Gender: Male
Age: 34
Sign:
Aquarius
Country: United Kingdom
Signup Date: February 04, 2019
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06/09/2019 07:39 PM
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Owes
Drabbles: Amos - Alcohol isnt going to solve your problems Medea - "name" there's nobody there. Aria Get the hell away from me VANITY. did you have another nightmare? Vold At what point did you think that was a good idea? Aria "are you okay?" "why do you ask" "you're wearing two different shoes" Catalyst is that an apology?
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05/14/2019 11:20 PM
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Drabbles
Evan RosierThe Last Straw-ROSIER;
The last time they'd spoken they'd been in the midst of a war. Well he and her husband had been. She'd been raising an infant. When the Dark Lord had perished, he had fled with no word to anyone but the sister he dragged along. That included Narcissa, the only one of his cousins he'd managed to bond with, he'd never spoken to before leaving. And upon returning to the United Kingdom, he hadn't seeked her out. He'd been to her estate, but even then he'd barely shared a passing gaze with her. He was back for one thing, the Dark Lord and the coming war.
But Rose had left. Thirty-five years by his side and she'd left. And he was distraught. He didn't know why she'd left, or he did and he just didn't want to admit it. He had thought of following her. He had heard the Manor name uttered as she threw the floo powder into the fireplace before dragging their daughter through the green flames. He thought about following her, but had decided against it. She was angry, maybe if he gave her time to cool off he could talk some sense into her.
He ran his fingers through shaggy hair, groaning as he contemplated what to do. Finally settling himself into a plush armchair, he gazed at the fireplace his sister and daughter had disappeared through. "Shrizer, bring my fire whiskey." He demanded of the house elf he knew stood hidden amongst the shadows of the large drawing room. The house elf returned moments later with the requested amber liquid and two crystal glasses.
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Evan had been drinking for god knows how long when he finally decided he was done. Staring at the crystal for a long moment, he threw the glass at the fireplace Rose had left through, watching as it shattered into hundreds of pieces. "Clean it up." He snapped to the house elf as he rose from his arm chair. "I'm leaving." He ignored the house elf as it muttered apologizes and promised to clean up, stepping around the creature. In an instant he was gone, disapparated and appearing at Malfoy Manor.
It was dark and quiet in the absence of death eaters and the Dark Lord. Evan looked around for a moment before moving quietly through the large manor. He was unsure how he'd be received after fifteen years of silence and the fact he'd arrived unannounced, but he still slinked through the manor as if he belonged, looking for his second favorite blonde... well third since the arrival of the next generation of the Rosier name. Finally spotting the familiar head of blonde, he leaned against the frame of the doorway into the room and watched her. She seemed to be reading, or something of the sort, her back to him.
"Cissy..." he muttered. He was quiet for a long while, unmoving. "She left." Narcissa had always been a confidant of sorts, someone who was unafraid to tell him the truth. She'd called it "shrink-ing" when they were kids. He pushed off the door frame and moved to sit in the chair next to her. An exasperated sigh escaped past his lips as he settled back into the arm chair.
"She left. Went back to France." "Well, Evan..." she'd been quiet until then. "I wonder what the last straw was? Think...." falling back into a relationship 15 years absent with ease.
Evan hated the reasonable tone behind her words. He hated admitting to himself he knew the answer. He turned to Cissy, blue eyes finding hers and they spoke volumes. They shined with the hurt and betrayal he felt, but further than that, the knowledge that he was to blame.
"I brought her home." It was simple, stated without much emotion. "Is that really why she left?" He was quiet for another moment. "No." He'd been an ass since they'd gotten back, he'd never admit it though. "She took my daughter, Cissy."
Anything to put the blame on anyone but himself. Rose left. Rose took Violette. Rose was the reason he was mad. It was Rose's fault.
"Why? What was the straw that broke the camel's back? She did not leave without reason."
Again the voice of reason grated on his nerves. Again he was silent for several minutes. This was what he had seeked out,her voice of reason. At the same time though, he didn't like what she wa saying. He didn't want to accept the blame. He was doing what was right, right? Following the Dark Lord, purifying the Wizarding World, that was right....right? He just wanted what was right for his child, for what remained of his family. He wanted Narcissa to tell him he had been right for bringing them back to Britain, but instead she made him think about why Rose had left.
