Despite finding out the most devastating news of possibly her whole life and being powerless to stop it, Aveline tried her best to act normal around her friends. Her issues were her issues, not theirs. She didnt want to add more stress to their already stressful lives.
So, she went on business as usual. Captaining her quidditch practices, finishing all her homework on time, sitting in the Gryffindor common room at night, attending all her prefect rounds— everything she could do to show that she was perfectly normal and fine.
Though between us, she really really wasn't.
Aveline spent most of her free time in the library, reading book after book to try and find out of their was anything in the world at all that could help her mother. She was desperate, so much so that it hadn't been an uncommon occurrence in the past couple weeks for one of her friends to find her asleep on the library in the morning.
The first time it had been Lily, and Aveline managed to lie and saw she was up late studying. No one really questioned it, for though not the most studious, when Aveline' was interested in something she'd go crazy learning all she could.
Now, many of you are probably rightfully wondering, why can't she just go to the authorities and alert them that her Father was about to kill her Mother?
The answer to that can be found in the many memories that had been haunting Aveline in the weeks since she received her letter.
Rosier Mansion Sometime Around 1962:
A woman with golden blonde hair and a dress that kissed the top of her ankles, was making her way through a beautiful meadow of roses. Roses of every color— pink, green, blue, yellow, red— anything you can imagine, surronding her in a sprawled out pattern. As far as you could look you could see roses, and amongst them sometimes danced little bunnies, poking out their ears to say hello.
She was a very beautiful woman indeed, a glow to her skin as she held two little hands in each of hers— the hands of her two darling children, the shining stars of her life.
"Come here my loves," the woman said gracefully, finding a spot in the garden and sitting down.
As she did both of the little children scurried into her lap, both looking up at the woman adoringly.
Eleanor Rosier never felt like she had accomplished much in life, that was until she had them— her shining little twins the pride and joy of her life.
"Mum, Ave pick flower?" the little girl asked, who had ever so rosy cheeks and a head full of wild blonde curls already.
The woman smiled softy, reaching out and touching the tip of her daughters nose.
"Remember my love, every life is a life worthy of living, even our little flower friends. You can look, but we best not touch," the woman told her daughter.
The little girl nodded, seemingly determined to make friends with the flowers. The little boy however, did not. Reaching a fist out and ripping out at least a dozen flowers from the ground.
The woman merely laughed, taking the flowers from her sons hand and tucking on in the little girls hair.
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Rosier Mansion 1964:
"But Father I don't understand why Mum can't come out to play with us?" The little girl asked the stern looking man.
At four years old she was already speaking like a ten year old, trained to perfection in etiquette and manners. The girls father, a stern looking man with an already greying beard was sitting at his study.
"Aveline that is enough. You know your mother isn't well, she needs her rest."
Except, Aveline was only four, and she didn't understand why her mother stopped making them heart shaped pancakes for breakfast, or taking them to the meadow to watch the bunnies in the afternoon. Sometimes Father would let her in her mothers room, and the woman would usually be asleep.
Though sometimes, her eyes would awake long enough to tell Aveline a story.
Aveline always loved her mothers stories. They were also full of such wonderful tales. She often talked about some ancient mythical people she called the Helios people, who apparently were witches and wizards who's magic came from the sun. She told tales of the sun people saving princess's from burning castles, and saving the world from ancient evil.
Aveline would always listen intently, clutching onto the edge her mothers bed in anticipation.
It was one summer afternoon, when the sun streamed into Eleanor's room, and when little Aveline was sitting on the end of her bed, that the last story ever told by the woman was told.
"... and that is why Aveline when you grow up...."
The woman stopped talking, her jaw hanging open in a frozen position, her eyes wide as they stared at the ceiling.
"Mum?" Aveline' asked, trying to shake the woman awake. "Mum you need to finish the story! Please awake."
Aveline's little heart was racing as she ran down the stairs to her father study. She threw open the door, making the man looked mildly annoyed as he looked up at her from his papers.
"What is it—"
"It's Mum! She won't wake up!"
She watched as her father dropped the pen he was holding, storming up the stairs without a second thought. He slammed the door in her face, Aveline sitting outside, clutching her knees to her chest. Eventually Evan joined them, the two siblings holding eachother as they waited on their father to come out of the room.
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Rosier Mansion 1965:
It had been a year since Eleanor Rosier stopped telling stories, a year which fell into a slumber so deep not even her childrens cries could wake her.
Eleanor Rosier was in no way shape or form dead, she was simply sleeping. And she would continue to do so for many years, as Aveline's father told her.
She was frozen in a state between everything there was and everything that wasn't. Unable to move, think or talk, yet her heart still beat and sometimes her eyes would still flicker.
Sometimes, after everyone on the house would go to her, Aveline would sneak in her mothers room. Their father forbid it, claimed it would do them no good.
During these times it was Aveline's turn to tell her mother stories. And so that's exactly what she did. For many many many nights, for many many many years, Aveline Rosier would sit on the edge of the woman's bed, telling her stories. Some of them were true, updates on their lives, and some of them were Aveline's wild imagination.
Occasionally Evan would join, and in those times he didn't say anything. He'd simply just sit in the corner of the room, staring at Aveline and their mother as if watching some sort of play.
As time went on, Every single christmas and summer break when Aveline would come back from Hogwarts she would sit in that very room for hours, relaying her mother every detail about her life.
Their Father never told them what happened to their mother, only that she would never wake up ever again.
Aveline though didn't believe him. For just as he said she couldn't hear them, Aveline was sure she could.
For sometimes, when she was finally finished telling a story, her mothers eye would twitch or she'd make the faintest of noises.
It was because of this Aveline knew her mother was still on there, and it was because of this she'd do everything in her power to make sure she stayed alive.
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