Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Roses and Lovers ❯ December 25th, 1974 ( Chapter 8 )

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December 25th, 1974

 

Arcturus,

 

I'm sorry I can't be at Independence, or any of the Rosier households for that matter, this week, or for New Year's. I'm sure you'll understand if I told you that—well—the Dark Lord himself has invited me to his personal manor. I've tried every method I've known of talking him out of it, but seeing as he is our Lord, I'm sorry, but I couldn't have done anything about it. I hope you'll allow me to make it up for you the following week after New Year's—he won't even let me come back for the days spanning between the twenty-fifth and the first—and I really don't like whatever he's got planned for me.

 

I'm sorry, Arcturus.

 

And I love you, as well.

 

With all my sincerest wishes, regret, and hope,

 

I am forever yours,

 

Andrea

 

Arcturus growled as he snapped at the owl at had delivered the letter to him, and began pacing the room as the great horned owl - Andrea's very own Proserpine - took flight into the cold, Christmas night. With him were Theopolis, Evan, Hilarion, and Stainslav. All four of them were looking at him with inquisitiveness that bothered the elder Rosier brother, and he bit out, “He has her.”

 

“Who?” quipped Evan as he stared at his brother. “She can't have meant—”

 

“Our Lord is keeping her,” Arcturus continued bitterly. “From today, until New Year's.”

 

“A week and a day,” Hilarion breathed as he broke his eye-contact with the elder Rosier and stared at the window. “Andrea will be with him for a week and a day.”

 

Theopolis snorted, “I'm sure she chose to be with him.”

 

Arcturus' shoulders tensed at his male lover's voice, and looked at him, a dark fury in his eyes. “Do not say that. `I'm sure you'll understand if I told you that—well—the Dark Lord himself has invited me to his personal manor,'” he quoted, and continued, “`I've tried every method I've known of talking him out of it...'”

 

Stainslav said dryly, “She tried.”

 

Arcturus ran to the window in an undignified way, and poked his head out, “Proserpine!”

 

The great owl hooted in the sky, before it swooped, and dove back into Arcturus' outstretched hand. She settled on his shoulder before he told the four others in the room, “I am not to be disturbed - especially not by you, Theopolis.” And he ascended the three flights of stairs to his room. He opened the door made of oak, shut it, and waved his wand over it, placing several complicated locking charms. He took a seat at the desk by his door, and Proserpine flew and rested on the top of his cabinet as he produced a piece of parchment and a bottle of ink and his quill.

 

Andrea,

 

Darling, if it is what our Lord wishes, then I've no qualms against it. I only ask that you be safe—and remember your place around our Lord. I will not be having you after New Year's dreadfully misshapen by the Crucio.

 

I love you.

 

With all my adoration,

 

I am, and will always be,

 

Arcturus

 

He waited for the ink to dry, and then handed it to Proserpine, who was hooting indignantly. He smiled at the great horned owl apologetically, before it blinked, nodded at him, and flew out of his bedroom window.

 

“How dare you,” he breathed vehemently, speaking to nothing but picturing the Dark Lord vividly in his mind. “How dare you take here away from me on our anniversary day?”

 

He filtered his anger so that it would not destroy the foundation of their home; he was not as strong as the Dark Lord himself, or possibly even Dumbledore, but whenever he was enraged, even the Dark Lord felt the consequences of angering the elder Rosier brother.

 

And it was never a pretty sight.