Picking Petals off Roses
Chapter One
"Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." –Bible, Genesis 3:19
I.
They were running. It was not fear that pumped through their veins, but adrenalin. Kurama was ahead, his silver hair snapping behind him like an angry rattlesnake. He glanced back occasionally to make sure his partner was keeping up. His partner, Kuronue, was the faster one normally, but he had his bat wings unfurled slightly, providing cover for them in case the other demons they had stolen from threw a projectile. It would hurt, certainly, if something like an arrow were to pierce the leather appendages, but Kuronue had always healed fast.
Spears were thrown in their direction, and Kurama heard Kuronue laugh breathlessly as they weaved through the bamboo trees in a haphazard, serpentine route. Clothes whipping left and right, as if caught along the edge of a tornado; everything was jostled as they ran at inhuman speeds. They were almost safe. Kurama looked behind him again, smirking, but felt his limbs slowing down as he watched the chain around Kuronue's neck that held his red stone pendant break and drop to the dirt floor.
Kuronue immediately turned back for it.
"Stop Kuronue!" It felt as if there was a boa constrictor wrapping its long body around Kurama's chest.
"I need it!"
Why? Kurama wanted to yell. Why is it so important that you would risk your life? Kuronue picked up his pendant and started to turn around again, but in his haste he set off a trap, and shoots of bamboo rush towards him. They pierced his wings, his calves and thighs, and several times throughout the rest of his body.
"Kuronue!" A red rosebud of horror bloomed unpleasantly in his stomach.
Kuronue raised his head painfully to make eye contact with Kurama; blood dripped from the corner of his mouth and stained his teeth. "Forget about me and run Kurama!"
A hesitation. They could both hear the drumbeat of heavy foot falls getting closer.
"Go!"
He turned and ran.
Later, when he was safe from the pursuing demons and bamboo spears, Kurama looked at the prize that had come from their heist and wondered if a mirror with no special enchantments, just pretty jewels, was worth it.
II.
Rose red hair and grass green eyes was the first thing Kuronue saw when he was born from his human mother. He did not see this with his eyes, but with his mind. The part that showed him the past-present-future all at the same time, the part that threatened to drive him to madness, the part that made his demon mother, Amarante, give him his precious pendant that held all of her life force, in order to block it.
The second thing he saw was his human mother, pale and sweaty with matted dirty blond hair, hazel eyes, and an aloof expression on her face as she held him.
Third, he saw that when he had compressed his whole being into just an orb of his demon powers—which was hard to do when you could barely see from blood loss, and hurt—then taken the first portal into Human World he could, and finally, invaded the womb of a woman whose child had no soul and would either be miscarried or stillborn—he didn't want to have to compete for control of his human body just because there was already someone inhabiting it—he hadn't taken into the gender into account. Because when he got a tiny glimpse of between his chubby baby legs? Yeah, that was female.
So he was now a she. Great.
It was a good thing he had never really cared about gender or else he—she—might have just evacuated his—her—new body in search for a different one with more familiar genitalia. Never mind the fact that Kuronue wasn't sure exactly how to 'evacuate' this new body now that his soul and demon powers had taken up residence.
(The first thing he heard was his human mother speaking to him in a different language—was that English?—and thinking, the fuck?)
III.
Fun Fact: portals from Demon World to Human World only let through demons that are high C-class or lower, and connect primarily to Asian countries, specifically Japan. There are a few that connect to the United States of America, and even fewer that go to European countries. None thus far have been reported in Canada.
Kuronue, somehow, had found himself a European portal, and was now living in a manor somewhere in Wales with his human parents Raphael and Cecelia Lestrange, and older brothers Rodolphus and Rabastan.
IV.
Raphael Lestrange found himself in a constant state of confusion when it came to his daughter, Rosalie Raphaella. It had taken her an inordinate amount of time to start speaking. So long, in fact, he had considered taking her to St. Mungo's to see a Healer. His wife Cecelia, formerly of the Nott family, had not allowed it, saying that she didn't trust a Healers loose lips. Soon enough, she had informed her husband, everyone would be aware that we have a deficient daughter and there would be rumours of exactly how strong her magic was.
By the age of five though, Rosalie seemed to have caught up in her speaking, and she did well with the tutors that Raphael hired for her essay writing, simple maths to help with Arithmancy, and magical theory and history. And after age three, when she had first shown her Metamorphmagus talent by changing her hair silver and eyes gold, there was no more doubt as to whether or not she was a witch, even if she never did any accidental magic. Cecelia could be heard at dinner parties boasting to her friends about how her daughter was the first Metamorphmagus in the Nott or Lestrange lines.
