~*~

There’s something so invigorating about working with a creature more powerful than oneself. Although, Evan Rosier reminded himself, that’s exactly how I came to be in this mess in the first place.

He sat on a rock overlooking the luscious green valley of Llangollen. The sweeping hills around him encapsulated him inside a dome of Welsh scenery. This was his prison. However, as prisons went it seemed as if he’d been given a good deal.

Snap. The branch of heather broke with little pressure on his behalf. Rosier ran the course leaves through his fingers and over his hands. His skin was sensitive to its touch and the red welts along his palms and knuckle ridges gave small throbs in anticipation of what was to come.

These burns had healed so much quicker than the last, but this just spurned Rosier on to greater attempts at increasing his suffering. He raked the heather over the rough skin, pricking a hole in the blisters and watching as yellow puss leaked down his wrists.

He barely registered the pain anymore, but that was not a good thing. Pain was his punishment. And he needed to be punished.

The Welsh mountain of Eglwyseg was one of the main bases of operation for the Welsh dragon preservation. It was from this high peak that Rosier sat and observed his new world. Evan Rosier: dragon keeper, who would have thought it?

But it wasn’t Rosier now was it? It was Clive Brand. Evan Rosier would have been shipped off to Azkaban within seconds of him applying for the job. Death Eaters
(even former ones), after all, did not make good employees.

Thin jets of fire shot into the air over the brow of the next hill. Rosier stood. The dragons were growing agitated. It was their dinnertime. He currently had four Common Welsh Greens within his care. They were a handful, but he relished it because it left him little time to dwell on anything else. And he mustn’t dwell.

He Apparated down to the valley below and hastily summoned the pile of sheep carcases to the dragons’ clearing. The beasts naturally preferred to catch their own prey, but the sheep farmers were growing heavily suspicious of late, and the keepers were doing all in their power to try to domesticate the animals.

Rosier leapt back as the four big brutes came bounding forward. Within seconds, flesh was being stripped from bone, and small ruckuses occurred over who would claim the sheep’s hind leg for their own. Rosier left them to it and went to patrol the reservation’s borders.

He spent a relaxing hour wandering around the enclosure, breathing in the clean, Welsh air. It wasn’t until the putrid smell of smoke met his nostrils that he realised something was wrong.

He scanned the hillsides and saw a red glow clinging tightly to the horizon. A dense black cloud hovered above the hillside; it looked like a storm cloud but it hid much bigger horrors. With reactions bred from years of war Rosier Apparated to the scene.

The patches of heather that coated Eglwyseg were ablaze and the fire was spreading beyond the borders of the reservation. Rosier cursed. Muggles were frequent visitors to these valleys and if something happened then the Ministry would be down on him in no time. It would no doubt be the highlight of an Auror’s career to discover Evan Rosier hiding out as a dragon keeper.

He pulled out his wand and shot a loud bang into the air, hoping that another keeper would be in the area and hear his sound of warning.

The heat was intense. Rosier yelled the incantation and a jet of water burst forth from his wand. The fire reared up to meet its foe and the water seemed to be engulfed in a sea of flames.

The smoke choked him as it coated the back of his throat. The flames were taking some beating down and the water issuing from his wand had slowed to a steady trickle.

“Clive!” hollered a very welcome voice.

“Vince! About bloody time! The whole place could have gone up in flames,” Rosier complained, feeling exhaustion wash over him.

“You seem to be handling it,” Vince replied, clapping Rosier on the shoulder. Vince was a heavyset man and Rosier buckled a little under his weight.

Vince produced his own wand with a flourish and a powerful jet of water launched itself in amongst the flames.

It took another hour for the two keepers to wear the fire down completely, and by this time, Rosier was completely exhausted. Black soot caked his hands and face and his nose stung from where the fire had singed his nostril hairs.

“Phew!” exclaimed Vince, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “That was a close one, eh?”

“Mmm,” agreed Rosier unenthusiastically.

The two of them were flopped down on the hillside surveying the damage. Rosier opened his second bottle of water hoping that this time the cool liquid would sooth his parched and smoke encrusted throat.

“So,” Vince began again, making another attempt at conversation, “got any idea which one of the little buggers cause all this?” he gestured to the charred ground that surrounded them.

“Could be any of them,” replied Rosier. “They’re all agitated.”

“Ah, spring is in the air my friend,” explained Vince. “The males are showing off, they’ll be attempting to rip each other to shreds soon.”

