intermission

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at

http://archiveofourown.org/works/39437451.

Rating:
Mature

Archive Warning:
No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:
F/F, M/M

Fandom:
Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Relationship:
Bartemius Crouch Jr./Evan Rosier, Minor or Background Relationship(s),
Regulus Black/James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Marlene
McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Mary Macdonald/Lily Evans

Character:
Evan Rosier, Bartemius Crouch Jr., Regulus Black, Dorcas Meadowes,
Pandora Lovegood, James Potter, Sirius Black, Mary Macdonald, Others
mentioned but i don't feel like typing them all out

Additional Tags:
the evan/barty fic i didn't know i would write, well here we are whoops,
tied into the just lovers universe, Asexual Evan Rosier, One-sided
Bartylus, Slytherins Being Slytherins, a pet snake, Falling In Love,
Fighting NOT to fall in love, Jealousy, the power of FRIENDSHIP!, the
power of friendship...???, Fake Flirting, but also real flirting, Barty has
commitment issues, Evan has 'afraid to hope' issues, depictions of ptsd,
Messed up family dynamics, References to Child Abuse, (not explicit) -
Freeform, found family trope, everyone is queer because i said so

Language:
 English

Series:
Part 2 of just lovers manifesto

Collections:
Fics I love more than myself, screaming shitting going feral, i've already
read this masterpieces, favs, 9473812056 reasons why i don’t do my
work, dead gay wizards, Marauders

Stats:
Published: 2022-06-04 Completed: 2022-06-05 Chapters: 4/4 Words:
43638
 intermission
by zeppazariel

Summary

Evan and Barty have no plans to fall in love.

Life rarely goes as planned, though, does it?

Notes

no one look at me. i did NOT plan to write this, which is why
evan/barty was never a tagged couple on just lovers. they just sort of
snuck up on me by accident, and this is what happened.

however, due to the fact that i DIDN'T tag it, i wasn't going to put it in
just lovers, so i just wrote their own little fic.

i will say, this is set in the just lovers universe, and it does continue on
into their last year after the others have already graduated hogwarts, so
it is not meant to be read as a standalone. you would need to read just
lovers to get all the references, honestly, BUT i know that's not for
everyone, so do as you like. this is from evan and barty POV, so
everyone else is there, but they're not the main focus.

however, if you ARE reading this and you're reading just lovers (or
reading along), then it's best to read this after the wolfstar chapter and
before the last chapter. i would highly recommend reading this before
reading the last chapter of just lovers (which hasn't been posted at the
time of this being posted), but it's not a big deal if you HAVE already
read the last chapter and just click over to read this.

really, it's up to you how you consume your media. just have a good
time, that's all i hope for.
 anyway, the main warnings for this fic are as follows: there is
depictions of barty dealing with trauma after being attacked (it
happens in just lovers), including nightmares and not being able to
sleep and struggling IN his sleep to the point that he harms himself by
accident (nothing major, but it's there).

there is also a moment of a character being acephobic purely out of

confusion (she is barely 15, dealing with insecurities, and thinks evan
basically played with her heart; she reacts like a harsh, heartbroken
teenage girl, unaware of the impact or the full situation, and it's STILL
wrong and not fair; it's an overall brief scene and includes absolutely
NO slurs, just hurtful takes that aren't true and i don't condone or agree
with at all). this leads into the reason evan essentially stops dating at
some point. there's different points where evan struggles with coming
to terms with his asexuality, which many people face even now,
involving expectations society has, as well as family members. it is not
the main point in the fic, but it is there, because it's a reality for many
people, sadly. however, it's not heavy, and evan DOES come to terms
with it, doesn't apologize for it, and doesn't feel the need to change—as
he shouldn't, and he's supported entirely through the fic by many
people around him.

there are references to barty's issues with his father, as well as evan's
issues with his own father, and it is stated frankly that evan is/has been
abused, but it's nothing explicit. it's also referenced that regulus is/has
been abused, though nothing explicit. there's also more references to
regulus in the aftermath of being wrongly outed by his parents (it
happens in just lovers, though not explicitly) and the unfairness of that
whole situation, but it highlights how supportive they all are of each
other.

there's some jealousy, some one-sided barty/regulus (sort of??? you'll

see what i mean), some flirting, some wariness to fall in love, and
falling in love anyway.

enjoy :)
See the end of the work for more notes
 INTERMISSION: Part One
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Hogwarts circa February, 1976

Viviane Travers has it all, Evan thinks. She's funny, she's beautiful, she's a
little bit sassy, and she's smart. Most blokes wouldn't appreciate a girl
knowing more than them, as well as constantly helping them with
coursework when they're very obviously struggling, but most blokes don't
have Dorcas and Pandora as friends either. No, that privilege and pain goes
to Evan, Barty, and Regulus.

As for Viviane, Evan feels like he has gotten incredibly lucky for more than
just these reasons. A big one is that his father approves. Viviane is a
pureblood, and not just that, but she's a Travers, so that means she's a part
of the sacred twenty-eight. He's really, really lucky to have found someone
who would appease his father that he actually, really fancies—and so is she,
he knows, because she suffers the same expectations from her parents as
well. They've bonded over it, in fact.

They've been dating since last year—third year—and Evan has been
carrying around this secret relief ever since. He turns fifteen in April, and
then he's a little over two years away from the deadline to get married and
start providing children for the Rosier legacy. For them to have gotten this
lucky with each other is nothing short of a small miracle.
His luck runs out on Viviane's fifteenth birthday, on the first of February.
She's a little bit older than him, which she likes to tease him about, but
that's not a problem for him. What is a problem is Viviane dragging him off
to a secluded alcove in a corner and snogging him with a ferocity that she
never has before, that he's not entirely sure he likes, before whispering
something in his ear that makes his insides freeze and then recoil in
immediate and unwavering distaste. It's not her that he finds distasteful, but
rather what she's asking him to do.

"Ah, Vi, I'm not...sure about that," Evan ventures cautiously, very carefully
removing his hand from where she attempted to stuff it down her skirt.

Viviane blinks at him. "What?"

"I just—I don't know, maybe it's not the right time?" Evan tries, his face
scrunching.

"Evan, we've been dating for nine months, including the summer," Viviane
says slowly. "We could—I mean, one day, we could be married. I just
thought… Don't you want to?"

Evan does not want to. He isn't sure why, or what that means, but he does
know that for sure. She looks a little embarrassed and uncertain, and his
heart clenches. "No, it's not—you don't have to do that. I'm not dating you
for that."
"Oh." Viviane softens, her eyes brightening, and Evan can tell he's pleased
her. "I just… Well, I know most boys want—"

"I want you," Evan cuts in. "That's what I want."

Viviane breaks out into a broad grin and flings herself at him, pressing a
firm kiss to his mouth, no longer rubbing up against him or trying to shove
her tongue down his throat, and that's better. He likes that perfectly well.
Easily, happily, Evan wraps his arms around her and kisses her smile with
one of his own.

Ironically, just when Evan thinks he's lucky after all, his reassurance to her
seems to have the opposite effect than he hoped it would. Apparently, the
fact that he's not dating her just to shag her makes her want to shag him
more. It's not something he knows how to handle, to be honest, so he avoids
it at all costs. He does his best to never be alone with her, and he makes
quick excuses to avoid her advances and get away.

Of course, Evan is aware that this isn't really something most boys would
be doing in his situation. Most boys—most people, really—would be
leaping at the opportunity to shag. Evan, on the other hand? Well, honestly,
he can't be bothered.

"You absolutely shouldn't shag if it doesn't feel like the right time, Evan,"
Dorcas says, when he goes to her about it. "You don't have to until you're
ready, and she shouldn't pressure you to. Maybe just talk to her about it?"
Evan tries to talk to her about it, which does seem to help at first. He feels
oddly embarrassed to admit that he's not ready, because surely that's what
this feeling is. One day, he thinks, the urge will come to him, and he'll know
what all the fuss is about. Sometimes, at night, he lays in bed and silently
begs himself to wake up and just...feel it, what everyone else seems to feel,
but then he wakes up, and he never does.

After a solid month, Evan's luck runs out for good. On the last day of
February, Viviane drags him off into a secluded classroom, which he's more
than happy to go into. It's not the snogging that's the problem. Evan loves
being alone with her, getting to hold her, whisper in her ear and make her
laugh. He likes the comfort of being with someone, and he likes the way
she makes him feel, the flutters in his stomach and the warmth in his chest.
There's never been a doubt in his mind that he fancies Viviane, but it's
apparently a doubt in hers.

It starts out fine, really. They're just kissing, and he likes that, so it's not an
issue. Her mouth is warm and soft, and he likes the way she feels in his
arms, as well as how her fingers feel in his hair. He sinks into it, and it's all
fine until one of her hands drops down to slip up under his shirt. At first, he
doesn't mind it, because the touch is innocent and even tickles a bit, so he
chuckles into the kiss, humming in approval. Viviane takes this as approval
for something else, and her fingers hook on the front of his trousers, going
for the button.

Evan just reacts, and it's pure instinct. His hand snaps down to grab her
wrist as he pulls away, all warm feelings evaporating within him like
smoke. Viviane stares up at him, her lips tipping down, and he gingerly
pulls her fingers free.
"I told you," Evan murmurs, "I'm not ready for that."

"Is it—me?" Viviane whispers.

Evan blinks. "What?"

"Delores says that it doesn't make sense that you don't want to shag, that
there's something wrong with me, something you don't like," Viviane
mumbles.

"I—wait, what?" Evan's face twists. Fucking Delores Umbridge, one of

Viviane's dormmates, in their year. She's awful. "Delores? Since when does
anyone listen to what she has to say, Vi?"

"Since I can't think of one reason to prove her wrong," Viviane responds
tersely, stepping back away from him and wrapping her arms around herself
tight, looking small. "You're my boyfriend, Ev, and it's like you don't want
me. You say that you're not ready, but—"

"I'm not ready," Evan insists.

Viviane's gaze snaps to his. "Will you ever be ready?"

"I—" Evan's mouth hangs open, no words coming out, and he can tell
himself all he likes that he will be ready, one day, but he knows the truth
deep down. He can beg and plead for the desire to just—wake up within
him one day when he opens his eyes to the morning light, but it never does,
and he knows it never will. Does he lie to her? What is he supposed to do in
this situation? He wishes he could talk to Dorcas right now.

"You won't," Viviane says, when the silence has stretched on for an
uncomfortable amount of time. She huffs out a harsh laugh and drops her
arms. "So, it is me. It's—"

"No," Evan blurts out. "Merlin and Morgana both, no, I swear it isn't you.
It's not—"

"You can't say it's not, Ev! Do you even fancy me?"

"What? Yes, obviously I fancy you, Vi, what the bloody hell are you on
about? Where is this coming from?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think?" Viviane snaps, tossing her hands
up. "What has this even been about, then? Why date me if you don't want
me? Are you just playing with my heart like it's some sort of game?"

Evan rears back in disbelief. "Vi, what? No! Fucking hell, I'm dating you
because I fancy you. I wasn't aware that there was any doubt. You don't
believe me?"
"How can I?" Viviane asks, tears forming in her eyes. "How am I meant to
believe it when you've made it quite clear that you don't want me? And why
not? What's wrong with me?"

"No, no, it's not like that," Evan says quickly, his heart racing as he shakes
his head. "I swear it's not like that, Viviane. I do want you, alright? I
just…"

When Viviane blinks, the tears fall, and she sounds choked when she rasps,
"You just don't want to shag me."

And Evan doesn't. What is he supposed to say? How can he explain this to
her? How can he explain that not wanting to shag her has nothing to do with
not wanting her, especially when she seems to equate the desire to shag
with desire overall? He's fourteen—nearly fifteen—and he doesn't have the
words. He doesn't know how to fix it.

"No, I don't," Evan admits quietly.

"Can't you just—" Viviane cuts herself off with a quiet whimper and blinks
more tears out of her eyes. She looks up at him hopefully, visibly
heartbroken already. "Maybe if you tried it, you'd like it. Can't you just
try?"
The mere thought makes Evan's stomach revolt. He knows. He doesn't have
to try to know. He looks at this girl, who he really fancies, and he has
absolutely no desire to shag her—and he never will. It's not fair that she's
asking him to.

Evan swallows harshly and croaks, "No, Vi, I can't. I'm sorry. Maybe this
isn't… Maybe we're just not—working. I don't want to shag you. I'm really
sorry."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't date people you don't want to shag, you prick,"
Viviane declares, then promptly starts crying in earnest. Through her tears,
she manages to announce, "I hate you, Evan Rosier. Never talk to me
again!"

Rather dramatically, Viviane flings herself from the classroom while

weeping, and Evan winces as she goes, then deflates with a heavy sigh. His
shoulders droop, and a lump forms in his throat as his eyes start to sting.

Clenching his jaw, Evan sniffs hard and drags his palm under his nose,
blinking rapidly. He clears his throat and looks around, taking a moment
just to breathe, and then he sets his shoulders and walks out of the room.

The worst part is, he really did fancy her, and if he's not supposed to date
people he doesn't want to shag, then he'll spend his life alone.

How is that fair?

Crouch home circa August, 1976

Barty comes barreling into the kitchen with a yelp, his chest heaving as he
tracks mud in and nearly collides right into the counter and topples over the
biscuit tin. Since he's already there, he reaches in hastily and steals a
biscuit, stuffing it in his mouth and grinning as he chews. His mother clicks
her tongue, but he can see the fondness shining in her eyes as she bustles
around at the stove.

"Where have you been?" Helen asks as he swallows down the biscuit and
tracks mud in further, just to walk over and press a quick kiss to her cheek.
He has to stoop down a bit, which is fairly new since his most recent
growth spurt, but this doesn't mean much. His mum is short and dainty, so
being taller than her isn't really a feat. "Don't tell me you were terrorizing
the gnomes again. Whatever have they done to you?"

"Mum, they're pests. If I won't swing them about and launch them over the
hedge, then who will?" Barty asks.

Helen fixes him with a flat look. "We don't even use our garden. What does
it matter if they burrow there?"

"Ah, well, I'm just having a bit of fun," Barty admits, crinkling his nose at
her with a grin until she laughs. He pokes his head over her shoulder,
peering at the stove. "What are you making? When will it be ready? Can I
have a plate now?"

"One day, my son, I will teach you the meaning of patience."

"Patience? What's that?"

"Oh, enough." Helen swats at his chest and shoos him to the side, giving
him a mock look of warning when he darts his hand around her to steal a
bite that's already cooling. "You've tracked mud in again. Clean it up."

Barty groans and reaches around to place his palm against his back. "But I
just de-gnomed the garden, Mum. I've a twinge in my back, you see. It's
hard work; I need to rest now."

"You can rest when I'm dead. Until then, clean up the mud like I told you
to," Helen replies, shooing him off more firmly.

"Could just wave your wand," Barty grumbles as he kicks off his shoes and
moves over to the door to sit them out on the stoop, the mud already drying
in clumps on the soles. After, he goes to drag the mop out of the cupboard.
He brandishes it at his mother, eyes narrowed. "Fight me at once, woman,
or face my wrath for your petty crimes."

"Barty," Helen says warningly.

"Do you accept your fate, Mother?" Barty asks grandly, then pokes her in
the shoulder with the handle of the mop.

Helen grabs the end of the mop and snatches it from his hands, then
proceeds to shove the other end in his face, laughing while he sputters and
yelps. He stumbles back, and she presses forward, continuously rubbing the
dirty end of the mop all over his face as he frantically swats at it and—
alright, well, if he shrieks and squeals, then that's no one's business but his
own. His mum hears it, but really, his mum has heard far worse from him, if
he's honest.

"Now," Helen announces, swinging the mop around to put the very tip of
the handle against his nose, pushing it up slightly as he crosses his eyes,
"for your crimes of tracking mud into my kitchen, I sentence you to use this
mop before I make you eat it. Do you accept your fate, child?"

"Well, I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Barty replies, his voice nasally
from where she pokes his nose with the handle of the mop. "You've bested
me this time, but do not expect it to happen again."

Helen's lips twitch as she lowers her hand and holds out the mop to him.
"We shall see. Go on, do as I say."

"Something's burning," Barty announces as he takes the mop.

"Oh! Oh, you," Helen blurts out, eyes bulging with alarm as she whips back
towards the stove. She curses sharply under her breath, much to Barty's
delight, and he goes off to get the mop bucket as she salvages dinner. When
he comes back and starts cleaning up his mess, Helen throws him a very
cross look. "See what you've done, Barty, messing about as you have? I had
to throw a third of it in the bin!"

Barty snorts derisively. "Doesn't make much of a difference, does it? It's not
as if Father will be home to eat with us."

"He's—you know he's needed at the office," Helen murmurs, her voice
softening as she frowns at him.

"He always is," Barty mutters with a scoff, scrubbing harder at the floor.
Streaks of diluted mud swish from side-to-side, so he wrings the mop, dips
it, and starts over.

Helen sighs quietly. "Barty, you know how important your father's work is
at the Ministry. His influence on the Wizarding World is nothing to turn
your nose up at. I'm aware you'd rather him be here, and I miss him as well,
but—"

"No, actually, I wouldn't, and I don't miss him at all," Barty cuts in, not
looking up as he pushes forward to mop up the last footprint of mud on the
floor. "You have to know someone to miss them, don't you? It is a shame,
though, isn't it? That he doesn't love his own wife and son enough to
actually be an influence on their lives. Oh, but does he ever love the
sodding Ministry. No question about that."
"Barty—"

"Minister Minchum has a family, you know. He goes home to them, and
he's the bloody Minister. I don't want to hear that Father is too busy. I really
don't."

"Yes, well, believe it or not, your father's duties as Head of the Department
of Magical Law Enforcement and a judge in the Council of Magical Law
does keep him busy," Helen tells him, sounding tired. "You'll understand
when you're older."

Barty grunts, but he doesn't bother arguing with her. He knows better than
that by now. It only works her up when he says he'd rather chew his own
arm off than come within five feet of the Ministry. He told her once he'd
only end up there if he was the one on trial before his father, because his
father would surely love nothing more, and it had made her so distraught
that she had to go lie down. He didn't take it back, though. He won't, when
it's true.

Sometimes, Barty thinks there's this big, unfathomable presence in the

shape of his father's absence in the room with them at all times. It's no
secret—to Barty, at least—that his father hates him. Helen? Well, he may
love his wife, even if Barty doesn't have much proof to support that claim,
but it's a lot more than his father ever provided for loving his son.

There's nothing to be done about it, really. Helen undoubtedly believes that
her husband will do better and love Barty when he actually goes to work at
the Ministry, which is why she's so insistent upon it, he thinks. But Barty
knows the truth. He knows that his father doesn't care for him, and working
at the Ministry is an expectation, not an opening for pride. His father won't
be proud, no matter what he does in life, won't love him or care either way;
even if Barty did exactly as his father and worked his way up at the
Ministry, it wouldn't matter. The only thing his father cares about is
becoming Minister of Magic one day, and Barty wants nothing to do with
it.

Barty wants nothing to do with his father at all, if he's completely honest.
Father—that title, what does it even mean when the man doesn't even know
his own son? It's a bitter, brittle burning right in the center of Barty's chest,
how his father makes him feel, how he feels for his father—and his father
doesn't even care. So, Barty tries his best not to care in return, doing
everything under the sun he can think of to show just how little he cares,
how little it matters.

Sometimes, oh sometimes, he becomes too self-aware. He can see it, like

he's a walking wound stumbling past a mirror when the last thing he wants
to witness is the way he bleeds. He tries so hard to prove that he doesn't
care, and the only thing he really achieves is showing just how much he
does.

In response, Barty only gets angrier, louder, more determined to act out, as
if trying harder not to care will somehow make it true. It never does, but
he's lost in the same cycle with no way out, no escape, and no idea where to
go.

"Alright, I'm breaking you from your prison sentence and granting you
freedom," Helen murmurs, making him look up and over at her. She smiles,
small and warm. "Put the mop away, it's clean enough. Supper is ready."

Barty nods and goes to put the mop and bucket away, returning to the table
where he sits and eats dinner with his mother, two plates and two cups and
an empty seat.

Just like always.

Hogwarts circa December, 1976

"Do you reckon he's finished by now?" Evan muses, sharing a look with
Regulus, who arches an eyebrow. "I mean, how long does it even take,
honestly?"

Regulus purses his lips. "You're asking me?"

"Well, I don't know what you get up to in your free time, Reggie. Who's to
say you wouldn't know?" Evan teases, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

"What free time? All my time is taken up by all of you idiots, who won't
grant me peace for five bloody minutes," Regulus mutters, and Evan
struggles not to laugh at him. "Besides, if anyone has a greater chance of
knowing, I'd say it's you. How many girlfriends have you had in the last
three months alone? Four? No, five. Well, does the last one count? You
dated her for, what, a day, before breaking it off?"

Evan grimaces and looks away. Well, when it's put to him like that, it
sounds… Honestly, he doesn't even want to think about it. He can't really
explain it, as he doesn't have the words, and he's not entirely sure how it
would go over with Regulus and Barty, though for very different reasons.
Barty, because he's a bloke who likes shagging a lot, so the chances that he
won't find Evan strange, or wrong, or something equally devastating is very
slim. Regulus, because he has expectations to live up to just like Evan, and
he's never once complained or protested them, which makes Evan hesitant
to do so.

Maybe it makes him look bad. Evan isn't sure. A part of him wants to
defend himself, to explain that it's not his fault. He can't help that, as
everyone gets older, shagging becomes more and more of a requirement for
people—one he refuses to fulfill every fucking time. He's reached the point
where he doesn't even tell people about his lack of interest in shagging
anymore and just waits with a rising sense of dread for it all to inevitably
fall apart, and it always does.

What is he supposed to do? Is he really cursed not to date, just because he

doesn't want to shag? Is it so wrong that he wants companionship and
affection without his cock being a part of the deal? Is there genuinely no
one out there who doesn't care for shagging at all, like him, or even
someone who wouldn't need it to feel love, fall in love, and show love?

Evan sighs and mutters, "Just never seems to work out for me, I suppose. At
least I try, though. You don't. Now, why is that?"
"No one in this castle is good enough for me," Regulus replies blandly,
cheek propped over on his fist. "I hate everyone."

"You don't hate Dorcas, or Pandora," Evan points out, then busts out
laughing when Regulus' face scrunches in immediate disgust. "Oh, come off
it, you haven't thought about it?"

"Have you?" Regulus asks, aghast, staring at him with no small amount of
judgement.

"Well, no," Evan admits, because he can't ever imagine falling in love with
a close friend, let alone when his love issues are what they are. "Do you
reckon Barty has?"

Regulus snorts. "Barty can't think past the end of his cock to even consider
dating anyone. Whoever he falls in love with has to be more important than
his cock, and I genuinely can't think of anyone who qualifies."

"Well, you never know. There's someone for everyone, isn't there?" Evan
murmurs. "Don't you think so?"

"No," Regulus says bluntly.

Evan frowns. "Why are you literally a Dementor?"

"Existence is a prison," Regulus replies. "Someone has to guard it and suck

all the joy out of it. Might as well be me."

"One day, Reg, you're going to find that person meant for you, and you'll
know I was right," Evan tells him.

Regulus rolls his eyes. "Not bloody likely."

A few minutes later, Barty comes walking through the common room with
his latest conquest, who stands and chats with him for a bit at the entrance,
and then takes her leave with a smile flashed in direction over her shoulder.
Clearly very satisfied with himself, Barty pivots and comes bounding over
to them, plopping down between Regulus and Evan with a deep, gusty sigh
as he stretches his arms along the back of the settee behind their shoulders.

"That went well," Barty announces cheerfully.

"Oh, spare us the details, please," Regulus mutters, lips twitching at the
corners.

Barty clicks his tongue. "No, I can't do that, but only because you're both
going to love this. Did either of you recognize her at all?" He glances
between them, and then he groans in apparent disappointment when they
stare at him blankly. He reaches up and swats them both over the back of
their heads, which makes Regulus scowl and Evan huff. "That was Amelia
Bones. You know, daughter to Humphrey Bones, the man in direct
competition with my father to be the next Minister of Magic, or so the
people say."

"Oh?" Regulus asks in interest, and Evan sits forward, suddenly a lot more
invested in this conversation.

"Mhm," Barty hums smugly. "I may have just so happened to let a few of
my father's work-related secrets slip to her, just those he left lying about in
his office, of course."

Evan grins. "Barty, you evil genius."

"Thank you, thank you," Barty says lightly, his eyes sparkling in the
firelight, unfairly beautiful for such a mad lad, if Evan were asked. "She got
that gleam in her eye that all girls get when they're about to crush men
beneath their heels. I imagine she's going to write a lovely little letter to her
father right now. A very informative one, mind you."

"You're a fucking menace, Crouch," Regulus states fondly, or as fond as he

ever gets, really.

Barty looks so pleased with himself right now. "Yeah, I know."

"That's brilliant," Evan admits, because it is. He can't ever imagine doing
something like that to his own father. Then again, as far as Evan knows,
Barty's father has never beaten him. Besides, Barty knows how to do things
such as this and get away with them. He's a sinister little shit when he wants
to be, honestly, and Evan adores that about him.

"I'd make for a damn good politician, you know," Barty muses, lips curled
up. "I can't wait to waste my talents."

"If only every politician felt that way," Evan says dryly, and Regulus
chuckles quietly as Barty beams at him.

"My thoughts exactly, Evan," Barty agrees.

Regulus hums and goes back to idly watching the flames flicker in the
fireplace. "If only all the idiots of the world felt that way. Rally the rest to
join you, Barty, why don't you?"

"Oi, are you calling me an idiot?"

"Well…"

Evan can't help but laugh as Regulus tucks a hidden smile away and Barty
starts sputtering in offense. The fire blazes on, and Evan feels warm, warm,
warm.
Hogwarts circa January, 1977

Barty wouldn't admit it to save his life, but he misses the others when
they're away on the hols. He could, of course, go home himself and spend
the breaks with his mother, who he also misses, but there's a reason he
doesn't. It's a reason no one knows, a reason he'll take to his grave, most
likely.

He tells everyone that it's because he doesn't want to see his father, and that
would be true if his father would actually show up at home when he went.
The thing is, Barty has learned that his father does go home—as long as
Barty isn't there. He'd heard his parents arguing about it once, Helen
pointing it out, furious about it, and he hasn't gone home on break since.
His mum loves his father, and misses him, so if Barty can stay away and
give her time with him, then so be it.

Regardless, Barty looks forward to his friends' return after every break,
even if he'd die from the humiliation if they ever found this out about him.
He keeps it a secret, particularly with Regulus, because missing Regulus is
different from missing everyone else. That's an entirely separate secret that
will also never see the light of day, not for anything.

Barty would say he was fourteen the first time he looked at Regulus Black
and felt a catch in his chest, a pressure that had built and made his breath
hitch, his heart knock, knock, knocking away against his ribs to let him
know that something had somehow changed when he wasn't paying
attention. By that time, he'd already come to quiet terms with the fact that
he found girls and blokes fit, even if he'd never plan to say it out loud,
seeing as that's just not the done thing.

