Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Evan Rosier was getting tired of the Death Eater life.

He was fed up with the stuffy, hostile meetings he was required to attend every week and he was completely disenchanted with the torturing, maiming, and killing of random people on a nightly basis. He didn't like the people he was forced to be around either, all except Barty, who was his only friend left. The rest of the Death Eaters his age were too fanatical, slimy(Snape), or violent for his taste.

The truth is, ever since Regulus went missing almost two years ago, Evan has been questioning why exactly he was doing what he was doing in the first place. Why fight for a Dark Lord he didn't truly follow? For a cause he didn't fully believe in?

But Evan was a careful person. He knew better than to share his dissent with anyone else. He knew the danger he would be in if he did. He was a rational person. He thought twice before including Barty in his feelings because of Barty's love for the power that his status as a Death Eater gave him.

So, Evan decided to quit. He decided to stop being a Death Eater. To forsake his future under the Dark Lord's control and live his life on his own for as long as he possibly could. He wouldn't do it on a simple whim, however. He had to make sure everything went right.

His dark mark, for example, was something Evan had to make sure wouldn't give him away if he left. So he got to work.

He spent weeks, months even, researching his dark mark and similar magic, trying his best to determine what the functions of it were. He was worried at first that having one would be some kind of signal to the Dark Lord, like a beacon shining his exact position when he left for good.

He looked into trying to remove the mark completely, but determined the most straightforward way to do so would be amputation, and even that might not work. He decided to keep his arm and mark once he came across a promising discovery that led him to believe that the main function of the mark was a painful alert system to the follower. Something that was unpleasant, but not compulsive. Theoretically, he could simply ignore the summons and go on with his life as usual as long as he could deal with the pain. It probably wouldn't shout out Evan's location or even his existence to the Dark Lord. Probably.

Honestly, Evan was willing to take the risk. With his sister Pandora finally going into hiding, he didn't have anything to live for anymore, and the spark of madness that came when he was promised glory and power in the Dark Lord's ranks simply wasn't there anymore. He knew the reality of fighting for his life everyday, and he could find no power in being and the very beck and call of a man who didn't even trust his own followers with his real name.

He didn't have anything to live for as a Death Eater anymore, but there was still Barty.

Barty is a whole different story for Evan. From a young age, Evan could feel the spark inside Barty just waiting to be set alight, waiting to be set free. And the Death Eaters did that for him.

Barty had always been a cruel child, no more cruel this his own father had been to him. And Barty was a cruel man still. Evan knew Barty relished in inflicting violence and pain. He had always been a little bit too eager to join up in the Death Eaters, never one to be controlled but willing to be a follower if it gave him the freedom to cause as much chaos as he wanted.

And Evan loved Barty truly. He had since around his fifth year at Hogwarts, by which time he knew Barty would never feel the same for him. Who didn't love Barty? Barty was passion and fire, everything in Evan's life that gave it meaning. He was like the sun, beautiful and powerful, and so irresistible you just had to stare into him. But you could never have him to keep. Evan knew this well.

All throughout their Hogwarts career Barty slept around, never staying in one place for too long. Not that anyone could handle him, anyways. Only Evan and Regulus seemed to be able to put up with him for long periods of time, with even Dorcas being put off by his manic energy on occasion.

Evan couldn't tell Barty his plans to leave. What if Barty got antsy and told someone higher up? What if Barty simply decided to turn him in? Evan didn't want to get him involved when he knew that Barty was satisfied where he was.

But Evan wasn't anymore. He wasn't satisfied ruining other people's lives while not even getting the chance to live his own. Besides, Evan didn't think he mattered enough to Barty for him to care if he left. Barty had two priorities: his fun and his sex. And Evan wasn't involved with either of those two things.

Yes, it would be hard living without him. But Evan had never truly had Barty anyways, so what difference would his leaving really make? Either way he would be living without the man he loved by his side.

So, who cares if he left?

Certainly not his own father, who was too occupied with being in the Dark Lord's inner circle to pay Evan any mind.

And so this was how it was: Evan would leave one morning when most everyone would be asleep after a long night of murder, and make his escape. Unscathed. Hopefully.