“How am I supposed to stop that?” demanded Rosier, wondering for the first time if he’d bitten off more than he could chew taking this job.

“You don’t really,” answered Vince thoughtfully. “Although if they do get a bit too out of hand, some sort of shock usually does the trick.”

“Like a Stinging Hex?” suggested Rosier, not sure that it sounded like the best solution at all.

“Yeah, or maybe spraying something in their face. Just think of them as overgrown dogs.”

Yeah, thought Rosier, overgrown dogs that can turn you into a roast entrée in a split second.

“Well, I suppose I’d best be getting back to work,” announced Vince, giving a large belch as he polished off what was left of his water. “Try to keep out of mischief, young ‘un!”

Huh, bit late on the warning there, mused Rosier. Two years too late.

With Vince gone, Rosier too Apparated down into the clearing to check on his dragons.

Vince was right; the mating season was indeed upon them. High above Rosier a merry dance of courtship was taking place.

A beat of wings, a siren’s call, Emera enticed Goran to her side. The game of cat and mouse ensued. Every time Goran got close to her, she glided away, dancing higher and higher above the spirals of the clouds.

This merry dance continued for quite some time until eventually the two dragons swooped and spiralled around each other, so close they looked almost inseparable.

Rosier watched as they came back down to earth and circled each other for a moment before embarking on the mating process.

Strobes of light illuminated above his head, each one zooming towards a target.

Rosier kept his head low, intent on keeping away from the line of fire. He ran up to an old, decrepit building and threw himself inside, bolting the door shut.

Marks littered the floor where some poor, unsuspecting Muggle family had been dragged from their home and mercilessly killed.

A scuffling noise from the building’s stairwell drew Rosier’s attention. Someone was there, and more importantly, they’d seen him. He saw the tail of a cloak disappear around the top banister.

Quick as a cat Rosier bounded up the stairs. There were two doors to choose from, and, taking a chance, Rosier blasted down the first. A small, frightened squeal emanated from within as he crossed the threshold.

The squeal, however, was only the first of the onslaughts to his senses, no sooner had he took a couple of steps into the room than a stunning spell of vibrant red sailed passed his right ear.

Blinking past the black dots in front of his eyes, Rosier gazed into the dark room and came face to face with Marlene McKinnon.

“Having fun?” she asked him, her voice hostile.

“Well, well, McKinnon, I can honestly say I’m pleased to see you,” Rosier fawned.

“You shouldn’t be,” she said sharply, aiming her wand directly at his chest.

Rosier had to admit that he was shocked. Of course, the Death Eaters all had a good idea of who the members of the Order of the Phoenix were, but Marlene had never been considered as a serious candidate.

Marlene looked better than she had at school and Rosier wouldn’t have dreamt of such a possibility.

Rosier gave a hollow laugh. “Do you really think you have what it takes to kill me?” he jeered, his hungry eyes drinking in her entire slender form.

“You see, that was always your problem, Rosier,” she countered, taking the slightest of steps forward. “You always were too cocky for your own good.” She slashed her wand through the air, and Rosier, taken by surprise, had to dive across the room to safety. The spell hit the wall and built a crater into it.

“Ha!” exclaimed Rosier, finding his feet once more. “Come on then, McKinnon, let’s play!” He lunged at her and the room became awash with multicoloured sparks of light.

Windowpanes were shattered, walls caved in, floorboards fell through and yet still the two of them circled each other in a blur of slashing wands.

It wasn’t until one of Rosier’s misaimed spells collapsed a supporting wall that things really started to heat up. Marlene, who was nearest the wall at the time, had to lunge forward to make her escape. However, in making such a move she knocked Rosier clean to the ground too.

She lay there on top of him and when she scrambled to get up, Rosier pinned her legs to his sides with his hands. Taking into account their compromising situation, Rosier said, “If that’s how you wanted to play then you should have said, McKinnon.”

Marlene wrenched herself free of his grasp and stumbled back upright. “You’re unbelievably sick, you know that?”

Rosier was robbed of his chance to retort, however, by a booming voice outside yelling, “The plan has been aborted! Everybody out! Now!”

Looking alarmed Marlene began to Disapparate. Rosier, however, was not going to let her get away so easily and managed to grab onto the tail of her cloak as she whirled around.