But Regulus… Oh, Regulus is something else, something beyond a fit bloke
for him to notice. Regulus invokes something tender in him, a desire to be
gentle, to touch him with careful hands and murmur to him until he's
smiling that small smile that's always quick to slip away from his face.
Regulus had touched his hand once, just once, and that's when Barty knew.
He has cold hands, but they're soft and his grip is fleeting like the
permanence of a hummingbird, on the cusp of flitting away at a moment's
notice.

When Regulus jokes, it's always with a hint of amusement in his tone, but
it's hidden like a gemstone embedded in the earth, something Barty is
tempted to dig for to examine at all angles. For Barty, it feels very
important that he keep ahold of Regulus, because he's the type to escape
into the mist, disappearing after ensuring he would remain a constant ghost
in the back of Barty's mind forever.

Is it love? Barty couldn't say. He doesn't know what that is. He does know
that he wonders more often than he should what would happen if he just—
snogged Regulus one day. Just, when they were alone, how would it go?
What would it lead to? He wants to, wants to know, wants to find out.

He never will, and he knows it, and he knows exactly why.

There are three main reasons. The first is fairly simple, a given, and
something he would swat away if not for the ones that follow. Just that
Regulus is a boy, and Barty is a boy, and again, that's just not the done
thing. While he doesn't think Regulus would be disgusted and treat him
with scorn for it, Barty can't claim that Regulus would welcome it, and even
if he did, it would quite literally ruin his life, especially at home, if
something like that got out about him.

The second reason is a little bit more complicated, but not entirely
impossible to navigate. They're best friends. They've been best friends since
they were eleven years old. Inviting something else, something more, into
that dynamic could and likely would be a recipe for disaster—but Barty has
never been afraid of disaster. In fact, he relishes in them, especially when he
knows they're coming. They'd be a beautiful disaster, him and Regulus, he
just knows it. The only issue with that whole friend bit is that Barty actually
bloody respects Regulus too much to ruin what they have, which leads to
the last reason.

See, the main problem—the thing that really and truly holds him back, and
always will—is that the thought of settling down, the thought of
commitment, makes Barty want to scream at the top of his lungs and take
off running.

Anything past friendship and fucking, and Barty hits a brick wall. No,
actually, it makes him turn and go in the opposite direction. It's just not for
him. He doesn't want to do it; he doesn't want to find one person who calms
him, who makes him feel safe, who can ease the brimming fire under his
skin when he still wants to blaze on. He's not ready for it yet, and maybe it's
not love, but it's something like it; maybe it's not love, but it could be; and
that's enough for him to refuse it.
Barty wants to live. He wants to make mistakes, and be reckless, and
experience everything and everyone he can. He wants to care and not care
in equal measure without any of the guilt. He wants to carry wild stories in
the tips of his fingers and create memories that will light him up even when
the world feels so dull. He wants to shag who he wants to shag, anyone he
likes, and he wants to continue on to the next when the mood strikes. He
wants to be young; he wants to slow down and feel every moment, not
rushing, because he can't even conceptualize what he's meant to be rushing
towards.

Regulus is at the end of the tunnel, and Barty doesn't want to exit it yet.
Perhaps, by the time he's ready to step out, Regulus won't be there anymore;
maybe he'll find a girl, and Barty will always wonder what would have
happened if he did kiss him. But this is his choice to make, and make it he
has, and he'll either live to regret it, or find himself grateful that he did.
Someday, he'll find out, one way or another.

Furthermore, Barty is quite sure he would absolutely break Regulus' heart if

he attempted something serious before he was ready for it, and Barty
wouldn't do that to him, if he were at all open to the idea to start with. What
they have, this friendship, is more than enough for Barty.

Besides, the only way Barty's falling in love with anyone before he makes it
to his twenties is if it's an accident, or he's tricked, and people can say a lot
of things about him, but no one would ever be able to claim that he'd fall for
something like that.

Yet, despite all of that, when Regulus returns from break with tired eyes and
a hidden smile, Barty feels his heart jump and his face soften. Regulus asks,
"Good break?"
"The best," Barty replies, smiling softly. "I always love getting a break from
all of you."

Hogwarts circa September, 1977

Evan inwardly chants don't look at him, don't look at him, don't look at him
as he follows the crowd back to the Slytherin common room, focused on the
back of Snape's head, who is walking directly in front of him. Behind him,
he can feel Regulus' gaze on him. Not yet, not yet, not yet, Evan thinks, his
heart racing. Not yet, Reggie, just bloody hold on.

It stings a little bit that Regulus might think that Evan has changed, that he
may be influenced so much by his father that he would cast aside their
friendship just because his father demanded it. What stings more is that
Evan had to sit down and decide if that was something he would actually
do.

Evan doesn't give a toss if Regulus is gay, personally. If anything, it's sort of
a relief. Evan has only ever dated girls, but that doesn't mean he hasn't
wondered what it would be like to date blokes; that doesn't mean there isn't
a part of him that is open to it, that wants to try it, because there is. He's
realistic enough to know that it'll never happen, but he still takes comfort
from knowing that he's not alone.
And there's Barty, too. He's always been a bit naughty and playful, making
jokes, teasing things that they—as a collective friend group—didn't really
take to heart. However, he has most certainly made his stance clear through
letters over the summer, stating on multiple occasions that it is, in fact, not a
joke when he says he's an equal opportunity sort of bloke.

Evan sort of feels—calmer, knowing this about them. More settled about
his own feelings. Like maybe he could tell them, and they wouldn't judge
him for it, even if they didn't fully understand. While this wasn't Regulus'
choice in the least, it has nonetheless happened to him, being kicked out and
scorned for who he fancies, and Evan wants to offer him comfort as well.
He's not alone either, and he should know it.

Over the summer, Evan went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth
on what he would do, versus what he should do, versus what he's expected
to do. The horrible reality is, if he doesn't do as his father wishes, he'll be
'corrected' by his father's heavy hand—or rather the wave of his wand,
really. It was something that Evan had to sit down and come to terms with,
just the fact that his life is so dictated by his father that he has to resign
himself to beatings for not doing as he's told.

Even his mother—as much as he loves her—had been in full agreement

with his father about this, about leaving Regulus alone and never interacting
with him again. She doesn't think he should be punished for it if he doesn't,
of course, but she still believes the same as his father does. It's infuriating.
It's complicated, because he wasn't sure what to do.

But Regulus has been his best friend since they were children. No one
understands the pressures of a family legacy the way Regulus does. Is Evan
really meant to just—not care about him, all because he's gay? Evan
genuinely can't fathom doing that. He's been doubting he could manage it
from the moment his father gave the order, and he's been quietly coming to
grips with the future punishment he will surely have to face when he
inevitably fails. Here's the thing, though.

Evan can do everything right for his father, and it's still not enough. He can
do everything he's told, and his father will still find things to punish him for.
This is just—life. Evan's life. If he's going to be punished anyway, it might
as well be for him doing what he wants, what's right, and he knows that
leaving Regulus behind and treating him awfully would be wrong.

Of course, Evan has all plans to avoid making a scene. If he can keep his
father off his back, then he will. Does he think he'll actually manage to? No,
not really, but he's not against trying it out. He has a plan, one that's shaped
itself in his mind since the summer, since he fully realized that his life is not
his own, and he desperately wants it to be.

Every week over the summer, Evan's father takes a trip into Diagon Alley to
keep in contact with various important people in Knockturn Alley, or those
he had meetings with from the Ministry. Evan joined him, and every week,
he visited his vault to take out a small bit of money to save. When
Hogsemeade trips start up, Evan has all plans to ask for his mother to send
him money, then never actually spend it. When Evan turns seventeen in
April, he'll gain a small inheritance that his father can't stop him from
having, even if he is disowned. All that is to say, if Evan is careful about
this, he'll have a life of his own, and no punishments to face for how he
lives it.

The best plans are the ones no one knows about, because no one can muck
them up if they're not aware of them at all. So, no, Evan won't be telling a
soul what he's doing, not even his closest friends. It's bad enough that his
father has eyes on him in this castle already, so he's not risking it. But, when
the time comes, Evan plans to offer Regulus and Barty the same freedom
he's so determined to take for himself.

Although, Evan thinks Regulus might refuse. It's no secret now that
Regulus went to his brother when he was kicked out, and one thing Evan
knows for sure is that Sirius Black is a very delicate subject with Regulus.
They've all learned the hard way to simply never bring Sirius up to him, not
for anything, because no matter what they say, it sets Regulus off.

If they praise Sirius in any capacity, it's a problem. If they insult Sirius in
any way, it's a problem. If they do anything other than sit in silence when
Regulus is ranting about Sirius, or just talking about him, it's a problem. At
some point, they've all been hexed by Regulus for making the mistake of
saying something bad about Sirius, and they've all been verbally ripped to
shreds by Regulus for saying something good. There is literally no way to
win with Regulus when it comes to Sirius, so they've opted to simply stay
silent, which is for the best, they've all come to find out.

It's a complex situation, Evan knows. There's no hiding that Regulus loves
his brother, and it's no secret that Regulus hates his brother. Family is like
that, though, so none of his friends judge him for it. The fact that Regulus
went to Sirius doesn't surprise Evan at all, because he knows him so well.

There's a similar tentativeness to talking about Barty's father and his

relationship to him. Evan knows just as well as everyone else in their friend
group that, for all Barty's actions and posturing, he cares more about how
his father feels about him, and how his father makes him feel, than he'll
ever let on. They all know the true root of Barty's disdain, as well as why he
lashes out, and none of them fault him for it.

Much the same, no one ever bothers Evan about his father, or even his
mother. That's also a very careful topic. Evan has never hidden that his
father abuses him—hasn't really been able to, in some instances—and he
hasn't been shy about letting everyone know he doesn't want to fucking talk
about it, or be treated differently just because of it. That, Regulus also
understands intimately. There's Evan's mother, of course, who he loves and
also can hardly tolerate, because while she's always there trying to call his
father off or turn his attention to her instead of Evan, she also generally
agrees with every single thing that Evan's father demands from him.

So, really, the majority of them have fucked up family situations, and they
all deal with it the best they can.

The moment the students pour into the Slytherin common room, Evan
heads right for the dorm. Most people are, so this isn't unusual in the least.
He's the first one in, and he doesn't even bother going over to his bed,
standing in the middle of the dorm with his arms crossed instead.

Barty comes in first, eyeing him with a small frown, eyebrows raised.
They've exchanged letters over the summer, but the topic of Regulus was
incredibly one-sided, as Evan's father read all of his letters before he sent
them to make sure that Evan wasn't communicating with Regulus at all.
There was really no way for Evan to reassure Barty, who would hopefully
reassure Regulus, and the caution in Barty's eyes now actually hurts. Evan
doesn't want his friends to doubt him.
Regulus comes in last, shutting the door and turning around with a heavy
sigh. The moment he sees Evan standing there, he goes still. His face
twitches, but he gives nothing away in expression otherwise. Evan knows
him too well, though. He knows there's only nothing there because Regulus
is purposefully, carefully hiding it away.

Evan tries to imagine for a moment what he must be feeling right now, what
he's gone through, what he's going to have to face in the aftermath of what's
happened. It makes Evan ache, because that's his best friend, and it's not
fair.

Now, Evan wouldn't say that they're all a very affectionate group of friends,
not overly so, at least. Pandora certainly is, Dorcas will be in private, Barty
swings wildly between being very affectionate and very distant, and Evan is
probably the easy medium between them all. Regulus? He is not. He will
tolerate it when he's willing to and dodge it when he's not, and it is very,
very rare for him to seek it out on his own.

That being said, there are some moments where it's necessary, and this is
one of them.

Before anyone even says a word, Evan marches across the room, right up to
Regulus, and yanks him into a hug. Evan can't remember the last time they
hugged, or if they ever have, but the circumstances certainly call for it now.
Whether Regulus likes the reminder or not, he's human, not a machine who
never feels things, and if he doesn't need a hug right now, Evan will eat his
fucking tie.
Regulus is at first very stiff against him, likely startled, then possibly
uncomfortable at the sudden affection Evan is just attacking him with, but
Evan holds steadfast, waiting. It takes a few moments, but then Regulus
relaxes into the embrace. He doesn't hug back, really, but he does reach
around to pat Evan in between his shoulders. Evan's lips twitch against his
will.

"Alright, Evan, that's enough. You've made your point," Regulus mumbles,
leaning away.

"I really haven't," Evan replies, but he dutifully lets go and backs away to
sit down on his bed, waving Barty and Regulus over. "Come here, I have a
lot to say."

"Oh, a tangent from Evan?" Barty declares, moving over to plop down on
the bed across from him, dragging Regulus to sit down next to him. "We
should ever be so lucky. Go on, then."

Regulus grimaces. "You don't have to do this. It's not—"

"Shut up, Reggie," Evan cuts in. "It's not all about you, anyway. Actually,
it's about me, too. I just—I think you'd like to know why I was ignoring
you. I mean, I'm sure you have an idea, but I don't want you to think I
actually agree with my father."

"I take it he didn't have anything good to say?" Barty mutters, nose
wrinkling.
"No," Evan admits, glancing at Regulus, who has his lips pressed into a thin
line. "He made it very clear that I'm not supposed to have anything to do
with you. He's been watching me all summer, reading my letters, and being
an all around prick. But I don't give a toss, Regulus, I really don't."

"Evan," Regulus says quietly, "don't make your life harder just because of
me, alright? Don't do that."

"Oh, piss off," Evan scoffs. "Don't tell me what to do, or what not to do.
Why the fuck should I have to listen to him? He doesn't care about me, or
what I actually want. You know what he cares about? What I can do for the
family, for the precious legacy, for the Rosier reputation. That's all that
matters to him. And—and I know that's how it is for everyone in families
like mine, but it's still shit. All of this is shit."

"No arguments there," Barty says wryly.

"My father is shit," Evan continues, worked up now. "I can't do a damn
thing right for him, not until I provide an heir, and then that child will have
to deal with the same fucking cycle of expectations as I do. It doesn't end
there, no, of course not. Because I have to look a certain way, act a certain
way, spend time with certain people—all to remain the perfect, respectable
Rosier that he needs me to be."

Regulus and Barty exchange a look, but they don't say anything. Evan's
never been so outspoken about his father before like this, so it's no doubt a
surprise. He's never had to say that he despises being punished, that goes
without saying, but this is the first time he's ever directly, loudly ranted
about his father and all his endless expectations.

"Why even have children, then? What's the fucking point of creating life if
you're not letting them live it?" Evan rants, flinging his hands out. "It's
gobshite! I was brought into this world for one purpose, not because I was
wanted, but because of what I could do for the family—and how is that
fair? How is that fair to you, Reg? To Sirius? To Viviane and any other
fucking person that has to live by what their parents want, over what they
want? What about what we want? What about what I want out of my life?"

"What...do...you...want?" Regulus ventures carefully.

Evan tosses his hands up. "Well, bloody hell, I don't know, but I should be
allowed to do it, whatever it is, shouldn't I? And I know what I don't want. I
don't want to shag some girl and provide an heir for the Rosier legacy, I
know that. The idea of it genuinely makes me feel ill."

"Children?" Barty asks, head tilting.

"Shagging a girl?" Regulus muses, his head also tilting. Barty and Regulus
look like two owls in perfect sync, confused.

"Shagging," Evan clarifies, then hesitates when Barty and Regulus both
look more confused. They just continue to wait, so he caves, because he
wants to tell them, even if he doesn't have the words for it. He wants
someone, anyone, to know. He wants to have someone accept it, and maybe
—just maybe, if he's very lucky—they will. "Shagging at all, I mean.
Shagging anyone. I—I don't want to shag, ever. I've no desire for it."

Barty blinks. "Like...at all?"

"No, not at all," Evan admits. "Dating is—that's brilliant. I want to do that,
don't much care if it's a bloke or bird, to be honest, but that's all I want to
do. I can fancy people perfectly well, but I don't want to shag them, and
I...never will."

"And the one thing your father cares the most about you doing is providing
an heir," Regulus murmurs, his eyes sinking shut as he releases a deep sigh,
shoulders slumping. Evan feels his heart lift at the genuine disappointment
and sympathy on Regulus' face, and even Barty grimaces, because they get
it now. Regulus' eyes flutter open. "That's shit, mate."

"Yeah," Evan says softly, "it is."

"Well, it's none of his sodding business, is it?" Barty declares firmly. "We
should all get to use our cocks as little or as much as we like, with who we
like. Everyone who has something to say about it can bugger themselves."

Regulus clenches his jaw. "A lot of people are going to have a lot to say
about it; they already do."
"Sod them," Barty replies lazily. "Let them talk, then. We'll just have a go at
them until they learn to shut up, yeah?"

"Absolutely not," Regulus retorts sharply. "Neither of you are going to be

tolerating everyone else if you don't have to. You especially, Evan. I'm not
going to pretend like your father won't beat you if he finds out you're
around me at all, so you're not to tempt his wrath and put yourself in that
position."

Evan is the one exchanging a look with Barty now. They both look at
Regulus after a long moment, and Evan narrows his eyes at him. "What are
you saying, Regulus?"

"It's going to be hard on all of you if you don't lead people to believe that
you're not having anything to do with me," Regulus explains. "So, that's
what you're going to do. You're going to stay away from me outside of the
dorm, avoid me in public, and only see me in private."

"That's—no, I'm not doing that," Barty blurts out instantly, looking
incredulous, and Evan wants so badly to agree, but that would almost
ensure that his father leaves him be, and the temptation of avoiding
punishment is difficult to ignore.

"Yes, you are. Both of you. All of you," Regulus insists, an edge to his tone.
"It's just at meals, during class, and around the other students. I'll be
keeping my head down and avoiding everyone as it is, and I don't need all
of you making that more difficult. The goal is to stay out of trouble this year
and not do anything to draw more attention to myself."
"But what if we want to talk to you?" Evan asks, frowning.

Regulus purses his lips. "Secret meeting? Merlin if I know, Evan. There's
abandoned classrooms all over the castle."

"Oh, lovely, so we're all going to be sneaking about with you like your
secret mistresses," Barty says, looking amused.

"It's either that, or none of you have anything to do with me at all," Regulus
mutters, shrugging. "Personally, this could be a blessing in disguise if I get
to see less of all of you."

Barty snorts, and Evan's lips curl up as they share another look, fond. Evan
shakes his head and announces, "Oh, no, you won't be getting rid of us that
easily, Black," and he doesn't say one word about the relief and warmth that
blooms in Regulus' eyes, the same that's reflected in Evan's chest.

Sometimes, there's nothing quite like confronting the fact that you have the
best friends anyone could ever ask for. None of them ever talk about it, but
they know.

They know.

Chapter End Notes

viviane is only shown just this once, and i would like to once again say
that she was WRONG. she was also sadly suffering some insecurities
due to umbridge (who was actually in their year, can you believe
that?), so that had more to do with it than anything else.

also, the slytherins and their ravenclaw!!! their friendships with each
other is so important to me. i love them all so very much. they're all so
supportive of each other, and that means a lot to me. queer solidarity is
so, so special sometimes <3

evan really came up with a plan and then told NO ONE. king behavior.
also, barty and his mum ☹☹☹ also², barty helping amelia bones help
her dad campaign against HIS dad. iconic.

oh, and regulus. this poor oblivious boy. "no one in this castle is good
enough for me" oh??? enter james potter, stage left. lmao, evan "why
are you literally a dementor?" I LOVE HIM
 INTERMISSION: Part Two
Chapter Notes

chapter specific warnings: references to child abuse. it's stated once

that is bad for evan, but there are no details. this is also when barty's
struggles after being attacked comes into play, with him struggling
with paranoia, not being able to sleep, and him accidentally injuring
himself WHILE asleep. there's hurt/comfort, i promise. there's also
barty being hurt in a romantic sense (sort of???) through regulus, but
it's resolved. this chapter also describes barty following right after he
was attacked, depicting his forced sleep and broken nose, but it's brief.

i think this is the saddest chapter overall, but it has its happy and funny
moments as well!

enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes

Hogwarts circa January, 1978

Barty would like it on the record that he sort of saw this coming—not
exactly in the way he was expecting, admittedly, but he can't deny that he
knew some version of it would happen. Knowing it doesn't stop it from
hurting, though.

It's actually humiliating that it hurts at all, honestly. Regulus was never his,
no matter Barty's secret urges to kiss him, and frankly, Barty is very aware
that their friendship is a higher priority than anything else they could ever
be, especially right now. He also knew—or he thought—that Regulus
would never consider doing anything, even in secret, let alone in public.
As it turns out, he was wrong on that last assumption.

There Regulus is, snuggled up in a booth with James Potter of all people,
and Barty could have never anticipated that with a million chances to guess.
Regulus' disdain for Potter has always been a background sort of thing, just
known but never really discussed, seeing as it never had to be discussed and
wasn't subject to change. But then Barty watched it change before his very
eyes, slowly over time, with each and every moment Potter spent chasing
Regulus down.

The worst part is that it's fake. Barty's not jealous, not traditionally; he's
agitated, because he would do everything Potter is doing, but for real.
Except, of course, he wouldn't.

Regulus and Potter aren't even in a real relationship, and they're more
committed to each other than Barty has ever been committed to anyone.
Barty can want Regulus all he likes, but he doesn't want that. He doesn't
want the way they're looking at each other, like no one else in the room
even exists, like the only thing they need is one another right next to them.
The mere idea genuinely frightens Barty.

If he were the type of person to do some deep, inner searching and locate
the source of his issues, he would likely find that he can blame his parents
for this one. His devoted mother who feels that way about his father, and
then his father who must have felt that way once, and no longer does. No,
thank you, Barty won't be partaking in that nonsense, not with anyone. He
isn't about to drop his heart over into a pair of hands that could crush it just
as easily as they could cradle it, not when it's perfectly safe and functions as
it should right where it's at in his chest. When he wants affection and to be
close to another person, he knows exactly how to get it without putting his
heart on the line, and that's just as well.

Barty is satisfied with his choices and wouldn't choose differently if given
the chance, primarily because he and Regulus are just fine as they are. Does
it sting a bit to see someone else—Potter, James Potter, of all the people in
this fucking school—doing things he would like to with Regulus? Yes, it
does. Is he going to step up and offer to do those things himself? No, he's
not, because he's not ready yet, and Regulus deserves far better than Barty
can offer him right now.

He also deserves far better than Potter is offering him right now, but
Regulus is a bit of a fool, especially when it comes to fancying someone.
Barty knows Regulus is going to get his heart broken, and he wishes with
everything in him that there was some way to stop it. The problem is,
Regulus is satisfied with his choice, too, and refuses to choose differently.
Barty can't really fault him for that. He gets it, after all.

At least he's happy, Barty thinks wistfully, and Regulus is. There's no
denying that Potter makes him inexplicably, disgustingly happy. Barty has
never seen someone make Regulus smile, laugh, and light up the way Potter
does. Barty can't do that, and that hurts a bit, too.

"Oh," Evan says quietly, startled, and Barty knows why. Regulus has just
dragged Potter into a kiss right there in front of the entire room, as if he
can't even feel the eyes on him, as if no audience matters when it's Potter
he's with. So much for not drawing attention to himself this year.
"Well, that's just—indecent," Barty mutters under his breath, pursing his
lips as he watches, stuck in this strange mixture of amused, proud, and
oddly envious.

Evan snorts. "Really, Barty? That's coming from you?"

"Oh, shut up," Barty grumbles, rolling his eyes.

"Hey," Evan says softly, bumping Barty's shoulder with his own, watching
him with gentle eyes. Barty's going to need all of his friends to stop being
beautiful; it's a legitimate problem, at this point. Given half the chance, he'd
shag them all in a heartbeat. Well, not Evan, because he's not for shagging,
and not Dorcas, because she's not for shagging blokes, but Pandora and
Regulus? Barty would absolutely take the opportunity if it was presented to
him in a way that wasn't damaging to their friendship and didn't require
more. He's not sure what that says about him, honestly, other than the fact
that he has eyes. "Alright, mate?"

Barty blinks, shaking off the reminder that all of his friends are unfairly fit,
which is a daily occurrence at this point. He stares at Evan, then realizes
Evan's eyes are more than just gentle; they're knowing. Oh. Well, shit.

Barty clears his throat and looks away, pointedly not looking where Potter
and Regulus may or may not still be snogging. He doesn't want to know.
"Yeah, I'm alright. It's not… It isn't like that, you know. Don't—"
"Barty," Evan cuts in quietly, ducking his head until Barty will meet his
gaze, "I'm not saying it's anything. I just—I'm not an idiot. I see the way
you look at him sometimes, that's all."

"He's my best friend," Barty mumbles.

Evan huffs a laugh. "So am I, and you don't look at me like that."

"How would you know?" Barty teases, propping his elbows on the table and
folding his hands under his chin as he flutters his eyelashes at Evan, who
breaks out into a grin. "Maybe you just haven't been paying attention,
Rosier. I mean, what's not to enjoy looking at, if it's you?"

"You're deflecting," Evan says, stifling a laugh, knowing Barty far too well.

"I've no idea what you're on about," Barty shoots back, cupping his cheeks
in his hands as he melts forward and flashes his most charming smile. "I'm
too busy gazing at you to pay attention to anything else. My, what lovely
eyes you have, Evan. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Stop," Evan chokes out, his shoulders shaking, and he reaches out to cover
Barty's face with his hand, gently shoving him away. "That's enough out of
you. Do you know you can't just flirt your way out of conversations you
don't want to have? Has anyone ever told you that?"
Barty rocks forward on his elbows, humming. "No, because it's simply not
true. It works every time."

"Well, it won't work with me," Evan tells him.

"Oh, but I think it will," Barty challenges. "You're stunning, you are. Every
day, it baffles me how people don't faint when you walk past them. I keep
waiting to build up some sort of resistance to your beauty, and yet I never
do."

Evan rolls his eyes, then fixes him with a flat look. "Do you fancy him? Is it
just—disapproval because of Potter, maybe a bit of jealousy? Because I get
that. But if it's more—"

"It's not," Barty says with a sigh, deflating. Of course Evan would see right
through him; he always does, even when no one else can. Coincidentally,
Evan is the only person Barty is ever comfortable enough with and
wholeheartedly trusts to talk about anything and everything, even this, so if
he's telling anyone, it's going to be Evan. "I don't know, maybe it is."

"Barty," Evan murmurs, his face softening.

Grimacing, Barty waves a hand. "It's complicated, yeah? He's my best mate,
and I adore him, of course I do. More? I mean, sure, a part of me...wants
that, but in all honesty? I don't want anything serious, Evan. I'm not ready
for that, and it would have to be serious with him, do you know what I
mean?"
"I think so, yeah," Evan admits slowly. His eyebrows scrunch together.
"Right person, wrong time?"

"Yeah," Barty whispers, a lump in his throat. "Exactly that."

Evan's hand slips under the table, landing on Barty's knee, which he
squeezes. His eyes are sad. "I'm sorry, Barty."

"It's alright," Barty says, because it has to be.

"You can flirt with me again, if that will make you feel better," Evan offers,
the lovely person that he is.

Barty busts out laughing helplessly, feeling better already just from that,
just because of Evan, but he nonetheless opens his mouth and lets loose a
steady stream of heavy, over-the-top flirting that makes Evan's lovely eyes
dance with humor.

And it is, really. Alright. It's alright.

Hogwarts circa February, 1978

"Well, you know, you can always run your hands through it to change it
back the way it usually is," Dorcas says, head tilted as she leans back, eyes
bright.

