Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Roses and Lovers ❯ September 17th, 1973 ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
Disclaimer: This piece of fiction is based on the world by J.K. Rowling, but includes several original characters along for the ride. However, this has been written for fun, and therefore, as with any fanfiction writer who writes for his or her fandom, no profit is being made out of this, since I am not affiliated with Rowling, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.I would also like to thank Rothardyn (Wakaoji Takudo/Snowy) for allowing me to use a majority of her original characters in this 'fic. Also, several poems throughout this piece were written by Algernon Charles Swinburne, and Oscar Wilde, among several others.
Author's Note: This story spans out 1973 - 1981, eight years in total. However, I will only be brief on these, more than likely I'm going to skip months as well. And yes, I'm going to take the “roses” part of “roses and lovers” very seriously. -evil sadistic grin- I like having fun with flowers and their meanings, so, technically, it isn't just roses that's going to be seen; there will be several other flowers as well. Also, my description for Voldemort in this one does not take into account his image in “Goblet of Fire” and onwards; not, until, of course, October 31. He would be around forty-eight, or so, assuming his birth-date was c. 1926...
~ Please enjoy, and leave a review! ~
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ROSES AND LOVERS
by Shieldmaiden18
by Shieldmaiden18
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“All are at one now, roses and lovers
Not known of the cliffs and the fields and the sea
Not a breath of the time that has been hovers
In the air now soft with a summer to be.”
-Algernon Charles Swinburne
Not known of the cliffs and the fields and the sea
Not a breath of the time that has been hovers
In the air now soft with a summer to be.”
-Algernon Charles Swinburne
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September 17th, 1973
“Arcturus.”
The voice was clear, and sharp, and rang out through the open field. It was cast with a Sonorus, and Arcturus Rosier heard it, and recognized it.
It was not his Lord's, nor was it his brother's; it was not even his father's. It was - his. Carvel, of course; Theopolis Carvel, nonetheless: his voice sounded exactly like his twin brother's, Hilarion, but there was so much emotion that `Theo' could put in so little words that it was no surprise he became a master of compulsion. The Dark Lord appreciated his gift, and found it to be more useful than the usual “Imperio” that had to be cast every once in a while, for it was silent, and it was not obvious that a compeller was, well, compelling someone: It was non-verbal and wandless magic.
Arcturus Rosier's blond hair and light-gray eyes blinked before he turned, a smile gracing his aristocratic, lithe, and shapely face. His waist-length hair was not in its regular ponytail, and it flew around him in waves as the breeze swam around them. Theopolis Carvel, clad in his traditional blue and bronze robes in contrast to Arcturus' green and silver, came, his bright, light blue eyes shining as his shoulder-length alabaster hair - a slightly darker shade than Arcturus' - flew with the wind along with the younger youth's. Theopolis had been born seven months earlier than Arcturus.
He'd cast the counter-spell to Sonorus, and then he sat beside Arcturus, resting his head on the slightly taller man's shoulder. “You shouldn't be here,” he whispered, eyes dead set on the sunset. “Father is inside, and he does not approve of us.”
“I know,” murmured Arcturus in reply, “I shouldn't - but I wanted to be here. I am thankful to Evangeline that she supports our relationship nonetheless.”
“You got past the wards.” Arcturus noted that it was not a question, but a blunt statement.
“Yes. Am I supposed to not get past your wards?”
Theopolis regarded him with a stare, “They are the Darkest of wards, set by the Dark Lord himself, and cannot be removed either by the Dark Lord or by -” he cringed, “- Dumbledore.”
“The Dark Lord considers your family, then, to be his right hand once more?”
“I am not sure,” Theopolis admitted, “since he's spent all his time speaking of his plans to Lucius and Narcissa. I hear they've a son on the way.”
Arcturus smiled, returning to the subject of the wards, “Then perhaps I am as strong as they are now.” Seeing the utter disbelief in Theopolis' eyes, he chuckled gently, “Oh, Theo, I can only dream of achieving such power like that. Rion let me in. I hear Diggory's here, too?”
“Yeah. Rion's with him right now. He's placed several Unplottable charms on Stainslav, though, since Father is here, and he doesn't want to be found out, little Daddy's boy.” Theopolis grinned fondly at the mention of his younger twin. Then Theopolis continued, “I've been dying to ask you - has Stainslav forgiven you? For what you did the other week? He was in such a rage after, you know, that he had to disappear with Rion and Rion tells me he has been handled quite…roughly, if you know what I mean.”
Arcturus allowed his mood to be dampened slightly, “I do know what you mean. Poor Rion. You must be glad I don't treat you roughly.”
“Arcturus.”
“However,” he continued sheepishly, “I do not understand - forgive me for what?”
“For Meinart, Arc,” Theopolis pressed, “Stainslav's brother.”
“Oh. For Meinart? Yes. He knew that it was upon the Dark Lord's orders - the Diggory sided with the Light, for chrissake. And now Stainslav's bloody cousin - you know, that stupid Hufflepuff, Amos? - is siding with the Light, too.”
“Oh.” Theopolis cringed.
“Theo…” began Arcturus as he looked back at the vast grandeur of Carvel Mansion. “Isn't she suspecting anything? Where you're going, who you're meeting with, why you're meeting with me?”
“Mattimeo? No.” Arcturus also noted the fact that Theopolis called his wife by her maiden name. He'd always referred to his wife - well, he never did have a wife, but he had a girlfriend that he only considered to be his wife since his actual body and soul and heart and mind only belonged to one person - by her first name. “She was reading and reciting some stupid poetry - `Seek not my mournful heart kind breeze, for you'll not find it 'mongst these trees,' or something like that - when I left.”
Arcturus merely nodded at him. He cast his hand over the pending sunset, and smiled ruefully at the time: five thirty. He'd told Andrea that he'd be home by six. He nudged Theopolis gently, and the older man understood. They both stood, and exchanged a brief kiss.
“I'll see you tomorrow?” breathed Theopolis as they ended, light blue eyes gazing into Arcturus' gray eyes.
“Of course you will.” Arcturus waved his hand and a black rose appeared out of thin air.
“For you, my lord”; and Theopolis took the rose with a blush on his face.