Chapter Text

Tonight was the night. A large number of Death Eaters had been called in on a mission to raid an Order safe house, including Barty, and Evan knew he could get away with it.

He had gathered everything he thought he might need over several days, amounting to as much perishable food as he could put in a bag, clothes, his wand, and an expanding tent that he had had to search awhile to find and procure.

Evan was ready.

The Death Eaters had left around 2 hours ago at 2:00 am, and all was silent in Rosier Manor.

Evan crept out of his room as silently as possible, just in case someone was still here that he didn’t know about, and made his way slowly down the long, stretching hallways. The portraits of his family members past gave him weird looks as he went along, and he sneered back at them. No doubt they would snitch on him to whoever is tasked with finding him.

He was one corner away from the front foyer of the house when he heard the soft sound of people speaking. He stopped abruptly in his tracks, his mind racing with the possibilities of who could be on the other side of the wall.

“…and took out six of our number with her. She got what was coming for her, that’s for sure. The Dark Lord wouldn’t let something like that slide.” Evan creeped closer to the hushed conversation, trying to make out what was being discussed while still staying in the shadows.

It was most likely his father in the room, but who was he speaking with? “…after that McKinnon girl died. Meadowes felt the Dark Lord’s retribution. What I would’ve given to see that display in person…” Evan froze. They were talking about Dorcas. Surely Dorcas was still safe and sound wrapped up in her Order’s arms? Surely Evan was hearing this wrong?

He felt cold dread slip down his spine. If Dorcas was in danger… his plans might have to change a bit.

Evan heard his father’s voice reply, “Well, what’s done is done. The girl is dead now. There’s nothing more to be said.” Evan felt his heart stop in that moment, registering what his father said and what it meant. Dorcas… dead? Strong, resilient Dorcas?

No.

No, no, no.

Dorcas couldn’t be dead. She just couldn’t.

In a moment of extraordinarily out-of-character thoughtlessness, Evan busted into the room and immediately found his father’s frame. He brought his wand up to a threatening position and said, “Say that again. What happened to Dorcas? Tell me!” Evan began to raise his voice when his father just sat there dumbfounded. He couldn’t handle this right now.

So many thoughts were swirling in his mind, the most prevalent one about how he would make whoever hurt Dorcas pay. He would make them pay. “Evan what are you on about? We’re talking about the Meadowes girl. The Dark Lord killed her just this afternoon. Why are you awake at-“

Evan screamed at the news. “No! No, you’re lying! You’re lying…” He was hyperventilating a little bit, he realized. His breaths were ragged and strained to his own ears, and he could hear his heart pounding loudly. He didn’t know what to do. But he knew he couldn’t stay here.

Snapping out of the haze at hearing his father’s voice again, Evan remembered his escape plan. Was it completely ruined now? He couldn’t leave with his father and this random Death Eater watching could he? He had two options, kill them or obliviate them. And with how much the Dark Lord brags, Evan knew of his skill in Legilimency. Evan didn’t think his spell would hold under that much power and skill.

Evan came to the realization that he would have to kill these two witnesses and steeled himself. There would be no love lost for his father, but he still misliked killing.

His father must’ve noticed something dangerous had changed in his expression because he was reaching for his wand… and Evan moved without thinking. “Avada Kedavra!” The burst of green light from Evan’s wand briefly illuminated the shocked expression on his father’s face, the very last time he would underestimate his own son.

Evan turned around to face the other Death Eater but was only met with the soft whoosh of the floo flaring up. Shit! He shot off a killing curse into the floo after the escaped Death Eater anyways, hoping it might somehow reach its target, but he wasn’t holding out hope.

Evan was certainly a target now. That nameless Death Eater would go straight to the Dark Lord. It didn’t matter whatever doubts Evan might’ve had about his plan before, now he had to go on the run.

He ran out the front door of his childhood home to the apparition point, panting, thinking of where to go first. He was supposed to have more time. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. But it was too late now.

With a sharp turn on his heels and a crack! Evan disapparated.

Chapter Text

Barty hasn’t seen Evan for a whole day now. This wasn’t necessarily unusual, but something about his disappearance this time felt… different.

Barty didn’t like the way Evan had been pulling away lately, always acting so distant. Every time they would see each other, which was quite often usually since they were friends, Evan would avoid his eyes and hands, or skirt around conversations and interactions entirely.