Evan sighs and lifts up Dorcas' mirror to take in his reflection. He frowns as
she stifles a laugh. "Did you put flower clips in my hair? A rose, Dorcas,
really?"

"I'm feeling artistic," Dorcas replies with a lazy shrug. She grins when he
glares at her. "Do you see my vision?"

"I see your vision," Evan tells her. "I'm gorgeous."

Dorcas chuckles and sprawls out against his pillows. "Too right you are,
Rosier. And don't mock those clips. They're the ones that are always falling
out of Pandora's hair."

"My hair is too short for this," Evan mutters, squinting at his reflection. He
can see a stubborn lock of hair poking up from one of the flower clips (a
purple one with a little, glittery plastic bee on it as well). "Merlin, why did I
let you do this?"
"Because you're bored and lonely," Dorcas declares bluntly, lips curling up
when he scowls and starts reaching up to tug the clips from all over his
head. "You really miss being back in the dorm with Barty and Regulus,
don't you?"

Evan grunts and looks down as he starts a small pile of clips on the bed
between them. Of course he misses Regulus and Barty like mad, but he
won't be saying so. Not because he's too prideful to, but because it would
feel like granting his father the satisfaction of knowing he has ruined Evan's
life just a little bit more. Being forced to stay in the Head Boy's dorm has
left him—as Dorcas said—bored and lonely, yes, but it's more than that. He
feels secluded, disconnected from his friends, and ridiculously left out of
things.

He supposes he should be grateful that he has this option, and he is, really.
It's just not something he would have chosen. He is very aware that it could
be a lot worse, and his friends are here as often as they can be. Even James
stops by at times just to check in with him and see how he's doing, which
Evan is still pretending not to be pleased about. He so desperately does not
want to want James as a friend, and yet, there's not much to be done about
it. Despite Regulus' complicated circumstances with him and the fake
relationship, James has stubbornly endeared himself to Evan.

"You know who I actually miss?" Evan asks as he tugs the last clip out of
his hair and drags his hand through the strands to set it back to rights, the
way it usually is when Dorcas hasn't put clips all in it. "Zar. I miss Zar.
That's who I miss."

"You know, I want to laugh, but I think I'd actually miss him as well, if it
was me," Dorcas admits sheepishly, and he nods solemnly. She clicks her
tongue and shoves herself up, tapping him on the shoulder. "Come on, then.
You can't go into the dorms to see Zar, but who says I can't sneak Zar out to
see you, yeah? No reason not to, if you want."

Evan nearly trips in his haste to stand up. "Yes, let's do that. You're bloody
brilliant, Meadowes."

"I know," Dorcas agrees, then nods in a self-satisfied way before they head
out of the room together. As they walk, Dorcas waggles her eyebrows at
him. "Any plans for tomorrow? Anyone caught your eye lately, or are you
still swearing off love?"

"Still swearing off love," Evan mutters. "The only thing I'm hoping for
tomorrow is James serenading Regulus in front of the entire Great Hall. Can
you imagine?"

Dorcas snorts. "Oh, if only we could be so lucky. I'm picturing James

hopping up on the table and dancing really awfully while Regulus tries to
crawl under the table to hide."

"Regulus would shove him off the table," Evan says in delight, and Dorcas
laughs loudly, head tossed back. "The sad part is, James absolutely would
do something like that. How the fuck did Regulus come to fancy him? Why
do they work so well? It doesn't make any sense, you do realize?"

"I don't know, I think it does," Dorcas muses thoughtfully, tilting her head.
"James softens Regulus, have you noticed? Makes him laugh. Reminds him
that life is fun. Regulus—well, I'd say he calms James. Makes him peaceful.
Reminds him to slow down a bit and breathe it all in. Sure, they're different,
but they make each other happy, so that's why they work."

Evan hums. "Do you reckon James will ever realize that?"

"I can only hope so," Dorcas murmurs, sighing and shaking her head as
they continue on.

The first thing Evan notices when he enters the common room is how
empty it is, and the eerie silence. He and Dorcas come to a halt just a few
steps in, looking around. There's not a soul in here, and the only sound is
the crackling flames from the fireplace. More concerning, some of the
furniture is pushed askew and turned over, and there's a puddle in the
middle of the floor that hasn't yet dried.

Evan swears his heart drops as a sense of foreboding steals over his entire
body, dread turning his veins to ice. He shares a look with Dorcas, then they
both scramble forward towards the dorm without a word, only Evan makes
it about four more steps before he snatches to a halt.

There, on the floor, is Barty. He's very still, so much so that he's stiff, and
his eyes are wide open and glazed over. There's blood on his face, and his
nose sits grotesquely crooked in a way that it's most certainly not supposed
to. It's like the air is stolen out of Evan's lungs all at once, and before he
knows it, he surges forward to rush over to Barty's side, dropping down
next to him with his wand out.
"He's in a body-bind," Dorcas declares. "Evan—"

"I've got it," Evan assures her, his voice shaking. "Go find Regulus. See if
he's in the dorm."

As Dorcas darts off, Evan removes Barty's body-bind, but it doesn't provide
the results he's hoping for. The moment it's off, Barty's eyes slip closed, and
he remains still. When Evan tries to wake him, it doesn't work. Nothing
works. He's breathing, but he won't wake up.

"Regulus isn't there," Dorcas announces as she comes rushing back into the
room, a strain in her voice. "I can't find him, Evan. There's no sign of him at
all."

"Barty won't wake up," Evan croaks, his hands cupping Barty's face, heart
clenching at the way his head lulls heavily in Evan's palms. "Dorcas, he
isn't—I can't get him to wake up. Nothing is working. Why won't he—"

Dorcas moves over to do everything Evan has already done, getting no

change. She curses under her breath, then surges to her feet. "Alright,
something is wrong. Really fucking wrong. Get Barty to the Hospital Wing.
I'm finding Regulus."

They're both a mad scramble after that, Evan lifting Barty with a flick of his
wand and Dorcas running at full tilt through the halls like she has an idea of
where to go. They split off at some point, the two of them rushing, and
Evan can't stop to care about anything else right now. Barty is light in his
arms, thanks to magic, but it's how cold he is that twists Evan's stomach.
His skin is like ice.

Evan doesn't have much time to worry about anything other than getting
Barty medical attention. He doesn't care about the random students he
rushes past in the halls, because the only thing that matters is making sure
Barty wakes up. The blood is still smeared on his face, which is now
swelling visibly, turning purple in places it definitely shouldn't.

When Evan bangs into the Hospital Wing, he's yelling. He doesn't know
what he's shouting at the top of his lungs, but whatever it is, it causes
Madame Pomfrey to come bustling out quickly, her wand aloft.

"What happened?" Madame Pomfrey asks sharply as she directs him over
to a bed, helping him settle Barty on it.

"I—I don't know," Evan chokes out. "We just found him like this, and he
was in a body-bind, but he won't wake up. I couldn't get him to wake up, no
matter what I tried to do. Why isn't he waking up?"

Madame Pomfrey's eyebrows furrow as she waves her wand over Barty,
which gets no results either. Quietly, her voice subdued, she murmurs. "I'm
not sure."

"What?" Evan asks, his breath punching out of him. "What does that mean?
How can you not be sure? You're supposed to know! You're supposed to be
able to fix him! Fix him!"
"I need to run a few more tests. There are possibilities I have to consider
before I can fix him," Madame Pomfrey responds, ushering quickly around
the bed. "I need you to step back and allow me to work. Go. Go now."

Madame Pomfrey doesn't really give him a choice. Despite his protests, she
shoos him back and whips the curtain around in his face, warning him not
to enter. It's quiet from within, and Evan paces back and forth on the
outside, his stomach in knots as he restlessly rocks his fist against his other
palm. He tries to calm down, aware that he's very far from calm right now,
but it's honestly no use. There had been bruises on Barty's throat, dark and
shaped like fingers that squeezed. Someone tried to strangle him. Who?
Fucking who?

Evan doesn't know who did this, but Merlin help them when he finds out.
He feels like he could put his hands around the culprit's throat and see how
they like being strangled, but unlike them, he'll see it through where they
failed to. It's a violent thought, and he doesn't care. He means it.

He's still pacing when a niffler made of light comes bounding through the
air past him, darting right through the curtain, a patronus that declares, in
Slughorn's voice, "Poppy, get to the lake now. A student is drowning. Go!"

In the next second, Madame Pomfrey whips the curtain aside, lifts her robes
a bit, then takes off running. As she goes, she calls out a sharp, "Stay with
him! I will return!"
Evan gapes after her as she disappears, then exhales shakily before diving
forward to check on Barty. Madame Pomfrey seems to have started healing
the superficial wounds; the blood is gone, and his nose is no longer
crooked, and a lot of the swelling has gone down. Really, he looks like he
could just be sleeping, but that only highlights that he's not awake.

Wake up, wake up, wake up, Evan chants internally, standing by Barty's bed.
As if it's at all possible, he wills Barty awake with the desperation of his
own mind, but nothing happens. Barty remains still, breathing quietly, and
that's all.

A few moments later, the doors burst open again, and Evan's head snaps up.
It's not Pomfrey, though. It's Pandora. She's breathing hard, her eyes a little
wild, and she meets Evan's gaze for a moment, the panic and worry he feels
reflected in her gaze. He swallows as she rushes over.

"What happened?" Pandora breathes out. "I heard students talking about
you running through the halls with Barty. Someone said he looked—dead.
He's not—"

"He won't wake up," Evan confesses, his voice cracking. Pandora comes to
a halt on the other side of Barty's bed, and her hand comes down to slip into
Barty's slack grip, holding his hand as her gaze roams his face. "We found
him in the common room, in a body-bind, and it was—bad. It was really
bad, Pandora. He isn't waking up."

Pandora swallows harshly. "Where's Dorcas and Regulus?"

"Dorcas was with me when we found Barty, but we couldn't find Regulus,
so she went off to look for him," Evan says. He hesitates when Pandora's
gaze lifts to his. He doesn't want to think it, but the thought flutters in the
back of his mind nervously regardless. "Slughorn sent a message to
Pomfrey saying a student was drowning in the lake."

"That's—that doesn't mean anything," Pandora whispers, her voice a little

wobbly. Tears are already flooding her eyes. "It doesn't mean it's Regulus.
Don't say that, Evan."

Evan hesitates, his heart clenching, but then he nods and goes back to
looking at Barty. "Alright."

"Who did this to him?" Pandora asks, her grip tightening on Barty's hand,
fingers flexing. There's an edge to her voice that Evan knows is reflected in
his own when he speaks next.

"We don't know," he admits, "but whoever they are, they're going to wish
they didn't. It happened in the common room; it looked like there was a bit
of a duel. I can guess."

Pandora's lips press into a thin line. "Mulciber and his lot."

"Wouldn't surprise me," Evan rasps, his eyes falling shut. He's thinking
about the time Regulus sent Wilkes into the lake, and he's thinking about
the puddle of water on the floor.
Silence falls, and Pandora doesn't say anything else. Neither does Evan.
They just stand there with Barty and watch him, likely doing the same
thing, mentally begging him to wake up.

Evan's brain is cruel, because it's now pointing out every time Barty has
ever laughed. The way he laughs, like it's rolling through his entire body,
like every laugh is as important as the one before it. Barty is the laughter of
life, really, the constant reminder to have fun, that it's okay to be happy, to
enjoy your day when and however you can. He's always in motion, never
this still, and never this quiet. Even when he's sleeping, he's muttering and
smacking his lips, tossing and turning, his dreams as wild and untamed as
he lives.

Not this. Whatever this is, it's not a natural rest. He's breathing, but Evan
knows deep down in his bones that he's not dreaming. This is something
forced, something wrong, and it's honestly scaring Evan. Genuine fear.
Wake up, he thinks fretfully. Wake up, Barty, please wake up.

Evan isn't sure how much time passes before Pomfrey comes bursting back
into the Hospital Wing, Regulus' limp form floating in front of her. His
heart promptly sinks and flinches in his chest, and Pandora releases a
choked, raw noise as Regulus is deposited on the bed next to Barty.
Madame Pomfrey moves over quickly, working over him, but Evan can
clearly see Regulus, who is pale and drenched and too still.

It's like the world goes in and out of focus, everything feeling like it's
falling apart, and Evan can't quite keep it together. Maybe it's an instinct, he
isn't sure, but he finds his hand slipping into Barty's, the free one that
Pandora isn't already holding like a lifeline at this point. Barty's skin is cold,
too cold, so fucking cold that it's alarming—and still, Evan doesn't let go.
He doesn't want to let go, like maybe if he holds on, he can keep everything
together as it all threatens to unravel.

Chaos unfolds in the Hospital Wing so quickly that Evan can't really keep
up with it, honestly. Dumbledore and McGonagall come sweeping in
eventually, and then Pomfrey is instructing McGonagall to get Evan and
Pandora out.

"What about Regulus and Barty?" Evan demands. "What—"

"I'm tending to Mr. Black as we speak," Pomfrey tells him, doing just that,
in fact. "Mr. Crouch will wake up and make a full recovery. Now, you all
need to go. Minerva—"

"Alright, Poppy, I know," McGonagall says gently, but then she's rather
stern when ushering Pandora and Evan out of the Hospital Wing, shutting
the doors firmly in their faces.

There's a rather large group already waiting outside. Among them is a

visibly tired Peter, a tense Sirius, and a wary Remus. Then there's Dorcas,
who looks shaken up and terrified, who readily accepts the hug that Pandora
almost immediately tackles her with before a word is ever spoken. And
there's James, who doesn't really seem present at all, his gaze fixed on the
Hospital Wing doors and his hands shaking.
All that's left to do is exchange stories, then wait.

Hogwarts circa February, 1978

Barty can't move. No matter how much he struggles and fights, he's trapped
in his own body, screaming and thrashing where no one can see or hear
him. It feels like being weighed down and wrenched apart, and he can't get
free. He tries so hard, but he can't move. He can't move. He can't—

With a hoarse shout, Barty flings himself up and nearly careens right out of
bed, scrambling around as his mind catches up to his body. His chest heaves
and his heart races as he looks down at his hands, flexing them, watching
them move. He's sore in places, and there's a burning sensation on the side
of his neck; when he reaches up to feel it, he releases a hiss at the sting and
the feeling of something wet.

Stomach lurching, Barty shakily slips from bed, stumbling across the room.
He starts to go towards Regulus, but his bed is empty, the covers pushed
back. He's no doubt wandering the castle again, or having a moonlit
meeting with James under the stars, or something. Lovely. Brilliant.

Barty grunts and goes to the loo, squinting when the lanterns flare to life,
lighting the room up. He stops in front of the mirror, grimacing as he cranes
his neck to see the damage. It's not bad, really. He's apparently scratched
himself in his sleep, likely due to flailing around, and there's a little bit of
blood that bubbles up along the scratch, dotted red and angry along the lines
his nails left behind. It wipes away easily enough, and it's not deep enough
for him to start bleeding again.

Slowly, Barty checks himself over. He's not too bad off, at least. There's a
few bruises blooming from where he essentially pummeled himself in his
sleep, and his throat is sore from where he was no doubt screaming his head
off, but otherwise, he's alright. He decides to ignore how sweaty he is, how
he's shaking, how exhausted he feels. He's fine.

A shower should help, he thinks, so he has one. It does help, but only
marginally. By the time he's clean and changed, he's no longer shaking, but
he's still sore and feeling like a fucking idiot. This has been happening with
increasing frequency since what happened with Mulciber, Avery, Wilkes,
and Snape. The nightmares, the sense of helplessness, the rising paranoia.
None of it is getting better; it's getting worse.

He can't help but remember it, even when he'd rather forget. The way it felt
at first, like a stupid brawl, almost something fun. Wild and reckless,
lashing out, riling people up just to be riled up; these actions have
consequences, though, and here they are. Here they are. Barty should have
known.

There are no words for what it felt like to be trapped, unable to do anything,
utterly powerless as he watched his best friend have all control taken away
from him, then was forced to walk off and drown himself in the lake. Barty
has never, never felt panic like that before in his life, and it had reduced him
to a frightened boy in a way he wasn't aware he could even be. Just a boy
begging and pleading inside his own mind, wanting out, and no one cared.
They all just laughed at him, like they could sense his fear, and maybe they
could.

Maybe they could feel it, just like he couldn't escape it. When they all stood
around him—Mulciber, Avery, and Wilkes—he couldn't do anything but
remain trapped there as they discussed his fate, what they planned to do to
him. They had more than a few ideas that they made sure he heard, but it
was the one they went with that scared him the most. He couldn't get to
Regulus, or warn anyone, if he was forced into sleeping, if he wouldn't be
able to wake up.

Sometimes, Barty's afraid to fall asleep even now. It's stupid. Just this quiet
fear that he might not be able to wake up. It's all stupid, really, how jumpy
he's been, how paranoid he is at all times, practically against his will. He
hates it, all of it.

Back in the dorm, the thought of slipping into bed again makes Barty's
stomach churn. He's alone, seeing as Regulus is out somewhere, likely with
his fake fucking boyfriend—and Barty knows he shouldn't be bitter, but his
brain can't help but point out that Regulus would be here if he wasn't so
busy with James. Right now, Barty needs him here, wants him here, and
he's nowhere to be found.

Barty could wait for him, and he's tempted to, but the thought of being
alone is making his skin crawl, which is stupid. It's just that there's safety in
numbers, and he's viscerally aware of the state of his own vulnerability
when he's alone late at night, in the aftermath of a nightmare while he's still
disoriented and shaky. He just—he wants someone to watch his back, is all.
When Barty leaves the dorm, he doesn't know where to go. There's a weak,
flimsy, needy desire to find Regulus wherever he is in the castle and
demand he keep Barty company instead. James is his fake boyfriend; Barty
is his real friend. But, well, Barty also knows that Regulus' feelings for
James are as real as they can get; the poor idiot is in love, and Barty can tell
him that it'll pass all he likes, but he knows better. Regulus is in this until
the bitter end, the fool.

The thing is, it's not that complicated for Barty, really. He may wish to snog
Regulus, may even want more, but he doesn't want any of that more than he
wants Regulus to be happy. Barty does hope that James gets wise and
realizes how lucky he is to have Regulus as he does, and he hopes that
James is smart enough to keep him. But, if he's not, if he loses him, there
will come a day when Regulus does find his love passing, at least enough
for him to try with someone else, and maybe Barty will be ready then. He
doesn't know the future, and he also doesn't live for the future; he lives for
now, and right now, Regulus is off snogging his fake boyfriend while Barty
fucking needs him.

So, perhaps predictably, Barty ends up at Evan's door.

He honestly doesn't mean to, but he feels like it makes sense once he's
there. Evan is the other person meant to be in the dorm, someone that Barty
is used to sleeping around, that Barty knows the sounds of sleeping from.
More than just that, he trusts Evan implicitly, without question, so he can
relax around him without worrying.

When Evan answers the door, he's visibly half-asleep. It's late, so this isn't
surprising. His hair is sticking up all around his head, and his eyes are
droopy and watery as he knuckles at one of them through a yawn. It gives
an aura of innocence, a hazy fragility that Barty wants very briefly to reach
out and touch, draw it closer like a shawl and wrap it around his shoulders.
There's something warm about Evan at half past one in the morning, like a
fireplace burned down to its last embers, glowing but not blazing. Barty
doesn't know if he wants to metaphorically poke it with a stick, or
metaphorically stare at it, entranced by the fire that doesn't have a flame.

"Barty?" Evan mumbles, squinting at him.

"Hi," Barty replies weakly, feeling more and more stupid by the second.
"Sorry, were you sleeping?"

Evan blinks slowly, then says, "Well, yeah. It's nearly gone two, Barty, what
are you doing awake?"

"Couldn't sleep, really," Barty says, which is sort of the truth, not that he's
opposed to lying to his friends about some things. He pauses, then goes to
war with himself. The last thing he wants to do is admit that he doesn't want
to be alone right now, but he also really doesn't want to be alone right now.

"Well," Evan starts, swinging the door a little bit as he leans against it and
rocks back and forth, and he doesn't get to finish, not that Barty would
notice if he did.

It's ridiculous, but it doesn't take very much at all, just the slightest
movement out of the corner of Barty's eye, and that's it. He jolts and whips
around immediately, wand raised as he fires off a spell without a second
thought, his heart racing and his breath wonky in his throat. It's nothing. It
turns out to be the shadow cast from the light within Evan's temporary
dorm, spilling out on the wall behind Barty with the silhouette of his own
body. He's just thrown a curse at his own shadow. Lovely. Isn't that just so
fucking lovely?

The worst part is that he doesn't instantly calm down, so he can't just laugh
it off or make a joke about it. His heart is still pounding, and he's now
shaking, especially his hands. Even when he knows it was literally just his
shadow, his body clings to the symptoms of his instinctive panic; it feels
like his body is betraying his mind, and he doesn't know how to stop it.

A hand lands gently on his shoulder, and Barty whirls around yet again, but
Evan jerks back and holds his hands up in a sign of surrender as he quietly
says, "It's me. Barty, it's just me."

"I—" Barty huffs out a harsh breath, forcing himself to lower his wand,
even if he can't stop gripping it tight. He swallows and looks away as he
rasps, "Fucking hell."

"Come on," Evan murmurs, stepping back and jerking his head to indicate
that Barty should move. "Come inside, yeah? It'll be just me and you in
here."

"I don't need to be fucking coddled," Barty grumbles, but he nonetheless

does move inside, feeling tension seep out of him the moment the door
shuts and leaves him alone with Evan.
"I'm not coddling you, so don't take that tone with me," Evan replies,
sweeping past him and giving him a mildly scolding look, which does make
Barty a little sheepish, yes. Evan sighs and moves over to his bed, turning
the duvet down and sitting up at the top of it, his bare feet covered like he's
cold. "Go on, sit, I won't bite or make you talk about your feelings."

Barty snorts as he plops down on Evan's bed, right next to him, sprawled
out with one of Evan's knees pressing into the side of his arm. "Of the two,
if I get to choose, I'd prefer you to bite me. Actually, if you maybe wanted
to do that anyway…"

"I've never wanted to do anything less," Evan says flatly, and Barty bites
back a smile. "Oi, shoes off if you're in my bed, you utter tosser. You know
the rule."

"Yes, yes, alright," Barty mutters, rolling his eyes and fighting a fond smile
as he hangs his feet off the edge of the bed and kicks off his shoes. Evan has
a rule about shoes in his bed, one everyone adheres to, no matter where his
bed currently is. "I swear you're so fussy, you know."

"Think what you like, so long as you listen to what I tell you, especially
when it has to do with my things," Evan replies with a lazy shrug. He
swivels his head and raises his eyebrows at Barty. "So, do you want to talk
about it?"

"Not really," Barty admits.

Evan eyes him for a beat, then murmurs, "Do you need to talk about it,
though?"

"I don't know." Barty squeezes his eyes shut, blowing out a deep breath, and
that alone is really nice. It's so nice that he can close his eyes here without
worrying what could happen to him. He feels—safe here, with Evan, which
is a thought that makes him want to groan and evaporate from mortification.
Evan can never know this, obviously. Barty might just die from the shame
of such a thing. "I'm just tired, Evan."

"So, why aren't you sleeping?"

"Can't."

"Can't fall asleep, or can't stay asleep?" Evan asks.

Barty cracks one eye open, suspicious. "Have you talked to Regulus? Does
he know something?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Evan says slowly, his eyebrows shooting up. "What
is it that he may know?"

"Just…" Barty grimaces and shrugs slightly, making Evan's knee bump into
his arm. "It's stupid, really, but I have… I mean, I keep waking up, can't
stay asleep, because—"
Evan waits, but Barty can't say it, so once that becomes obvious, Evan says
it for him. "Nightmares?"

"I mocked Wilkes for having them, you know," Barty mutters, turning his
head to frown up at the canopy above them. It's double the size of the ones
back in the dorm. "There's nothing amusing about them, as it turns out.
Regulus has them, too, I'm fairly sure. Funny how karma works, isn't it?"

"Barty," Evan says softly.

"I just—it's all such shit," Barty bursts out, flinging his hands up, losing
himself to the incoming tirade like a busted tap releasing too much pressure
all at once. "I can barely get to sleep for being terrified that I won't wake up,
or someone will do something to me while I'm asleep. When I do fall
asleep, I have nightmares about being trapped and unable to move, and I
wake myself up screaming, usually after I've already hurt myself by
accident while I was asleep, because of all the thrashing. I can't go
anywhere or do anything without feeling like I need to be on guard, and
every little movement out of the corner of my eye is someone about to put
me in a body-bind, and I just—I panic every time, which is so stupid, this is
all—"

"Barty, Barty," Evan cuts in firmly, and Barty sucks in a deep breath,
blinking rapidly as he drops his hands limply to his own chest, which is
rising and falling quickly. Evan's hand lands on Barty's arm, and he leans
over to peer into his eyes, lips curled down. "You're not stupid."
"I feel stupid."

"That's because you don't like the reminder that you have limits. Even you
do, Barty. We all do."

"I'm supposed to be limitless," Barty whispers, and maybe it's stupid to feel
a lump form in his throat because of that, but there it is. He's not limitless,
and it's not fair.

"Limits keep us alive, mate," Evan murmurs with a sad sort of smile. He
sighs and scoots down, slipping further under the cover until he's lying on
his side next to Barty, facing him.

They've never done this. None of them as friends have, excluding that one
month where Pandora repeatedly snuck into their beds on rotation because
one of her dormmates was being mean to her; that's when Slytherin House
as a whole got used to Pandora just being around all the time, because she
was sleeping with Dorcas, Regulus, Barty, and Evan. It was back in third
year, so they were all a little young for rumors of shagging and dating to be
an issue, at least. She ended up befriending her dormmate, so that worked
out, but that's the last and only time anyone in their group of friends have
shared a bed as if they could just drift off to sleep.

The only other occasion was when Barty and Regulus had their talk, in
which Regulus broke down crying in his arms over James, but that doesn't
count, really. Regulus had almost immediately drawn away the moment
he'd calmed down, and Barty had admittedly been a little amused and fond
because of how embarrassed he was to have shown such emotion.
Besides, they're getting a little too old to be sharing beds like this, aren't
they? Not that they really did it when they were younger, but that's not the
point. How is it that the world got scarier as they got older, and why did
they all want to grow up so badly? Barty doesn't feel very mature, as if he
has his life together and knows what he's doing, but he doesn't feel innocent
and carefree the way he did at eleven years old. Maybe this is what
discovering limits will do to someone.

"Limits keep us alive," Barty repeats quietly, staring at Evan's face,

studying his features, "but they don't really let us live, do they? I want to
live, Evan. Do you know what I mean? I don't want to be—" He swallows.
"I don't want to be afraid. I don't want to be trapped."

"Limits don't have to stop you," Evan says. "You'll just have to learn how to
adapt, that's all. Is it fair? No, I'd say not, but I don't think anyone can go
through life being limitless. Live with the limits, Barty. Defy them, if you
must. Make them bend to your will. You're good at that, aren't you?"

Barty's lips twist. "How? I don't know anything about limits like these. I
don't know how to—"

"The nightmares…" Evan sighs, lifting his head and looking around
pointedly, then he raises his eyebrows at Barty. "I'd say you're already
adapting to how those limit you, yeah? You're here because you don't want
to be alone."
"It's not a long-term solution," Barty mumbles, feeling ridiculously
embarrassed again. Of course Evan sees right through him. He always
does.

