prat."
"Language!" Rhaen snapped while Rodolphus let out a low laugh.
"I'm sorry," Ivy said before addressing Mrs. Lestrange again. "No, Sirius got mad at me for saying something about Mudbloods. He threw my trunk. Broke my perfume. Regulus got in a fight with him over it."
She didn't mention that she'd been enjoying his company before he went barmy. If there was one thing she'd learned above all else, it was when to keep her mouth shut and what details to exclude.
"Good on Regulus," Bellatrix nodded her approval. "Sirius always was a terrible little ingrate. I've been telling that to Walburga practically since he was born."
"From what I hear," her father said distastefully. "He's been spending time with the Potter boy."
"It's hard to believe Dorea used to be a Black," Bellatrix said haughtily. "Running off with that blood traitor, Charlus - and mating with him too. Downright disgusting."
"I heard about Andromeda and her…" Avdima looked disturbed. "Creature."
"She's been properly disowned," Mr. Lestrange assured her. "Marrying a Mudblood and then giving birth to a halfbreed… Yes, Bellatrix and I are quite happy to say that she's been blown off the family tree."
Knowing that they were bordering on Squib territory, a territory of which Ivy had no desire to be in, she spoke to Mrs. Lestrange. "I hope I'm as pretty as you when I'm older."
It wasn't a lie. Her own hair was dry and flat compared to Bellatrix's lustrous locks.
"Well, don't we have a charmer," Bellatrix looked smug. "You needn't worry. You've received the Selwyn good looks and will make a lovely wife one day, I'm sure. That's more than I can say for the homely appearance of… the other one."
Feeling brazen, she decided to ask the question that had been on her mind all night. "Why didn't Hazel come to dinner?"
"It," Bellatrix's mouth flattened into a hard line. "Doesn't deserve to dine with purebloods."
"Oh," she looked between the Lestranges. "Then you two… know?"
"Don't worry," Rodolphus smiled. "We're not going to tell anyone."
Ivy let out an audible sigh of relief, which made all the adults grin at her in unison. Finding it distinctly creepy, she went back to her meal, thankful that the secret wasn't going to get out before she had the chance to take Hazel away.
26 more days, she thought yearningly.
On the verge of sleep, Ivy jumped awake at hearing footsteps on the stairs. Her heart raced with the same feeling of terror she often got upon waking from one of her frequent nightmares.
Lifting her head, the room was dark, but she could see vague outlines of her furniture.
"Hazel," she heard her mother say from the hallway. "Come downstairs."
She sat up, rubbing her eyes as the footsteps retreated. Sliding out of bed, she went to the door, opening it as slowly and quietly as she could. Poking her head outside, she found Hazel in the narrow corridor, closing her bedroom door behind herself.
"What's going on?" Ivy swung her own door open further as Hazel walked along the pane of moonlight on the floor, let in by the solitary window at the end of the hallway.
"I think they want to talk to me," she whispered, her hair mussed from sleep.
"What about?"
"I don't know. But I have to go before they get mad."
The younger girl made a move toward the stairs, but hesitated. She fixed Ivy with such a defeated look that it made her stomach lurch. Hazel reached a hand slowly up to her hair. Pulling black ribbons out of her mess of a braid, she held the adornments out.
"What're these for?" Ivy frowned.
"I don't want them to get dirty."
"Huh?"
Hazel just gave a sniffle, shoved the ribbons into her sister's hands, and descended the stairs.
Ivy watched her go, before heading back to her room. Clutching the ribbons in the dark, she found herself deeply concerned about what was happening downstairs.
Wrong, she thought without the intent of doing so. Wrong.
Sneaking back out of her room, she closed the door and tiptoed down the stairs in her pyjamas. Glad she was wearing socks, as she could feel how cold the wood was underfoot, she spotted light coming from the open dining room doors across the ballroom.
Her parents sat alone at the chestnut table. They were still wearing their formal dinner attire and held hands in silence. They looked pleased.
Confused, Ivy remained where she was for another moment, unsure of where Hazel could be, until she noticed light coming from under the door to the cellar. Sparing another glance at the dining room, she crept to the door, easing it open quietly.
Voices came from below and she quickly got onto the first creaky step, closing the door behind herself. A flash of white light brightened the staircase from around the corner at the bottom. Inching down the rickety steps, she watched colours dance on the wall, wincing at every groan of the stairs.
Her first thought was that a surprise birthday celebration had been organised for Hazel. But that didn't explain her sister's behaviour or why everything in her felt wrong, almost like she was ill.
Upon reaching the smooth stone floor at the bottom, she peeked around the corner. A glaring, electric green flash of light smothered her vision. The light was all she could see except for the black shadow of a small form lying on the ground.
Blinded, she lurched back. Letting out a yelp of surprise as she collided with the wall, her eyes started adjusting to the low light and she realised that the potent flashing colours had stopped.
Bellatrix Lestrange was there within seconds, looming over her with a wand in hand, glee dying in her eyes. She blocked the view of the cellar and hissed Ivy's name, giving her a rough shove towards the stairs.
She stumbled, but managed to dart around the witch into the main area of the cellar.
There, amidst her parents' prized collection of wine bottles, was Hazel. Her little body was crumpled on the stone and utterly still. Ash blonde hair fanned out around the eleven-year-old, her big blue eyes open and unseeing, an arm outstretched and bleeding.
Bile rose in Ivy's throat as she read the word SQUIB carved into her sister's arm.
Her dead sister's arm.
Someone started screaming, someone who was probably her. She felt hands on her waist before she was thrown over Rodolphus's shoulder. He started upstairs, saying something like: "She's just a child, Bella!"
All Ivy could think about was the bloody carving and the black ribbons still clutched tightly in her hand.