Barty had originally thought it was because of Pandora finally going into hiding, but that had happened over three months ago now and Evan still seemed down. It had been three long months acting all stilted and formal with his closest friend and Barty was so over it.

He determined to talk to Evan about this immediately. He just couldn’t stand this any longer! But he had to find him first.

Just when he was about to apparate to Rosier Manor, he felt the familiar burning sensation on his arm that told him he had someplace to be on the Dark Lord’s orders, and judging by the intensity of the pain, quite urgently. He sighed but knew the summons couldn’t go unanswered without consequences. He had to go. Plus, maybe he could spot Evan in the inevitably large Death Eater crowd and stop him before he left so they could have that talk.

—

Barty knew as soon as he arrived at the meeting place that something was wrong. In front of him was a large crowd of Death Eaters, all shifting around nervously. They were standing in a large circle, in the center of which was a Dark Lord that finally looked as raving mad as his reputation for violence and killing proclaimed him to be. Barty had never once seen the Dark Lord lose his composure, but here he was, looking extremely agitated and angry.

The Dark Lord was baring his teeth as he stalked around the circle and asked questions of seemingly random Death Eaters as they appeared. Barty couldn’t quite make out the general subject of the questions yet, but frowned when he heard Evan’s father’s name mentioned.

Barty had a sinking feeling… Could this have something to do with the fact that he hadn’t seen Evan in a whole day? And why he still couldn’t spot him now?

But then the Dark Lord approached him.

—

Barty learns some things about himself that night. The main two being that he does not like veritaserum or being interrogated. The sensation of being forced to speak truthfully, even to questions he would have willingly answered to anyways, is not something he thinks he’s going to forget anytime soon.

But he supposes that it could have been worse. He only had Rodolphus interrogating him while he knows some Death Eaters got Bellatrix. Who knows what kind of methods she would have employed on him simply for her own enjoyment?

Besides the lingering unease at being forcefully interviewed, Barty was enraged. It had come to light that Evan had defected. Evan had killed his father, defected from the Death Eaters with only a note to the Dark Lord, and had neglected to say goodbye. And most importantly, he had left Barty here to fend for himself, alone. What was Evan thinking? And why hadn’t he told Barty his plans?

Barty just didn’t understand. He thought they were friends, the closest of friends, even! But why would he do this? Had Barty done something to make him upset, had he done something wrong?

Barty wanted answers, but Evan wasn’t here to give any. Barty despaired at the very thought that he may never know his reasons for leaving. How was Barty meant to go on as a Death Eater like this, without his closest friend and confidant? He just didn’t want to. He didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to.

The realization made Barty stop in his tracks on his way home. He didn’t want to! And then he thought about it further. Why should he? With Evan gone, there was not one single person here who still held any of his loyalty.

And despite everything, despite himself, Barty missed Evan, his only family left around since Regulus’s and Dorcas’s death. Despite the fact that he had abandoned him here, Evan still held Barty in the palm of his hand, or at least it felt like it. In fact, right now it felt like Evan was unknowingly the center of Barty’s universe that had just been misplaced, throwing Barty off-kilter and shaking the entire foundation of his very world.

Barty had to go after him. He just had to. What else could he possibly do? Stay here and miss him, wail in misery, and try to cause enough chaos to distract himself from the hollow ache in his chest, now that some apparently vital piece of his functioning was missing? No. As he had determined earlier, he didn’t want to. And that was enough for him.

Now all he had to do was make a plan.

Chapter Text

Evan had been on the run for a couple of days now, and he was reaching the end of his limited food supply. He needed to restock soon. His plan was to go down to the little town near the forest where he had been staying and conduct a stealthy raid on a bakery or restaurant. He didn’t want to leave too many traces of himself behind that could cause a commotion.

Speaking of the forest, Evan realized it was probably time to move to a different location. Although he was only a mid-level member, he had killed his father, who was part of the Death Eaters' inner circle, so he didn't know how thoroughly they would be searching for him. It would probably be best to keep moving around, just to stay on the safe side.

