Trigger warning - graphic content below. To avoid this, skip the second paragraph.
Every year, the roses crawling over the entry arches into the back garden of the Manor bloomed. Thorns and spiderwebs were hidden by plump, glossy leaves, littered with little buds all through the month of May, and then... on the first day of summer, after the equinox, the first petals would spin outward like the skirts of a ballgown.
It was now the 23rd of December. Evelyn Rosier swayed softly in the wind, as cold as the empty, thorny branches covered in old webs and a few dead leaves from the year before. The curtain sparkled with a few frozen snowflakes caught in the velvet. Something terrible was looming ever nearer, yet now she no longer cared. She had been happy... For a few months, maybe a year, or... Merlin, were there two? She had been happy, at ease, her skin white like the milk she poured into her tea - no bruises, no cuts, no cigar burns; before returning to what had been the norm for over a decade. Blue eyes had shifted towards the ceiling, strained and red, welcomed by painted cherubs and soft pastel clouds. A white veil covered her dark hair, half-gathered in a gold comb. She was wearing her wedding dress, with a modest neckline and long sleeves, graceful white silk hiding the marks on her body. She had put on makeup - subtle like her murderer preferred. It didn't hide the bruise that spread from her brow to her cheek. The wind revealed a missing chunk of hair on her head and patches of blood that had dried over the wound. Red soaked the silk from the waist down, the way it had the night of her wedding - the only evidence of a robbery repeated countless times with brutal force. She was facing the door, welcoming her visitors. The vanity stool was overturned in the puddle that began soaking into the carpet.
Balthazar Blackwood took a deep, cold breath in. "I don't think you should see her," he said, holding the door close to him and blocking the girl's view with his body.
"I can stand it," Anna tried to reassure him. "I'll need to go into her room for the jewels."
After a moment of hesitation, the man sighed. "Alright. Give me a few minutes, that's all I need."
Sensing that it would be futile to argue, Anna nodded. She was soon faced with the sculpted wooden door. The girl looked at the old rose wallpaper on the walls. Her eyes followed the gilded vines up and down the wall, behind paintings, over locked doors, and underneath heavy curtains always drawn to block the view. A sudden urge gripped her, so she walked to the windows and yanked the curtains to the sides. She then did it again, and again, until the entire corridor was flooded by light. The rails shook in their hooks, ready to roll off towards the ground, yet held firmly in place. Her heart felt so heavy with emotions she hadn't allowed herself to feel and her mind spun in flashes. The windows overlooked the pond that she wasn't permitted to visit. She stopped at the opposite end of the hallway, one hand reaching over the cold glass. Perhaps she should visit the pond. Who would stop her, anyway? Blackwood had no power, and her father wasn't there. Just then, the heavy wooden door opened again, and she jumped, half expecting to see her mother appear in its frame.
"You can come now," Blackwood held his arm out. "It's alright."
Her legs were rooting into the ancient carpet. The girl nodded, blinked away the tears she hadn't noticed before, then walked into her mother's room. Immediately, she noticed the body on the bed, covered with a sheet that didn't match the rest of the set, and the sheer curtains of the canopy trying to obscure the sight. She could smell quite a bit of her mother's perfume in the air and... something else that she didn't recognize. The carpet looked off, although she couldn't tell why. Perhaps it's been charmed...? But there would be no reason. She went into her mother's dressing room and sat down on the stool at her vanity. Most of the furniture in the manor was mahogany. Evelyn had always wanted a white vanity, but Siberius had given her a black one instead.
"...Did you notice anything?" Anna glanced through the mirror at Blackwood, who was waiting patiently by the fireplace.
"It may not be all that beneficial for you to discuss this now."
"So you did," she sighed. The girl opened the drawers, looking through the many velvet boxes and pouches. She picked one of the larger boxes and carefully layered a few sets, all part of the Rosier heritage. "I am taking these so that they'll stay in the family. I don't want my father to share them with you, sir."
The air felt almost electric. There was definitely great tension between them. For a split second, Anna thought she had seen a specter behind Blackwood. When her eyes focused on the mirror, there was nothing there. Was her mind playing tricks on her...?
