It's kind of a cheap, but I needed to let off some frustration. I know we all don't particularly like Rosier...but he needs to be heard sometimes too. Can't have the typical unfeeling bad guy. That'd be lame. Let me know what you think. :)

Chapter Twenty Six: A Rare Glimpse

He kneeled before his Lord, his blonde head bowed, his eyes on the latter's boots.

"The plan is progressing nicely, Rosier. I thank you. Soon, Black will break and come to us. His brother was a wonderful edition, I can only imagine what two Blacks could do. Yes, though he puts on a good front, he cannot deny his roots. One with a pure-blood family as illustrious as his cannot resist the call of our cause. The cause that he was born to uphold." The tall, thin man paused, the long fingers of his left hand stroked his smooth, pale chin as he spoke. His right hand loosely held his wand as he slowly paced back and forth before the fireplace.

"Yes, m'lord."

"And once we have Black, the heroic Potter will mourn the loss of his friend and try to come and persuade him to leave what he deems a wanton cause. But to no avail. And if Potter does that, he will surely bring help...Lupin possibly, or if I'm as lucky as I normally am, the Longbottoms. That would make things so easy. I could kill them all, and not have to worry about any ridiculous prophecy. No mere CHILD could ever, nor will ever defeat LORD VOLDEMORT."

Rosier flinched at the name.

"You are right, my lord. Of course nothing is more powerful than you."

Voldemort looked down at his follower, kneeled before him, and scowled. "Of course I am correct. When is Lord Voldemort ever wrong? And with the information we've been receiving from the ever reliable Wormtail...well, how can this or any other of my plans possibly fail?We know just what to say, what buttons to push."

Evan listened to his master, thinking about the woman he had locked in the upstairs rooms of his family's house. She was just a tool, a pawn in the greater scheme. He had to remind himself that she meant nothing in the long run.

"I've had another plan. One of our number will take polyjuice potion and be made to resemble Miss Masayano, and then be seen around town, within Black's vision, just to cement his pain. You will accompany this doppleganger. I was thinking Harkness. He is about the correct size..."

"Brilliant my lord."

What was he doing to her? He really did care for her. He didn't like these plans of Voldemort's. Though he would never in his wildest nor most suicidal dreams ever say so to his Master's face. He wanted to be kind to Charlie, to care for her. But whenever he got near her, he automatically treated her as an inferior, as filth. It was almost as though he was under some sort of jinx. But he knew better. He was under no jinx, he was acting as he had been brought up to act.

She didn't deserve any of this, even if she did break up with him for Black. Though Rosier would have liked to keep her, he knew that she didn't belong with him. But in one moment of spite, he had ruined her life forever. Her life and the lives of everyone she was close to, or had once been close to, himself included.

"He will be driven mad with jealously, pain and misery. He will come to embrace those emotions in time. They will give him power, as you have found." Voldermort bestowed a rare smile upon Rosier.

Jealousy. Hatred. Pain. Misery. Yes, he did draw power from those emotions. How could he not? Of course he was jealous when she choose Black over him. He had come to hate Sirius Black's name. The color reminded him of what he had lost. When ever anyone said serious, he automatically thought of the dark haired boy and the beautiful woman that the latter had won. Everything reminded him of the man who Charlie thought was better. It hurt. The pain had not gone away. And when it wouldn't, when he couldn't banish it, he drew upon it, using it to feed what he had become.

He had originally thought when he had left school that he wouldn't hurt as much because he would know that he would never have to see them together again. But his imagination made it worse for him. It had never gone away. He wasn't sure it ever would. Especially not when he was holding onto his hate to keep himself together. What was to become of Charlie if Black turned? Would she no longer be needed and so properly extinguished? And since he, Evan Rosier, had put up such a convincing front that he hated the woman, would Voldermort give him the honor of doing away with her? If his lord did give the order, would he be able to carry it out? Would Charlie's end be his end as well?

He shouldn't have said anything all those months ago. He should have kept his mouth shut, should have gotten over himself, should have been happy that she was happy and left well enough alone. But he never seemed to make the right choice when the time was right. He had always heard that hindsight was 20/20 and for the first time he realized just how true that was. What would he be doing now if he hadn't made all his schemes to kidnap her and destroy Black? There was no use dwelling on it. Even with a time turner, he would never be able to convince his past self of the pain he would feel later.

"This new plan will go into action in the next few days. I have high hopes."

"Very good, my Lord."

"Rosier," the cold high voice addressed him directly.

"Yes?"

"You are not getting any misgivings about keeping the girl?"

"No. Of course not, my lord. Why do you ask."

Voldemort stared at his follower. "Just remember, Lord Voldemort always knows."

"How would one as loyal as I ever forget?" It was one of the factors that made the Dark Lord so terrifying.

"Mmm. Just remember that she is filth."

"The worst, most disgusting kind, m'lord." He hated himself. He would be better off dead. But what would happen to Charlie if he wasn't there to enforce some kind of order around her. He was the other person standing in the way of his fellow Death Eaters, the only one preventing them from hurting her more than he already was.

"You may go."

Rosier stood and backed toward the door, never presenting his back to his Master. He bowed and left the room. He started for his mansion. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to see anyone. He wanted to get drunk. Maybe Black was onto something. Maybe drinking was the answer. He would give it a try. He knew it wasn't any sort of answer. He knew it would make him more depressed. He knew that he would regret it in the morning...and yet, he didn't care.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Please, do not really drink to solve problems. It really doesn't help anything.

Anyway. There you go, something short. I had written this a while ago and didn't know if I was going to include it. But I decided, hey, why not? Evan needs his side told as well.

Please review.

And until next time,

Keep a sharp eye ;)

Pupparoux