A/N: This Fanfiction starts from Harry's late sixth year, and tells the story of Draco and Snape, as they struggle to break free from Lord Voldemort's slavery. It's canon-compliant with the books with a big change about the secret of Helena Ravenclaw's diadem. The plot is complicated as there are new characters and enemies. The golden trio will arrive around the 40th chapter. In Italian this fanfiction counts 50 chapters, and it's completed. I hope to translate one chapter for week.
I desperately need a betareader. If someone wants to come in my rescue, PM me.
Rosebud
DISCLAIMERS: Harry Potter belongs to her writer, J.K. Rowling. This story has been only written for fun and not for profit.
Iris
Even the weather seems to fight back against the events that had begun soon after her mother's death. It was a moonless night and the black mantle over their heads appeared to be undressed from its shining crown of stars, showing only an intangible, never-ending darkness. Few street lamps, hovering at the two opposite sidewalks, gave off a dim light which made Knocturn Alley look even more gloomy. Two cloaked figures were rushing along the paved road until the tiniest of the two stopped abruptly, trying to break free from the tight grip the other one had on their arm.
"Please, uncle, I don't want to…." was the plea of a little, scared voice.
"Shut up and keep going, you rascal!" hissed the angry man, jerking and dragging her along the way.
Leaving the main road behind, they followed a row of lanterns emanating a warm, alluring red glow until they arrived in a wide alley where an ancient Victorian house stood. Blasts of wind were whipping the front of the huge mansion, making its window shutters rattle aloud like a warning. The squeaky sign "Rosebud Boulevard" was flipping back and forth, revealing the name of her new prison.
"Please!" she cried, fighting back uselessly. Ignoring the pleas, the man climbed the few stairs ahead and knocked on the front door. After a little while, it was opened by a bulky woman wearing heavy make-up and a combed crimson wig. Her long red-wine dress was showing a wide décolleté which left very little to imagination. When she spotted her visitors, a broad sneer deformed her flabby face, revealing a row of yellowed teeth.
"As agreed upon," declared the man, pushing the child toward her new master.
"No! No!" she screamed, grabbing desperately his sleeve. "I beg you, uncle, don't leave me here, please, please!"
Her hood slipped. Her delicate pale face was framed by long silky black hair twirling in the wind and warm tears were rolling uncontrollably from her grey eyes. Yet, her prayer was swallowed by the howl of the storm. The Matron grabbed her shoulder. Her long, sharp nails sank into her soft skin. She took her wand from her sleeve and crossed it with the man's one. They began to murmur in an ancient language until a glowing thread encircling both their hands was formed. The child threw a high-pitched scream to the impotent sky, trying to break free from the Matron's grasp, under whose hand her skin was burning as if it was being branded. When finally the spell came to a close and the Matron withdrew her hand, the dress on the child's shoulder was torn and its edges were brownish as if they were burnt.
On the one time snow-white skin, there was now engraved a stylized dark rosebud.
Twenty years later
Although the sleazy muggle pub was really crowded, it was impossible not to spot her. She was so different from the shady old sailors and the poor, half-naked whores that usually hung out there. While sitting at the bar, she was sipping her cocktail surrounded by an air of boredom. Her free hand, with a huge carved sapphire on her middle finger, was caressing her chest seductively. She wore a black, long embroidered gown which made her busty, slender figure stand out. Nevertheless, although her blooming body and her full, fire-red lips expressed a passionate nature, her grey eyes could be compared to ice islands.
She didn't have to wait long. The waiter brought her a glass full of low-quality champagne, offered by the old man sitting in the right corner of the pub. She took the goblet and rise it up a little, nodding as a sign of appreciation. Soon after, he approached. His foul odor of sweat and cheap cologne was disgusting. He was almost bald and what remained of his hair had lost completely its original color. His face, covered by freckles, was extremely furrowed. His small, piggy eyes were looking her up and down eagerly.
"You're a beauty." he said, with a slimy smile on his face.
"Thank you," she answered as she leaned forward to show more of her chest, while touching lightly the edge of his glass with the same middle finger which wore her precious ring.
"Want to drink some more with me, tonight? I've rent a room in a hotel near here." he asked, more confident.
"My pleasure, My lord. Let's cheer one more time before going," she said, smiling amiably.
The glasses touched ever so slightly with a sharp sound, while the two lovers-to-be were looking at each other sensually. He swallowed thirstily to speed up the time, the woman just moistened her lips.
He had just the time to put the glass down, before crushing on the bar in a deep sleep.
"What an idiot," she muttered with contempt, shifting her fake amiable smile in an icy expression. Without anyone noticing, she rob him from all of his money and took her leave, giving the pub her back. Through the transparent veil of her black dress, on her left shoulder a rosebud-shaped burn could be seen clearly.
