the unhallowed affair - t.m.r

quand je suis à genoux, tu es comme je prie

Her low heels clicked on the polished stone floors, alerting her parents of her presence right away.

The Dining Hall was the same as it had always been. Victorian in nature, as this house was inherited. The walls of the room were adorned with textured wallpaper, featuring intricate patterns littering throughout. Coloured with deep hues of burgundy and brown enveloped the space, with elaborate wood panelling framing the lower portion of the walls, showcasing the craftsmanship of a forgotten era.

The dining table, an imposing structure crafted from dark, polished mahogany, sat in the middle of the room, covered with porcelain dinnerware, each piece delicately adorned with ornate patterns and gilded edges. Passed down from her long since passed great grandparents, and Edward and Lillian Lestrange, as devout as they were, would rather be banished to Hell before they dined on anything else.

It was Lillian who looked up first, taking her hazel eyes off of the breakfast feast before her. "My, Anastasia, what a lovely surprise. Come sit, darling," her mother smiled.

Her father did not acknowledge her.

Still, Anastasia sat down. She did not ask for breakfast, nor did her parents offer. How painfully Lestrange.

The Lestrange heir inhaled. "I got the position."

Her father stopped moving his cutlery. Still, he did not speak.

"The position from the Ministry?" Her mother asked, the ghost of a smile on her face.

"Yes," Anastasia spoke quickly. "Yes, I received the letter this morning. They want me to report there immediately."

"Oh, dear, you must be going then. We won't keep you." Her mother hurried.

"Nonsense. I have some time. I figured I would inform you first, as is expected." Anastasia shrugged.

Edward Lestrange still did not acknowledge his daughter's presence.

She continued. "I'm slightly nervous. I'm not entirely sure what to expect." Her brain was screaming at her to shut up, not admit a weakness, not in front of her father.

"I don't see why you would need to worry, dear. I think-"

"What will happen when they find out about the people you've murdered, Anastasia?"

Anastasia almost laughed. How hypocritical. Her father got her this job, knowing full well what she's done in her past. She stuck her nose in the air. "I don't see what you mean."

"Is that what your lover-boy told you to say?" He pressed.

This time, Anastasia did laugh. "Oh, father. No man could ever control what I say. I thought you would have learned that by now, considering I never listened to you."

She said nothing more, standing to push in her chair and walk out the doorway with another word.

Edward Lestrange would never learn. There was no way to hold down Anastasia Lestrange.

___

The store was overrun with customers today, making Anastasia's entrance go unnoticed.

The air was heavy with the scent of aged parchment and old wood. Flickering lights cast eerie shadows across the walls, revealing an array of peculiar and macabre objects displayed on creaking shelves.

A maze of cluttered nooks and crannies, each corner held a treasure trove of dark and dangerous magical artifacts that made Anastasia's heart beat faster in excitement. The shelves were stacked haphazardly, bearing a chilling collection of cursed items, hexed heirlooms, and forbidden trinkets.