He shook his head and stood up. "I'm going home, Narcissa." "Do think about that, cousin. What was the last straw... maybe you can fix things."
Evan stared at her for a long moment, contemplating her words. He gave a nod and disapparated once more back to Rosebush Manor, back to the empty and dark house that was no longer a home without his family.
EVAN ROSIERI SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU-ROSIER;
The empty and dark silence ate away at him. Heād secluded himself away for the last two days, the time since heād been to Malfoy Manor to speak with Narcissa. She had only spoken reason, only made him thinking. But he hadnāt liked what sheād said, insinuating it might be his fault that Rose had left, so heād left. And he had sulked and he had drank. But the emptiness of Rosebush Manor and the silence of its grand halls annoyed him.
He was rescued from the incessant quiet by a burning on his right forearm. He thought about not answering the call, he was a bit tipsy and knew heād have to close his mind to his master. The last thing he wanted was the Dark Lord ordering him or anyone else after his sister who was only becoming more brazen with her blood traitor tendencies. But Malfoy Manor, meant Narcissa. Perhaps he could grab her attention once the Dark Lord dismissed them. Maybe he could apologize. For disappearing two nights ago, and perhaps for disappearing fifteen years ago. After all he had promised his daughter once when she was an infant that heād be a better person for her. Perhaps continuing to follow the Dark Lord wasnāt the best way to do that, but heād try to make amends where they were due.
And so he went, doing his best to keep his thoughts to himself at least in the presence of the Dark Lord and Bellatrix. He had no doubt his deranged elder cousin would out Rosaline the second she peered into his mind if it would please her master. Heād sat by himself, avoiding eye contact with everyone, not saying a single word, until the Dark Lord dismissed them all with plans for the following day for a few select individuals. Evan had rose from his seat and searched the faces as everyone either left in a pop or milled about to speak amongst themselves. He caught sight of his cousin just as she left the room, his eyes quickly finding her husband still amongst the few who were talking to the few others. So, he followed her, quickly from the room.
āCissy.ā He whispered once they were far enough from the dining room and thus the remaining death eaters. āCan I talk to you?ā He wouldnāt assume after heād left so abruptly last time.
He half expected her to say no, to tell him off. But instead, when she looked at him, she gave a small nod before leading him into a room off the hallway heād caught her in. He followed behind her, into the room, noticing it was the same room heād found her in two nights before. Perhaps it was her sitting room, an unnecessary question for the current time.
āEvan, have you thought about what I said the other night?ā She moved with a practiced grace sheād always had to sit in the same chair heād found her in nightās before.
āI didnāt come to talk about Roseā¦ well not really.ā He moved to sit in the chair opposite her, leaning forward with elbows resting on his knees. āI realized I had no right barging into your home after having not seen you in over a decade.ā
āIt was fifteen years, cousin.ā She was always so calm, some would call it coldness, a lack of emotion. He knew it was her upbringing, just as he was an easy to anger wizard with control issues. āAnd you left without so much as a word.ā But Evan could see the flicker of hurt behind pale blue eyes, a feature he assumed she took from her mother, after all she looked more his and Rosalineās sister than she did her own siblingsā.
āI know and I..ā Merlin, this was hard for him to admit, āIām sorry. I should have told you. I justā¦ I couldnāt let them get their hands on Rosaline.ā It had never been a secret he was protective of his baby sister. āIf theyād have found me, theyād have taken her as well.ā Surely Narcissa would understand, Evan had no doubt Lucius had been questioned at some point, possibly even Narcissa.
Narcissa was quiet, pale eyes locked on him the entire time he spoke. He was uncomfortable, one not used to putting words to the weakness that his sister put in him. He owed Narcissa an explanation though.
āI wrote to you several times once we had settled.ā But heād been afraid of someone within the Ministry or the Magical Congress getting their hands on his letters and using them to find him. āBut I burned the letters. I wrote you again when my daughter was born, but that letter too was burned.ā It was how heād coped in those first few years living in America without the ability to talk to his cousin whenever heād pleased. "I swear, I wouldn't have left alone without telling you where I was going."