"Well, no, but it can't hurt to try it. And the fear, the paranoia, you could
always—I mean, surely Professor Flitwick will know some charms that you
could use on your clothes, maybe, and your bed-hangings," Evan suggests.
"And us, of course. We're here. You know that. All jokes aside, we're here
for you."

"Maybe," Barty says, watching Evan's blinks become slower and more
spaced apart. He has unfairly long eyelashes that kiss his ridiculous
cheekbones. Like this, falling asleep and doing his best not to, he looks—
sweet.

"We'll figure it out, Barty," Evan tells him, his words thick and slurred, but
he pats Barty's arm and gives it a faint squeeze.

Barty's lips twitch. "Sure we will, Evan. I suppose I don't want to be trapped
by limits, that's all."

"You're not. You're...not, Barty, I swear. You can go anywhere. Take your
limits with you when you go," Evan breathes out, his fingers spasming on
Barty's arm before settling down. His next words are a mumble so low that
Barty almost doesn't hear it, but once he registers what Evan has sleepily
said, Barty's breath catches. It's so soft, as sweet as the boy across from
him, when he whispers, "You're the infinite."
You're the infinite, you're the infinite, you're the infinite plays on a loop in
Barty's head, a buoyant thought that steals his breath in a way that's not
scary at all. It's fortunate that Evan is already asleep, because Barty
wouldn't be able to express what that means to him, even if he tried.

Right there, with his limits and in the infinite, Barty drifts off to sleep and,
for the first time in a while, he doesn't have one nightmare at all.

Hogwarts circa March, 1978

"Merlin, I knew it would be bad, but I didn't think it would be this bad,"
Evan whispers to Pandora, who heaves a sigh.

Eyes sad, Pandora murmurs, "I did. I knew it wasn't going to end well. I
could feel it."

"What are we supposed to do?" Evan asks warily, genuinely not sure at this
point. "I've never seen him like this, and that's saying a lot, considering all
the shit he's been through so far."

"I don't think there is anything we can do," Pandora says with a frown. "Just
keep James away from him."
Evan's lips press into a thin line. "Right."

Pandora props up on her elbow, watching him closely. Evan looks away,
because he already knows what she's going to say. He doesn't want to talk
about it, honestly. His feelings on the whole matter are hardly important
when his best friend is fucking heartbroken. It doesn't matter if Regulus
brought it on himself, if he walked right into this willingly; he's their best
friend, and seeing him hurt impacts them all.

The truth is, Evan thinks they're all hurt, ridiculously enough. Even Barty,
who has personal stakes in this that no one knows about, except for Evan
himself, perhaps. Despite those secret feelings Evan doubts Barty will ever
do anything about, he thinks they all got caught up in the hope of
everything working out for Regulus. And James… Try as they might, Evan
suspects they all came to like him as a person quite a bit.

It's just disappointing. It's also frustrating, because Evan would swear on
his life that James is as in love with Regulus as Regulus is with him. Barty
is sure of it as well, and the fact that he has said so, no matter his personal
feelings, just goes to show how much truth there is to it. And yet, despite all
of that, everything has fallen apart, and now they're left with the pieces,
because apparently when Regulus crumbles, he crumbles hard. It's bad. It's
very bad.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" Pandora asks gently. "You were closest to James out
of us all, I think. How are you doing?"

"Fantastic, compared to Regulus," Evan mutters.

Pandora's face softens. "You can be upset, too, Evan. I'm sad, and there's no
shame in admitting it. If you're upset about James, that's alright, you know.
You were friends, yeah?"

Evan heaves a sigh, reaching up to scrub his hand over his forehead. He
tries not to think about every time James popped up at the Head Boy dorm
just to chat with him, maybe play a game of chess, then always cheerily
clap Evan on the shoulder before he left again. It just—it was nice, is all, to
not feel as alone and secluded after being forced out of his dorm, and James
helped with that without even seeming to realize it.

It's not like they ever got really close, or anything. The heaviest talk they
ever had was about Evan's father, where James essentially agreed with him
that his father was shit and encouraged him to live his life as he likes. For
him, maybe something like that isn't a big deal, but for Evan? That meant a
lot to him. Of course, they got to know each other a bit, normal things like
favorite Quidditch teams and players, opinions on Professors and subjects,
random things and shared stories about their friends. It had all just felt
really quite simple and normal, but more than that, it was a choice Evan
made for himself. His father surely wouldn't approve, which Evan was
aware of the entire time, and yet he made the choice to spend time with
James anyway. It felt good.

It doesn't feel good anymore.

"Yeah, I suppose we were," Evan mumbles.

"Regulus has lost someone he loves, and you've lost a friend, and we've all
lost the hope we had," Pandora tells him. "It's alright for us to be upset
about it."

Evan huffs out a weak laugh. "We were all so invested, weren't we? Just
like Regulus, but in a different way."

"James has broken all our hearts," Pandora announces solemnly, in that
whimsical way of hers. She flops back down on the bed with a loud sigh,
because she's prone to dramatics just like them all when it suits her.

"I wish James would have thought this through before Regulus went and
fell in love with him," Evan says. "Do you think he'll be alright? Not for a
bit, obviously, but surely someday…"

Pandora fiddles with a strand of her hair, eyebrows pulled together. Evan
can see what's coming, so he reaches out to tug her hair away from her
mouth just when she starts to lift it there to chew on. She drops her hand
and sighs. "I don't know, honestly. Love is… It can destroy us, you know."

"That's exactly why I've sworn it off," Evan declares firmly.

"Oh, you shouldn't, Evan. It can destroy us, but it also can be the best thing
that happens to us. We just don't know which it will be until...well, until we
find out. That's the terrifying part, I suppose, but I think it's also what's so
thrilling about it. That's the allure of love, isn't it?"
"Well, it's a little different for me, Pandora. I do know, every time. It's not
thrilling for me anymore. It's...disappointing."

"Someone is going to surprise you someday," Pandora informs him, her lips
curling up. "I don't know who, but they will. I can feel it."

Evan rolls his eyes to cover the way his heart skips a minor beat in his
chest. Pandora and her feelings. They all know better than to doubt them,
and yet, he still does. "It wouldn't take much to surprise me, so I'm not sure
if your feeling is going to mean much, honestly. If I found one person that
doesn't think shagging makes this world go around, then I'll be surprised."

"You've met people who don't care for shagging, just like you," Pandora
points out.

"Yes, I have, but none of them are available," Evan replies with a shrug.
Through queer club, he has met those who feel as he does. A bloke and girl
in fourth year who are dating, and they just got lucky enough to end up with
someone who also had no desire to shag. A bloke in third year, who is too
young for Evan to even blink at twice. A girl in sixth year, same as him, and
she's a lesbian. Another girl in seventh year, but she doesn't have the desire
to date or shag. They're all lovely people, and he's grateful to talk to them,
but as far as dating goes, none of them are options. He's happy to be their
friend, though.

"Well, you know, people can like shagging and not think it's the basis for a
relationship," Pandora muses.
"I've learned my lesson with that one," Evan says dryly, wrinkling his nose
and shaking his head. "At some point, it always becomes an issue. There's
no way around it."

Pandora frowns. "Where's your imagination, Evan? There are plenty of

ways around it. It's not like you're requiring them to never get off while
dating you. They have hands, don't they?"

"Yeah, sure, but they're eventually going to want more from me. They're
going to want my hands at some point."

"And they'll have your hands, just not for shagging. You've said it before;
you like snogging, cuddling—

"Can we not call it cuddling?" Evan tries, face hot.

"—cuddling," Pandora insists firmly, "and being affectionate. All of that is

more important than shagging, at least to me, and I know other people feel
the same way. Besides, it's not about whether or not someone likes
shagging, Evan. It's about the person who wants you. Because when you
want someone, really want them, that person matters more than what you
can give them. Someone is going to surprise you one day by wanting you
more than anything else; that's what I can feel."
"Well, bully for them," Evan announces after a long beat of silence,
"because I've sworn off love."

"Oh, you—you—" Pandora seems to struggle for a moment, then gives up

with a grunt and reaches over to pinch him on the side. He swats her hand
away, laughing, and she ends up laughing with him, easy and calm.

In the end, Evan reaches out to poke the tip of her nose, watching her eyes
cross. "What about you, then? You haven't been with anyone this year.
Why?"

"What are you on about?" Pandora blinks at him. "I've snogged three
different girls from queer club, and two blokes. Nothing serious, but it was
lovely."

"Pandora," Evan gasps, hand to his chest, "you naughty girl."

Pandora breaks out into giggles immediately. "Oh, well, you know, I get
around when I want to."

"Naughty, naughty, naughty," Evan chants teasingly, nudging her repeatedly

with his knee, and maybe Pandora is sad, maybe they all are, but it's good to
laugh sometimes, too.
Hogwarts circa March, 1978

"I'm dating James," Regulus announces as he sweeps into the room, no

preamble. They all stare at him as he gets situated on the bed, and once he
has, he looks up and around at everyone, then clarifies, "For real this time."

And Barty can see it, that gleam in his eye, that spark of undeniable joy. It's
in the soft corners of his mouth, like he's not perpetually close to frowning.
It's in the relaxed set to his eyebrows, nestled neat on his forehead with no
tension. It's in his voice, the steadiness of it, the calm of having something
he wants. It's from having something real.

Barty wavers between bitter and sweet on the bittersweet spectrum. He's
still in the tunnel, and this is it. Regulus isn't at the end of it anymore, and
there's no chance he ever will be again. Barty has been dealing with this off
and on from the moment he learned that James wasn't a complete idiot and
did, in fact, realize how lucky he is to have Regulus.

It's strange, because Barty is supportive. Truly. He was let down when he
thought James broke Regulus' heart, because he secretly hoped that James
wouldn't, that he was a better man than Barty is willing to be. He'd secretly
hoped that James would do what Barty can't, because if anyone could do it
better and right, it would be James, who makes Regulus so very happy in a
way no one else in this world ever has or ever will.

But also, Barty meant it when he said he would choose to be with Regulus
when he was ready, if Regulus was still an option. Knowing for sure that
he's not an option anymore stings a bit, if he's honest. Not enough to
overshadow his relief, though, because at the end of the day, he's Regulus'
best friend first. He's always been that, and he always will.

Barty is grateful, suddenly, that he kept this a secret, excluding Evan. But,
well, Evan doesn't count. Evan knows all of his secrets. The point is,
Regulus never knew, not really. He's utterly oblivious to it, and Barty likes
it that way.

It's better that way, because it allows him to be supportive, to get on with
James, to be Regulus' friend without any of the complications of feelings
being added to the mix. It gives him the space to join in with the rest of his
friends as they all proceed to dissolve into laughter at Regulus' impromptu
announcement, because he's so fucking ridiculous.

"And—and after all of that," Barty wheezes, "you've ended up becoming

his boyfriend for real!"

"You fought so hard, and for what?" Dorcas chokes out, nearly crying,
curled up as she cradles her stomach.

Through her giggles, Pandora manages to get out, "I told you there'd be no
use in trying to stop it. Oh, you're hopeless."

"He—he got you. James Potter got you!" Evan crows, leaning over against
Barty as they laugh uproariously. They sway together, warm and sturdy,
though Evan always is.
"Regulus, two weeks ago," Dorcas mocks, poking her lip out. "Oh, James
doesn't love me. He doesn't want me. It's not real. He's in love with Lily
Evans."

"He fake confessed his love for me," Barty declares in pretend dramatics,
putting the back of his hand against his forehead and tossing himself over in
Evan's lap.

Evan cups Barty's face in his hands and curls over him, gasping loudly. His
hands are ridiculously warm. "Oh, I'm so heartbroken. I had to end things
with him. After all that time he spent being absolutely besotted with me, I
knew I'd never know true happiness, because it was all a lie!"

"Evan, I have to tell you, I'm deeply in love with you and want to spend the
rest of my life with you," Barty says solemnly. He reaches up to cup Evan's
face in his palms, mildly startled by the slight stubble he can feel against his
fingers, a rasp against skin that's distracting—but not enough to make him
break character. Oh, he's a brilliant actor.

"No, I don't believe you," Evan replies with a sigh, staring into his eyes,
holding his gaze, and oh, he's a brilliant actor, too. The only thing that gives
him away is the warmth in his gaze, mostly muted and hidden away. "I
simply do not accept it. There's no way it could be true, because it's
everything I want, and I'd never get to have what I want."

"But love, you could have me, if only you'd have me," Barty counters,
brushing his thumb along Evan's cheekbone. He's always been secretly
curious about whether or not it's as sharp as it looks, if the bone underneath
juts out enough to make his face feel like marble. It doesn't. Evan's face is
soft.

"Have you? How can I have you when you belong to another?" Evan asks,
sighing once more, this time with faux sadness laced through his voice. The
words, though… It makes Barty's stomach flip, because he doesn't belong
to anyone, but he could. He could, and it's strange that it's Evan he's saying
all this to, the last person on earth he would expect to say it to, even as a
joke. It puts a strange flutter in Barty's chest that he wants to swat away, or
smother until it stops.

Still, Barty is committed to this role, if nothing else.

"No, I belong only to you," Barty replies, and it comes out choked, because
he's never before in his life said those words to anyone, and never could
have imagined saying them, or even liking it. But he does sort of like it, and
oh, he knows what this is. Of course, attraction. Evan is fit. No wonder
Barty is feeling like this. He clears his throat and blinks. "You know, I
should tell you, I'm actually very attracted to you right now."

"Oh, shut up," Evan tells him, laughing. Barty can tell the compliment
pleases him, though, because his eyes light up a bit before he rolls them,
like he's hiding it. He'll take it as a joke, but Barty doesn't think that's
necessary; just because Evan doesn't like to shag doesn't mean he doesn't
appreciate being told that he's attractive. Evan pinches Barty's cheeks, a
gentle squeeze that feels like unfiltered affection.
"You think I'm joking, but I'm not. Oh, won't you be the Regulus Black to
my James Potter?"

"Without question."

And then Evan winks at him, which he never has done before, but Barty's
going to need him to never do it again, seeing as it's unfairly suave. Barty
just knows he doesn't look like that when he winks. Following said wink,
Evan dips over him and presses a firm kiss to Barty's forehead, complete
with a comical smacking sound, and oh, Barty likes that. He's about to play
up this whole 'James and Regulus roles' thing as much as he can get away
with, just for the fun of it. Barty breaks out into a grin and doesn't move
from Evan's lap.

"You're all awful and I hate you," Regulus says, and if Barty is channeling
James Potter, and Evan is his reluctant Regulus Black, then it makes sense
for Barty to keep staring up at him and acting as if no one else exists. Huh.
Barty gets why James does it all the time. It's sort of comforting just gazing
at someone, studying their features, taking them in. Evan has the tiniest
impression of a dimple in his chin, barely noticeable, which Barty never
knew until right now.

Dorcas sighs. "Sorry, but what are you expecting? You've been a mess about
James for months, Reg, and then you show up just casually stating you're
dating now. Again, but for real this time. I mean, honestly."

"I realize that this is embarrassing, but if you could all try being supportive
for once," Regulus grumbles.
"Oi!" Evan protests, and Barty watches the way his face shifts with amused,
faked offense. "We've been nothing but supportive this entire time, from
beginning to end."

"Obviously we're very happy for you," Pandora adds, "but you can't expect
us not to find the humor in it. Regulus, it's quite literally the most ridiculous
thing any of us have ever done, and Barty once broke eight laws personally
set by his father just because he was bored."

At his name, Barty rips his gaze away from Evan to focus back on the
conversation. "And I got away with it, too." He pauses, a thought striking
him as he flicks his gaze to Regulus. "I reckon this means you'll be going
for Easter break next month, and I'll be left here all alone."

"Yes," Regulus confirms, completely unapologetic, and Barty doesn't know

what he was expecting. That stings, too, but he deflects as he always does,
by bringing up something naughty.

Barty waggles his eyebrows at him. "You know what that means, don't you?
It means you'll have plenty of time and plenty of opportunities to shag
him."

Regulus releases a legitimate whimper, which causes everyone to burst out

laughing, and Barty's laugh may be loudest of all. Because, as always, he's
Regulus' best friend first. Besides, from Evan's lap, things seem more sweet
than bitter.
Hogwarts circa April, 1978

Evan has never been so fucking grateful to be back at Hogwarts in his life,
which is saying something, because he generally always prefers to be here
instead of home.

It was bad. The altercation with his father had gone as terribly as he
expected it to. He'd skirted by safely during Christmas break because Evan
was still pretending not to be Regulus' friend, which had pleased his father
enough to spare the rod, as that saying goes. Easter break? Well, by April,
Evan was no longer pretending. He couldn't, not when Regulus nearly
fucking died, not when it felt like living a lie, not when he went to the queer
club and learned that he's not alone, that other people feel as he does, and
there's nothing wrong with him.

By Easter break, Evan was done with pretending. It was partially just
because he would come of age fairly quickly, so if all went according to
plan, he'd be fine as long as his father didn't kill him. He was quite sure his
father wouldn't kill him.

His father did not kill him. He did, however, punish Evan quite extensively,
to the point that Evan briefly wished he would just kill him and get it over
with. His mother had to step in, as usual, which led to her and his father
fighting, also like usual, and yet she still agreed with Evan's father by the
end, so nothing had changed on that front.
However, Evan's plan went smoothly. When he turned seventeen, he got his
small inheritance, took his savings, and went off to go get himself a flat.
The rest of the break, he spent most of his time quietly moving his things
from his room to his flat in sporadic trips. Most things, he saved for the last
day and just packed in his trunk for Hogwarts, because he has no intentions
of going home for the summer. He'll send a letter at the end of term to his
mother, letting her know and telling her exactly why, and she'll undoubtedly
tell his father, which will surely lead to him being disowned, and that
means Evan will have to get a job over the summer. It's a bit stressful, but
the things you do to live freely, right?

But, before he has to worry about all of that, he gets to come back to
Hogwarts for a few blissful months and worry about nothing. Oh, and he
gets to go back to his dorm, which he's honestly fucking ecstatic about.

"I'm back!" Evan announces brightly as he bursts into the dorm. "Did you
miss me?!"

"No," Regulus says blandly, having already beat him here, because he didn't
get stopped by a chatty Slughorn in the hall, the lucky prat.

"I wasn't talking to you, Black," Evan mutters.

"Yes," Barty answers, his head poking out the end of his curtains, a grin on
his face. "I've been miserable without you, my love, where have you been?
I've ached for you, my other half, my reason for existing."
Regulus scoffs. "James and I do not sound like that."

"You sort of do, mate," Evan points out, stifling a laugh, and Regulus
scowls. "But I'll get to you in a moment, Barty, darling. I also wasn't talking
to you."

With that, Evan dumps his bags by his bed (his bed!) and sweeps over to
Zar's tank. He waves his wand to make sure Zar can't bite him, then reaches
in to pull him out, cooing under his breath when Zar immediately tries to
strike him. Aw, Zar has missed him. Evan knew he would.

"Oh, Merlin," Regulus says, snorting, "he was talking to the snake. Of
course he was."

"Piss off," Evan calls cheerfully, cradling Zar's coiling body to his chest as
he turns around to move over to his bed, pleased beyond measure as he
settles down on it. Zar is in an active mood, apparently, because he starts
slithering over Evan's shoulder, around the back of his neck. Evan cranes
his head to the side and grins when Zar's head swings around and boops his
cheek, not even trying to bite him. "Oh, say what you want, but he has
missed me."

"He's not the only one," Barty teases, snatching his curtains open and
flopping down towards the end of his bed, hands holding up his cheeks as
he kicks his feet.
Regulus groans. "Oh, enough. Tell me you two aren't still doing this? It's
sickening. Stop it."

Evan chuckles. "Now you know how we feel when you get around James.
It's always oh, love, light of my life, lover, my personal sun in human form.
Fucking disgusting, you two are."

"We do not sound like that!" Regulus protests, eye twitching.

"You're right," Barty says. "You and James are worse."

"You don't even know the half of it, Barty," Evan tells him, leaning forward
with his eyebrows raised. "I'm not even joking, they were being awful on
the train. Prattling on about poetry and loving each other even when they're
dead."

Barty immediately starts laughing, his head hanging forward as his whole
body shakes, and Evan has to dodge the pillow that Regulus violently
launches at his head.

"James threatened to carve his heart out of his chest and give it to Regulus,
Barty. Carve! Reggie had to stop him," Evan continues, and Barty is
wheezing now, slapping his hand repeatedly against his bed. "It was—"
"Alright," Regulus declares firmly, and Evan scrambles up with a yelp the
moment Regulus shoots to his feet and starts right for him. Evan holds Zar
against his shoulders and neck, keeping him stable, then dives for Barty's
bed, hopping up into it and stooping down beneath the top of the canopy.

"Wait, wait, wait," Evan chants, leaning back and forth and avoiding Barty's
legs as Regulus starts to go to one side, then switches when Evan prepares
to run. "Come off it, Reggie, how is it my fault that you and James act like
you're romantic protagonists out of some book?"

"Oh, James, my heart bleeds for thee," Barty teases through laughter, then
he sputters in disbelief when Regulus yanks the end of the duvet up and
stuffs it over his head. He scrambles back quickly, nearly knocking Evan off
the bed, but they both find their balance when Barty stands up as well, the
mattress dipping under their combined weight.

Regulus glares at them. His cheeks are an endearing shade of pink, blushing
heavily. "You're both going to shut up now, or I'm going to shut you up."

"And just how do you plan to do that?" Barty asks, grinning. Zar is sliding
from Evan's shoulder to his, apparently pleased to slither all over the both
of them. Barty hardly even seems to notice. "Do be sure not to skip any
enticing details. I want to hear them all, Reg."

"Speak for yourself," Evan mutters.

Barty reaches back blindly and pats his arm. "Shh, don't be jealous." Evan
rolls his eyes as Barty drops his hand. "Go on, Regulus, threaten us with a
good time. Just remember, I don't think your very jealous boyfriend would
like to know that you're chasing two other blokes around and trapping them
in bed so you can do unspeakable things to them."

"I hate you both. You're awful," Regulus complains, flicking his wand to
summon Zar over to him, then flicking it again to make the bed start
rocking like the mattress is made of water.

Evan and Barty start vibrantly cursing, clinging to each other as they try to
keep their balance, but it's really no use. As Regulus walks away, they both
go stumbling around on what's essentially waves under their feet, slipping
all over each other as they fall. It's not a graceful landing, honestly. Barty
hits the floor with a dull thump, and Evan lands half on top of him and half
on top of the bed. They hit hard enough that they both lose their breath, but
not enough to be properly injured.

"Well, hello," Barty wheezes, flashing a grin at him, despite the strain
around his eyes.

Evan groans and drops his head back to Barty's chest, taking a moment to
catch his breath. "Give me a minute. Merlin, he's a fucking lunatic. Why are
we friends with him again?"

"All these years later," Barty muses, "and I still have no idea."
"I heard that," Regulus calls sharply.

"Oh, go snog your boyfriend," Evan snaps, then tries to lift himself up, only
for Barty to whine at his elbow ruthlessly digging into his side. Barty
frantically shoves it away, which causes Evan to collapse, and he finishes
falling over the side of the bed with a muffled shriek and no finesse
whatsoever.

Regulus sounds smug when he says, "You were saying?"

"I hate him sometimes," Evan whispers into Barty's shoulder.

Barty's hand gently pats the back of his head, briefly carding through his
hair, just for a moment, just enough for Evan's entire scalp to tingle. "Me
too, my love, me too."

Hogwarts circa June, 1978

"Well, what do we do with him?"

Barty frowns at Evan's question, eyes on Zar where he's coiled up in

Dorcas' lap. They're all sitting on a circle on the floor, and Pandora is still a
little puffy and sniffling from all the crying she has done tonight. It's the
last night, and queer club the day before has left most of them emotionally
wrought—all of them, honestly, just some are better at hiding it than others.
Pandora has been a fretful mess all day, practically attached to Dorcas' side
the entire time. Truthfully, they've all been hovering around her, just
instinctively not trying to waste one second of her last bit of time with them
at Hogwarts.

It's hitting them all rather hard. Dorcas won't be back next year, and Barty is
sure that it's going to feel like a gaping hole that can't be filled. Regulus has
it worse, possibly, because he's going to be without not only Dorcas, but
also his boyfriend, and his brother. None of them are handling it
particularly well.

The question of what's to be done with Zar sits between all of them. They
only got him this year, and it was never an issue over the breaks, because
Barty always stayed behind and looked after him. He's their pet, as a
combined unit, really, so approaching the topic of who is to take him
is...precarious.

"We're obviously bringing him back next year," Barty says slowly. "So, the
real question is who should keep him over the summer, really."

"Realistically, it should be Regulus," Dorcas murmurs. "He's the one who

decided to keep Zar first."

Regulus frowns. "I'm not sure how Effie and Monty would feel about pets. I
haven't asked. I don't want to just—show up with a bloody snake, but
I...could take him, if I have to."

"I would take him," Pandora says, "but I'll be traveling a lot over the
summer, and I don't want him to be lonely."

"My mum would hit the roof," Barty mutters with a heavy sigh, shaking his
head. "Shame. He'd love it in my back garden."

"Dorcas?" Regulus asks.

Dorcas bites her lip. "If all goes according to plan, I'll be busy with starting
work and such. Marlene and I have a lot of plans, too. I just—I don't know
if I'll have the time."

"I can take him," Evan says softly, and everyone looks at him. He clears his
throat. "I, ah—well, I sort of have my own flat?"

They all blink at him.

"What?" Regulus asks.

Evan blows out a deep breath. "So, I—I'm leaving home. When I turned
seventeen, I got a small inheritance, and I've been saving money all year.
Over the break, I went and purchased my own flat. I'll have to get a job over
the summer to keep an income, to live, because I'm quite sure I'll be
disowned by tomorrow. I...sent out a letter explaining to my mother that I
wouldn't be coming home, or living my life by my father's wishes. It's—I've
been planning it a while, honestly, and all that's left to do is...do it. So, I'll
have room for Zar."

Barty blinks rapidly, sort of stunned, helplessly amazed. It's at times like
this that he's reminded of what drives Slytherins most of the time—pure
ambition. There's nothing—absolutely nothing at all—that they can't do if
they really decide to, but more than that, it's also just Evan.

This is the sort of thing that people only really dream about, but rarely find
it within themselves to actually do. As badly as Barty wants to get as far
away from his father and his absence and his influence, he's never made any
real moves to do so. Not everyone has it in them to do it, especially not on
their own. Not everyone can stand up for themselves and the lives they
want to lead, and the fact that Evan has, that Evan is actively doing so,
makes Barty feel…

Well, it's admiration, for sure. There's warmth mingled in there as well.
Pride. Surprise. A distant and ever-growing wonder, because Evan Rosier is
—he's something. He sure is something. Barty can't even articulate what it
is, but he is.

"Evan," Pandora whispers, "that's amazing."

"That's fucking brilliant," Regulus blurts out, staring at Evan with wide
eyes. "That's—that's brave."

Evan snorts. "Oh, bravery goes hand-in-hand with stupidity. Can't we call it
something else? Amazing. I liked amazing."

"Amazing, then," Dorcas declares. "It really is, you know. Merlin, I'm proud
of you."