As soon as she came out from the filthy muggle drinking hole, a chilly gust of wind blew her hair over her face and she hurried to avoid a storm while she was still far away from the Rosebud Boulevard. Knotturn Alley was not distant from the place she had chosen to worm money out of some unwary muggle, but she wouldn't make in time if she had walked. On the main road she raised her hand to draw the attention of the omnibus driver. Many wizards wouldn't even dream to use public muggle transports, but she wasn't a ordinary witch and had learnt many years ago to get by on her own since the use of a wand for her was forbidden. The bus left her in front of a ramshackle hotel, a cover for the portal that allowed directed access to Knotturn Alley, which was the nearest place to her prison since she was twelve years old.
With an habitual gesture she caressed her ring, making sure that it was closed so that the soporific powder in the secret case underneath didn't get lost. The flowers she bought to produce it were very expensive and the desiccation process had wasted a lot of her time, and she didn't want to lost a single speck. It was a perfect trick for men. They were so stupid…All she had to do was showing a little more of her breast and she could have put an elephant inside their glasses.
"Where the hell were you, Iris?" said Margaret tense, welcoming her from the main door. "There is a new girl and Madame Rose wants you to be her tutor. She wasn't so pleased when she found out that you weren't in."
"I was working, the old hag cannot complain" answered dryly, while they surpassed the Orchids Room. At the end of the corridor, they turned for their Matron's headquarters and, after waiting for her invite to enter, they crossed the threshold. The room had ruby velvet walls, while the floor was covered by a soft, reddish fitted carpet. All inside the small room showed useless overabundance. There were trinkets of any kind, painted ceramics, ointments and products for the care of the body, brushes of several dimensions and countless pictures of their Matron when she was still a young and appealing ballerina. Iris was positive that the reason why there were no mirror on the walls of the Boulevard was her pathetic attachment to her glorious days. More so, since she liked to spend hours in front of the only bewitched mirror inside her room which showed her always young and gorgeous. No matter how much Iris hated her, she couldn't deny the beauty of her younger reflection. It was hard thinking that the stunning, solar girl in the mirror and the spiteful, horrid old hag were the same person, but she could understand why a lot of men had fallen head over heels for her. How she fell from grace and why she decided to open the Rosebud Boulevard was still a mystery. According to the rumors, she was an abandoned lover or else she had lost everything at gamble. Every one possible, nothing proved.
A heavy spicy smell of incense and the fragrance of Revitalizing Creams welcomed them. As usual, they found their Matron sitting behind her large dark mahogany desk counting the money of her last deal. The jewel box of Dragonia bones was open and was full of precious rings and necklaces as always. Its top would bite anyone who tried to steal something. It was rumored that years ago a girl lost her finger trying to get her family jewels back. Nobody had tried again the experience to prove the truth.
"Finally." croaked her Matron and the lid of the jewel box suddenly shut, to open on its own soon after with a dry snap, like two lips expressing their disapproval.
"I was outside paying the price of my Debt." Iris answered grimly, throwing on the desk the sack full of the muggle money she had stolen earlier. Madame Roses grabbed it greedily, took some coins and weighted them in her hand.
"Well, it's the least you can do, if you want to be free someday." she stressed these last words with a malicious smile. "Anyway," she said then "I have a job for you. She's all yours, until the day of the New Bloom."
For the first time since she had arrived, Iris noticed a bundle thrown on the floor, leaning besides the desk. Only, it was not a bag. She was a skinny child of flesh and blood, and was trembling like a leaf.
"Can't you saddle somebody else with her?" she asked, grimacing.
"It is all yours." the matron repeated, showing the most satisfied of her smirks. Iris was sure that she felt a sadistic pleasure in making her life hell.
Instead of losing time to complain uselessly, she snorted and gestured the child to follow. The little girl complied immediately, stumbling on her feet to put more distance between the matron and herself. They walked along the corridor that cross the entire palace, until they arrived in front of the stairs. The child was watching her surrounding extremely disoriented, divided between fear and astonishment for that unknown place.
"Exactly like me, when they left me to rot here" she found herself thinking with loathe.
Rosebud Boulevard consisted of approximately fifty rooms, distributed irregularly on four plans. Downstairs, there were four wide halls, furnished with couches and seats covered in silky velvet, whose floral decoration differ from room to room. Each of them offered a certain kind of entertainment, from gambling to every forbidden drink, but only the Rose Hall had an impressive black and shiny piano, bewitched to play the most famous symphonies for only important customers.
The Tulip Hall was the only one closed for their clients and was used only for reunions. It was unusual for the girls to meet there on their own accord since the room was right beside Madame's quarters and was the only one with a fireplace connected with Floo Network, which was obviously forbidden to use.
Iris and the child went beyond the first floor, which was destined to potions making upon request. Generally, the ordered filters were illegal and dangerous; the basis ingredient was the powder of venomous plants: among the girls there was who, like Azalea, was in charge to get them and who, instead, took care of the purify process.
Once they reached the last floor where the girls' room were, Iris pushed the child inside the chamber she shared with Margaret. The room was empty, and Iris cursed under her breath. She had hoped her friend was there to help her with the new trouble. She wasn't good at dealing with children and neither with reassuring explanations, and that situation demanded them both.