āHow old is she? This daughter of yours?ā And just like that, heād been allowed to vent and Narcissa had seemly changed the subject.āTen, sheāll be eleven in Juneā¦ I suppose sheāll begin Beauxbatons Academy in the fall since Rose took her to La Maison de Rosier.ā He smiled as he spoke of his daughter, his pride and joy. āSo, have you put any thought into my question? That last straw, cousin?ā And changed it right back to their conversation from two nights prior. Evan was marked silent again by her question, just as he had been two nights prior. He sat back in the armchair, dragging long digits through his unruly locks. āI think you know. You just do not want to admit it to yourself. Her leaving your side has nothing to do with returning to Britain, does it?ā His nostrils flared slightly and he looked away from her, his jaw clenching. āNo.ā He finally muttered, the word sharp. āNo, she left because sheāsā¦ā He was cut off by her raised hand and her voice. āAhā¦ Do not blame her. If I had to venture to guess, Evan, she left because of where your loyalties lie. That mark on your arm is more important than her.ā
Silence fell over the two, the only sound that of a crackling fire in the fireplace. It wasnāt true, he told himself. Heād taken off to America with his sister in tow rather than join Bellatrix in searching for their master. But the second the Dark Lord had returned, heād forced Rose back. Maybe Narcissa was right. She always was, though Evan rarely liked to admit it. |
EVAN ROSIERI'm trying to stop the bleeding-ROSIER; x Daffodil
The battle surged around him. Curses and hexes flew every which way. It was hard to tell from whom the streams of light flew, enemy or foe, they were all to be avoided with the utmost care, at least if one wanted to live. And Merlinās Beard he wanted to make it out of this battle alive, alive and free of Azkaban. He darted this way and barely missed a curse that way.
He thought for perhaps the tenth time that night that maybe Rose was right, maybe this war was useless, maybe they would all loose their lives one way or another at the end of this night. Maybe he should have followed Rose to France, heād missed so much in Violetteās life in just two years, but Lord Voldemort was unlikely to let him leave and so he stayed and he fought. To keep them safe. To keep them alive. When all was said and done they would lead a life far better than any life he could have given them with the Wizarding World at war. At least here, he had Narcissa, his voice of reason. She had an annoying habit of making him see things in ways he would never admit to himself and he loved her for it.
Heād been distracted by a duel with an Auror when he felt the pain erupt in his middle, the Auror glanced over his shoulder before darting off to start a duel with someone else. Blue eyes grew wide with surprise, his free hand moving quickly to press over the wound. When his fingers came away with blood, he crumpled, falling to his knees. His breathing came in short gasps, his body trying to draw in oxygen despite the pain that flared with each rise and fall of his chest.
He knew two things at this point, he was dying andā¦. andā¦ He blinked several times, trying to compel himself to stay awake to focusā¦
Cissaā¦ His mind whispered to him as once again his eyes fluttered shut, his body swaying as he fought to maintain consciousness. No, he told himself, he couldnāt succumb to the darkness that awaited him. His fingers tightened around his wand, focusing all his energy, he kept that one name in mind and disappeared with a pop and a prayer that he didnāt injure himself anymore than he already was.
āCissaā¦ā It was the ghost of a whisper caught on the air of his exhale as he fell once more to the darkness that wanted to consume him whole.
He fought it. Willing the darkness away. Willing his eyes to open. When he did open his eyes, he wasnāt sure if what he saw was reality or mirage - the blonde that stared down at him, his name falling from from her lips followed by a āstay with me.ā The pain that once again surged forward with an unfamiliar pressure assured him that it was anything but a mirage.
āCissaā¦ā He whispered again, only to be hushed, his eyes once again falling shut.
āShhā¦Iām trying to stop the bleeding.ā It was soothing, her voice, despite the obviously less than ideal situation. It was then that he realized the unfamiliar pressure heād felt was her trying to quell the blood oozing from his abdomen as she tried to perform a spell that would counteract the hex or curse that had caused the wound. āOpen your eyes.ā Suddenly her voice had taken on a demanding edge and he struggled to do as she asked.
