Title: All For Love
Rated: Mature for Character Death
Parings: Sirius Black and Dorcas Meadows
Timeline: It's a few years after the Marauders have graduated from school.
"You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else."
–A. Einstein
"It's better if we keep this close."
That voice, that echoingly familiar statement brought a small smile to her face. Her face? Oh, yes. Her. Dorcas Meadows. Cass. Former Gryffindor. Order of the Phoenix member. Duelist extraordinaire. Curse-master.
Many things, Dorcas Meadows was, many things, she could be called. Unformidable was not one of them. Standing at a lithe five-foot eleven, the woman's physique perched at an equal level of many men, many of them those who would love to believe her inferior. Poise. Grace.
In a word; perfection.
Even now, she was untouched, even now she remained unphased. Standing at the edge of a movement from which no one could turn back upon, Cass Meadows was infuriatingly stoic, as ever. It was a face that many had become familiar with. A small, stilted half-smile quirked over her lips, a sardonic brow raised in lackadaisical inquiry. To all appearances, the girl seemed utterly indifferent to her surroundings.
A mistake that no one would ever have the chance to make twice.
On the heels of such a thought, the lithe figure wheeled on a heel-ducking an inconvenient tree branch that nearly tried to swipe at her cheek as she moved to the side. A short (and utterly merciless) laugh broke past the pearlescent lips that seemed a beacon of such sweet innocence.
"Stupify," the girl hissed under her breath.
A bright, blinding flash of red light traveled a short distance and proceeded to illuminate a figure for the briefest moment before it slumped to the ground.
Indeed, an angel Cass Meadows might have been.
Not, however, one of peace.
Justice. Vengeance. The day of reckoning had long since past. The lines had been drawn in the sand and where the blonde stood had been made infuriatingly clear from her insolent disrespect to her family-pure blood to the bone, the thoughts included. She had, Dorcas's mother concluded, fallen into the same trap that that black boy had gotten caught in. Willful disobedience was not to be tolerated.
Instead, however, of bowing to pressure and ceding to the apparent 'inevitable', Dorcas Katherine Meadows did what she was known to do.
She broke the rules.
Defied convention.
In a life that was a short twenty two years long, Cass had never once done the easy thing. Never once taken the shortcut.
As obscurely wrong as it had been, Dorcas had once been associated with Evan Rosier (now, known Death Eater). She had dated him, befriended him.
Merlin, she had even kissed him.
Even in the face of opposition, in the face of disapproval (albeit not from her parents) from those she loved the most, the girl had endeavored to pursue that relationship she thought had been so very sacred. And in the end, when one Evan Rosier had tried to consume her, mind body and soul-the girl hadn't done the 'easy' thing, and let him.
She hadn't done the 'simple' thing and been a passive participant in selling her soul.
Oh, no. Even now, the memory of the scene was enough to bring a smile to nearly every face of the Order-even those who hadn't even been in school at the time.
Indeed, such a dressing-down was a legendary thing, a story doomed to be repeated.
The imperious Evan Rosier? Oh, yes. He had been defied-openly. She had checked him at every turn in one dramatic confrontation. And in the end, it hadn't been her ego, nor her reputation that lay shattered beyond near-repair.
Dorcas Meadows was a survivor.
A survivor that did not sacrifice her integrity. Perhaps more than anything, that was what made the girl.
"I will not!" Dorcas breathed quietly, "I would rather die for a world worth living for, than live in a world where I survive. What does that say about me if I weren't? I want to live, yes. Dying is the easy part. It's surviving after, that's the hard bit."
Courage and strength. It took courage to die-but it took true strength, of character and will, to survive. And so, the girl fought. She fought for a world where there would be no death, no senseless persecution. She fought for a tomorrow worth having, and she lived for a world worth being in.
It was all she knew.
And she became good at it. Too good, those who looked back after, could say. That biting tongue became a deft hand at provoking the opposition into a temper, sending them floundering, fumbling, making mistakes.
And as, on any field of battle, a mistake meant a loss.
Cool. Calm. Collected. Poised.