"Are you going to be—safe?" Barty asks, a rising sense of worry gripping
him. Evan frowns at him, and Barty swallows harshly. "Your father won't
hunt you down and—and try to drag you back, will he?"

"My flat is warded already, so he won't be able to get in," Evan assures him.
"Besides, he won't know where I live. The only other time he would ever
see me is out in public, and he won't make a scene there; that would look
bad on the Rosier reputation." Evan's lips twist bitterly. "I know him. He'll
likely do the same thing Regulus' parents did. Blast me off the family
tapestry and pretend I never existed. I have cousins, but I suspect he'll just
try for another child with my mother."

Regulus' lips tip down. "That doesn't...bother you at all? The idea that you
might have a younger sibling someday going through the same thing as
you?"

"Well, I certainly wouldn't wish it on anyone else, but I can't very well stop
it, now can I?" Evan says. "But, you know, if that does happen, then I'll just
go save them from their fate, if they want to be saved at all. Sirius can give
me advice."

"Sirius didn't save me," Regulus grumbles, rolling his eyes.

Pandora tsks. "Oh, give it a rest, Regulus. No point in pretending Sirius

hasn't been your lifeline since you were kicked out. He did save you, as best
he could. Give him some credit, would you?"

"Never," Regulus says flatly, the stubborn git. They all exchange fond
looks, because they know him too well. He can pretend all he likes, but
they're very aware that he loves Sirius. He'd kill for Sirius. Die for him, too,
if Barty had to guess. They're the most baffling pair of brothers Barty has
ever met.

"So, I'm taking Zar, then?" Evan asks.

"Seems like the best option," Dorcas points out, reaching down to stroke
Zar's head with a sigh. They all fall silent, the mood shifting, and when
Dorcas looks up, she's smiling sadly at them all. "I'm going to miss you
lot."

"Oh, don't. Please don't," Pandora chokes out, immediately on the verge of
tears all over again.
"Stop that," Dorcas chides gently, holding her arm out so Pandora can scoot
over and dump her head onto her shoulder, tears spilling out of her eyes
anyway. "Let me be a little sentimental, yeah?"

"It's not going to be the same without you, Dorcas," Pandora whispers, and
Dorcas rubs her arm.

"Well, call me selfish, but I hope it won't be," Dorcas admits, huffing out a
weak laugh. "None of you are allowed to forget me or replace me with
anyone else, alright? And I'll write every week, I promise. Just—you know,
have a good last year anyway. It's because all of you that mine has been as
fucking wonderful as it was."

"Really sentimental, Meadowes," Barty says softly, reaching out with his
foot to nudge hers. She nudges him back.

"Just this once," Dorcas murmurs.

Evan sighs. "Yeah, alright, let's be sentimental."

So, they get sentimental. They rarely do, so it's sort of funny to watch them
try, honestly. It's good, though. There are a lot of memories between all of
them, and they waste hours talking and laughing about them. Just this once,
they get sentimental enough to cry, to reach out and touch, to exist here and
now in the safety they've always found with each other.
The night bleeds on, and the first to crash is Pandora. She's so worn out
from all the crying, so it's not a surprise. Dorcas ushers her up and plans to
walk her back to her dorm. When she stands, they all stand, and no one says
a word when she hugs each of them before slipping an arm around
Pandora's shoulders and walking her out.

Barty isn't surprised at all when Regulus decides to leave, either wandering
about the castle, or heading to look at the stars and brood. Barty hopes
James finds him and puts his mind at ease, because Barty can just look at
him and tell that he's suffering some internal turmoil he doesn't want to talk
about. What a strange year it has been; here Barty is at the end, hoping
Regulus' boyfriend will comfort him, content with the fact that he's not the
boyfriend, and never will be.

Ah, well, isn't that lovely? Barty was waiting for that, for the exact moment
it settled in fully, just him looking up to notice that he's made his peace with
his feelings for Regulus. Let them go, found them missing, or simply left
them behind. All that's left is all that mattered from the beginning; Regulus
is his best friend, and he's always going to be.

"And then there were two," Evan says wryly as the door shuts behind
Regulus, once he slips out.

"Just me and you," Barty teases with a wink, because at this point, the
obnoxious flirting is second-nature. He's done it so much that it has become
a habit. Evan doesn't even bat an eye, because he's used to it. "You know,
what you did, it really is amazing. Evan, I mean it."
Evan's face softens, and he smiles. "Yeah? I—well, don't tell the others, but
I was fucking scared, can you believe that? I felt like a child playing
pretend as an adult. I honestly had no idea what I was doing."

"But you still did it," Barty points out.

"I know." Evan blows out a deep breath. "It's not going to be easy. I'll
probably muck it all up, but at least I get to make my own mistakes on my
own terms, instead of my father's."

"We'll help you," Barty tells him. "You know that. You'd only have to say
the word, Evan."

"James is my backup plan," Evan says sheepishly.

Barty blinks. "James?"

"Barty, he offered to let me come stay with him and his family. He wasn't
joking, and Regulus didn't even ask him to."

"Oh, fuck off. He's so infuriatingly good, I hate him."

"No, you don't," Evan counters, amused. Barty rolls his eyes and concedes
with a nod, because he doesn't, really. He's not sure if he ever did. "What
about you? What are you doing for the summer?"

"Oh, I'll be with my mum," Barty replies easily. "My father has some sort of
campaign or something, so he'll be exceedingly busy over the summer,
more so than usual, so I won't get away a lot trying to keep Mum
company."

Evan's face twitches, then softens. "Ah, well, that's good."

"She does have book club every Thursday, so I'll be able to get away then,"
Barty muses. "I could come visit Zar if you ever want a break. Dorcas will
be busy, Pandora will be traveling, and Regulus will be attached to James,
so that leaves you with me. You've gotten lucky, Rosier."

"Oh, have I?" Evan asks, lips curling up.

Barty raises his eyebrows. "Well, haven't you?"

"Maybe so," Evan says. "We'll see."

Chapter End Notes

one-sided bartylus kills me every time. i think it's lowkey funny that
regulus was literally oblivious to all of this with barty, by the way. like,
he literally had no idea any of this was even going on, poor boy.
also, evan and barty teasing regulus for how he and james are??? i
LOVED.

also², evan telling barty that he's the infinite 😭😭😭 barty liked that,
barty will remember that, barty won't recover from that. evan, babe,
that was really gay of you, buddy.

evan and james friendship>>>

dorcas, my beloved. pandora, my beloved.

let me know what you thought!

 INTERMISSION: Part Three
Chapter Notes

warnings for this chapter: a brief argument, kissing without asking

and/or warning (though it's received well, at first), and...that's it, im
pretty sure. overall, a very lighthearted, sweet chapter.

enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes

Diagon Alley circa August, 1978

Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment is slowest, coincidentally enough, on

Thursdays, particularly around noon, which just so happens to—also
coincidentally enough—be around the time that Mrs. Crouch has book
club.

All of these coincidences mean that Evan has spent every Thursday over the
summer so far, around noon, watching Barty walk into the shop to come see
him, without fail. Mrs. Wiseacre allows his presence so long as he
purchases something and doesn't interrupt any other customers that may
wander in—but never do. Barty buys a set of brass scales for three galleons
every Thursday, despite the fact that he doesn't actually weigh potion
ingredients—or anything—in his free time. Evan imagines Barty just keeps
them in a discarded pile somewhere in his room, or simply bins them.

On some Thursdays, Mrs. Wiseacre is out in the front of the shop,

restocking or moving products or cleaning, which means she has to suffer
Barty relentlessly flirting with her until she gets huffy and threatens to
whack him with her journal that she keeps inventory in. However, when Mr.
Wiseacre comes in, Mrs. Wiseacre lets Barty flirt and even flirts back, just
so her husband will be the one who gets huffy. Mr and Mrs. Wiseacre are
both in their seventies, and they still flirt like they're both seventeen, but
they stay true to who they are and bicker like an old married couple most of
the time. Evan adores them.

Evan's adoration for them may have something to do with the fact that they
treat him like he's one of their children. They have twelve—yes, twelve
sodding children—and they all range from their mid-twenties to their mid-
forties. Absolutely all of them live their own lives, doing their own things,
and none of them work at the shop with their parents. Mr and Mrs.
Wiseacre don't require them to, and they're very loudly proud of each of
their children.

When they hired Evan for help, it was like they could smell it on him that
he's essentially parent-less (which had been made very clear to him by a
letter from his mother, informing him that he would have no access to the
family vaults, or property they owned, and he was no longer welcome back
home). Mr and Mrs. Wiseacre seemed to just sense this somehow, and
they've taken this to mean they can just fuss over him as they please. They
make sure he eats, they talk to him, they give him advice and help, and they
invite him over to dinner at least twice a week. He sort of just...lets them do
it, because he doesn't hate it, honestly. It's really—nice.

Mr and Mrs. Wiseacre do not know this, but Evan would quite literally
murder for them. They have earned his unwavering loyalty and
appreciation, just because of how good to him they've been. There's nothing
they could ask of him that he wouldn't do in a heartbeat, at this point.
Funnily enough, they give Barty constant trouble. They don't make it easy
for him to come in and pester Evan, and they're always close by, asking him
questions and being all around suspicious. Evan finds this delightful,
because it flusters Barty every time. No matter how hard he tries to get into
their good graces, Mr and Mrs. Wiseacre are generally unimpressed with
him. Barty has pretty much given up by now, falling back on his flirting to
deal with the situation, and it all works out for Evan, who is always
entertained by all of this.

On this Thursday, Barty is late. He's usually in the door by half past noon,
but not today. Evan is bored—he's always bored on Thursdays, until Barty
shows up—but now he's also worried. He leans against the counter, next to
the till, and taps his fingers restlessly in a steady rhythm.

"Where's that boy?" Mrs. Wisearce asks him as she comes bustling behind
the counter, lips pursed.

"Not sure," Evan admits. "He said he'd be here, so...I don't know. Maybe
something came up?"

Mrs. Wiseacre hums, hands on her hips. "Well, we'll give it another half an
hour, and if he doesn't show, I'll let you go early so you can try to check on
him."

"Really?" Evan glances over at her, startled. She raises her eyebrows at him.
"Sorry, it's just...don't you hate Barty?"
"Oh, we don't hate the boy," Mrs. Wiseacre says, waving a hand like she's
swatting flies. "We just can't let him think we think he's good enough for
you, dove. It's natural, innit?"

Evan blinks. "Um. What's natural?"

"You're one of our own, working for us, o'course." Mrs. Wiseacre reaches
out and pats his arm. "It wouldn't matter who you brought round. We do it
to all our babies, and it won't be any different with you; when you work
with us, you're family, so we'll put him to the test. Ask any of our children,
they've dealt with the same, and none of them were half as happy about it as
you. But the boy's alright, I'd say, if it's my opinion you're looking for. Just
don't tell him I said it."

"You were like this with all your children's friends?" Evan asks, eyebrows
shooting up, and Mrs. Wiseacre stares at him. He stares back, not entirely
sure why she's looking at him like that. "Mrs. Wiseacre?"

Sighing, Mrs. Wiseacre reaches out and pats his arm again, this time like
she thinks he's a bit stupid. "Sure, dove. Now, my back is aching something
awful. Time for you to try inventory again while I sit around. If that boy
comes in, don't let him distract you, am I understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Evan replies, glancing at the door again with a frown, unable
to help it.
"I'm sure he's on the way," Mrs. Wisearce says wryly, lips twitching. She
has wrinkles beside her mouth, like she's laughed a lot in her life. Evan
wants some just like that when he gets to be her age. "I think it'd take a big
disaster or a small miracle to keep him away, from what I can tell."

Evan snorts. "Yeah, he's a stubborn git like that."

"Not always the worst thing. So is my husband," Mrs. Wiseacre tells him,
visibly fighting a smile. "Go on, the inventory won't do itself, dove."

Nodding, Evan pushes away from the counter and heads around to get
started. Mr and Mrs. Wiseacre have been slowly teaching him all that has to
be done to run the shop. He suspects they're in dire need of a day off, so
they want someone they can trust to handle it, even if it requires them to
train him. Evan already has plans to come back and work over each break
from Hogwarts, then possibly after he graduates for a bit, but he isn't
entirely sure for how long.

Evan doesn't really know what he wants to do for a career. It's not
something he's ever had to think about, honestly, because it was quite
literally beaten into his head his whole life that he would be carrying in his
father's footsteps. His father, who doesn't have a job outside of being rich
and keeping connections with important people in power. His pocket is
deep, and his influence on the Ministry is vast. Evan has no interest in
doing that, obviously.

The problem is, Evan doesn't know what he wants to do. He knows what he
doesn't want to do; he has no interest in making potions, or being a Healer,
or working in any department at the Ministry, which knocks out a lot of
career options. He's not an inventor at heart, nor does he have a desire for
the arts, like singing or acting or any other form of entertainment. He isn't a
Quidditch player, or not a very good one, at least. He doesn't care to be a
reporter, and the idea of writing a book makes his brain hurt. Professor? No.
Curse-breaker? No. Something to do with Magical Creatures? No. Just a lot
of no, that's what Evan is dealing with. At this point, he thinks he's just
going to have to pick something and do it, no matter what it is.

The good thing about it being summer is that Evan doesn't have to think
about any of that, though. Is he perhaps procrastinating? Yes, maybe so, but
that's easier to do than figure his shit out, and he has enough to worry about
as it is.

Evan gets maybe fifteen minutes into inventory (he's a bit slower than Mr
and Mrs. Wiseacre, but he's getting better every time he does it) when the
door opens and Barty comes stumbling and clattering inside. He nearly trips
over the mat in front of the door, cursing under his breath and steadying a
display he bumps into, because he's a walking disaster sometimes, honestly.
Evan straightens up, watching in amusement as Barty holds out his hands at
the display like making sure it'll stay where it's at, then pats it when it
doesn't move, then swivels and starts right for him.

"Sorry, sorry, fuck," Barty says breathlessly as he comes to a stop beside

him. "You will not believe how hard I've been trying to get here. First, I
made the mistake of asking my mum how her book is going, and she just
starts crying, yeah? I mean, rivers of tears, Evan. Apparently someone died
in the book—her favorite character, I think—so it took her ages to calm
down. She was late to book club, I'll bet. And then a brawl broke out in the
Leaky literally as soon as I stepped inside, and it was bad enough that I
couldn't get through, and the fucking Aurors showed up, so it took forever
before I could get out of the damn building. I was nearly arrested because I
got into a row with one of the Aurors, but then they found out who my
father was and left me alone, so you know—cheers, Father, for the only
thing you've ever done for me. Anyway, I'm here. Hi."

"Hi," Evan replies, stifling a laugh. "Busy day, I see. You just can't stay out
of trouble, can you?"

"Well, my life would be a lot less fun if I could." Barty grins at him and
reaches out to fiddle with one of the crystal vials that Evan is currently
counting. "Where's Mr and Mrs. Wiseacre?"

Evan smacks Barty's hand away and says, "Mr. Wiseacre is out at their
other store, and Mrs. Wiseacre is running the till, or resting, more like. She
says I'm not to be distracted by you."

"Oh, she underestimates me," Barty says, flopping his head to the side and
smiling at him so brightly that the corners of his eyes crinkle. His hair is a
bit longer than normal, inviting curls behind his ear and at the nape of his
neck that Evan has never seen before. "I'm absolutely going to distract you
with my dashing good looks and charming personality. Tell me, dove, how
has your day been?"

"Oh, stop it," Evan mutters, shooting him a sharp look, his face feeling hot.
Barty thinks it's hilarious that Mrs. Wiseacre calls him 'dove', and now he
does it playfully as well. "It's been slow and boring, like every other
Thursday. I did floo-call Dorcas this morning before she had to rush out.
She told me to smack you across your head for not writing her back."
Barty groans, his face scrunching. "Shit, that's what I forgot to do. I did
write her back, but I sent out Pandora's reply first, then didn't get around to
sending Dorcas' just yet. I'll do it as soon as I get back home. You know, I
visited Reggie yesterday, over at the Potters. You should go around
sometime."

"If I have the time before Hogwarts, I will," Evan says, nodding as he ducks
his head to examine the next shelf, shifting around more vials. "How'd that
go, then?"

"Well, Mrs. Potter is completely unbothered by the amount of children she

has coming in and out of her house at all times. It was busy, as far as I could
tell," Barty muses. "Sirius and Remus are getting their own flat soon, and
James and Peter are snatching up a flat in the same building, right across the
hall to hear them tell it. I reckon James will move out with Regulus when
he graduates. Regulus misses you."

Evan arches an eyebrow at him. "Did he say that?"

"He'd rather die," Barty says fondly, "but I could tell. He kept asking about
you. He wants to come visit your flat."

"It's Mr. Wiseacre's birthday on Saturday, so they're closing the shops for
the day, and I have Sunday off," Evan tells him thoughtfully. "I'll have the
free time, then."
"I think Pandora will be back by then, and maybe Dorcas can spare a few
hours," Barty replies, squinting a little. "We'll see who we can get there.
Have a little party and make people bring you food and gifts. Your pantry is
so dreadfully bare."

"You know I live off of takeaway."

"I know. It pains me. I'm bringing dinner over on Sunday again whether or
not anyone else shows up. You need a meal."

"Between you and the Wiseacres, I eat at least three square meals a week,"
Evan says, waving a hand lazily.

Barty sighs. "It's supposed to be three square meals a day, Evan. A day!
You've lost weight, you know."

"I haven't. I just got a bit taller. You need a haircut," Evan mutters under his
breath.

"What?" Barty frowns, reaching up to pat his hair. "Do I, really? You think
so?"

"It's just longer than I've ever seen it," Evan says, glancing over at him, then
back to the vials. He's lost count, so he has to start over. Brilliant. "If you
like it, it's fine. It's just new."
"Right." Barty's eyebrows pinch together as he tugs at the ends of his hair
down by his neck. He gives up for a moment, then drops his hand. "How's
Zar?"

Evan snorts. "Thriving, just the same as when you saw him last. He loves
his new tank that Regulus sent over. Isn't it lovely when you've a rich
boyfriend to buy you extravagant gifts for your pet? James spoils him, you
know."

"Better him buying for Zar than us," Barty points out with a chuckle, and
Evan hums in agreement, tapping each vial as he counts them. "So, what—"

"Boy, are you distracting Evan?" Mrs. Wiseacre calls, abruptly swinging
around the shelf to come bustling over suspiciously, and Barty jolts, eyes
bulging.

"No," Barty blurts out.

"Yes," Evan counters, lips twitching.

Barty huffs, then clears his throat. "Not on purpose, Mrs. Wiseacre. It's not
my fault I strike such a distracting figure. Say, you look lovely today. That
blouse brings out your eyes, has anyone told you that yet? Oh, and have you
done something different with your hair? It's really—"
"Don't you start with me today, boy," Mrs. Wiseacre cuts in, no nonsense,
hands on her hips. Evan ducks his head and stifles a laugh. "If you're going
to be here pestering Evan, then you can bloody well help him, I say. Get to
work."

"I—er, sure," Barty says weakly. "What...exactly am I doing?"

"Whatever Evan tells you to." Mrs. Wisearce sweeps by and pats Evan's
shoulder. "Put him to work, dove."

"Yes, ma'am," Evan says, grinning at her as she goes by.

"Does this mean I don't have to buy scales?!" Barty calls after her, twisting
around to keep her in his line of sight. "Mrs. Wiseacre? Do I still have to—"

"If you're distracting Evan, you can help Evan. If you're in my shop to see
Evan, you can buy something to see Evan," Mrs. Wiseacre calls back.
"What's it worth to you, boy?"

"Right, of course." Barty makes a face and heaves a sigh, then turns and
raises his eyebrows at Evan. "So, what am I doing?"

Evan smiles helplessly and says, "Counting."

"Counting what?"

"Everything."

Barty blanches, swiveling his head to look around the whole shop, and
Evan bites his lip to try and smother his grin. Despite his horror, Barty
nonetheless does as he's told, and before he leaves, he buys yet another set
of brass scales he has no need for, and days later, when he shows up at
Evan's flat before everyone else, he has cut his hair.

Evan doesn't think twice about any of it.

Hogwarts circa October, 1978

"Well, that's just indecent," Barty says, amused as he watches James snog
Regulus so hard that he almost tips back and falls into the snow that
blankets the Hogsmeade streets. James had practically tackled Regulus the
moment he saw him.

"I think it's sweet," Pandora replies lightly, her arm threaded through
Dorcas', who did manage to make the trip for the visit, despite being
worried that she wouldn't be able to. Marlene couldn't make it, sadly, off
doing important curse-breaker things. James and Sirius were able to make
it, and so was Mary, but Lily, Peter, and Remus couldn't get away from
work or other prior arrangements to get here. "Regulus has missed him
terribly."

"It's been nearly two months, and Regulus has already snuck out to visit
him twice," Evan says dryly.

"Life feels longer when you're not spending it with those you want to be
with," Dorcas murmurs.

Evan gives her a sympathetic look. "Missing Marlene?"

"Yes, but she gets back from her trip in three days," Dorcas replies, a smile
blooming on her face immediately. There's a gleam in her eye. "We have a
bit of catching up to do."

"Oh, I bet you do," Barty teases, chuckling, and Dorcas hums in preemptive
satisfaction.

"And of course, I've missed you twats," Dorcas says lightly, squeezing
Pandora's arm and nudging Evan's shoulder with her own. "You've kept me
up to date through letters, but you can't write all the details. Tell me
everything I missed."
They all head into the Three Broomsticks, telling Dorcas everything she
missed, joined by Sirius and Mary while James and Regulus take a bit more
time to recite future wedding vows, probably. A few people from the queer
club stop by to see Mary and Sirius, and eventually James when he and
Regulus do find their way in at some point, looking sickeningly pleased just
to be together. They all have a few rounds of butterbeers, chatting and
laughing as the day slips by.

Sirius, at some point, sees McGonagall and nearly turns over his chair in his
haste to stand up and go bother her. James briefly detaches from Regulus'
side to do the same and get a few more drinks for everyone. Mary and
Regulus get caught up in talking, and Barty hears a few snatches of the
conversation, finding it sort of ironic that they're talking about Lily's work
as a Healer. Dorcas keeps most of the attention, though, particularly with
Regulus, Pandora, Evan, and Barty.

They can't help it. It just feels really good to have her back, even for a bit.
Seventh year hasn't been the same as all the ones before it, Dorcas' glaring
absence leaving them all a little uncertain as to how to acclimate. It helps
that she writes every week, just as she promised to, and it's become tradition
now for all four of the others to meet up and read her letter, then write back
as a group, which is always entertaining. It involves a lot of bickering,
hissing, quill-snatching, and a not entirely cohesive response that Dorcas
enjoys reading.

James shows back up at the table, passing out drinks, but it takes Sirius a bit
longer to do so. He can be seen laughing as McGonagall...lectures him,
from what it looks like. At some point, she must have to go, because Sirius
comes back to the table, visibly delighted by the whole encounter. Regulus
mocks him, and they get into a kick-war under the table, at least until Sirius
kicks Dorcas by accident, then profusely apologizes and stops altogether.
Regulus looks smug.
Dorcas brushes it off, mostly, too busy catching up with all of them. Barty
gets the feeling that she's worried about all that she's missing, her own
absence just as impactful to her as it is to them. It's nice to reconnect, for all
of them.

"I'm stealing your drink, dove," Barty announces when he's run out and
wanting more, and he does just that, leaning forward to scoop up Evan's
drink for himself.

"Dove?" James asks, sounding amused. "Is that a joke because I call
Regulus love?"

"Actually, no," Barty says gleefully. "Mrs. Wiseacre calls Evan dove. Isn't
that adorable?"

James chuckles. "Well, yeah, a bit. Are you two still doing that fake flirting
thing?"

"What are you on about, James? We're dating and in love, obviously," Barty
declares, winking at Evan, who rolls his eyes and leans forward to steal his
drink back. Under the table, Barty hooks his foot around Evan's ankle as a
joke, and Evan lets him do it, so the joke continues on without a punchline.

"Like, really?" James blurts out, blinking, visibly startled.

Barty hums and nods, straight-faced. "Yes."

"Our wedding is set for next spring," Evan adds casually, hiding his smile
behind his glass.

"We have all the names of our future children picked out already. Little
Dove Jr is my favorite," Barty says.

Regulus shakes his head and glances at James. "They're taking the piss,
James. They're not together."

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" James mutters.

"It's alright, mate," Sirius assures him. "I couldn't tell either."

Mary hums. "Yeah, looked to me like they were dating, too."

"Gryffindors," Dorcas says, chuckling. "No, obviously they're just taking

the piss. Crouch isn't the settling down type, and good for him, yeah? Go
on, then, Barty. Who've you been shagging lately? You haven't said in any
of your letters."
"Well, there's—" Barty halts, his smile freezing on his face before fading
altogether. He blinks. For a long moment, there's a silence where everyone
is waiting, watching him curiously, but no matter how much he wracks his
brain, no name comes to mind. This could be because Barty hasn't shagged
anyone since the start of term. Actually, he hasn't shagged anyone since
before that, since...March of sixth year, he thinks. That's… Bloody hell,
that's six months. Has it really been six months?

"Barty?" Pandora asks, making him blink violently and look up to find
multiple people watching him with eyebrows raised.

Barty coughs and pulls his foot away from Evan's leg, feeling supremely
awkward in a way he never has before. "Well, no one new, as it turns out.
Suppose I've been busy, is all."

"Too busy chatting up Evan for a joke," Regulus says, cocking his head. "I
told you to be careful with pretending, you know. It can easily become all
too real."

Evan laughs, like that's the most absurd thing he's ever heard in his life.
"We're just mates, and no jokes will change that. You just don't like us
teasing you."

"It's not my favorite way to pass the time, no," Regulus grumbles, face
falling into a scowl, and Sirius cracks up in pure delight while James lets
out a ridiculously soppy sigh like he's never seen such beauty. Merlin help
him.
"Right, some of us can fake things with accuracy," Barty adds smugly. "But,
you know, it's easier to do when there's no feelings involved to start with.
You and James had no such luck; you fell hard and fast, the two of you.
Evan and I are in no danger of such a thing."

"This is true." Evan snaps his fingers and points at Barty as he nods. "We've
both sworn off love in our own ways, for one."

"We did," Barty agrees.

"And two, we're not the least bit compatible," Evan continues.

Barty falters. "Sorry, what? What does that mean? What are you on about?
We're plenty compatible, Evan."

"We're really not," Evan argues unapologetically, and Barty is oddly

offended? "We just wouldn't work, you know that."

"We could!" Barty protests in a sputter. "You think something is wrong with
me, is that it? I'll have you know, we would make a marvelous couple, so
fuck you, actually."

Evan looks at him blankly. "We wouldn't, primarily because you wouldn't
be able to fuck me, actually."
"Oh, this is fucking brilliant," Sirius whispers to Regulus, grinning behind
his glass, and Regulus—for once—just agrees with a snort and a nod. James
is watching Barty and Evan like they're a Quidditch match, his gaze
bouncing back and forth, thoroughly entertained. Mary and Pandora seem
to be sharing some sort of telepathic connection, and Dorcas is hiding her
smile of pure amusement behind her hand.

Barty crosses his arms and leans back. He doesn't much care about their
audience at the moment. "So?"