āCissaā¦ I-Iām sorry for everything I ever did.ā He breathed out. Heād disappeared for fifteen years without a word and he knew heād hurt her. He coughed, blood beginning to seep from the corner of his mouth. His fingers loosed on his wand, dropping it to slowly raise his hand to wipe at the moisture. āF-find Rose and Violetteā¦ā
āNo, shut up Evan. Stop talking like that and shut up. You are not dying.ā He could hear the crack in her voice as the calm faƧade began to fade from her face.
āTell themā¦ tell them I love them.ā He gasped, fingers moving to gently touch her cheek, marring pale flesh with a streak of blood. āDonāt shed tears over me. Je tāaime, ma petite chĆ©rie. Toujours et sans cesse.ā He coughed again, his hand falling limp from her face to land somewhere at his side.
His eyes closed for the final time, his body no longer willing to fight against the inevitable. His breathing slowed as did his heart until eventually both stopped in unison, his body falling limp as his world went black.
TW: Mentions of incest, blood, death. Possible-AU Post Second War EVAN ROSIERBUT HOW...-ROSIER;
May 2, 1998 āTell themā¦ tell them I love them.ā He gasped, fingers moving to gently touch her cheek, marring pale flesh with a streak of blood. āDonāt shed tears over me. Je tāaime, ma petite chĆ©rie. Toujours et sans cesse.ā He coughed again, his hand falling limp from her face to land somewhere at his side.
His eyes closed for the final time, his body no longer willing to fight against the inevitable. His breathing slowed as did his heart until eventually both stopped in unison, his body falling limp as his world went black.
Seconds went by, a blonde woman sobbing over him, oblivious to the fact something else was going on. His heart regained a rhythm, slower than ever, pumping blood through his system none the less. His chest rose, barely perceptible to an on looker. But limp and lifeless he remained, blood magic working from a thousand kilometers away. No one would notice he barely lived after the Battle of Hogwarts - laid among the slain, taken back to Rosebush Manor to await his final resting place.
May 6, 1998 Pale fingers twitched, moving for the first time in nearly four days. A sisterās love turned to dark magic, working through his bloodstream. He could suddenly hear again, the rest of his body refusing to cooperate, ears working reflexively to listen to the whispered argument that seemed to be going on.
āRosaline, cāest faux. IllĆ©gal mĆŖme.ā Rosaline, this is wrong. Illegal even. āAlors? C'est mon frĆØre. ChĆ¢teau Rosier n'est pas complotable.ā So? He is my brother. ChĆ¢teau Rosier is not plottable.
The first voice seemed almost familiar and unsure over his native language. The second voice heād know anywhere - his sister, his Rosaline. He hadnāt seen her inā¦ he couldnāt remember, his brain refusing to conjure that knowledge.
āRight, your brother! The father of your child. Itās always been your family over anything else, where would you not draw the line, Rose? Incest? Black Magic? Whatās next going on a torturing spree and following He Who Mustnāt Be Named like your cousins, your brother? Merlinās beard, this is so wrongā¦ I canāt believe Iām watching it happen. ā
The moment the voice changed to English, no longer trying to imitate the French accent, Evan recognized it. Shafiq, heād thought the man long out of their lives. But then, he hadnāt seen Rosaline inā¦ four years his brain finally reminded. What had she been up to?
āThen arrest me, Emmanuel. Turn me into the ministry. Do your duty as an Auror. But leave my family out of it! You donāt know them, or their reasons for doing what they did. And for f***ās sake, heās dead. Call him Voldemort. The flight of death has finally met its end.ā
Silence that dragged on for a handful of seconds was filled only with the sound of his heart as it picked up pace, anger beginning to swell at the manās words, his need to protect his sister running rampant in his chest even as she did well enough defending herself.
āThatās what I thought. Iāve lost so much, Iām not loosing him too. So either shut up, or get out of my house. Run back to England with your tail tucked between your legs.ā Rose looked across the room to the lone figure, her hand coming to rest upon her chest. She said nothing more to Emmanuel before moving across the room, the sound of her heels tapping across the ancient marble floors.
He could hear her approach, the pattern of her feet one that was all to familiar. She approached slowly, almost as if she were unsure, timid even. The sound stopped just before he felt the warmth of her delicate fingers against the scruff heād let go for too long in the days before the Battle of Hogwarts. How he wanted to lean into that touch, to pull her close and to apologize for all the wrongs heād ever committed in his life.