"Well, your father is the owner of the Manor now-" Blackwood was interrupted by an empty vase shattering on the side table closest to him. Shards of colored glass shot through the air, landing in the walls like darts. The only thing that saved the man from injury was his extreme reflexes from back in the day when he had been a dueling champion. He managed to cast a non-verbal Protego.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Anna continued to look through the jewelry, while Balthazar stood unsure. Sweat dripped down his back. His eyes darted through the room. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for - danger, yes, but he had no idea of its shape. The chandelier, maybe? He was not in line with it. Any sharp objects? He didn't notice any. The windows, then? ...Would a makeup brush be hard enough to pierce bone? The terrible image of an unscheduled lobotomy crossed his mind. Bile rose in his throat. He was not welcomed, of that he was certain, yet he couldn't ask the girl to hurry, either.
Several minutes later, Anna stood up with the velvet box. "Let's retrieve the wand and the documents the Lord demanded."
Feeling a bit silly for the sudden panic, Blackwood forced a grin. "Ladies first," he opened the door, before piecing the vase together with Reparo.
"There are several magical defenses placed on my father's office. The elves can't enter," she quickly justified the observation. "Are you going to undo them?"
The man wanted to laugh a bit about the assumption but hesitated as they passed a statue in the hallway. He could swear that the marble pupils moved. Chills rushed through his entire body. "No need for that. You may access the room if you are invited. As you probably expect, I can enter."
In the year spent trying and failing to gain access to the office, they had taken this possibility into account. Severus was the one to think of the concept first, and she agreed it seemed plausible. It was why she insisted on accompanying Blackwood on this day.
"Could you invite me, sir?"
He could sense a throbbing headache approaching. "I don't think your father will be very pleased..." The man took note of the chandeliers and fixtures above him. Should one fall, could he foresee it? How sharp were his reflexes now, almost two decades after retiring from dueling?
"I could help you look for the wand, at the very least."
"...Alright." His eyes caught sight of the pond in the backyard through a window. The water was so dark, it looked like a bottomless void. His ears began to ring and his mouth dried. He could drown in that water... It could just pour out of the pond, past the rocks, over the stairs, and swallow the manor whole. The sun never shined at the bottom of the pond, which looked more and more like a lake. His throat was closing up. She was down there... in the dark, murky waters... weighted-
"Sir? Are you alright?"
The voice suddenly reminded him of where he was and what he had to do. Balthazar gasped for air and looked around. "Yes! ...Yes, I'm fine. Thank you." He cleared his throat and loosened his tie. They turned a corner to the opposite wing of the manor, where Siberius had his office. It was a grand room with tall shelves of documents loosely fitted in folders, letters crammed in boxes, a small mini bar improvised on a shelf, a poorly taxidermied kneazle cub, and various souvenirs from his younger days when he had been more mobile.
Although Anna couldn't look around to her heart's desire, she took notice of locked drawers and cupboards to search later. While Blackwood retrieved the papers, she noticed her mother's wand broken in two and stuffed in a corner. The dead unicorn hair still connected the pieces which bared the signs of her father's grasp.
The funeral was rushed to the 24th so that it wouldn't overlap with the ball. Bouquets of roses were placed under stasis and placed to line Evelyn's last path. The coffin was open and sat in one of the smaller salons on the ground floor. It was close to one of the side doors leading to the back of the manor, and from there, into the crypt below. Evelyn had been laid on white satin, contrasting with her black hair. The bruise around her neck had been covered by a tall collar of ruffled lace. The one around her eye had been charmed into oblivion so it wouldn't ruin her porcelain complexion. She had been given one of her elegant hats to hide the wound on her scalp. Evelyn wore blue on her last day.
As snow fell heavier and more abundantly, Anna spotted flashes of a camera. Sitting up from beside the coffin, she stormed into the foyer of the Rosier Manor.
"What are you doing?!" she grabbed her father's shoulder.
The man turned around, his expression changing from grief and sadness to shock. "What-?"
"I told you no press! I don't want my mother's death to be on the front page of the tabloids! You agreed! You promised me there would be no press! What is Rita Skeeter doing in my home?!"
"Your home?! You spoiled, ungrateful-!" Siberius was a split second from slapping his daughter when Lucius walked between them.
