The Black Rose

For the next few hours she carefully read through every piece of parchment in the pile, they were mostly marriage contracts so they would be of little use to her right now, but some were quite a bit more interesting.

For example, there was one with house Ollivander, it stated that about two hundred years ago they had been buried in debts.

They soon had become desperate enough to request house Black which at that time had been the richest family in Great Britain.

House Black had happily paid off the Ollivanders debts but in return, they wished for a marriage contract that would have to be fulfilled if a Black ever requested it.

Sighing Eleanor placed her elbows on the table and rested her face in her hands.

Rubbing her face she reached over and rang the bell that was placed on the table.

Leaning back in her seat she looked up at the ceiling, it was beautifully decorated with a magnificent art piece painted on the plastered marble.

The mural depicted a fight between two large armies, one seemed to consist of wizards and witches while the other was a large rampaging mob of muggles.

She tilted her head as she watched one of the broom riding wizards dive bomb a cannon crew that was in the process of reloading.

The wizard, seeing an opportunity raised his wand and chanting a spell fired it towards the muggles.

As the bolt of orange light hurtled towards the unsuspecting cannon crew one of the riffle men noticed and aiming at the bolt fired his Backer riffle.

A plume of smoke erupted from the end of the barrel and the bullet sped towards the spell.

As soon as it connected the spell activated, releasing a huge explosion that flung all nearby wizards and witches away.

Hearing the door creak open Eleanor removed her gaze from the moving painting and looked at Victoria, who had just entered.

"Your highness, are you feeling well?"

Rubbing her temples Eleanor sighed, "I'm perfectly fine, just a bit exhausted."

Gesturing towards the pile of scrolls containing marriage contracts she continued, "I would like you to put these back in the library, and while you are at it could you fetch me, the Art of War by Sunzi, I'm planning to relax outside before my meeting with lady Malfoy."

Striding forward Victoria smiled, "Of course your highness I'll be back shortly to escort you outside."

Sitting on the terrace with a teacup in one hand and the Art of War in the other, Eleanor felt at ease.

Closing her eyes she concentrated on the sounds around her.

The chirping of a bird coming from the grove of elder trees.

The rustling of grass as a field mouse crawled through it.

The howling of the wind as it passed by her ear.

Moving on to the sents she breathed in deeply.

The sweet smell of the row of red roses blooming along the terrace wall.

The stark aroma of the cake Victoria was baking for later.

The faint trace of blood on her lips.

Tracing her tongue over them she could taste the lingering blood that had slipped between the pores.

Carefully placing a bookmark between the pages Eleanor placed the book down and with extreme elegance stood up.

Delicately setting the cup onto the table she ever so graciously walked along the terrace wall.

Reaching the stairs that descended into the gardens she placed her small hand onto the marble bannister and walked down them.

Stepping onto the stone pathway she started to step along it.

To her left and right there were petunias and Irises, they seemed to rustle as the wind passed by making Eleanor's dress float up slightly.

She took a few more turners before she reached a small alcove in which a small pitch-black rose was planted.

Gracefully stepping over to it she sat down before it.

Looking at it closely Eleanor noticed that it wasn't just a black rose, no, it was made of obsidian.

Its curves and edges seemed to emit a purple glow and as she leaned closer she smelled an aroma she had never encountered in a flower before.

It reminded her of cold winter nights when her mother sat in front of the hearth, with her on her lap.

At those times her mother always told her the stories of old where the first wizards fought mighty beasts with a hundred eyes and a thousand teeth to rescue the maiden held in the monster's cave.

It also reminded her of the nights she would spend with her grandfather, the fourth founder, when he held her to his chest under the moon and the stars.

A tear slid down Eleanor's cheek as she gazed into the depths of the flower, it soon reached her jawline and then from there fell to the floor.

Reaching out she cupped the rose in both hands and caressed it, as a mother mould her child.

Her eyes softened and a small sad smile graced her lips.

Releasing the flower, she took her handkerchief in hand and dabbed at her cheek removing the wetness from it.

Sighing, she stood up, her eyes filled with sorrow and loneliness, as she slowly made her way back to the terrace.

As she sat back down Eleanor wiped her forehead since a bead of sweat had rolled down it.

She had always had less endurance than other children, of course, there were times where she could push herself beyond her limits but those were rare and in-between.

Most people would think that the vampire blood her mother had injected into her would have cured her of her ailment, but no, the stamina she had received was mostly being used to suppress the obscurus.

Sighing she took the book and cup in hand and leant back in her seat

Placing the cup to her lips she took a sip of tea before continuing to read her book.

'40. If our troops are no more in number than the enemy, that is amply sufficient; it only means that no direct attack can be made. What we can do is simply to concentrate all our available strength, keep a close watch on the enemy, and obtain reinforcements.'

Reading was currently one of her favourite pastimes since it revealed a lot about this new world she still knew so little of.

She was about to turn a page when Victoria walked up to her, and in a hushed voice said, "Your highness, Lady Malfoy has arrived."