Rosier was drenched in darkness as he was pulled in all directions. Blood pounded in his ears and he had a feeling that he was going to be sick. Side-Along Apparition was definitely not for the faint hearted.

They landed at their destination, much to Rosier’s relief, and he toppled to the floor.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” cried Marlene in a valiant effort to burst his ear drums.

“I followed you,” he replied meekly, his world still spinning.

“You followed me!” Marlene echoed him in exasperation. He dragged himself to his feet and was met by Marlene’s wand hovering inches away from his face. “So, you’re here to have your wicked way with me then are you?”

“It’d be my pleasure,” said Rosier with a lopsided smirk.

Marlene cringed and shook her head distractedly. “I meant that you were going to kill me.” Obviously, she wasn’t so naïve as to miss his insinuation.

“Oh, don’t worry, I have every intention of pounding you into the ground,” he retorted, his voice a low rumble.

And that was it, they were at it again, spells bouncing every which way off the walls of her house. Neither of them aimed to kill though, which surprised Rosier greatly.

This half-hearted attempt at violence continued for another fifteen minutes, and it was Rosier who finally threw a cog in the works.

Successfully disarming Marlene with a swift Expelliarmus he grabbed a hold of her wrist and held it behind her back before banging her hard against his chest. She fought hard against him and Rosier merely grinned at the feel of the feisty female in his arms.

Before he knew what he was doing, his hand was making a slow trail from her waist down to her thigh. Initially he supposed it was a ploy to scare her, but when she gave a slight tremor in response, he knew he was having the opposite effect. His mouth sought hers and after a bit of hesitation on her side her tongue finally slipped in beside his.

The rest was an ecstatic blur and without any conscious thought, they tumbled into bed together, and Marlene McKinnon the feisty and unapproachable Ravenclaw electrified him into finally feeling alive.

Emera nuzzled against Goran’s neck, a low grumble, which highly resembled a purr, vibrating deep within her throat.

The valley echoed with a deep thud as Donovan, the other male dragon, touched down on the ground. Emera quickly scuttled away, taking flight on ill disposed wings.

The two brutish males, Donovan and Goran, were soon involved in a dance of teeth and claws.

Her long, blonde locks splayed out like a fan on the pillow next to him; he gently wrapped a couple of stray strands around his fingers, marvelling at their softness.

Marlene breathed in sharply and her breath caught, a sure sign that she was beginning to stir.

Rosier rolled over onto his back and released her hair, watching it run through his fingers like spun gold. He inched the covers closer to him so that more of her bare flesh was exposed.

“Hey,” she mumbled sleepily, greeting him with her sweet smile.

“Morning,” he replied, his tone soft.

Marlene placed her hands above her head and stretched her upper body. Rosier gazed hungrily at her naked form. What had he done to deserve waking up next to such a vision?

“You okay?” she asked, giving a slight tug on the bed covers.

He reluctantly relinquished his grip. He then answered her with a devilish grin, “Oh, yes. And you?”

“I’m good,” she said, smiling at him again.

“You’re definitely a lot calmer than you were the first time,” he teased.

She chuckled slightly. “Hmm, we do seem to be making a bit of a habit of this.”

“I’m not complaining,” admitted Rosier mischievously.

She hit him lightly on the arm for his impertinence.

They lay there for same time in silence, basking in the sun’s rays that filtered through the window.

Marlene began to trace her fingers lightly over his chest. At first Rosier stiffened, feeling that such an action was far too intimate for two people who were only there to enjoy the carnal push and pull of sex. However, he found himself melting slightly under her tickling touch. He couldn’t ever remember being touched so gently.

“What’s the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done?” she asked him in a sudden bout of trivial curiosity.

Rosier furrowed his brow. He wasn’t quite sure where such a question had sprung from but he humoured her none the less. Transforming his features in an attempt at looking completely deadpan, he replied, “You.”

“Ha-ha,” she commented dryly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m serious,” he bit back, matching her smile. “How about you?”

“Hmm, well I did ride a dragon once,” she said, her nonchalant tone not connecting with the enormity of the confession.

“You did what?” asked Rosier, both shocked and impressed by such a statement.

Marlene laughed her little tinkering laugh. “Not really,” she admitted, now smiling broadly. “It was a dream, but it was one of those really realistic ones, you know? It was such an adrenaline rush, and nothing in my waking hours has ever bettered it.”