"Pardon me. Alright, enough is enough, what you saw here was the embodiment of grief, this is a very sad day for us all, and everything is very tragic. Go, now, and forget the last ten minutes." As he walked the journalist out of the manor, Lucius had cast an Obliviate over her.
Unaware of what was happening, Rita stepped back, matching his pace, as if they were dancing. Before she had time to think of a question, she found herself staring at the closed French doors of the Rosier Manor. What was she going to ask...? Carefully, she descended the steps and took a picture of the Manor's front.
The Daily Prophet wrote an article dedicated to the event and to the early life of Evelyn Rosier, an ambitious straight-A student, part of the Frog Choir, with dreams of becoming a Legislator for the Ministry of Magic. It briefly mentioned that she was initially the sister-in-law of Siberius Rosier, formerly S. Creek, and the aunt of Evan Rosier, the famous Death Eater killed by Auror Alastor Moody during the war. Not much was known of her after the wedding, so the article described Evelyn as soft-spoken, beautiful, and ever so graceful. The official cause of death for Evelyn was written as fast-paced pneumonia aggravated by her weakened immune system that did not respond to the treatment on time. The Ministry did not consider her death suspicious, therefore no investigation was launched. It featured a picture of the Rosier Manor with its arches of snow-covered roses.
Siberius was the first to leave his wife's side. Once the coffin had been lowered into the crypt, he turned to go and nudged Balthazar to do the same. The stone hadn't even been laid over the wooden coffin, but he couldn't wait to breathe in the fresh winter air. Balthazar eagerly agreed. There was a life-size statue of an angel in the crypt, and once again, Balthazar couldn't shake the feeling that the statue was looking at him. Somehow, through the hollow marble pupils, the angel saw him and threatened him with his marble sword. The image of the angel coming to life and beheading him in front of everybody didn't leave Balthazar's mind for a long time.
Soon after the burial, people began making their way after Siberius, up the stairs, through the cold, and into the manor above. One by one, family, Death Eaters, and others who had found themselves there by chance left the crypt behind.
"We should go," Severus spoke as softly as he could. The crypt was entirely silent now, save for their heartbeats. Anna had stopped crying a while ago and she was relatively calm now. Still, he couldn't move her from the tomb of her mother.
Finally becoming aware that they were alone, Anna leaned into him more and more until she had her head over his chest and her arms underneath his winter coat. She hadn't felt how cold her hands were before sensing her lover's warmth. His heart was beating underneath his ribs, louder now, comforting her.
"...Is it true? What Bella said about Yvonne...?" Her mouth felt dry and her voice was a little coarse.
Severus sighed heavily, holding her in his embrace. "I'm afraid I don't know. We were not close. I know she was a very talented dueller, a talent that she passed on to Evan. She was also an avid supporter of pureblood ideology. I think she avoided me because of that. I was only tolerated in the same circles thanks to Lucius."
"Her tomb is empty..." Anna mumbled in his chest. The tomb of Yvonne Rosier was closed without a coffin or a body inside. She had no date of death on her stone, and there were no flowers on her grave. Without uttering a word, Anna floated two bouquets of roses from her mother's pile into the two vases of Yvonne's tomb.
He gently stroked her hair and back. "That's what I know, too. They never found a body."
"...Bodies don't just disappear."
"No, they do not..."
They stood in silence for a long time. As the short winter day was coming to an end, the lights of the candles and lanterns lit up around Evelyn's grave became stronger.
"...So then, what could he have done? Maybe he buried it somewhere on the property, unmarked... unnamed... like an animal..."
Severus slowly coaxed her towards a bench nearby, but the girl refused to move, so he picked her up. Anna looked at him with panic in her eyes, ready to plead, before she realized that the exit was in a different direction. He sat down and placed her on his lap so that she wouldn't be sitting on the cold marble of the bench.
"Your legs must hurt. I don't think they'll mind if we sit down."
A small smile tugged at her lips. Her feet were burning and her calves were tight. Anna wrapped her arms around his shoulders and sighed.
They could hear the tea party above. It was faint but still audible. Music filled the Manor as Siberius wanted nothing to do with the dead and everything to do with looking for a new wife among the young girls there.
Author's note:
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