Roses All The Way Down【Sirius Black】

Ⅰ. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬

"No, I would not have sex with a mole, Ophelia."

Her sister shrugged lamely and muttered, "said you'd do anything."

"Enough of this nonsense, I do not like sex with a mole... being mentioned," their mother added hastily at the end when Ophelia raised her green eyebrows.

The family was gathered in the living room. It was an ugly sort of room fit for those who couldn't afford proper housing. Candles were placed in the janky, metal chandelier that was fastened to the ceiling. The walls were covered in peeling floral paper and the floorboards were full of holes and nails that required shoes to be worn at all times.

The father was standing, pacing in front of the stopped up fireplace and over decorated mantelpiece. The mother was standing, leaning against the wall with the back of her head resting against it. The sister, Ophelia, sat on the couch with her legs up on the coffee table, trying to balance a pencil on the bridge of her nose. The main character, Virginia, sat on the couch in a stick straight position with her hands folded in her lap. There was one other person in the room. Not a family member, but a witch hovering awkwardly yet imposingly in the doorway.

"Parents, I will do all the chores. Including taking over your own tasks-"

"And how much weight does that hold, if you'd be leaving? For a few months you'd be able to? And then all your chores would be passed to us..." the father said with a bitter tone, pausing with one foot still suspended in midair over the ragged carpet. He swung towards her, brandishing one skinny finger "and besides, you think we can afford all of that?" He shook his head and continued his pacing.

Over the last few hours, the family had been discussing the same topic like a broken record. Going over and over again the same arguments they had been having for the past three years.

The witch in the doorway had remained silent for all of this. However, now she spoke up, "There is a program for the less fortunate." Her tone was posh and formal. A stark contrast to the rough, country English accents the small family had.

The mother sighed as dramatically as she could have mustered, "It matters not about the price, God does not condone magic."

"Nor does he the gays and yet you've always liked David Bowie," Ophelia said with a smirk. She then groaned unexpectedly, talking had made her concentration completely slip and the pencil fell to the couch.

The witch had clearly grown tired of this prattle so she strode to the center of the room, directly in the father's pacing track. Standing there, she was far more intimidating. Impossibly tall with green velvet robes and laced up black boots. "Your daughter has the good fortune to have her own mind and choose her own faith. She may still be religious and practice magic. If not, will you refuse to accept her?"

The question hung in the air. Ophelia absently took the pencil she'd just repositioned off her nose and looked to her sister. She fidgeted with slight discomfort. Virginia, as always, looked perfect. She sat up straight. There was not a single stain on her clothes. Not a single hair out of place. Looking like she could slide right into the prayer position, recite the Bible at the drop of hat, could calmly and truthfully say she'd never sinned. The answer was, of course, yes but her parents shifted uncomfortably. They mumbled some sort of no.

Virginia and Ophelia exchanged a look. It was clear their parents were quite afraid. Or were at least pretending like they were. As soon as the witch left they were sure to return to their lack of care.

They loved their Christian daughters.

"So... you agree to let her go?"

The father looked at the mother who let slip a tightlipped smile, "sure we do," she said.