Dorcas Meadows seemed unphased by what she had become. A weapon, it's edge razor sharp. Unwieldy and ungainly for the untested hand, Cass Meadows under poor direction would have been a disaster. However, no one knew the girl better than herself. No one understood her capability, her capacity to endure.
And so, she did. One battle after a next, the blonde figure had become an image etched into the minds of those who stood at her side-or across that line in the sand. Taking the blows, acknowledging the pain and then dismissing it, Cass was nothing to be laughed at. For whoever thought that the fragile-looking girl (and she was just that, at barely twenty two years) was something to be taken lightly, ended up indisposed.
Not dead-rarely, dead.
For all her belief in her cause and her tenacity to survive, Dorcas Meadows did have some limits.
Long ago, she had decried those who murdered senselessly, for any cause. And those who killed indiscriminately in defense were really, no better than those who murdered senselessly for their own cause.
Oh, no. Death was something to be avoided at all costs.
However, that wasn't to say that the girl didn't have blood on her hands.
She was no innocent. Cass had taken lives, had gone to sleep at night with the weight of the knowledge that somewhere, a mother, father, wife, husband-or even, in one instance, children, mourned the passing of someone beloved.
Blood called to blood, regardless of whose blood it was.
It did not matter, death eater or Order member. Muggleborn or pure blood. Blood, once spilt, did not separate on that hallowed ground upon whence it fell. And in that moment, the truth lay bared to the bones. They were not so very different, after all.
Someone, somewhere, would always mourn when a life was taken.
Always.
"Except," Cass muttered ruefully, "for me."
Oh, certainly, she would be missed. How could she not? She was a daughter (albeit to pure-blood gits). She was a sister (to a woman who married and had a child of her own. A family that came first). She was a friend (to a redhead who had married the love of her life and born her own child. To men who fought as they lived-recklessly and on the edge, without regard for life and limb. To those who had allegiance to someone more important than she).
Every single person she had ever loved in some way, had loved her back.
And only, Cass thought with a smile, one mistake.
"One regret."
If she died-today, tomorrow, next week-what would she miss? There was so much to be said, so much that she had always been to afraid to say.
And yet, this was not the time, the girl realized with a chilling realization, flicking her wand (the sheer force of the unspoken spell a testament to the witch's own talents) and neatly dispatching another foe who had thought that the pretty blue eyes had hidden a head without a brain.
There would be a time for regrets.
There would always be a time for mourning.
But now? Now, it was time to fight-fight for a promise, for a tomorrow that was worth living for.
And that was worth the price, to die for.
Yet, Cass could not help but wonder. Was there ever a right time for regrets? Was there ever a 'good time' to wonder about what had been?
'Don't live in the past', everyone had said that. 'You couldn't have changed it if you had been there', friends consoled when someone loved, was lost or hurt.
Couldn't have made a difference.
Only knowledge. Only hindsight. Only they could have changed the actions, the outcomes. And the price for that was far too high for anyone to pay. Even in a Wizarding world, there were some decrees that were simply not worth breaking.
Some things, Dorcas Meadows had long since acknowledged, even she would not pay the price for.
And yet, it seemed to be the truth. For the things that mattered, there was never a convenient time. Love was an inconvenience to the upteenth degree. Compassion. Friendship. Trust. Faith. Hope.
For that, Cass could only lament, could only mourn the things that could have been, but would never be. The time was gone, far passed. There was no family in her life. She was not, the blonde acknowledged with a wry smile, born for that future.
There was a different path lined out for the twin with the hair the color of sunlight-wrought silk and eyes the color of the shadows of the moon.
It was no less an important path, no easier future than that of her sister, Alice Meadows nee Longbottom.
Daughter. Sister. Mother.
A family.
For a moment, bitter envy coursed through her veins. A life she wanted, had so desperately craved. Gone. She was not dead, Cass acknowledged. But there was a very good chance that she would be, before this entire debacle ended. Sister fighting father, brother fighting brother, cousins facing down across the field-would it never end?
Suffice to say, the entire thing was a mess. The light of spells flickered through the trees and the occasional, sharp crack told her that someone(s), somewhere, felt the need to apparate to hie off to safety, lick their wounds to fight another day. It was a pitched battle, the girl calculated with an unwavering eye.