"So," Evan says, exasperated, "we wouldn't work. You like shagging, Barty.
I don't. Doesn't exactly make for a marvelous couple, does it?"

"Ah, that's where you're wrong, dove," Barty counters, wiggling a finger at
him. "I like getting off, and trust me, I don't need anyone else to help me
with that. That's not very fair, judging our compatibility off of my history of
shagging. I'm perfectly capable of wanting someone without needing to
shag them, thank you very much."

"Oh, you're impossible." Evan tosses up his hand. "It's not just that,
obviously. Excluding all of that, there's also the fact that we're the exact
opposites, have you noticed? I date, not shag. You shag, not date. How
would that work, exactly?"

"Well, this is just—hypothetical," Barty explains, waving his hands.

"Meaning, if we hadn't sworn off love, and we actually had feelings for
each other, we would be very compatible."
James coughs around a laugh. "It seems really important to you that you're
hypothetically compatible, Barty."

"It is," Barty admits. "I'd be a fucking catch, obviously, and I won't stand
for Evan not hypothetically recognizing this."

"Oh, Christ," Mary murmurs, then shares another look with Pandora, and
they both dissolve into laughter.

"It's not funny!" Barty insists, affronted.

Sirius points at him, squinting. "No, I get it, actually. I know what you
mean, Crouch. It nearly drove me spare when I thought Remus didn't want
to shag me, and that was even before I realized I fancied him. He did want
to shag me, just to be clear." There's a pause, then Sirius glances between
Barty and Evan, then tilts his head much the same way Regulus is doing.
Sometimes they look so startlingly similar. "Wait, be careful with that,
Barty. Trust me, if it's getting under your skin, there's a reason it is."

"It's not getting under my skin," Barty complains, grimacing a bit. "I just
know my hypothetical worth."

"Oh, do you?" Dorcas teases.

Barty scowls. "I do. It's a lot, just as an aside."

"Nothing I could afford, surely," Evan says warmly, his eyes sparkling with
humor, clearly enjoying that they're all teasing Barty now. Barty frowns at
him, and he relents. "Oh, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist. Sure,
we'd be hypothetically compatible. Does that appease you, darling?"

"Yes, thank you," Barty says immediately, no longer slumping as he reaches

out to snag Evan's drink from him again. And it does appease him very,
very much.

Evan rolls his eyes, though he's smiling, and the conversations carry on as
the day continues to slip away from them. Despite how unfortunately fast it
goes, Barty's spirits stay high.

Evan's flat circa January, 1979

There's a crash in Evan's room that makes him jolt awake, and the first
thing he hears is Barty cursing under his breath. He squints as he props
himself on his elbow, just making out Barty's scowl through the dim light of
his wand.

"Barty?" Evan rasps, rubbing the side of his face. "I thought you were
staying over at the Potters?"
"I was," Barty grits out, continuing his perilous journey to the bed in the
dark, "but everyone got spectacularly pissed and passed out together on the
lawn, and it was like we were all in a pile, which was fine at first, but then
—"

"What?" Evan asks, squinting up at him past the glow of his wand as he
stops by the bed.

Barty heaves a sigh. "Pandora passed out on top of me, and Peter was right
next to me, and Lily was at my back, so I couldn't—I couldn't move, and
maybe I felt trapped and had a bit of a panic. Can I just—can I sleep with
you?"

"Oh. Yeah, alright. Shoes off," Evan mumbles, slumping back down on the
bed with a yawn. This isn't exactly the first time Barty has done this, after
all. He did it that first night in sixth year, then showed up a few more times
until he started relaxing again after going to Flitwick to learn to charm his
clothes with protective magic. Evan isn't sure why it's him that Barty
always comes to—possibly just accessibility. He never did it again after
Evan moved out of the Head Boy dorm.

"Thank you," Barty whispers as he slips into bed, after getting more
comfortable and removing his shoes. This bed isn't as big as the one in the
Head Boy dorm, so they bump into each other, and Evan is too tired to
move.
Evan's face scrunches. "Bloody hell, you're cold. Why are you so cold,
Barty?"

"I took the Knight Bus here. I didn't really trust my ability not to splinch
myself since I've been drinking, and your floo was closed," Barty mutters.
He shifts closer with a low sigh, cold fingers slipping underneath Evan's
shirt to press into his stomach, making Evan hiss and instinctively pull
back, but Barty just chases him with a groan. "No, come back, you're so
warm. My fingers are numb."

"How is that my problem?"

"Shh, just stay—ahh, yes, right there. That's lovely, thank you. Merlin,
dove, you had the right idea, leaving the party early. All those other idiots
are going to bring in the new year freezing their bollocks off."

"I left early because I have to work in the morning, or else I would also be
freezing my bollocks off with them," Evan admits, amused despite himself.

Barty hums and sleepily says, "This is better. Warmer."

"Is it?"

"Mhm. I like it here, in your flat. I'm glad you invited me for the hols, Evan.
Cheers."
"Yeah, of course," Evan says quietly, hiding a wince as he turns his head
away. Barty takes this as an invitation and finishes sliding over into his side
with a shudder and a hiss through his teeth. He presses his cheek and nose
against Evan's shoulder, and Evan can feel how cold he is through his shirt.
He lets him do it without comment, closing his eyes.

Evan still hasn't figured out how to invite Barty to live with him yet. He'd
planned to offer before the previous summer, but then Barty wanted to
make sure his mum wouldn't be lonely. Evan isn't sure why it's so hard now.
He has an extra room that Barty is using over the break already, and
actually, why isn't he in it right now?

Well, Evan knows the answer to that. Barty doesn't like to be alone after
he's had nightmares, especially, which Evan worked out in sixth year when
this was a more common occurrence. Evan doesn't mind, really. Barty isn't
annoying to sleep beside, usually, because he doesn't steal covers, or snore,
cling. He does talk in his sleep and move around quite a bit, but Evan sleeps
through that. This is the first time Barty has ever gotten so close while they
were in bed together, which Evan is sure has to do with him being cold and
drunk.

It's fine. A bit strange, maybe. He's never slept with anyone else before, but
he has lazed about with girlfriends and friends, bodies close together, and
this isn't that much different. It's just… Well, it sort of feels different
anyway, just because it's Barty. Evan doesn't think he's supposed to know
what it's like to be cuddled up to by his best mate, and yet.
Honestly? It's not bad at all. Evan likes it, in fact. He feels warm and sleepy,
dangerously close to drifting off again.

"Hey, Evan?" Barty mumbles.

Evan doesn't even open his eyes. "Hm?"

"Do you—do you remember when you told me that I was the infinite?"
Barty asks.

"Yes, I remember," Evan replies, because he does. He'd been half-asleep at

the time, but lucid enough to speak the truth. He meant it then, and he still
thinks it now.

Barty is silent for a while, then he confesses in a whisper, "I think about that
a lot. All the time, really."

"Oh," Evan says, turning his head and getting a face full of Barty's hair. It's
soft, and Evan raises his hand tucked beneath where Barty is lying on him
to feel it between his fingers. He's so close to falling asleep again. "That's
nice, darling."

"Yeah," Barty agrees, voice sleep-thick and slurring. He sort of snuggles

closer and smacks his lips. "This is really nice."
Evan hums, and that's the last thing he remembers before he's dragged
under, falling into a deep sleep. It's so restful that he nearly doesn't wake up
in time for work. He does wake up to find Barty still sleeping against him,
Evan's hand slack in his hair, and Barty grumbles and mutters in his sleep as
Evan shifts away to get ready to go into the shop.

Evan leaves Barty passed out in his bed, mumbling his name like maybe
Evan gets to stay with him in his dreams, at least, and Evan doesn't think
anything of it as he goes.

Hogwarts circa February, 1979

Barty looks up when Evan shuffles down into the common room, rubbing
the side of his face with a yawn. It's late at night, so late that everyone is in
bed, excluding Regulus, who is missing (likely snuck off to go visit James
again); Barty, who is watching the flickering embers in the fireplace in here
because he can't sleep (he tried, it didn't work); and Evan, apparently, who
looks like he's just waking up.

"Couldn't sleep?" Evan mumbles as he throws himself down on the settee

next to Barty.

"No," Barty admits. "You?"

Evan grunts. "I was sleeping fine until I rolled over on the book I was
reading before I fell asleep. It jabbed me in the side until I woke up."

"Did you burn it?" Barty asks, amused.

"Wanted to, but no." Evan sighs and slumps back against the cushions,
rolling his head to the side to stare at him. Barty looks back, and Evan's face
softens. "Do you want to talk about it? Whatever is keeping you up, I
mean."

Barty huffs a laugh. "For once, it's nothing like that. I just had a kip earlier
during class, so I'm not tired, that's all. Getting there, though."

"Ah," Evan says, nodding. "Which class?"

"Charms. I already could do the charm, so I just decided to sleep, and

Flitwick let me."

"Is that why you snuck off to the back?"

"Yes," Barty admits.

Evan chuckles. "Alright, yeah. Reggie isn't in bed either."

"He wasn't when I dragged myself up. I suspect he's off to see James,"
Barty muses.

"How are you doing with that?" Evan asks, and Barty blinks at him. Evan
gives him a significant look. "We don't talk about it, I know that, but I just
thought it must be harder for you now. Fancying him, I mean. You said
right person, wrong time before, but it's seeming less like the wrong time as
of late, seems more like you're ready, but he's...well, he's with James."

Barty stares at him. He honestly isn't sure where to begin with all of that.
"Evan, I'm not—I don't fancy Reg anymore. Did you honestly think I was
still pining after that prat?"

"Oh," Evan blurts out, clearly startled. "Sorry, you just—you never
mentioned it again, so I thought… And, well, you've been sort of—I just
mean, it seemed like you were ready, is all."

"Regulus…" Barty clicks his tongue and smiles fondly. "Well, honestly, I'll
always adore him, I suppose, but he was the right person for me at that
time, and I was never the right person for him, even if I could have been,
except it was the wrong time for me. He's my best mate. That's all."

Evan takes that in, looking thoughtful, then he nods. "Yeah, alright. Well,
good, then. Better that way, isn't it?"
"It's certainly less complicated," Barty admits, and Evan hums in apparent
understanding. "Wait, what did you mean when you said it seems like I'm
ready?"

"You're...you know," Evan says, and Barty does not know. Evan heaves a
sigh. "You haven't shagged anyone all year, as far as I know, and you hardly
seem to want to—which is fine, that's fine, it's all fine. It doesn't have to
mean anything. I don't know, you just seem...calmer now. More settled.
Some little prick had a go at you in the hall yesterday, and you just rolled
your eyes and went back to talking to me."

"We were having a very important conversation, dove."

"We were talking about owls."

Barty shrugs. "So? You'd asked me something. That was more important
than some little prick. What's your point?"

"My point is, you wouldn't have done that just last year. You would have
turned around and gotten into a row with him, let it rile you up, things such
as that," Evan explains. "You are calmer now, and you really don't chat
anyone up anymore. So, I sort of assumed that your feelings for Reg
had...blossomed?"
"The opposite. They withered," Barty declares with a snort, and Evan's lips
twitch. "I haven't matured, really. Don't go thinking anything as dreadful as
that."

"No, never."

"Lovely. No, I just… I'm not sure. Maybe I do feel calmer. Last year was
awful. This one is...much better."

Evan nods hesitantly. "And it doesn't have anything to do with your father
at all?"

"No, not much change there," Barty mutters, wrinkling his nose, and Evan
winces like he regrets asking. "I suppose it was nice getting to go home last
break, spending time with my mum, going over to yours. Sometimes,
staying at Hogwarts is shit, honestly. I'll be doing it this upcoming break,
seeing as my father will be working a little less, so…"

"You could—" Evan halts, then clears his throat. "Well, you don't have to
stay here, Barty. You can come with me for the break, if you like. I mean,
I'll be working, so you'll have to find things to do during the day, but
otherwise…"

Barty sits up, brightening as he swivels on the settee to face Evan, reaching
out to grip his arm. "Are you sure? Because I will absolutely impose on
your hospitality, Evan, I'm not joking. I'll make sure you eat every day, and
I'll even help out at the shop, if you want."
"You wouldn't be imposing, Barty. If I minded, I wouldn't invite you.
Actually, I—well, I sort of…" Evan trails off, reaching up to scratch at the
side of his head, then he twists slightly to the side, his arm pressing into the
cushion as he faces Barty. He looks mildly embarrassed. "I suppose I had
this idea. It might be stupid, I'm not sure."

"What is it?" Barty asks.

Evan clears his throat and drops his hand. "Well, I just thought, because you
don't like being at home with your father, you might wish to stay
somewhere else. Move out, I mean. And I know you don't want to work at
the Ministry, like it's expected of you, and you'll feel pressured to at home,
so if you wanted to leave… I—well, I have a second bedroom."

"You have a second bedroom," Barty repeats, his mind blank.

"That was sort of the whole point to it, really. It was yours when I got the
flat, and I was going to offer you to come last summer, but you planned to
stay with your mum, so I...just waited. Until now, I suppose," Evan says
sheepishly.

Barty remembers when he was younger, and he used to have dreams so

vivid that he sometimes thought he was still dreaming while he was awake.
He still has very vivid dreams, but his mum taught him how to differentiate
between them and reality. She used to say that he could pinch himself, and
if it didn't hurt, that meant he was sleeping. She would also say to find a
clock and check it, and if the time was wonky, he was sleeping. If none of
that was possible, she always said the next best thing to do is find a book
and try to read it, or write something down, and in a dream, it would always
be slightly off or incomprehensible, and if it wasn't, then he was awake.

Rather ridiculously, Barty has the urge to pinch himself. He refrains, purely
because if this is a dream, he desperately does not want to wake up.

It's just that this feels like the answers to all of the problems he's been too
afraid to look at directly, those he's barreling towards in an upcoming,
inevitable crash. He hadn't been sure what he would do when he graduated.
Stay at home, only for his father to stay away, and leave his mum alone just
because he wants nothing to do with his son? Stay at home, only for his
mother to want him to follow in his father's footsteps at the Ministry, when
he can't think of anything worse? Stay at home, only for him to want to be
anywhere else?

And now there's this. An option. Freedom offered to him up on Evan

Rosier's selfless platter. He doesn't have to do that. He doesn't have to care
enough to offer him anything. It was yours when I got the flat, Evan had
said, like that second bedroom belonging to Barty was his plan all along.
How dare he think that's stupid? Barty is so fucking elated and grateful that
he thinks he's bloody dreaming.

"Did you—was that the plan?" Barty croaks. "For me to come live with
you? Have you planned that since last year?"

"Yeah," Evan admits quietly. "I'd say Regulus, too, except he was sort of the
inspiration behind the whole thing by going to the Potters. But yeah, when I
decided to do it, you were always included in it. Obviously you don't have
to. It's just an—"

Barty leans over and snatches him into a hug.

"—option," Evan finishes, his voice muffled into Barty's shoulder. He

doesn't say anything else, but he releases a soft huff of laughter and hugs
him back.

It's a bit odd, embracing on a settee, but they make it work. Barty usually
wouldn't, not when he's feeling so much, not during such a heavy subject.
He's free with affection when it doesn't mean anything, but avoids it at all
costs when it does. Right now, though, Barty isn't sure what else to do.
Evan has just offered him the best option of his life, so obviously Barty has
no other option than to hug him for it.

Barty is perhaps holding on too tight, but Evan doesn't seem to mind. He
actually seems quite comfortable, which makes Barty even more reluctant
to pull away. Evan has one arm around his lower back while Barty has both
arms wrapped around Evan's shoulders, and he's as steady and warm as he
always is. An ember glowing late at night, comforting and lovely if only
someone would stop to look.

"Thank you," Barty whispers.

"Not stupid, then?" Evan replies.

Barty squeezes him a bit. "No, not stupid. Not stupid at all."

"Good," is all Evan says, quietly pleased.

After a long moment of them just holding on, Barty knows he needs to let
go. He doesn't really want to, and doesn't really want to examine why he
doesn't want to, so he forces himself to do it anyway. He draws away
slowly, inching back with all intentions to lean back and crack a joke,
something where he makes Evan swear to never tell anyone he just did that
at all.

The problem is, Barty gets stuck. He doesn't mean to, but he rocks back
enough for his hands to sit on Evan's shoulders, and he can see Evan's
features casted in the warm glow of the embers that pour across them. Evan
looks startlingly beautiful in the light like this, and Barty's brain stumbles.
They're close enough that Barty can make out all of his features in perfect
detail, including his lips—and that's when he realizes.

I've been here before, Barty thinks. That's the first thought he has when it
settles in him that he has the urge to kiss his best friend. It's like someone
has taken the embers of his mind and prodded them into a flames that roar
with life, and he can see it now. He can see all of it, the way he's been
acting, what all of it means. He sees it just the same as he saw with Regulus
from the moment he realized he wanted to snog him.

Barty didn't kiss Regulus. He knew better. He stopped himself from it,
because he wasn't ready.
Barty does kiss Evan. He knows better, and he still kisses Evan. He can't
stop himself from it, and that's the difference.

He doesn't mean to, honestly. Distantly, he even knows that he shouldn't. He

just—he wants to do it so badly that it takes over his greater sense, and he's
not thinking. He's just feeling, and he's drunk on the sensation of feeling so
much. Evan is so close, and Barty leans in to kiss him.

It's a gentle kiss, far more gentle than Barty has ever been with anyone, and
it means more than anything else ever has. He goes into it like it's precious,
because it is.

The thing is, Evan kisses him back. Maybe if he hadn't, if he had snatched
away, punched him, scolded him, gently let him down, or any other possible
option of rejecting Barty, then it would all end up differently. But he
doesn't. He kisses Barty back, and that's what ruins him. That's what
crumbles all of Barty's defenses until he's blown wide open and stripped
bare with no way to build himself back up again. Just like that, just from a
kiss that doesn't break, Barty is done for.

He realizes then that it has nothing to do with being ready. There's not a
time when people are just—magically ready, if this is what they're afraid of.
The truth is, that time won't come, but someone will. Someone will come,
and they'll be more important than any fear you've ever felt in your life.
Someone will come, and you won't feel afraid at all.
Evan's mouth is soft and warm, and Barty cups his jaw, feeling the rasp of
his faint stubble, distantly pleased by the fact that it's not quite enough to
shave yet, so Evan hasn't. The kiss is slow, and Evan leans into it with a soft
sigh that makes Barty's head spin. Of all the kisses Barty has had, this is the
best one, so he's genuinely bereft when Evan abruptly pulls away.

"Mm, no, no," Evan says, rocking back far enough that Barty's hands slip
off of him. He exhales shakily, blinking hard, and he raises his hand to
cover his mouth for a moment before pointing at Barty. "We're not doing
that. No."

"Doing what?" Barty mutters, admittedly still a little dazed.

Evan blows out a deep breath and reaches up to rub his hand over his hair.
"Doing—that. This. Whatever it is that made you do that. Merlin, why
would you do that?"

"I—wanted to," Barty confesses. "Why did you—"

"Don't...ask," Evan says, strained. "Fucking hell, Barty, I don't know. It just
—I was—I don't know."

Barty hesitates, then clears his throat. "Sorry, I should have at least asked.
That was a bit...rude and unfair of me."
"Yes, it was," Evan mumbles, dropping his hand with a heavy sigh. He
squeezes his eyes shut. "Listen, I'm not angry, yeah? Maybe you just got
caught up in the moment, and you were happy about moving in with me.
Maybe I did, too. It's fine."

"I can still—you still want me to move in?"

"What? Yes. That's not—I wouldn't change my mind because of a

meaningless kiss, Barty, relax. I'm sensible, you know."

"Meaningless," Barty repeats, unable to stop the word from falling out of
his mouth, and Evan's eyes snap open. He stares at him, and Barty bites his
lip. "What if it wasn't?"

Evan lifts his head and says, a warning in his tone, "Barty…"

"I just—I wouldn't do that if it meant nothing, Evan, you have to know
that," Barty whispers fervently. "That's not something I'd ever do if I wasn't
serious about it, not with you."

"Stop," Evan says, shaking his head. "Don't start that, alright? You don't
fancy me. You can't."

"Why not?"
"Fucking—oh, I don't know, for loads of reasons? We've been over this,
yeah? We're not actually compatible, not really."

"What makes us incompatible, then? Because I don't see it."

"Alright, no, you've just been… I mean, all that fake flirting we did, maybe
it got to you, is all. We'll stop, it'll pass, you'll realize that you don't fancy
me. And—and it's been ages since you've shagged someone, so that could
be it, too."

Barty clenches his jaw. "So, what, I pretended so well that I accidentally
convinced myself, is that it? And if I shag someone, then I'll stop being
confused?"

"Don't twist my words. That's not what I meant."

"I think that's exactly what you meant. Just because I've shagged people
doesn't mean shagging is the most important thing to me, Evan. Say what
you mean, or just—"

"I'm not holding your shagging habits against you," Evan hisses. "I just—I
think maybe you think you feel—"
"You're telling me what I feel now?" Barty cuts in.

"You don't fancy me!" Evan bursts out sharply. "You just don't, alright? I'm
not a fucking Regulus replacement, and I'm not about to get into something
with you when it'll inevitably end terribly. I'm just not."

Barty rears back. "Who the fuck said you're a Regulus replacement? I just
told you I stopped fancying him ages ago. And you're just assuming it
would end terribly?"

"I'm not doing this with you, Barty," Evan says, an edge to his tone. "Leave
it."

"But do you want to?" Barty counters.

Evan's lips part as he inhales quickly, then he presses his lips into a thin
line. After a beat, he says, "I'm going to bed."

"Evan," Barty murmurs, but Evan just launches himself up and stalks away
without another word. Barty dumps his head back against the settee and
closes his eyes, heaving a deep sigh.

When he opens his eyes again, the embers seem to mock him.

Chapter End Notes

mrs. wiseacre has my entire heart. yes, i accidentally had the wiseacres
adopt evan, and i have no regrets.

also, not barty coming in every thursday to see evan and buying a set
of scales he doesn't even need just to see him that boy is
SMITTEN. he's head over heels in love, HELP HIM.

meanwhile, evan: all these things we're doing, like spending all our
time together and flirting and cuddling—well, im not even thinking
about it. all signs points towards falling in love, but this sign can't stop
me, because i can't read, so THERE.

lmaoooo, james, mary, and sirius being like: wait, they're not together?
well, what the fuck is all this, then?

barty: im just saying, hypothetically, if evan and where to

hypothetically fancy each other, then we would make for a great
hypothetical couple, hypothetically.

everyone else:

also this: "He realizes then that it has nothing to do with being ready.
There's not a time when people are just—magically ready, if this is
what they're afraid of. The truth is, that time won't come, but someone
will. Someone will come, and they'll be more important than any fear
you've ever felt in your life. Someone will come, and you won't feel
afraid at all."

^ idk why, but that made me cry.

and the kiss. evan, bud, pal, my guy, wanna ask yourself why you
kissed barty back? no? okay. poor barty. he was so HONEST. like,
immediately. he was literally like: hey, that wasn't meaningless to me,
what should we do about that? he's come so far. and then evan really
went: Nope. Not Today. BACK BACK BACK I SAY
 INTERMISSION: Part Four
Chapter Notes

no warnings for this chapter, outside of some jealousy, just a little

angst, and that's about it, really.

enjoy! :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes

Hogwarts circa March, 1979

Evan groans and drops his head in his crossed arms, curling his hands up to
scrub them though his hair in frustration. He'd kick his feet and shout into
his pillow, too, if he were the sort to give into silly impulses like that, but he
isn't.

This is so stupid. All of this is just so fucking stupid.

It's different now with Barty, and that was the whole point, so Evan doesn't
know what the problem is. Well, alright, he does, but he doesn't want to
think about it. The issue is, he doesn't have any other choice but to think
about it. This isn't exactly one of those things he can just avoid.

When Evan suggested they stop the whole fake flirting bit, he didn't expect
to miss it. When Evan told Barty to leave it, he didn't expect Barty to leave
him alone, keep his distance, and make it quite fucking clear that he's angry
with Evan. How is that fair? Evan feels like that's not fair, Barty being
angry with him just because he won't go down this road with him. Evan's
the one being sensible, while Barty is being childish.

He's practically throwing a tantrum, honestly. Well, sort of. Alright, so he

isn't, but Evan knows him enough to recognize that his distance is a form of
defiance. He isn't mean, exactly, at least not outwardly; no, instead, he's curt
and stilted, never speaking to Evan when they're alone and making it quite
clear that he's not pleased with him. Barty doesn't flirt with him anymore,
call him dove, or come to him when he can't sleep. Barty is visibly agitated
every time they do talk to each other, and it's obvious enough that the others
have noticed.

Case in point. Regulus plops down on the end of Evan's bed and bluntly
asks, "Alright, what the fuck is going on?"

"Dunno what you're on about," Evan mutters without lifting his head.

"Evan. Stop mumbling and look at me."

"Merlin, leave me to my misery."

"I won't," Regulus says firmly, smacking the side of his leg, not hard
enough to hurt, just an insistent nudge to move. Evan gives in with a sigh
and flops over on his side to squint at Regulus, who purses his lips. "Well?
Something's happened between you and Barty. What's wrong?"
"Nothing. We're fine," Evan lies reflexively.

"Really?" Regulus arches an eyebrow at him. "In the last two weeks, Barty
has spent as much time with Pandora in Ravenclaw as he can get away
with, or literally anywhere else in this castle. He's peeved off and hardly
talks to you, and you two stopped that stupid fake flirting. Do I look like an
idiot?"

Evan scowls at him. "Do you want me to answer that honestly, or do you
want me to be nice? Because I can't do both."

"Evan," Regulus says, narrowing his eyes.

"Piss off, Regulus," Evan grumbles. "I mean it."

Regulus stares at him for a beat, then says, "It's like I said, isn't it? You two
joked around too much, and then it became real. So, who is it, then? Which
one of you fell in love?"

"That's not—"

"Barty?"
Evan huffs out a deep breath and glares at him. "Don't you have better
things to do? Shouldn't you be sneaking off to go see James, or
something?"

"I canceled the meeting this month," Regulus informs him, lips pressing
into a thin line.

"What?" Evan blinks. "Why?"

"Because," Regulus grits out, "two of my best friends are being twats, and
clearly something is wrong, which is stressing my other best friend out
because she's chronically invested in all of her favorite people's happiness,
of which you and Barty are included. It may have escaped your notice, but
we're a bit focused on you two at the moment. We're worried, Evan."

"There's nothing to worry about," Evan insists.

Regulus gives him a flat look. "Don't lie to me. You're worried, I can tell.
So, it's obviously Barty. What did he do? Tell you? Ask you to date him for
real? Snog you?"

Helplessly, Evan's face twitches on the last one.

"He snogged you," Regulus says, then his eyes widen a little bit. "He
snogged you. Oh, fucking hell."
"Stop, mate," Evan replies weakly. "I don't want to—"

"I take it that didn't go over well? Did you hit him? I know snogging
someone out of nowhere is shit, and you'd have every right to be upset,"
Regulus murmurs.

Evan groans and raises his hand to scrub his fingers roughly over his
forehead. "No, I didn't hit him, Reg. I—well, I…"

"You…?"

"I—I may have—um, snogged him back?"

