𝗙𝗨𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗟𝗦 𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗗𝗘𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚. 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗨𝗣 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞, tears all around, reminiscing speeches about the one everyone lost. The memorial for Marlene McKinnon and her family was beautiful—Scarlet made all the perfect arrangements despite the limited time, resources and circumstances.
An enormous cloud loomed over them, rain all over Hogwarts grounds in the middle of this grey April day.
Scarlet wore a simple black dress like the other girls. On one side were the professors standing, sympathy in their eyes as most held umbrellas over their heads—having to go through the loss of an ex-student. All held a single white rose in their hands.
Somewhere along the way, Scarlet stopped admiring white roses.
She could not love white roses like she used to. Because it only came with terrible associations and a never ending ache of her heart. White roses at every funeral with every death. It only reminded her of death.