What really confounded Raphael though, was how unladylike his beautiful daughter was; no matter how many scolding's and lectures on propriety Cecelia gave, the next day Rosalie would still go outside to climb trees, run around, and on more than one occasion Raphael had seen her doing cartwheels and backflips.
He loved his daughter though, more than he loved his sons—they seemed to have inherited their temperament from their mother. Rosalie didn't take after either of her parents, she had her own baffling personality. He might have also loved her more because while Rodolphus and Rabastan were always closer to Cecelia, Rosalie didn't appear to see the need in a mother but never failed to spend time with him.
V.
"This is boring."
Regulus flicked his eyes over to the girl beside him, who had introduced herself as Rose, and said nothing. She looked to be about nine—his age—with long black hair in a spiky ponytail, and dark eyes. Sirius, Regulus' elder brother by two years, had his arms folded on the table with his head resting on them, "Yeah, the Malfoy Christmas Balls are always like this, all formal and such. I wish I was still at Hogwarts, but Mother forced me to come home. It would have at least been more tolerable if James were here—James Potter, he's my best mate—but at least I don't have to deal with the Slytherins, especially that greasy git Snape—"
Rose abruptly banged her head against the table, making the expensive vase filled with peacock feathers being used as a center piece shake, and started to make exaggerated snoring noises. Regulus was relieved for the disruption: he had already heard all he needed to of Sirius' first term at Hogwarts the day he got off the train, now it was just repetitive. Rose turned to him and groaned, "Your brother is so boring."
The corner of Regulus' mouth twitched.
Sirius spluttered, "I am not! Who are you?!"
She was still looking at Regulus. "I'm Rosalie Lestrange," she said with a smirk.
"Regulus Black."
"I hope you're not boring."
"I don't think I am."
"Good," she said, and grabbed his cold hand with her warm one, dragging him out of his seat. "Come with me."
Sirius was still spluttering.
VI.
"Why are we in the Malfoy's library?" Regulus whispered.
"I'm going to steal something." Kuronue replied, going on her tip-toes and scanning titles of various rare tomes.
"What!"
"Hush!"
"Why are you going to steal something? What are you going to steal?" His tone was significantly lower.
Kuronue smiled as she pulled out a book of runes she knew wasn't in her home library or the various book stores in both Diagon and Knockturn Alley. Kuronue squinted at the cover and blew a whole bunnies worth of dust off; this one appeared to be Nordic in origin. Good, those were always hard to find. She would need as much information as she could get if she was going to finish creating the ritual before puberty. Maybe if she begged Father to take her to New York this summer, she'd read in the pamphlets she'd 'borrowed' from the illegal travel shop in Knockturn that they had a bigger, more modern selection there…. Eugh, Kuronue scrunched up her nose, more reading.
The things she put herself through just to stay sane.
Regulus tugged impatiently on her ugly blue ruffled dress Cecelia had put her in, and Kuronue automatically smoothed it down. No reason to make it look even worse. He tugged harder when she ignored him, and Kuronue slapped his hand away. The moment she had that scarce contact with his skin, the vision she'd had in the ballroom—the one that prompted her to go and introduce herself—swept back over her and gave her that familiar feeling of a colossal wave pulling her under the ocean. She couldn't breathe.
They were in their teens, walking down a street that looked to be in the non-magical part of Human World. She laughed at something and he scowled, "Kuronue—"
She had clamped down her Occlumency shields before she saw anything else. But Regulus had known her real name, not her human one, and the only reason he would know that would be if she had told him. So he must be trustworthy. She would tell him but… not yet.
"I can see visions of the future, present, and past," she told him, and felt mildly smug when his eyes widened, "but, it's too strong. I'm always getting confused on which is which, and sometimes I forget where I am if I don't keep my mind clear and shield against the stronger visions."
"Occlumency," Regulus muttered.
Occlumency was the art of shielding one's mind from its counterpart, Legilimency, the art of invading another's mind. Though the main purpose of Occlumency is to protect the mind, a step to becoming proficient at the art is to organize one's mind. This is why most purebloods teach their children at least the basics, because by organizing the mind it is easier to remember things. It almost ends up being an eidetic memory, but more fallible; and when the pureblood children go to Hogwarts and get better grades than the muggleborn and halfbloods, it only gives 'credence' to the 'fact' that muggles, muggleborns and halfbloods have 'dirty' blood and 'inferior' magic.
"So I'm trying to find a way to block it off completely, and I need as many books on runes as I can find as fast as I can to do that, because if I don't block it by the time I go through puberty," her voice turned ominous, a shadow overcoming her features, "I will go insane."