"You—oh." Regulus blinks, then leans back and peers at him like he's
seeing him with new eyes. Evan wants to bury his head under his pillow
and hide away forever. "You snogged him back. Right. So, it was...nice,
then?"

"What?" Evan stares at him incredulously.

Regulus shrugs lazily. "Well, you know, I was terribly curious about it at
one point in time."
"Were you?" Evan asks flatly.

"I'm way past that now, but I do find it interesting to detect a note of—
what's that, Rosier? Is that jealousy?" Regulus raises both eyebrows at him
this time. "Am I hearing jealousy in your tone? Now, why is that?"

"You're awful. I hate you," Evan snaps.

"Mm, sure," Regulus says, unperturbed. "So, how was it?"

"I'm not talking about this with you."

"Because you're jealous?"

"I'm not jealous, fuck off."

"Sounds like you are, though."

"Well, I'm not."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm very sure."

"So, tell me about it, then. I'm curious."

"I wonder what James would have to say about that."

"Oh, he'd support me wholeheartedly in what I'm doing, I can assure you.
Go on, tell me. Was it a good snog? Is he bad at it? I trust your opinion, of
course, but if you'd rather not share, I suppose I could always go find out
for mys—"

"You fucking prick," Evan snarls, snatching the pillow from underneath him
and shooting up to smack Regulus in the face with it. He does it once more,
then again, and the third time, Regulus catches it while still sputtering and
yanks it away, holding it up like a shield. "I wonder what would happen if
Lily was curious about what it'd be like to snog James."

"Who's the prick now?" Regulus retorts, eyes narrowing, but then he
exhales as his face relaxes. "I'll have you know, the only person Lily cares
to snog is Mary, for one thing, and for another, James wouldn't indulge her
curiosity that she doesn't even have because he's too busy indulging me.
Funny, though, that you just essentially compared me to Lily, and James to
Barty. Real interesting, that."
Evan stares at him, then makes a swipe for the pillow with all intentions of
smacking him with it again, but Regulus just lazily tosses it over his
shoulder, removing the option. He crosses his arms and waits. Evan huffs.
"You're turning this into something it's not."

"You're jealous," Regulus counters bluntly. "Not really sure why you'd have
any reason to be jealous of me, but alright; no one said feelings have to be
rational, I suppose."

"I'm not—" Evan inhales deeply, then slowly exhales. His brain can't help
but point out that if he were jealous, it would be perfectly rational, actually,
because Barty fancied Regulus. A feeble, quiet part in the back of his brain
reminds him that Barty no longer does, but he ignores it, because he refuses
to care. Why should that matter to him? That would mean something, and it
can't mean something. Absolutely not.

Regulus levels him with a steady look and says, "You fancy him. Barty. You
fancy Barty."

"No," Evan argues, except his voice cracks, and he wants to get up, retrieve
the pillow, and bury his face in it as he screams.

"He snogged you, you snogged him back," Regulus points out, holding his
gaze. "I'm not seeing the issue, honestly. Clearly, neither of you are happy
apart, so just—be together. Merlin, Evan, learn from my mistakes, would
you?"
"We wouldn't work," is all Evan can bring himself to say.

"Why?" Regulus asks, frowning.

Evan hesitates, then mutters, "It never ends well for me, Reggie. This—
whatever he feels, it'll pass."

"That's not how it works, trust me," Regulus tells him, shaking his head. His
eyes have softened, though. "I get it, yeah? You have been burned one too
many times by a lot of people, so now you don't want to risk it."

"Yeah," Evan mumbles, releasing a sigh. "It's more than that, too. It's—it's
also just him. I can't handle that with him, mate, I just can't. He's too—"
Evan swallows and looks down at his hands in his lap. "He's too important
to me to lose, do you know what I mean? So, it's best if we just—stay as we
are, how it's safest to be."

Regulus is silent for a long beat, at least until Evan looks up, and then he
offers him a tiny smile. "You know, I said it once… I don't remember
exactly what it was, but it was something like Barty not being able to see
past the end of his cock to care for settling down, and whoever he fell in
love with would have to be more important than his cock, but I couldn't
think of anyone who qualified. Honestly, Evan, I think if anyone would
qualify in this world, it would be you."

"I have that working against me, too," Evan insists. "The fact that I care
nothing for his cock, I mean."
"Oh, stop," Regulus says firmly. "Listen to me. Let me make something
very clear, alright? I love shagging James, but that's not what I miss when
we're apart. I miss him. It's about him. James is what I need, not shagging
him, or even snogging him. Just him, and that's saying a lot, because I'm a
whore for him. It would be enough just to spend the rest of my life with him
without any of that—and who are you to decide that Barty can't or doesn't
feel that way for you?"

Evan swallows past the lump that has formed in his throat, finding it
impossible to speak. He knows what Regulus is saying to him, he does, but
letting himself accept it feels incredibly dangerous. Weighing the risk
versus Barty's importance to him is just—he can't. He can't do that.

"I could understand if you didn't feel the same, if you didn't fancy him, but
that's not the case, obviously," Regulus says, almost gentle. "Evan? That's
not the case, is it?"

Evan looks away, lips pressed into a thin line. And alright, he knows. He
does know. He's known from the moment Barty kissed him, and the first
thing he did was melt. It all became so clear him to then, and the worst part
is that he can't pinpoint the moment it started. He doesn't know. He's always
thought that Barty was beautiful, so that barely counts. When was it?

The moment he felt his heart clench when he saw Barty watching Regulus
and James together, back at the very beginning? Or the moment he found
Barty drugged and beaten on the floor, or when he stood beside Barty's bed
and begged him to wake up, but couldn't bring himself to say it out loud?
The moment when Barty turned up at his door and slipped into his bed, and
he was completely open to Barty being there? That hazy, glowing moment
when he confessed that Barty, with all his limits, is still the infinite—oh,
that's a strong contender, isn't it?

Every other moment after when Barty came back, and Evan never even
considered turning him away? The moments where they began fake flirting,
except he liked it, and it pleased him every fucking time? Or the moment he
felt nervous when he planned to ask Barty to live with him, then
disappointed when Barty already had plans for the summer, followed by the
delight that Barty would include him in them? All the moments when Barty
walked through the door at the shop just to see him, returning every time
without fail, and he looked for Barty each day? Or maybe it was that
moment where Barty stumbled into his bed and cuddled up to him, and he
let Barty do it, and he was so content that he couldn't imagine doing
anything else? Or was it the kiss? Was it the kiss?

Maybe, Evan thinks, it was all of it and more.

He's not sure if it matters when it happened, not when he knows that it did.
Somehow, somewhere along the way, he swore off love to go walking face-
first into it with the last person he could have ever seen coming. Barty has
always been there, and it still took Evan by surprise. Barty would like that,
if he knew, but Evan won't be telling him.

But Evan can tell Regulus, and so he does, because maybe if he says it out
loud, the fluttering of hope in the back of his mind will be extinguished.
"No, that's not the case, but—"
"But nothing," Regulus cuts in. "You fancy him, he fancies you, don't be
idiots. I was...briefly an idiot, and so was James, and trust me, you'll regret
wasting time you could have spent being smart instead. Just do something
about it."

"I am doing something about it."

"Something else, Evan. Something that's not—this. Because this is just

making you both miserable. At least talk to him."

"I'll think about it," Evan mumbles, but he plans to do no such thing. He's
made his choice, and it's for the best.

Hogwarts circa March, 1979

"Easter hols are coming up. Are you still going home with Evan?" Regulus
asks, falling into step next to Barty as they push through the crowds,
heading for the dorm.

Barty promptly feels his heart drop. He glances over at Regulus warily. "I—
well, I planned to. Why? Did he say something?"
"No," Regulus says, as Barty's heart cautiously starts climbing the rungs of
ribs like a ladder. "I just thought that maybe you'd back out, seeing as you
two are having a domestic."

"What?" Barty's heart goes banging back down, hitting each individual rib
on the descent. "Domest—we're not having a fucking—wait, should I back
out? Is that—"

"Oh, so you're hopeless, too. Lovely," Regulus mutters with a weary sigh,
tossing a hand up. "No, Barty, you obviously shouldn't back out. That's
what I'm making sure you won't do."

"Too. I'm hopeless, too." Barty narrows his eyes at Regulus, who doesn't
even blink. "You've been talking to Evan, haven't you? What did he tell
you?"

"Yes," Regulus answers shamelessly, "and he honestly didn't tell me much,

so it was up to me to sort out what's going on. From what I've gathered, you
snogged him—which, you know, maybe not the best idea to do out of
nowhere, by the way—"

"Don't you think I know that?" Barty snaps.

Regulus waves a hand lazily, carelessly. "Yes, well, he snogged you back,
I've heard. Just curious, but was it nice?"
"The kiss?" Barty asks, and Regulus nods. "Oh, yeah, it was brilliant. Best
I've ever had, honestly."

"Ah, good for you—and him, I suppose," Regulus muses, his lips twitching.
There's a faint glimmer of humor in his eyes as he looks at Barty. "Evan is
terribly jealous of me, you know. I can't work out why he would be, but—"

"Oh," Barty says, "because I used to fancy you."

"You—" Regulus comes to a screeching halt right in the middle of the hall,
forcing Barty to slow down to a stop and turn towards him. Regulus is
frowning. "You what?"

Barty purses his lips. "Yeah, since I was about fourteen, and all the way into
last year. I moved on and realized on the last day of sixth year that I'd gotten
over you."

"I—you never said anything," Regulus murmurs, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Barty, I never knew this at all."

"Yeah, I know. That was sort of how I preferred it," Barty admits, amused.
Poor Regulus looks like his world has been turned upside down. "I wasn't
going to do anything about it. I didn't want to do anything about it, really,
because I wasn't ready—except I've realized being ready has less to do with
time and more to do with the person. I wasn't it, for you; it wasn't you, for
me. Evan knows I don't fancy you anymore, so I don't know what he has to
be jealous about."
Regulus grimaces. "Well, if I had known this, I wouldn't have riled him up
like I did. I...may have meddled, a bit. Sorry. And sorry for…" His face
scrunches, and he does this odd, spastic motion with both hands, visibly
uncomfortable. "Well, I didn't know any of this, so I'm not sure what I'm
actually apologizing for, but I know it's not—it's not easy, um—"

"Reggie, I beg of you, please stop," Barty cuts in, stifling a laugh, and
Regulus' face turns bright red. "What part of I moved on did you not hear? I
don't need you to gently reject me, mate, so don't bother. I'm fine. It was all
fine. You were always my best friend before anything else anyway."

"Right," Regulus says slowly, his face smoothing out. He's still a little red,
but he seems relieved now that all of that is out of the way. "You know, you
being the worst to James suddenly makes so much sense. I'm telling him
about this."

Barty rolls his eyes. "You tell him everything."

"Oh, sorry, my apologies for actually talking to my boyfriend," Regulus

replies, scoffing under his breath. "Unlike some people, who go into a strop
and avoid—"

"Evan isn't my boyfriend," Barty hisses. "That's sort of the fucking

problem, Regulus, if you hadn't noticed."
"He fancies you," Regulus informs him, speaking each word like he's
explaining something very simple to a child. "Barty, he fancies you. He was
jealous. He snogged you back."

"Yes, I'm not so much of an idiot that I didn't realize all of these things,"
Barty grits out. "I'm very aware, alright? You don't have to tell me, as if I
don't know. I do know. The problem is, in spite of those things, Evan won't
do anything about it. He won't let me do anything about it. You think I'm
angry because I think he doesn't fancy me? No, I'm angry because I think
he does, and he won't even try."

"You know, if I'm honest, I really did not foresee Evan being the one
resisting," Regulus mutters. "I genuinely expected you to be the one
running and screaming in the opposite direction. Evan's always been a little
more open to love than you."

"Except not with me," Barty mumbles.

Regulus winces in instant regret. "Oh, that's not—I didn't mean it like—"

"You're not helping, Regulus," Barty says flatly. "I can see that you're
trying, and thank you, but this is really not in your plethora of skills, mate.
Just because you're in a relationship with one of the most love-driven,
romantic blokes in this world doesn't mean you're an expert on the
subject."

"James would know what to do," Regulus says solemnly.

Barty huffs out a weak laugh. "Yeah, probably. I—thank you, really, for
trying. I mean it."

"I still think you should just talk to him," Regulus says, his lips tipping
down. "Most things can be solved by just talking about them, and I wish I
could go back and do that instead of...what I did. So, maybe try that?"

"I did try that," Barty complains. "Evan doesn't want to talk about it. What
can I do?"

"Not...give...up?" Regulus suggests tentatively. "I mean, we both know

these things don't just pass, do they?"

"No, they don't," Barty agrees, "but I know a thing or two about letting
friendship be enough."

Regulus arches an eyebrow. "Then why are you so angry?"

"Oh, shut up, and for fuck's sake, stop trying to help," Barty grumbles,
whipping around and marching along, ignoring Regulus' muted sigh as he
follows behind him.
Diagon Alley circa April, 1979

"Not that I don't appreciate the extra help, dove, but do you want to tell me
why you're avoiding going home?" Mrs. Wiseacre asks, watching Evan
empty out the till for her. By now, he knows how to do everything in this
shop, including closing down for the night, which he's been helping her do
for the last four days straight, just so he'll get home late.

Not that it would honestly matter what time Evan got home or didn't,
because Barty has been avoiding him. He never really comes out of his
room, and Evan has heard from Dorcas that he's gone over to hers and
Marlene's a lot, as well as spending a lot of time with Peter, James, and
Regulus—and Sirius and Remus, by extension, despite the fact that their
flat is across the hall. It's no surprise to Evan that Sirius, James, Peter, and
Remus come and go out of one another's flats as they please; they're all
ridiculously codependent, honestly.

Evan hasn't seen much of Barty this entire break. Barty is always asleep
when Evan gets up to go to work, and he's either gone or shut up in his
room when Evan comes creeping in as late as he can push it. Every time,
there's a plate of dinner charmed to stay warm out for him, which feels like
a vibrant fuck you in a way Evan can't explain. He eats it, because he would
feel bad throwing it away, seeing as wasting food is wasting money, and he
doesn't have the same financial carelessness as he did when he was
swimming in family galleons. It's been four days of this, and tomorrow is
the first day that Evan is meant to have a day off, but he's genuinely
considering just coming in anyway.
"Can I come in tomorrow?" Evan asks as soon as he's had the thought,
because he'd like to go on avoiding his problems, please and thank you.

Mrs. Wiseacre purses her lips, plants her hands on her hips, and narrows her
eyes at him. "You want to come in?"

"Yes," Evan mumbles.

"Evan," Mrs. Wiseacre says, her face softening, "are you—is this about
money? Do you need—"

Evan's eyes bulge, and he starts shaking his head frantically, waiting for her
to cut herself off before he speaks. "No, Mrs. Wiseacre, it's nothing like
that. I'm—I'm fine, I swear."

"Are you lying to me, Evan Rosier?"

"No, ma'am."

"If you're ever struggling, dove, you can tell me. We'll help you as best we
can," Mrs. Wiseacre insists.
"I—thank you, really, but it's not that. I just—" Evan sighs and deflates as
he closes the till. "Well, you're right, I don't really want to be at home right
now, that's all."

The worry drains out of Mrs. Wiseacre's face, and she takes a second to
study him. Her eyes narrow again. "Is this about that boy? He came back
with you last time. Is he here again?"

"Well, yes," Evan admits with a grimace.

"I see." Mrs. Wiseacre clicks her tongue. "He's here, yet he hasn't come in
to see you, not once. Well, you know, I've been married for fifty-three years,
Evan. Not all fifty-three of those years were perfect; my husband and I had
many domestics. So, if you need advice, I can help."

Evan stares at her. "Sorry, do you—do you think Barty and I are…?"

"Oh, no need to hide it from me, dove." Mrs. Wiseacre waves her hand
lazily. "I have twelve children. If you think I didn't have to go through
something like this with any of them before, you don't understand
probability. I learned, I suppose. Love who you love, I say. I didn't always,
admittedly, but sometimes your children are brought into your life to teach
you things you need to learn. Sends me around the twist that some parents
can't take the time to be taught, too stuck in their ways and such. Who's to
say our way is the only way? Whatever makes them happy, that's what's
best."
"Mrs. Wiseacre, that's—that's lovely, truly, but Barty and I aren't…"

"Oh! Oh, did I assume wrong? Perhaps I shouldn't. I'm sorry."

"No, I mean, I am, but—"

"Oh, well, you're not going to tell me the boy isn't. Because he's smitten
with you, and you can't convince me otherwise. I've been around long
enough to know it when I see it."

"We're not—we're just mates," Evan mutters.

Mrs. Wiseacre raises her eyebrows at him. "Not by his choice, surely." Evan
opens his mouth, then closes it, and she nods in a knowing way. "Well,
that's a shame, innit? Far as I can tell, you're just as smitten. Now, if you've
broken up—"

"We weren't together."

"Don't interrupt me, dove. As I was saying, if you've broken up, I'd
recommend stepping back and seeing how you really feel about it. My
husband and I broke up three times before we ever got married, but we
always found our way back to each other in the end. My advice? Just talk to
him, and whatever it is that's keeping you apart—well, by the time you're
my age, I promise neither of you will even remember it."
Evan clears his throat. "That's just the thing, Mrs. Wiseacre. I don't think
Barty and I can make it to that age, not together."

"Why not? Is he an unfaithful lad?" Mrs. Wiseacre asks.

"No! Merlin, no," Evan blurts out quickly. "I just—I won't be able to give
him what he needs, really. I don't exactly have the best record with
relationships that don't fall apart, that's all."

Mrs. Wiseacre's face softens. "Oh, you sound like my husband. He didn't
have much to his name when we were young, and this shop…" She looks
around fondly. "Well, it was never my dream, always his. Back then,
o'course, women weren't meant for anything other than marriage, or that's
what most thought, but I had things I wanted to do. Travel, mostly. My
husband never wanted to leave England, wanted to plant his roots and build
something. And look at us now."

"So, you—you gave in," Evan mumbles.

"No, not at all. It's called compromise, dove," Mrs. Wiseacre says with a
gentle smile. "We made it work, because that's what it comes down to.
Effort. If you want to be with someone, you'll figure out how, one way or
another. I've been all over the world, and he's always waiting on me at
home." She moves forward and reaches out to squeeze his arm. "The only
thing we need in this life is water, food, and shelter. That's just surviving.
It's living we're all aiming for, and you can do that any way you like with
enough effort."
Evan blows out a deep breath, his heart clenching in his chest as he chews
on his lip. "Weren't you scared?"

"Oh, certainly," Mrs. Wiseacre confirms. "It wasn't always easy, but it was
always worth it. You've done a brave thing, leaving your home to find your
place in the world. It's scary, and you're overwhelmed, but don't let that run
you away from the person you want to be right beside you through it all."

"It could end badly," Evan says weakly.

Mrs. Wiseacre hums. "Yes, well, everything can end badly. Think about all
the things that don't. Probability says that this might not, and that
probability goes up if you make an effort, but it goes down if you don't. It's
your life, dove. You fought for it, now don't be afraid to live it."

"Alright," Evan whispers, his eyes stinging, face feeling flushed and tight.
There's a lump in his throat, and he's ridiculously emotional at the moment,
because it feels like Mrs. Wiseacre has just unlocked something within him,
like she knew the exact words to say that he needed to hear.

"Oh, come here," Mrs. Wiseacre murmurs tenderly, shuffling forward to

pull him into a tight hug. He hugs her back, just as he does every time she
drags him into one of these. There's nothing like a hug from Mrs. Wiseacre.
When she pulls away, she smiles at him. "Go home, and I don't want to see
you in my shop tomorrow, am I understood?"
Evan huffs a weak laugh. "Yes, ma'am."

Because Mrs. Wiseacre has given him a lot to think about, Evan doesn't floo
directly home. He does the same thing he's been doing for the past four
nights; he pops over a few blocks from his flat and walks there, slowly. It
gives him some time to think and come to a decision.

Of course, no sooner than Evan has decided he will talk to Barty does he
walk up his street to see the Knight Bus screech to a halt as Barty comes
stumbling off it with a girl tucked up under his arm. They're both
undeniably sloshed, tripping over each other, slurring their words as they
try not to face-plant the sidewalk. Evan stops, his jaw clenching.

"Oh, this is unfortunate," Barty slurs the moment Evan walks up to them.
He hiccups. "Didn't expect you home yet, dove."

"Excuse me, what's your name?" Evan murmurs to the woman, who can't
even stand up straight, no more than Barty can.

"Imogen," says Imogen. "Nice to meet you. Friend of Bart's, are you? Any
friend of Bart's is a friend of mine."

"Barty," Barty mumbles. "Told you, it's—it's Barty."

"Imogen, I think it's best you go home," Evan says.

"Oh, I take it back. We're not friends anymore," Imogen protests with a
whine. "Bart, make him go away."

Barty stumbles away from her instead, and they both get dangerously close
to tipping over. Barty steadies himself as Evan reaches out to steady
Imogen. "Sorry, can't do that. He said you have to go away, so you have to
go away."

"But you said—"

"Forget what I said. I already have. It's his flat, in any case. If he says you
can't come up, then you can't."

"Can't I come up?" Imogen asks hopefully.

Evan keeps a steady hand on her elbow as he guides her back towards the
bus. The poor man is still standing on the steps, waiting to be paid. "No,
you can't. I'm paying to have you taken home. Sir, will you see to it that she
gets safely inside?"

"That costs extra," is the bland response.

"Of course it does," Evan says with a sigh, digging the galleons out and
passing them over, then helping Imogen on the bus and safely to a seat. She
complains and makes more than a few naughty comments about what she
would much rather be doing with Barty at the moment, but he makes sure
she's settled, then heads off the bus. The doors slam shut behind him, then
the tires screech as the bus shoots off again.

"Oh, I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Barty asks solemnly, swaying on the spot like
a stray wind could knock him over.

Evan runs his tongue over his teeth under his top lip and points towards the
building, nostrils flaring. Barty heaves a sigh and tosses up his hands,
muttering under his breath as he swivels on the spot and starts stumbling
forward. The stairs are his downfall, honestly. He nearly goes down with a
slurred yelp, so Evan huffs and moves over to grab him.

"Idiot," Evan grumbles as he keeps Barty steady.

Barty leans over into him with a hum. "Yeah, maybe so, but a warm idiot.
You're so warm, you know. Have I—did I ever tell you that when we were
still talking?"

"Shut up, Barty."

"You're angry with me, but I haven't done anything wrong."

"No? So, you don't think it's a little rude just bringing some strange woman
to my flat to—shag her, I presume?" Evan asks sharply, hauling Barty
further up the hall.

"Well, it's meant to be my flat, too, isn't it?" Barty mumbles, then huffs out a
startled breath when Evan tips him unceremoniously against the wall by the
door, leaving him slumped there as he fishes for his keys. "If it's mine too, I
can bring whoever I like, can't I?"

"No," Evan snaps, then doesn't elaborate.

"Mm, you know what I think it is?" Barty muses, leaning closer to Evan and
lowering his voice to a whisper. "I think you're jealous, dove."

Evan scoffs and jabs the key into the lock, scowling as he twists it and
flings the door open. "I assure you, I'm not."

"Well, it'd be terribly ironic if you were," Barty says. "You're the one who
told me to do it, aren't you? To do this. Isn't this what you wanted, Evan?"

"Oh, yeah, this is all my dreams coming true," Evan grouses sarcastically, a
bitter edge to his voice as he reaches out to latch onto Barty's arm and drag
him inside.
Barty stumbles along, murmuring, "You're—you're really strong. Merlin,
you are so strong."

"Go to bed, Barty," Evan grits out, pushing Barty towards his room with a
scowl.

"Wait, wait, Evan, wait," Barty blurts out quickly, tripping over his words
and his feet as he surges forward. "I'm sorry, alright? I'm—I'm trying, but
it's not working. You said for me to find someone else, but—

"Barty," Evan warns.

"But the thing is," Barty continues, speaking in a slurred rush now, "it's not
going to work like you think it will. I'm trying, and it doesn't work. Nothing
is going to work. Can't do it sober, and even being drunk doesn't keep you
out of my head, so what am I to do? Tell me what to do. What would you
have me do? Because I don't know. I really don't know anymore."

"You're pissed," Evan says. "I'm not doing this with you right now, not
when you're like this."

"You won't do anything," Barty complains. "I'd just rather you not want me.
That would be better than—than this. Because you do, don't you? You must,
or it wouldn't feel like this. It wouldn't be like this. I fucking miss you,
Evan. Can you believe that? I shouldn't have to miss you. That's not fair."
"Alright, time for bed," Evan declares firmly, reaching out to grasp Barty's
arm to pull him towards his room.

"So strong," Barty breathes out, then quite literally digs his heels in when
they reach the door to his room. He twists around, facing Evan, and comes
to a halt so abruptly that Evan bumps right into him. Barty sways back, then
forward, then seems to just give up and drop his head down to Evan's
shoulder. He practically goes limp against him with a deep sigh of relief.
"Can I sleep with you?"

Evan closes his eyes. "That's an extremely bad idea."

"Why?" Barty whispers. "We've done it before."

"Which only further helped land us in this mess," Evan tells him, holding
still as Barty's arms loosely link around his waist. It's like he's trying to fold
himself up and get as close to Evan as he can. Evan really shouldn't allow
it, but the thing is, he likes it too much to stop it. He misses Barty, too.

"It doesn't have to be a mess. Don't make it a mess, dove," Barty responds,
his voice soft and low and syrupy, like he's drifting off standing up.
"Please? You can blame it on me being pissed in the morning, if you like."

"Yeah, alright," Evan caves, eyes slowly opening again. He can feel the grin
Barty presses against his shoulder, and stupidly, it makes Evan's heart
squeeze with affection for this mess of a human being holding onto him.
"Come on, then. You have to let me go if we're going to go, Barty."
Barty grunts like this displeases him, but he nonetheless unlocks his arms
and swings them by his sides, lifting his head to reveal hazy eyes. "You
could carry me, I bet."

"I'm not carrying you," Evan says, helplessly amused, despite everything.
He cups Barty's elbow and guides him further down the hall towards his
own door.

"But I bet you could," Barty replies. "You're so strong."

Evan rolls his eyes as he pauses to open his door, trying with all his might
to smother his smile. "I'm not that strong. You just have no sense of balance
at the moment, is all."

"Sure," Barty says, sounding skeptical, and then he tugs away from Evan to
stumble right for his bed. He does halt to kick out of his shoes with no small
amount of difficulty, but he has enough mind to do it, even while drunk. He
slides his hands along the sheets as he slips underneath them. "Oh, I haven't
been sleeping well, you know. I've missed you."

"You've mentioned," Evan murmurs as he swings around the divider

between his closet and bed to change out of his clothes he wore to work.

Barty doesn't speak again until Evan steps back out, dressed for bed. "I was
watching your shadow just now, and it's—it's a really fit shadow, Evan. You
have a beautiful silhouette."

"Don't try to flirt with me right now, Barty. You're too pissed to be any good
at it," Evan tells him, huffing out a quiet laugh as he slips into bed. "I have
a beautiful silhouette? I mean, honestly, that's just… That might be your
worst yet."

"Don't tease me. My brain's all fuzzy," Barty mutters, sort of pouting at him,
a frown on his face and a wrinkle between his eyebrows. "What if it's like a
muscle? What if it goes away if I don't do it enough? But you're the only
one I really want to do it with, and you made it very clear that I can't
anymore. I miss that, too. I really miss it, you know."