And yet, they would prevail this time. It was not always a sure thing-the green recruits from the graduates were as much a burden as a blessing, Cass thought with a short grin, flicking a wordless spell that rendered someone immobile (a someone who was very near to casting some sort of presumably perilous hex on one of her rookies). So reckless, so determined to fight for good-for the world they wanted to imagine, existed.
Dorcas Meadows didn't fight like that.
She knew better.
Cool. Assessing. Calculating. It was the way to survive. Never allow the temper to be lost, Cass knew (and as a hothead herself, struggled with frequently). Never fall prey to a bluff (or not, as it were-having had a severed hand delivered to her upon occasion, Dorcas knew that sometimes, the death eaters weren't lying).
"I'm sorry," the girl whispered softly, words falling like dead weight into the murky pre-dawn light. The chill of autumn was upon them, but it didn't seem to affect the girl.
So, so sorry, Cass realized, not for the first time. There was so much that she hadn't done. So many mistakes she had made.
"So many things I never said."
Life was never just, never fair-and rarely compassionate. Stories such as Lily and James Potter were rare. A love that lasted, one that was true. It was enviable, and those who knew the two well could only smile.
It was not testament to a miracle.
Moreso, it was testament to two miraculous people who believed. Believed in each other, more than themselves. It was a strength that Cass wondered if she would ever have.
And somehow, the answer-the truth-of the matter was..
No.
It was not for her.
"I'm sorry."
So sorry. So very, very sorry for being so jealous, Alice. Two twins-one light, one dark. One, for so many years, basking in the glow of parental approval and the other, so easily fading into the background. Impulsive and reckless alongside observant and precise.
And yet-so, so very envious. So jealous, the one who shone so bright.
An apology that would never be voiced, regrets for those years of long unintentional neglect that Dorcas Meadows had been involved in by the hands of her parents.
All the words that she had never said, the respect and admiration that Cass had always held for Alice-the untouchable esteem that no one else could ever hope to match.
The things that Cass had never told her.
Love. All those years of love, and as the time progressed, the secrets that Cass had kept from Alice had accumulated to a weight upon Dorcas Meadows' shoulders.
For years, the two had been inseparable. Even as they had found their own friends, Alice and Cass were unique to each other. They were hardly identical-one light and one dark, one kind and one remarkably cruel.
One forgiving and the other, utterly relentless.
More than anything, they were polar opposites of the other, barring a few exceptions.
More than anything, they completed each other.
Without Alice, there could have been no Dorcas Meadows.
And everything that Cass was, she owed it to the sibling that would never hear those words of praise, of gratitude-or of love.
"I'm sorry."
Friendships forsaken. Relationships, lost.
Of misjudgment, of thinking too quickly and acting too slow. Of maligning the names of individuals who had done no wrong.
James Potter would never hear that heartfelt apology, would never know the regret that Dorcas had harbored for long years, even after graduation, of the way she had treated the boy.
The cruelty of children knew no bounds, and she had been no exception.
Perhaps it had been envy, perhaps it had been fear. The knowledge that there, stood a boy whose parents adored him regardless of the choices he made, supported even his friends (as was shown by the hospitality-and more than that, the love-they had given Sirius Black when he was disowned).
More than that, it had been his ability to love. Deeply, without restraint.
For six years, he had pursued Lily Evans. For six years, his heart had been hers.
And he would never know the respect that Dorcas Meadows had accredited him for that.
He loved as he lived.
And he would never know how much Cass wished she could have done the same.
"I'm so very, very sorry."
Lily Evans, the witch that knew no equal, the friend like no other.
The human being beyond compare.
For seven years, they had lived in the same quarters, eaten the same food, breathed the same air. They had consoled each others' tears, had been the solid pillar of support when the world around them was falling apart.
And yet-Dorcas Meadows lived with the knowledge that her best friend had never, ever been fully hers.
A heart that big could not belong to one alone. Could not, really.
And honestly-what claim did one single girl, forgotten by time and overlooked by history, have on the woman who could change the world if she so chose?
A friendship that had gone both ways-both good and bad, could not have ever been replaced by anything else. Between the two girls, there was something that the rest of the world couldn't touch.