Regulus gulped. Kuronue had to stop herself from giggling at how freaked out he looked.
"I have a lot of old books on runes at home," he offered, and Kuronue smiled slowly. She was beginning to understand why they had looked so close in the small flash of the future she'd had—her pendant had been around her neck, and he must help her get it back.
VII.
"I spit like bacon, I'm made from an egg. I have plenty of backbone, but lack a good leg. I peel layers like onions, yet remain whole. I'm as long as a flagpole, yet fit in a hole. What am I?"
Regulus looked up from the book on Transfiguration he had been pretending to read, worrying his cheek. "What?"
"It's a riddle. Can you figure it out?" Rose asked, a challenging look upon her face. Her hair was white today, and short and spiky. Her eyes looked turquoise, and her face was, as it always was nowadays, androgynous.
"Of course I can figure it out," Regulus scoffed.
"Go on then, solve it."
For the rest of their ride on the Hogwarts Express to their first year of schooling, Regulus focussed on the riddle, writing it in the margins of his Transfiguration text. Just as all the first years were clambering onto the rickety old boats that would take them across the Black Lake, he figured it out. "A snake! You're a snake."
"That's right," Rose smirked, "and so are you."
VIII.
'Oh my,' the Hat said, concerned, 'a demon thief has come to Hogwarts.' This was one of those times that the Sorting Hat wished Salazar hadn't put the secrecy enchantment on him. If he hadn't, the Hat would have tattled to Headmaster Dumbledore about the danger this demon girl posed to Hogwarts and its precious artifacts.
The Hat got the impression that the demon was smirking.
'Well, I suppose you're loyal to this Yoko Kurama to a fault, and you work hard when there's something you want… but no, having you in Hufflepuff would not be the best for that House. It certainly takes… courage… to be in your profession… but not Gryffindor, no, you're not chivalrous. Not bright enough for Ravenclaw… you don't particularly care to learn for the sake of learning, too boring. Well, I suppose that leaves only one option. You will certainly do something, for good or ill, in the House of…'
"SLYTHERIN!"
Polite clapping. Rosalie Lestrange grinned as she handed the Sorting Hat back to Professor McGonagall before flouncing off to the table of silver and green and sat next to Regulus Black. The girl looked at her house, the applause starting to dwindle down, and said with devious eyes, loud enough for the entirety of the Great Hall to hear, "The Hat almost put me in Hufflepuff."
Regulus face palmed.
IX.
Kuronue looked down, unimpressed, at the rickety school broom that she was supposed to fly on. Because it was 'fun'. Nope, Kuronue thought, the only way I'm ever going to fly is with wings. I will not go down this dark path they have laid before me. I am loyal to my faithful leathery appendages.
"Sorry," Kuronue said, catching the attention of Madam Hooch and the Gryffindor-Slytherin mix flying class, "but I don't think I'm old enough to have a stick of wood between my legs, let alone ride it."
Madam Hooch stared at her, completely shocked at the innuendo, as the rest of the class murmured amongst themselves in confusion. Why wouldn't someone want to ride a broomstick? They wondered.
Kuronue returned Madam Hooch's stare with half-lidded eyes and an ever-so-slight smirk.
It was a very perverted look.
(Regulus, who stood beside her, was unfazed at her odd comment. Rose always said weird stuff like that, and he found it was easier to just ignore her instead of asking what she meant. She would just start giggling. "Up," he commanded his broom when everyone was still preoccupied, and mounted it.
"That's a fine piece of wood between your legs Regulus," Rose said, and started cackling.
When Regulus started to hover above the ground, she said, "You seem to really enjoy riding brooms Regulus, do you think you'll do it often? Maybe you should join the Quiddich team next year, then you could play with your broomstick for hours and hours."
"Maybe I will," Regulus said, liking the feeling of the wind on his face and messing his hair. Rose collapsed on the grass in laughter, and Regulus stared at her quizzically before shaking his head.
It really was easier to just ignore her when she got like that.)
X.
"I'm telling you," said Hooch, "that girl was making vulgar comments! She kept talking about wood and riding and playing!"
"Now really Madam," Horus Slughorn said disapprovingly, "she is eleven years old."
"I'm afraid that I must agree with Horus," said Headmaster Dumbledore. "Is Quiddich not on broomsticks made of wood? Do you not ride a broom? Is Quiddich not considered playing?"
Hooch glared at the two of them, but there was a flush on her cheeks, "Mark my words, that girl is nothing but trouble. You would agree if you had seen the look on her face. And Black was just encouraging her!"