"Do you know why you are here?" she asked abruptly, pulling roughly out that kind of gunny she had for dress. Only then she took her time to watch her more carefully. She was shaking like a little mouse in a cage, her face was a little dirty with mud and she had some red scratch on her hands and her still-not-blossomed chest. She couldn't have more than eight-nine years.
She waited some time for an answer but then, when it didn't arrive, she gave up and filled the bathtub every room had as furniture with lukewarm water. Then, she ordered the girl to step in. Iris rubbed her face, her back, the chest, her legs. She tried to remove with the sponge four black spots arranged in a arc that she believed were ink dot on the left ankle, just to realize they were only beauty marks. Then she proceeded to was her long, black hair.
The child endured those treatments without moving, still crying silent tears. When Iris finished, threw over her a towel large enough to be used as bathrobe and fumbled inside her closet in order to find something to give her. Then, she tossed a cast-off gown approximately of her size on the bed. The child silently dressed, while still crying.
"For Merlin's sake, do you want to stop crying?" snapped Iris, losing her patience.
The girl only looked more miserable.
"Do you know why you are here?" she asked, trying to tone down her temper. "Do you know what is this place?"
She received a sign of denial with her head as reply. Well, better than nothing, Iris thought.
"This is the dump of the Magical World", Iris laughed bitterly, without sugarcoating the truth. "You and I, and all the girls who live here, are just garbage for our society…"
The child began to sob uncontrollably. In that moment Margaret and Angelica entered the room. They watched alternatively Iris and the sobbing child with arms crossed, and shook their heads with resignation.
"Iris, how can you be so tactless? She is only a child." said Angelica, one of the older girls of the entire Boulevard. Iris envied and, at the same time, despised the placid calm with which Angelica accepted their condition. If it was due to her surrender or her gentle nature, she preferred not to know since she didn't want to believe that one day she would have given up fighting for her freedom. Margaret kept shaking her head, looking Iris surly.
"Does it matter how I explain it? The nitty-gritty won't change." Iris spat.
"She is only a child." Angelica explained, holding tight the child now quieter to her chest.
"All of us were, and we stopped soon to be. Which difference does it make? She is damned, whenever you'll tell them or not."
"What Iris wanted to say" explained Angelica, trying to calm down the worried look of the child at the word "damned" "Is that now you are going to live here until the debt that your family has stipulated with Madam Rose will be settled. There are many things that can do to earn money: cleaning up the rooms, serving dishes, playing, dancing, entertaining customers, or doing odd jobs outside. You'll choose what will work for you, don't be scared."
"I just want to go home." the child sobbed.
"Then, you haven't understood anything," scoffed Iris, "Your family got rid of you, for they you are just a weight to threw over."
"Iris, cut that out for Merlin's sake." Margaret snarled.
"Do you remember why you were left here?" asked Angelica, sweetly.
"They were saying I was cursed! My mother was always crying and… the animals… and my father was always angry… They said I'm a Squib," she started to cry again "But they love me, they will return to take me home, right? Right?"
Margaret and Angelica exchanged a bitter look of understanding. Iris was showing an expression of pure bitter satisfaction. Then, Angelica urged Margaret to lead the child in the kitchen to make her have a good meal, because she didn't want her witnessing the conversation that was going to take place there.
"It's clear that they won't return ever again to take her home" Iris spat triumphantly, keeping staring outside the window that was overlooking the front of the Boulevard. Angelica sighed, a sigh full of anguish and pain.
"She seems you, when you arrived here, scared and confused." she whispered.
"Of that child, there is nothing left Angie. And more you try to sugarcoat the truth, more you lessen what's in store for her, worse will be for her. She's a Squib, she won't be able to earn money concocting potions or working in the magical world."
"She will hatch out a plan to avoid prostitution when she'll be older enough to considerate the possibility. You know Madame Roses doesn't care what you do as long as her pockets are filled and you don't create troubles."
Iris lost in thought didn't answer, caressing the ring to her finger as to verify that it was in its place.
"She has you, you are her Caretaker." Angelica said.
"I'm not cut out to be one, Angie. I made her cry nonstop. I'm not good with children."
"You don't have to be. To be a true Caretaker means to be present in the time of need, to give life lessons. To teach the new ones how getting by in this place, helping them surviving in this sad world. It means to make treasure of the advices you had collected and passing them to the new girls so they can put them in good use." Angelica explained animatedly, with the sweet smile she used to show her when she was only twelve years and was abandoned like a broken toy in a dump of repudiated daughters.
"Luckily, a year passes in a hurry." Iris commented, ignoring the lecture of her friend.
A/N: Hi guys! I know the first chapter can be a bit confusing, but the best is yet to come :) The story is complete and published in Italian, I'm just starting to translate it in English. I did try to find someone who would do the translation, but at the end I understood I have to do the dirty job all by myself!R&R
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