But Evan doesn’t know where to go next. He had chosen this current forest in a haze of desperation. It was the only place he could think of at the time, a location Pandora had enjoyed camping in during summer breaks when they had little else to do. The rest of the Rosiers had never accompanied her, of course; they were too dignified for such simple activities, especially muggle camping with their “delusional” daughter. Even Evan had been reluctant to join her. But he had gone once and that's how he knew about this place.

Oh, how Evan wished he were camping for fun with Pandora now. But he was not. He was a fugitive in a weird, twisted way. He thought about what Pandora would do in his situation. She would probably make the most of it, exploring and foraging. Evan chuckled, thinking that if he had even a scrap of her whimsical spirit, he might enjoy his circumstances more.

But the truth was, life on the run was hard. Evan had been so busy researching his dark mark and planning his escape that he hadn’t thought about practical matters. He was now paying for that oversight with his lack of preparedness.

He had no idea where to stay, how to acquire food other than stealing, or even how to pitch a tent. (He had struggled for hours just to get the one he had up now to stand, and even now it was leaning dangerously to the left. He dreaded having to take it down.) He really should have planned better, but he supposed he had been preoccupied with his other endeavors. He owed himself that much, at least.

Sure, life on the run was difficult. But Evan didn’t regret it for a moment. Every time he stepped outside his tent and took in a breath of summer air, it felt fresh and clean—a sensation he hadn’t experienced in the recent years spent cooped up in Rosier Manor. He might even admit to himself that he was enjoying the natural scenery around him.

Of course, there were things he missed: hot meals, hot showers, and his own bed, for example. Hell, he even missed his little house elf, Poppy, despite the fact that those creatures had always creeped him out. (You can imagine the disturbance he felt when he learned that Regulus was quite close friends with his elf.) Now he had no one to fold his clothes or make up his bed, and his hair was growing out for the first time in years, long enough now to curl around his ears and bother him at night.

But it was all worth it to him. It was worth it.

—

Evan had been staking out Florence’s Baked Goods for hours when he finally decided to go for it. The shop had been closed for a while, and he couldn’t see anyone moving inside.

He crept up to the door under his best disillusionment charm, trying not to leave any traces in his wake. He performed a simple "Alohomora" on the door and cast a silencing charm on the bell he had discovered after hearing it jingle every time someone walked in. (He had been confused about that for a while before putting the pieces together.)

He slowly opened the door, flinching when it creaked midway. After closing it behind him, he let out a small sigh of relief that no one seemed alerted to his presence.

Behind the counter, they had all sorts of goods—savory and sweet—and Evan knew he had made the right choice. He stocked up on a little of everything, hoping that with the right stasis spells, it would last him for a good week or two.

Just as he was about to leave, he noticed a metal contraption where people inserted short slips of paper. He knew it was for muggle money but was confused about why they kept it in this odd box. He supposed it made sense to keep it somewhere secure.

But did Evan need to steal some? He had pondered this all day during the stakeout but couldn’t reach a firm conclusion. On one hand, he would be stealing more than he truly needed, which made him uneasy. On the other, if he stole some money now, he could actually buy food in the future. So, steal now or steal later?

Evan had just decided to go for the metal box when he heard someone moving around on the upper level. Shit. Evan was scrambling toward the door as fast as he could when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps on stairs. He was too late.

He stood stock still and hoped his disillusionment charm would hold. A man—Florence, perhaps—opened a door from behind the counter and walked out into the lobby of the store, looking around as if he had something specific on his mind. Evan felt a wave of relief when he noticed the man wasn’t holding any weapons.

The man grabbed something from one of the tables that Evan couldn’t quite see and started to head back up the stairs when he suddenly stopped, turned around, and looked straight at Evan. That was when Evan felt it—a flicker. His disillusionment charm was definitely not holding.

The man’s eyes went wide when the spell finally gave out and he opened his mouth to let out a bellow: “Intruder! Intruder-“ He would have continued, Evan was sure, but he flicked his wand and gave the command of a quick “Silencio!” The man’s mouth kept moving for a second before he seemingly realized no sound was coming out of it.

That's when the panic seemed to set in place. He started to run for the stairs to get something or someone when Evan shot a spell at the man to tie him up. He wiggled around in his ropes trying to move toward the door, but wasn’t making much progress. Evan paid him no mind. He was once again at a crisis point. (He was really getting tired of this.)