And yet, between marriage and a child, that unbreakable bond had frayed and unraveled.
Lily Evans Potter would never hear how very sorry her old friend was for that state of affairs.
Never hear how much the girl cherished those hours of conversation, the hugs and the smiles-and even the tears.
"I'm so sorry."
The things she could have changed, all that she should have done differently, Dorcas was filled with regret. Maybe he wouldn't have become a death eater if it had ended differently, maybe her relationship wouldn't have fallen apart if Cass had been more supportive.
Lore, Addi-the ravenclaw duo that had frequently eyed the blonde as if Cass had grown a second head, spouting ever stranger comments in the midst of deep philosophical comments. The two that she had grown inordinately fond of.
Her friends.
The jokes she had made, the things she had teased them for-the hours spent laughing that she wouldn't trade for the world.
As much as her friends were intelligent, were savvy to the world, they would never hear the truth in how much she cherished them.
Would never know that they were her world.
Her whole world.
"Oh, Merlin." Breathing softly to control the sharp pressure in her eyes, a hint of tears-of fatigue or emotion as the battle waged into the coming dawn, Dorcas wished she could find a corner to sit and weep.
"I've wronged you. So very, very badly. I'm so, so sorry-if only you could know."
Her one true mistake. Her one true regret.
And the one apology she wished she could have said, to him-to the world.
The love she had, the one she had walked away from. A heart she might have broken simply to keep her own intact. And yet, every day without him was a day that the world was a little less bright, a little less wonderful.
A life without Sirius Black in it was not one, Dorcas Meadows had realized, worth having.
Of all the girls he had ever 'loved'-and he himself said, he loved women. Loved them all-she was the one who had held his heart. Instead of replacing it with hers, though, the girl had fled. No, not in the instant. Not even the day after, waking up feeling, for the first time since the bloody war had begun, secure. Safe.
Cherished.
Standing on the edge of something that would have swallowed her-swallowed him-the girl had balanced it. Cass had maintained her integrity, her own personal truth and had loved as she did it. Yet, when the knife came to its' point-and the bones of the matter lay bare, the girl was left staring.
It hadn't been that complicated, she realized in retrospect.
He wasn't a boy, and she wasn't a girl. He wasn't the insensitive prankster, and she wasn't the sarcastic bitch.
He was a man who had lost his friends, fought against what was once his family.
She was a woman with blood on her hands and murder tagged along her title.
And in that moment-she had loved him.
But she had left.
And he would never, ever know how sorry she was for that.
"My one regret."
Tears tracked silently down her cheeks, from stress or emotion one couldn't be certain. Yet, even as the sun rose to cast a quiet, early glow to the day, silence reigned in what had been a bloody field of confrontation for what felt to be a lifetime.
With sunlight shining fair upon her golden locks, Dorcas Meadows collapsed against a thick, sturdy tree, thankful for the solid comfort of the rough touch of the bark.
Swiping a shaking hand-nerves, she wondered? or fatigue?-over wearied eyes, Dorcas Meadows closed her eyes with a slight smile affixed to her lips, the sardonic brow lilted over shut eye, golden lashes fanned delicately against the purple stains of sleeplessness, highlighting the vulnerable frailty of the delicate form.
Just one moment.
Just a bit, she thought with a wry twist of the lips. Just a few moments more of stillness before returning back to Headquarters, where it would be all impersonal business. Bodies, corpses-prisoners, questions.
Just a few more seconds to mourn the past.
Recall the memories she cherished.
Just a little bit longer.
A/N:
This is an old, (ooold) story of mine that I've written about the character Dorcas Meadows. It implies (and outright states) at points that she's involved with Sirius Black. This character has always struck my fancy. All we know about her is that she was killed by Voldemort himself, and that she was placed next to Sirius in the team photo of the order "way back when". What sort of person would someone have to be to be such a threat that Voldemort had to kill them himself?
This story is an attempt to answer that. I love this character-and on a site called Roses in Hand (z10dot invisionfree dotkom /rih) she's my darling. This was inspired by roleplay scenarios and late night discussions I had with the other admin, Lisa. I hope you enjoy this short story!