āReviens Ć moi, mon cÅur.ā Come back to me, my heart. She whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. āTu auras bataillĆ©. J'ai fait tout ce que je pouvais.ā You have to fight. Iāve done all I can do. Her fingers moved to take his cool hand in her own, twining their fingers and raising his fingers to her lips as she sat down. It was by her spilt blood that his heart beat, a promise to ancient magic, magic long since forgotten and thought of as folklore.
He heard a disgruntled sigh, the sound of irritation before the tell-tale sound of someone diapperating. The warmth holding onto his hand told him that the disappearing fiend had to be Emmanuel, thankfully. He could sense a disappointment in his sister though, the way her fingers tensed around his even if only for a fraction of a second. He wanted to be able to squeeze her hand in reassurance, wrap his arm around her and comfort her, but he couldnāt. His body wouldnāt cooperate.
āāāā It seemed to take hours with his mind fighting his body. His fingers were the first to move and then it became a fight to move his hand. He was finally able to give Roseās hand the small squeeze he had wanted to hours ago but by that point he was sure sheād fallen asleep, the weight of what he was sure her head against his leg a tell tale sign.
Slowly, bit by bit his body was coming to life. He was able to move his feet and then his left arm, legs then his eyes opened for the first time, staring into the darkness at an ornately painted mural. Their family mural. Pale blue travelled to find where Violette lay, a branch extended from both he and Rosaline. āIs this wrong?ā He had spoken, in a moment of clarity as his hands had fallen upon her swollen stomach. But she shushed him, neither really wanting to breach the subject. Breach the fact that what had at once been a convenient lie having become close to reality. He closed his eyes again, trying to push away memories of the past when his mind had not much else to focus on but the past. āYou know Iām right.ā Cissaās voice echoed in his mind. And he did know she was right. Why Rose had left, why sheād fled back to France. It had nothing to do with being a blood traitor, had nothing to do with not loving him. Her fleeing had everything to do with him. Heād chosen the Dark Lord over her, after everything heād put her through. His priorities were skewed when it came to the Dark Lord - family first except where the Dark Lord came in. Rose had always set her family as her first priority. Sheād left England when Evan had asked, given up a love that though Evan liked to deny was even happening, he knew existed. Sheād given up family and friends just to remain by his side and yet heād made his priorities clear when heād forced them back to England. He shook his head, finding he could indeed shake his head, trying to shoo the memory away. No, his family would have to come first now. Always and forever, heād promised her on many occasions and yet heād broke that promise. He tried to lift an arm, finding he could do that as well and lay a hand on top of her head, gently stroking the sock curls that he knew without looking lay in perfect waves.
āIām sorry.ā His voice hurt as the words fell from his lips in a whisper. And he was. Sorry for forcing her to America in the first place. Sorry for ripping her away from everything she knew. Sorry for then forcing her back to England after theyād settled into a new life. Sorry for choosing the Dark Lord over her and their daughter. So sorry.
He felt her shift and suddenly it felt as if his body surged with electricity. He gasped, loudly dragging in a deep breath. She sat upright in a jerk of movement, her touch moving back to his cheek, thumb stroking the stubble upon his face as his hand fell from her head.
āEvan. Did it work?ā She was unsure of herself and it was noticeable in her voice. She had barely believed the words written in her motherās spell book, a spell in a handwriting she didnāt know, but with notes in her motherās and grandmotherās writing. āMon cÅur, si vous plait.ā
āShh.ā He soothed, the sound aching in his throat. Je t'aime.`āJe suis juste lĆ . Ne t'en fais pas.ā I am right here. Do not worry. I love you.
And she sobbed and it took everything in him, every bit of fight he had left to force himself into a sitting position, his whole body aching, but his need to comfort and protect her finally won out. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close and shushing her again, ignoring every ache and pain that roared through his body. He kissed her temple and inhaled her scent, his hand rubbing circles upon her back.
āBut how did you do it?ā He finally croaked. He had died. He remembered looking up at Narcissa and begging her to tell Rose and Violette that he loved them as he bled out. How was he alive, how was he here?
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