Coiled (Book 1 of 2)

Consider it a Lesson

The Rosier Family Estate (England).

Late Autumn, 1967.

"Please, Father? Please?"

Evan stands there in his father's private study, his best friend Regulus Black at his side as the two little boys strain to stare over the desk and to Mr. Rosier.

Achille Rosier, light brown hair catching in the warm sunlight filtering in from the large windows behind him, tilts himself back in his seat as he idly flips his wand through the air and catches it. As he and his son stare one another down, little Regulus's eyes dart back and forth between them as though he's watching two seekers compete to catch a golden snitch.

After what feels like a cruel eternity, Achille Rosier finally narrows his eyes at his small son, "... Convince me. Fight for it, Evan. If that's what you want, earn it."

Clearing his throat nervously, little Evan Rosier clenches his hands into fists at his sides as he forces himself to hold his father's intimidating gaze, "Would you like to debate me or duel me over it, father?"

As Reggie's eyes widen in shock, Evan's father lets out a sharp, condescending laugh, "First rule, son? Never offer up a challenge your adversary knows you'll lose rather hopelessly."

Ignoring the rising anger within him, seven year old Evan fights to remain unruffled, "And which of those two challenges that I just offered is the losing one, father?"

"Both. Obviously. I'm far better than you either way you slice it."

Regulus is beyond captivated at the exchange. Though perhaps a better word would be horrified? No, really it's a mix between the two. Captivation and horror. Similar to when one happens upon a grisly traffic accident.

Another pause as Achille Rosier tosses his wand back into the air, the three of them watching it spin before it lands neatly back in his waiting palm. Then, leaning forward, he sneers at his son, "Try again, Evan. Do better. Be better."

Trying to think as quickly as he can, Evan shakes his head, "... Terms, then."

"Elaborate."

"If you grant me my ask, I'll owe you something."

At this, Achille Rosier smiles predatorily, "Now ... now we're talking. Very well thought out, son. Name your price."

Evan glances from his father to Reggie, who shrugs helplessly. Reggie, who's completely lost. Because though he's seen Evan and his father behave like this before, he's never experienced anything like this with his own father, Orion Black.

Sighing, Evan tips his gaze back to his father, now drumming his fingers across the surface of his ebony desk with irritating impatience.

"My terms ..."

"I haven't got all day, son. You're wasting my time."

Beginning to find himself truly flustered, little Evan raises both hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender as he rushes forward, "The ability to see Maman today in exchange for a week's worth of extra book work."

Book work. The endless amounts his father assigns to him. None of his other friends have to do it, at least not as far as he knows. Reggie, for example, doesn't have to do any work at all, his parents having told him he'll begin his studies once he starts at Hogwarts in a few years time.

But Evan Rosier ...

Evan Rosier's over here drowning in daily book work.

And yet, he's willing to negotiate for it. Because above all else, the little boy wants to see his mother. Especially given that Reggie's here for a playdate. He wants to spend time with both of them.

Tutting and shaking his head disapprovingly, Mr. Rosier wags a finger in the air at his son, "I'm not about to grant you such a privilege for something I'd expect of you anyway. You should want to do a week's extra work. You should beg me for it, Evan."

Near exasperated, Evan decides to bet on something he thinks his father will really go for. Though it's something he's completely reluctant to offer up, "Father ..."

"Son."

"... The ability to see Maman today in exchange for two weeks of not seeing her at all."

Freezing, Achille Rosier straightens up in his chair. Steepling his hands against his chin, he smiles icily, "... Deal."

Careful not to show too much enthusiasm, though inside he's screaming with delight at the knowledge he'll get to see his mother today, Evan forces himself to fight back against the smile he feels about to form, "Thank you, father."

"One hour, Evan. And one hour only. She's too busy for anything longer than that."

That's a complete lie, of course. And a terribly cruel one. But a little seven year old child wouldn't know it.

Reaching over and grabbing Reggie's hand, Evan bows at the waist to his father, "Yes, father."

"... I started timing you already, Evan. And you've already lost nearly a minute of your hour."

Pulling at Reggie desperately, Evan begins to sprint for the door. But he stops in his tracks, Reggie practically falling into him, as Mr. Rosier calls out again, "Oh and Evan?"

"Yes, father?"

"Next time, start with more modest terms. I would have accepted one week of you not seeing her."

Staring back at his father, Evan's mouth drops open slightly, "So then ..."

"You already offered me two weeks, son. So two weeks it will be. Consider it a lesson, yes?"

"I ..."

"The timer's still going, Evan ..."

And with that, with his heart and mind completely a mess, Evan fights back tears and runs out of the room, Reggie at his side.