Kill the man who saw his face or let him go with a simple stupefy? Evan didn’t know. He truly didn’t want to kill anyone else, but he couldn’t allow this man to walk free with knowledge of his presence. What if Death Eaters stumbled upon this place and heard the tale of a thief who looked just like him? That was unacceptable. But… he didn’t necessarily have to kill him.

He had never performed this particular charm before. Still, Evan figured he might as well give it a try before resorting to murder.

He glanced at the struggling man, who had fallen over in his attempts to break free. “I need you to stay still for a minute please, would you? I can’t do this correctly when you’re wiggling around like that…” Unfortunately, his words did not seem to calm the man; they seemed to make him squirm faster. Evan was baffled by this reaction.

Evan let out a frustrated sigh and then performed the “Stupefy” to knock the man out. He really couldn’t have had all that movement while trying to perform a spell he had never done before perfectly on the first try. He stared down at the man and shook out his hands a bit. He could do this. He had to do this.

Evan concentrated on the memories he wanted to erase and implant—creating the false narrative that the man had come down, taken something from the table, and returned upstairs without seeing anyone. He then whispered, “Obliviate.”

Evan banished the ropes around the man and stood there for a minute, thinking. Though the man would be confused when he woke up on the shop floor, he wouldn’t recall their encounter. Evan felt that was good enough.

After that, Evan made quick work of the odd money machine and left as soon as he could, with what he thought were minimal traces of himself left behind. What a milestone, he thought. His first successful food raid!

—

Fresh out of the(cold) shower, Evan catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks weary, he thinks, but strong. Stronger than he's ever been before. Strong enough to defy the Dark Lord and live to tell the story.

He pictures Barty in his mind and aches a little. He's taller than him but skinnier; Evan always had more muscle than him. He has dark brown hair that Evan wishes he could see in real life now, if only for a moment. His own sandy blonde hair leaves him disappointed. It looks a bit unfamiliar now, too. The length of it shows the waves that his usually well-trimmed cut hides. It reminds him of his sister Pandora, and then he aches even more.

His life has been a mess so far, filled with mistakes and questionable decisions, but he thinks that she would be proud of what he was doing for himself right now.

Okay, maybe not all of the stealing and murdering and memory wiping, but the rest of it. Choosing to live for himself and not a deranged lunatic.

And Evan is proud, too, when he steps back long enough to think objectively about his own life. He's proud of what he's done. Yes, he has regrets, like leaving Barty behind, but ultimately he can smile about how he is living his life right now.

He does just that in the mirror. He smiles a little. His features are normally so grim and serious that the expression looks a little unusual to his own eyes, but he thinks he can learn to like this feeling.

And he wants to. He wants happiness to be his new normal, or else what was it all good for? What was leaving the other half of his heart behind worth if not some semblance of joy?

Evan stops smiling and sighs. He wants to be better, to feel better, but he misses Barty with all he has. Every single day is a new battle, a new fight to stop himself from going back to him. From kidnapping him and sweeping him away to Evan’s little side of paradise away from the Dark Lord.

It's fucked up but in Evan’s worst moments, the ones late at night while he's desperately trying to fall asleep, he considers giving it all up just to go back and see him one more time. For just one last glimpse.

But he knows he won't. He can't. Not after everything he's done and built for himself. He thinks briefly back to the note he wrote the Dark Lord and chuckles. He hopes Barty secretly enjoyed the spitfire rebelliousness he showed in that note that he rarely ever exhibits. He wrote it in a hurry, after all.

But yes, Evan can do this. He can persist. As he thought earlier, he's stronger than he's ever been before. Strong enough to live and to plan.

He hasn't forgotten about Dorcas’s death. He's still planning on making her killer pay with their life for what they did. (One last kill.) It does complicate things that the Dark Lord himself killed her, but lately, Evan’s been doing some crazy things, so why not attempt it? It might kill him, sure. But Dorcas didn't deserve to die, not at all.

And Evan, well. Evan does deserve to die a little bit. He's a murderer, a liar, a thief. And now, he's a man working on two main goals: being happy, and killing the Dark Lord.

And Salazar help him, he will succeed or forfeit his life trying.