Silence ensued once again and Rosier laid there marvelling at the woman lying next to him. She intoxicated him. He didn’t know what it was about her.

Marlene’s feather light fingers were now tracing circles down his arm. Rosier wondered if he should stop her. It would be dangerous for him to stay much longer.

Marlene, however, seemed to have taken the initiative before him, and her movements stopped. A light pressure remained on his left forearm, but before Rosier could note the significance of this. Marlene’s voice greeted his ear once more.

Her tone had changed. This time it was grave and angry. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” she shot at him.

“Excuse me?” he snapped, his barriers of defence hastily constructing themselves.

“I can hardly lay here and keep pretending that you’re not what you are.”

Rosier scoffed. “Listen, love, it’s a bit late to gain a conscience. Are you forgetting who invited who into who’s bed?”

That was it. She was up and out of bed, wrapping the bed sheet around her in an attempt to regain some modesty. “Don’t you dare try and make me out to be the sordid one in this whole affair. You hounded and hounded me, pressuring me until I finally gave in!”

“It takes two to tango,” growled Rosier, leaping out of bed himself and pulling on his trousers.

“Get out!” she fumed.

“Don’t worry I’m gone,” he snarled, finishing getting dressed. He moved towards Marlene and said dangerously low, “Next time you have an itch that needs scratching, lure some other poor, misguided fool into your bed.”

And with that, he was gone.

Donovan’s jaw clamped around Goran’s hind leg and Goran slashed Donovan’s side with his claws.

Jumping into the fray with only Vince’s advice to guide him, Rosier aimed a Stinging Hex at Donovan’s rump.

It worked! Goran was released from Donovan’s grip and it looked as if disaster had been averted. Rosier’s mouth spread open into a wide grin of relief.

The two dragons were backing away from each other but still a low grumbling sound shook the valley. Rosier’s first thought was that it must have been an earthquake, but as the two monsters settled their hungry eyes upon him, he knew he was mistaken.

Donovan and Goran both opened their gaping jaws and Rosier saw the flames being conjured in the backs of their throats. He dived to the ground and flung his arms over his head, his last thought being, Here comes the entrée!

Crisp, white snow littered the ground as Rosier christened the blanket with his dark footprints.

Her gravestone shone like a beacon in a vast canvass of purity.

He didn’t remember making the decision to come here, but he knew he would be a fool to stay away.

Kneeling down, Rosier set a white lily down on Marlene’s grave, a meagre offering in a sea of ornate bouquets.

He wouldn’t let the tears fall, he had no right to cry for her. All this was his fault. He should have taken her with him, he should have freed her from the ongoing bloodshed. But he didn’t. He was a coward. Just like he’d been his entire life.

His brain was still having trouble processing the situation. Even with the arrival of the hearse, Rosier had still pretended that the whole thing was one big mistake. She couldn’t be dead. Not Marlene. His Marlene.

He had watched the procession into church from afar. He could imagine the service being filled with proclamations of love, and yet he had to be silent. Silent as a church full of people said goodbye to a woman that they didn’t know half as well as he did.

He wondered how Marlene had reacted when she heard of his death? Did she cry? Did she care at all? Did her heart feel hollow as his did now?

For now, Rosier realised why he had fled. He had left Marlene for one simple reason that he cared for her more than he cared for himself. He had been scared. He had felt love for the first time and so he ran. He loved her and she was gone.

He touched his fingers to his lips and then placed them on the fresh soil above her resting body. “Goodbye,” he whispered softly.

Rosier crouched in fear, waiting for the flames to attack his skin. He could feel the intense heat swarming above his head, but his skin was left unharmed.

He raised his head. Donovan’s fire stopped inches from where his head lay, suspended in mid-air. It looked as if an invisible barrier existed between man and dragon. Someone had saved him.

He squinted past the dazzling flames to catch a glimpse of his saviour. Donovan’s thick tail swished angrily back and forth, frustrated at his lack of roast dinner. As Rosier looked past the pendulum like tail a faint figure could be seen. He could have sworn that he saw a glimpse of blonde, curly hair before the figure disappeared with a swish of her cloak.

Donovan’s onslaught stopped and he took to the air, defeated. Rosier stood up and cast his eyes around longingly, hoping to catch another glimpse of the figure.

His search was fruitless, but Rosier knew what he had seen. Marlene had appeared in that clearing. An unfathomable occurrence and yet Rosier knew why she had come.

He was forgiven.