Redemption Unsought

~*~

You don't need to bother;

I don't need to be

I'll keep slipping farther

But once I hold on,

I won't let go 'til it bleeds

~"Bother" by Stone Sour

~*~

Of course he recognized the gnarled hand gripping the wand and the war-beaten face of the Auror he faced, and Evan Rosier was not unfamiliar with the Auror's speed and skill.

There were Order of the Phoenix members closing in upon the house, and in the swirling, dark depths of his mind, he knew that if he went peacefully, there'd be more of a chance for survival.

Crucio was on his lips, the force of the spell shooting from his wand, even as they stormed in. And then the place exploded in sparks and spells and screams, and Evan Rosier, in a glorious show of fatalistic sadism, cast Severing Charms through the smoke like a cornered gladiator might fling daggers. There was a roar of pain, and he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction even as his dark, hollow eyes followed the trajectory of a fireball zooming through the air.

Bright and warm and illuminating the darkness, it impacted a thick ceiling beam over his head, and it was with a detachment tinged with finality that Rosier stood his ground and continued firing spells with reckless abandon as the beam over his head crackled against the flame.

He knew that this battle wouldn't end like the others...

~*~

He'd merely been passing by when he saw her, a lone, small and skinny Ravenclaw separated from her Housemates, lugging a large bookbag as she trudged through the halls. Not beautiful, though he, even HE, paused to look at the soft, dark eyes on the girl's pale face.

Bellatrix Black, coming from the other direction, obviously had no such compunctions to stare. The Slytherin 3rd-year, already starting to bloom in beauty, sneered at her Muggleborn yearmate and bared ivory teeth, and when little Dorcas Meadows ignored Bellatrix and proceeded forward without pause, Bellatrix had scowled icily and then, a hex that sent the smaller girl flying into the opposite wall was out of the Slytherin's lips.

Dorcas Meadows was shaking when she rose, and nerveless, pale fingers picked up a linden wand from the floor. Her face was blanched with pain, but her voice was audible even to the 7th year Slytherin boy watching the proceedings from the end of the hallway, and the flawless Disarming Spell sent Bellatrix's wand soaring through the air.

But Dorcas fell unconscious before the wand could fall into her hands. Bellatrix laughed cruelly, picked up her wand once more, and left the scene without a backward glance.

Evan Rosier hadn't the faintest idea what had possessed him to pick up the dark-haired Ravenclaw and take her to the infirmary, but reassured himself that he'd never see her again.

~*~

The hallway meetings at school consisted of him sneering and her sighing, and sharp words met with neutrality. He carefully never mentioned that he knew how she felt in his arms.

And yet, they seemed to run into each other more often... he learnt her name without realizing it. They found themselves in the same empty classrooms to talk.

And he sneered at her type and she called him prejudiced and that was just the way it was.

Their first duel was a draw and it was only after he'd lifted his mask off that they realized who they were.

And then the fight had continued, closer and closer, circling and blocking. Dark robes and dark hair swirling in the bleak wind. Around them their friends fought and fell as they grew closer, nose to nose.

She tasted like cherries and sweetness, and he hated everything around her.

~*~

The battles grew more frequent and somehow they never faced off, and neither of them were ever distracted from their opposing sides. Evan would never quite understand how it had turned out to be that after the dust had cleared and the fallen taken away, a man of the dark and a woman of the light would fall into each other's arms and kiss like no tomorrow. Both were vicious and unbending.

She found out soon that nothing would ever change, and she knew that was why he always kept silent after the fierce lovemaking in the scenes of skirmish.

It might have been better to have died by each other's hands.

Both rose in the ranks and with each successive promotion came more persistence. He knew just the way her eyelids crinkled when she slept, and he always left before she woke.

There was nothing he could do to save her when she was killed--- by the Dark Lord himself. She hadn't protested or asked for mercy.

He hadn't screamed her name until all of the others had left. Bellatrix had been laughing, the sound like tinkling ice, and it was after the doors had shut that he'd fallen onto his knees and caught her lifeless form in his arms.

Dorcas Meadows, ever peaceful. His one connection to humanity. A true representation of all he hates. He clenched his jaw when her lifeless head tipped back, dark hair sliding down like pain to brush his fisted hands. Her eyes were closed, and now it wasn't the exhaustion from spells and kisses.

~*~

Even as Moody cast that same Expelliarmus that had been the first thing that Dorcas uttered in his hearing, the flames overhead ate through the heavy beam upon the ceiling. Evan's eyes were focused skyward as time slowed and the jagged wood slowly broke and fell.

It had been a world of fire and dark and spells and impossibilities. Perhaps they'd both known that they would fall before their time.

And then it wouldn't matter that they loved each other.

The beam hit his head with a sickening crack and pain exploded in his forehead for a fleeing moment before darkness fell.

And it was an equally fleeting moment that he tearlessly reunited with her and held her for an instant before they separated back down their opposite paths and destinies: she to heaven, he to hell.

It would never change.