Evan settles in, his head turned on his pillow towards Barty. He studies his
face. "You miss a lot of things, don't you?"

"Yes," Barty mumbles.

"Lovely to see how you handle that," Evan says airily, pursing his lips.
"Shame Imogen couldn't help."

Barty groans. "Oh, I knew you were upset about it. That's not fair, Evan.
You shouldn't be allowed, because—because I just did exactly what you
told me to."
"You didn't have to listen."

"You didn't have to tell me to. Why did you tell me to, if you were only
going to be upset about it?"

"I'm not upset," Evan snaps, helplessly upset and wishing with every part of
him that he wasn't, because Barty isn't wrong. Evan told him to do it. He
has no right to be upset or jealous when he could have Barty, if only he'd
have Barty. He's very aware of how absurd he's acting, but he can't help it
either.

"You're so upset. You're really, really jealous," Barty argues, shuffling a

little on the bed, his hand reaching out in the space between them so his
fingers bump into Evan's arm. He gently rubs his pinky back and forth,
caressing skin, and that small contact makes Evan's stomach swoop and his
heart race.

Evan swallows thickly. "I hate that you've done this to me. Why does it
have to be you? Anyone else, and I could risk it. Anyone else, and they
wouldn't be as important as you."

"I reckon that's why it has to be me," Barty murmurs, slipping his fingers up
to grab the end of Evan's sleeve, tugging on it a bit. "Come here, dove. Will
you come here?"

"No," Evan says, then immediately turns over and presses himself into
Barty's side, closing his eyes as he settles against him. Barty makes a quiet
noise of contentment, his arms coming up to circle around Evan's back, one
hand delving into his hair, gently kneading his scalp. Evan practically goes
boneless against him, stifling a groan of approval against Barty's shoulder.
Oh, that feels good.

"Like that, do you?" Barty asks, sounding amused and more slurred than
before, lazy like a cat stretching out in a warm patch of sun. Satisfied and
calm. Evan has so rarely known Barty to be satisfied and calm, but he's
noticing a pattern for when it happens; it seems to be when he's with Evan.

"Yes," Evan admits. "Don't stop."

Barty chuckles. "I won't. You did it to me, you know, on New Year's. I think
about that so much that it's embarrassing."

"Well, you might have been doing it with Imogen instead—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Evan."

Rather ridiculously, Evan is equally frustrated that he's just said that. He has
the most absurd urge to turn his face to clamp down on Barty's arm with his
teeth, like that will help alleviate all this frustration that he can't rid of,
because fuck, he doesn't want Barty to want anyone else. He doesn't want
Barty to be with anyone else. It makes him want to toss things around when
he thinks about Barty with anyone else.
"I'm just saying," Evan mutters, because admitting to anything makes him
want to run screaming from the room.

"Well, don't," Barty retorts with a huff. "No more talking. Just go to sleep,
yeah? We'll talk more tomorrow."

"Fine," Evan grumbles.

"So fussy," Barty says softly, sounding ridiculously fond, and he scratches
his nails gently over Evan's scalp.

Evan can't help but shudder. "Oh, do that again."

"This?" Barty repeats the motion, and Evan swears his eyes would roll back
if they were open.

"Yeah, that," Evan breathes out. "Merlin, that's better than shagging.
Fucking hell."

Barty does it again. "No offense, dove, but you haven't—"

"No, I know I haven't, but I know," Evan insists, because he's really quite
sure. "Don't argue with me. I'm right."
"I believe you," Barty says, then does it again, and keeps doing it. After a
bit, he adds a bit of pressure, scratching his way down, then kneading his
way back up.

Evan goes slack against him. "I'm going to fall asleep."

"So fall asleep," Barty replies. "Goodnight."

"Is it alright with me laying on you like this?" Evan checks. "I don't want
you to feel—trapped."

Barty smacks his lips lazily. "Mm, it's fine. I never feel trapped with you."

"Oh," Evan whispers. He forgives himself for essentially snuggling closer

the moment he realizes he can, and he gets to enjoy five more passes of
Barty's fingers before he's asleep.

Evan's flat circa April, 1979

Barty wonders if it's a bit creepy to study Evan's features so intently while
he's sleeping. He hopes it's not, because that's exactly what he's doing, and
he has no intentions of stopping.

It's not even the first time Barty has seen Evan while he's sleeping, and yet
he's enamored anyway. He's seen Evan in various states of sleeping; the sort
of sleep that's so deep that he drools and snorts every few minutes; the
drowsy sleep where his mouth is slack, and his eyelids twitch as his eyes
move behind them; the precarious edge of sleep and being awake, his face
scrunching and his eyelashes fluttering even before he's awake enough to
fully reorient to the world. Barty knows them all by now, and yet he's still
fascinated.

Maybe it's because Barty is viscerally aware of how lucky he is to be seeing

this at all, especially considering what occurred the previous night. There's
no possible way that Evan doesn't fancy him, or else he would have never
let a stumbling-drunk Barty into his bed last night after that whole bit with
Imogen.

In Barty's defense, he stands by the fact that Evan really has no right to be
angry with him. Jealous and upset, yes, that's fair. But Barty didn't do
anything wrong, and really, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. By
which he means he was too many pints in, drowning his sorrows over the
fact that he'd lost not only one of his best friends but also the one person in
the world who's worth more than the weight of his fear of love, so it was
double the damage, really.

And he was entirely convinced that he'd lost Evan, because Evan hadn't led
him to believe anything else. As if Barty didn't notice Evan blatantly
avoiding him. Coming back to the flat late, hours past when he should have
left the shop, doing only Merlin knows what to avoid being near him.
Eating the food Barty left for him, then waiting until Barty was asleep or
out to wash the plate, never even using the excuse to say thank you as a
reason to talk to him. Every sign pointed to Evan having absolutely nothing
to do with Barty so long as he carried on fancying him, and while that
wasn't going to simply pass, he could at least put in the effort to make it
look like it was, if only to make Evan more comfortable, so...Imogen.

That backfired spectacularly, as it turns out.

Imogen was a lovely woman, to be fair. A bit older than him; she'd
graduated from Hogwarts three years before, but she was a Ravenclaw and
vaguely remembered Pandora, and only had kind things to say about her.
Moreover, she'd just gotten out of a two year relationship and was trying to
branch out again, and she was more than happy to chat and drink with him
like they were old friends. Of course, by the time they both got sloshed, it
seemed like a good idea to him to use her to prove something to Evan, and
it seemed like a good idea for her to use him to...branch out.

Barty imagines that she's waking up grateful this morning that it didn't go as
their addled minds under the influence thought it would, just as he is. He
mentally wishes her well.

As for Barty's morning, he's recovered. Because he's smart, the first thing
he did when he woke up (miraculously before Evan) was slip out from
underneath him to take a hangover potion and have a shower. Once feeling
better, he changed, then crawled right back into bed. He's not an idiot. He
won't let the opportunity to be here slip by.
Barty basks in it for as long as he can, at least until Evan starts to stir
awake. It's a slow process, his face doing that twitching and scrunching
thing, eyelids crinkling before fluttering open. He squints, bleary-eyed, then
squeezes his eyes shut again before blinking slowly. Barty is so unbearably
fond of him.

"Are you watching me sleep?" Evan croaks, his voice raspy with sleep,
which sounds really, really good on him.

"No," Barty lies.

Evan grunts. "Liar."

"So, you're awake now," Barty says, mostly to distract him.

"Give me a minute," Evan grouses, shoving himself up and stumbling from

the bed. Down the hall, the tap starts to run in the loo, so he's likely
brushing his teeth.

Barty stays sprawled out in bed. It's warm beneath the blankets, and if he
scoots over into Evan's spot a bit to leech the heat he left behind, well, that's
no one's business but his own. Who's going to judge him for it anyway?

When Evan comes back, more awake and refreshed, he slides right back
into his spot, which means he bumps right into Barty, who says, "Well,
hello."

"Why are you on my side?" Evan asks with a huff.

"I'm not on your side. I'm on my side," Barty lies.

Evan pointedly wriggles against him. "You're clearly not. If you were on
your side, we would not be touching this much."

"Maybe you have too much side."

"It's my bed."

"Yes, but we've just established that I have one side of it, so who's to say
how big each side is?" Barty counters.

"It's my bed, so my side should be bigger." Evan props up on one elbow,

peering over Barty's body and squawking in disbelief as soon as he sees all
the extra bed behind him. "You are on my side. Look at all that room you
have. I'm about to fall off, you prick."

"Just lay on me."

"Or you could, I don't know, budge over."

Barty gazes up at him with a helpless smile, enjoying this far too much.
"You didn't mind laying on me last night."

"Well, it seemed like the best thing to do to keep you from slipping off to do
something stupid, like—oh, Imogen," Evan retorts, then his eyes
immediately sink shut as he releases a deep sigh, as if he's disappointed
with himself.

"The Imogen thing really got to you, didn't it?" Barty asks, biting his lip.

Evan's eyes snap open, and he glares. "No."

"No?" Barty echoes doubtfully, holding his gaze. Evan looks agitated, itchy,
very much 'gotten to', as it were. On one hand, Barty's sort of thriving
because of it; on the other, he sort of hates it, because he doesn't want Evan
to be upset, and he knows there's no need for Evan to be jealous at all.

"No," Evan repeats firmly.

"Alright," Barty murmurs. "You just seem to keep bringing it up a lot, like
it's bothering you, that's all."
"I'm not—" Evan halts, pressing his lips into a thin line. For a long moment,
he just peers down at Barty, seeming to work himself up to something.
Finally, he asks, "Did you snog her?"

Barty blinks. "What?"

"Well, you were well on your way to shagging her, so I'm assuming you…"
Evan grimaces, letting the sentence hang. His face smooths out when Barty
doesn't immediately answer (he's too stunned to), and the longer it takes for
Barty to speak, the narrower Evan's eyes get.

"No," Barty replies, mystified. "I can't believe you just asked me that. Evan,
that's really embarrassing for you."

Evan scowls. "Shut up. Don't you think I know? You didn't?"

"No, I didn't," Barty tells him, huffing out a stunned laugh, still amazed by
how much this has actually gotten under Evan's skin. He really didn't take
Evan for the jealous type, if he's honest. "Really, we were mostly just
chatting and drinking. It wasn't until we were both too sloshed to have any
good ideas that we decided to catch the bus here. There was no snogging, so
don't fret."

"I'm not fretting," Evan protests. Barty stares at him until he scowls again.
"I was just asking, Barty. Is that a crime?"
"No, dove, of course not," Barty says, amused. "Ask anything you like."

"Did you want to snog her?" Evan blurts out instantly.

Barty looks up at him and says, "No."

Evan is very still for a bit, almost seeming to hold his breath as Barty holds
his gaze, and then he inhales sharply just before his hand darts up to cup
Barty's jaw. In the next second, Evan is dipping down to kiss him.

Barty feels like he's spilling out against the pillows and sheets, liquid
overturned from a cup, a puddle that doesn't lose any density as it covers
more area. The thing that grounds him and keeps him from evaporating
entirely is Evan's hand against his jaw and Evan's mouth against his own;
everything else swirls away from him until that's all that matters.

It's genuinely the best kiss Barty has ever been given (not taken, but that
honor also goes to Evan for their first kiss, which Barty will never forget).
There doesn't need to be any tongue or teeth or urgency for it to be better
than anything with anyone else, simply because it's Evan. Genuinely, Barty
doesn't give a toss about technique or direction; this isn't leading anywhere,
and it's not about anything other than the simple fact that they want it. The
beautiful thing about Evan kissing him is that he kisses him just to kiss
him.
There's something about being with the person who knows the worst and
best of you, who has all your secrets, who wants absolutely nothing of what
you've made it a habit to give people because that's all you're usually
willing to give at all. Barty can't offer to Evan what he usually offers to
people, because Evan doesn't want that, so all Barty has is himself. It's just
him and unearned hope, and is he enough? He hasn't felt like it, but here
and now with Evan's mouth gently moving against his own, he's starting to.

Barty is happy to lay right where he is and do this all day, simply pleased
with the kiss and getting to sweep his hands up and down Evan's back, over
his shoulders, down his chest and back again—mapping the dimensions of
him out, getting familiar with them in a way friends aren't generally
fortunate to (he's privileged, clearly), and really, Evan is so ridiculously
warm, even through his clothes, that's it's genuinely mental.

Evan breaks away, whispering, "Shouldn't have done that," as he begins to

pepper soft kisses over Barty's cheeks, then his forehead, and he even kisses
the end of Barty's nose and each shut eyelid. For all that Evan apparently
shouldn't have done that, he's sure doing it again, all over Barty's face like
he can't stop himself, and Barty is not complaining in the least.

Why this is so intimate, Barty couldn't explain, but it sends a rush of

surging emotions through him that he isn't even afraid of. He hums when
Evan's forehead lands against his with a dull tap, Evan still propped up over
him, one hand sliding up and down Barty's arm. For a moment, they just lay
there in the gentle quiet they've created between them, breathing.

"I think we should get back together," Barty announces as casually as he

can, and Evan chokes out a laugh as he turns his head to press his face into
the curve of Barty's neck, hiding his smile there, except Barty can feel it.
"I'm saying this a lot lately," Evan mutters as he lifts his head to stare down
at him, "but we weren't together."

Barty clicks his tongue. "We basically were, really, if you think about it. I've
been practically dating you for an entire year, did you know that? Think
about it—since March of last year, I've spent all my free time with you,
flirting with you, not anyone else. Fucking hell, Evan, I have ten sets of
brass scales that I don't even need, and for what? Just to see you."

"Barty," Evan mumbles, heaving a sigh.

"No," Barty says. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to kiss me and
then just—take it all back. You said we'd talk, so fucking talk to me."

Evan purses his lips. "I'm not taking anything back, alright?"

"Well...good," Barty settles on, admittedly taken by surprise, because he

was expecting that. He and Evan squint at each other suspiciously for a long
moment, then it seems to catch up to them both at the same time how
absurd this is for them to do. Evan rolls his eyes, and Barty snorts. "Fine,
carry on, talk. Is it really just the shagging thing that you're worried about?
Because you don't have to be, you know."

"It's not—you," Evan says slowly. He grimaces. "Regulus put it like this,
yeah? I've been burned one too many times to want to risk it. More than just
people I've dated in the past, but my own bloody family wouldn't accept me
as I am, Barty. That has a way of sticking with someone. It's not—this part
isn't really about you, or that you like shagging, or how many people you've
shagged. It's about me being repeatedly rejected by people in my life, and
it's not fair."

Barty gets that, the way fears and insecurities and personal issues can
manifest in every part of your life. He's dealt with that practically his whole
life, at this point. He's dealt with it recently, with Evan, who was avoiding
coming home because Barty was there, who made it seem like he didn't care
—and what did Barty do? Something stupid, lashing out, trying to prove he
didn't care either. No different than Barty acts with his father. These things
happen. Barty understands.

"Here's a secret, dove," Barty tells him. "All those people? They're fucking
stupid, and they're missing out. It's not fair, you're right, but don't for a
second believe what they think is true. There's nothing wrong with you. Not
one thing. You're not broken, Evan, and you're not failing anyone by being
who you are. Certainly not me."

"I don't want to shag," Evan rasps.

"I know," Barty responds.

"Ever," Evan says, dragging the word out, holding his gaze seriously. "You
won't get to ever, Barty. Do you know that? For some people like me, I've
learned, they can do it and even enjoy it; they just simply don't feel the
desire to. But for me, I can't. It—it's just not something I'll ever be able to
do."

"Alright," Barty replies simply.

Evan huffs in frustration. "Are you listening? I just told you that it's
essentially like a spectrum, and I'm on the spectrum where I will never
shag. Never, Barty."

"Alright," Barty repeats, blinking at him. Evan groans, and Barty's lips curl
up. "It's like you're trying to warn me off, as if that's a problem. That's not a
problem, Evan. Do you think the fact that you don't like shagging will make
me want you less? Does the fact that I do make you want me less?"

"I—" Evan cuts himself off, staring at him, and then he snaps his mouth
shut. His eyebrows furrow. "Well, I've never really gotten this response
before, so I don't actually know where to go from here, if I'm honest."

"People are shit," Barty says with a sigh. "Look, it's like this, yeah? We can
figure out all the boundaries, all the things we like and don't like, but the
important bit is that we want each other, right? Because, honestly, I'd
genuinely just be happy to laze around in bed with you for the rest of my
life, and you're just going to have to trust me when I say that. You're just
going to have to trust that it'll be true for the rest of my life. If you know
that you don't want to shag for as long as you live, then it's not impossible
for me to know that I'll be happy not shagging you for as long as I do. You
just have to trust that, and I know people haven't made that easy for you, but
I'm asking you to try again with me."
"Who are you and what have you done with Barty Crouch Jr?" Evan asks
with a weak smile. "You sound so sensible."

"It's been known to happen from time-to-time," Barty teases, reaching up to

card his fingers through Evan's hair. He watches Evan's eyes flutter shut,
pleased by the sight.

"You know it's more than that. It also is you," Evan murmurs, eyes slipping
open. "Doing this with you… Barty, don't laugh, but it'd genuinely crush me
if it ended badly. You could—you could really hurt me, do you realize that?
I'm honestly not sure if I'd recover from it, not with you. So, if it's safer, if
it's better for us to just stay friends, then shouldn't we?"

Barty pauses, considering, then he chuckles. "Oh, sure, but we'll just be
doing the same thing we were doing that, as you put it, landed us in this
mess in the first place. We have feelings, Evan. They're there; they're not
going to just go away because we've told them to."

"Stop being sensible."

"No, this is fun for me, actually. Anyway, do you think I don't have the
same fears? But, well, there was no going back when I kissed you, and
probably before that, if I'm honest. I've spent years avoiding this very thing,
and then there's you. You're more important than all that. What's better
about not being as happy as I can be? What's safer than you?"
"Oh, Pandora was right. She's always bloody right," Evan complains, his
head rolling forward so he can press their foreheads together again.

"Yeah, you should know better than to doubt her," Barty murmurs. "Regulus
was right, too. We can never tell them."

"They'll know," Evan says solemnly.

"Were you actually jealous of Regulus?"

"Shut up, Barty."

"You're quite the jealous prick, aren't you?" Barty asks, huffing out a laugh
when Evan smacks their foreheads together in a form of reprimand. "You
don't have to be, you know. You're the only one I've ever wanted enough to
actually do something about it. It's just you, dove."

"Alright, alright," Evan says softly, brushing his lips over Barty's cheek
before pulling away to look at him. "Fine, we'll make the effort. I'll make
the effort."

"Yeah?" Barty grins at him, unable to help it, his chest pooling with embers
of warmth immediately. "You can't avoid me again, Evan. I mean it. Don't
—don't do that."
Evan nods. "I won't. You can't look at anyone else other than me ever, I've
decided."

"No worries there, I promise," Barty assures him, stifling a laugh, and Evan
groans again like he's embarrassed. "Stop, don't worry about it. Come here,
would you?"

"Mrs. Wiseacre thinks we're a couple," Evan mutters as he slumps down

against him, letting Barty wrap his arms around him and card his fingers
through his hair.

Barty hums in a pleased fashion. "Mrs. Wiseacre is correct."

"I meant before."

"We practically were."

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"Never."
Diagon Alley circa August, 1979

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Barty chants as he frantically tries to fix his tie. He's
failing miserably, but Evan is enjoying getting to watch. "I'm going to be
late. Fucking tie. Dove, will you—"

"Oh, get over here," Evan says, holding his hands up as Barty comes
stumbling to a halt in front of him and shuffles close so Evan can fix his tie
for him. Evan does it quickly, then pats it when he's finished. "There you
are."

"You're a marvel," Barty breathes out, then leans in to press a quick kiss to
his mouth, clearly about to pull away and dart off, except Evan reels him
back in by his tie, because he's evil.

All that worry about being late, and Barty wastes more time to kiss him,
like it's not a waste at all. Evan perhaps lets it linger for longer than he
should, because he's a menace, but also because he simply enjoys kissing
his boyfriend. Is he entertained by the sight of Barty running around
because he's late and a disaster on two legs? Yes. But, well, it's also just that
kissing Barty is always lovely.

It makes Evan's stomach flutter, and his heart do this really embarrassing
twirling thing, and it brightens his day every time without fail. Not much
different than when Barty wraps his arms around him, or slides into their
bed at night to cuddle (because he's addicted to affection), or flirts with him,
or smiles at him, or looks around any room he enters just to search for him,
or so many other little things that matter more to Evan than he can ever
express. To put it simply, Evan really, really fancies Barty. It's quite bad,
actually, how much he fancies Barty, and it would probably be a problem if
they weren't dating. Barty knows. He doesn't doubt it for a second, and he
has no shame in showing that he feels the same.

It's sort of hard to ignore when Barty stops everything just to kiss him, like
that's all that matters. His hands frame Evan's face as if he's cradling
something precious, and his mouth is delightfully soft and slow against
Evan's own. Barty hums in satisfaction as Evan draws away.

"You're late," Evan reminds him.

Barty's eyes bulge, and he jolts. "Oh, fuck off, Evan! Shit. You did that on
purpose!"

"Did what?" Evan asks with the sweetest smile he can muster.

"I hate you," Barty declares, then dips in to kiss him again, but quickly
wrenches back.

Evan's lips twitch. "No, you don't."

"Merlin, I don't even want to go," Barty whines, shifting from foot-to-foot.
"So, don't go," Evan replies simply, and Barty's eyebrows furrow. Evan
sighs. "Barty, if you don't want to do it, then don't do it."

Barty heaves a sigh. "It would be the mature thing to do, wouldn't it?"

"When have you ever been mature, darling?"

"That's fair. It would make my mum happy."

"But it would make you unhappy," Evan counters.

"I know, but—bloody hell, Evan, I'd like to have an income, yeah? I want to
help you," Barty whispers.

Evan's face softens, and he smooths Barty's tie down his chest, his own
pulsing with affection. "At the moment, I'm doing alright for us. Don't rush
into something just because you feel obligated to. You don't want to work at
the Ministry, Barty. You've never wanted to work at the Ministry, and I'm
not asking you to. So, don't go."

"I don't want to be a layabout."

"You're not a layabout. If not for you, I wouldn't even eat properly, would I?
Besides, you'll find a job you like, one that won't make you bloody
miserable."

"Just work here," Mrs. Wiseacre says, making Evan and Barty jolt apart as
soon as they notice that she's slipped into the back. Obviously they weren't
doing all of that in the front of the shop, but Mrs. Wiseacre moves like mist
when she wants to. They stare at her, and she chuckles. "Well, he already
helps you when he's here, doesn't he, dove?"

"Is...there a position open?" Barty asks slowly, glancing over at Evan, who
shrugs.

Mrs. Wiseacre smiles. "Oh, well, Evan knows the shop as well as I do at
this point, so I could trust it to him and go help my husband at our other
shop. Just pop in to check on you both, check in when we all have dinner,
things such as that. If Evan doesn't mind the responsibility, we could
promote him, and you could fill his position."

"You'd do that?" Evan murmurs, eyes widening.

"I'd actually love to," Mrs. Wiseacre admits. She takes a deep breath, then
slowly releases it. "The truth is, my husband and I are… Well, we're getting
closer and closer to retirement by the year. We might have one more good
one in us before we have to slow down, maybe two before we have to hand
the shops off to those younger than us. Won't be our children, because they
have their own lives and such, but I reckon if that's something you want to
do, Evan, then you'd be a good candidate."
Evan freezes. "What?"

"I just mean, well, you seem to love it," Mrs. Wiseacre points out, waving
her hand towards the front of the shop. "Being a shopkeeper isn't for
everyone, but some people enjoy it. My husband always did, and I was
happy to do it with him, so long as I got to travel when I liked. I'm not sure
if you've said what career you're after since graduating, but if shopkeeper is
something you want to do, then you could certainly work towards that with
us. Your choice, o'course."

"I—I hadn't really decided what to do," Evan admits, blinking at her,
stunned. "I didn't know what I wanted to do."

Mrs. Wiseacre nods. "Yeah, you're still young. There's no rush, dove, but it's
an option if you're interested."

"I am," Evan blurts out the moment he realizes it, because the truth is, he is
interested. He loves working at the shop. He just thought he'd have to do
something else at some point because of some ingrained belief from his
father for what counts as a worthy position, but what's wrong with working
at the shop, or being a shopkeeper? His father would look down his nose at
him for it, call him simple, but Evan thinks the height of sophistication is
just doing the things that make you happy. Working at the shop makes him
happy, so why shouldn't he do it? He blinks at Mrs. Wiseacre. "Yeah, I'm
interested."
"Lovely," Mrs. Wiseacre says. "No pressure, o'course, but my husband and I
will help you in every way we can, and one day, this place could be yours.
For now, though, we'll bring your boy on and train him up, and he can help
you, I suspect. Is that something you want to do, boy? It's no Ministry job,
is it?"

Barty releases a stunned laugh. "No, no, it's definitely not, and that's half
the appeal, honestly. I'd like to, yeah."

"Alright, you'll start today," Mrs. Wiseacre declares, then turns around and
shuffles off like she hasn't just dropped the solution to all their problems in
their laps.

"Barty," Evan murmurs.

"Yes, dove?"

"Are we going to become shopkeepers?"

"I think we are," Barty muses. "You know, I really didn't see that coming at
all."

Evan chokes out a laugh. "No, me neither."

"You want to?" Barty says softly, turning to look at him.

"I—yeah, I do," Evan admits, blowing out a deep breath. He searches

Barty's eyes. "Do you?"

Barty looks thoughtful. "I'm not opposed, honestly. I do enjoy helping you,
and I'm comfortable here at the shop, and I'll get to see you more than I
already do. What's not to want?"

"You might want other things," Evan points out.

"Well, I'll never want anything other than you, but life-wise, I don't know,"
Barty murmurs. "I mean, I genuinely don't know what I'd like to do in life."

Evan's lips curl up. "That's alright. You let me know when you figure it out,
and in the meantime, you can do this as long as it makes you happy. When
something else comes up, well, I suppose we'll just compromise."

"Yeah?" Barty asks, grinning, his hand reaching out to slide down Evan's
arm to thread their fingers together.

"Mhm," Evan confirms, drawing Barty closer, pressing a quick kiss to his
cheek and holding him.
Well, he's holding him and basking in the wonder of such a thing until the
door bangs open and Mrs. Wiseacre calls out a sharp, "I said today, boy!
You start today, meaning right now! Stop canoodling Evan and distracting
him. Come, come, no dallying about. Not you, o'course, dove. You take all
the time you like, no rush at all."

Evan stifles a laugh as Barty pulls away, and he watches him rush towards
Mrs. Wiseacre with so much love in him that he doesn't know what to do
with it all, and so all he says is a fond and quiet, "Yes, ma'am."

Chapter End Notes

special shoutout to regulus, who was trying SO HARD to help evan

and barty 😭😭😭 he really was doing his best. regulus "my boyfriend
would know what to do" black. oh, i love him so.

mrs. wiseacre, my beloved. i adore her!!!

evan being a jealous little shit will never not be funny to me. also, yes,
imogen does get home safely!!! couldn't really fit that in, but she does
<3

evan and barty are gonna be shopkeepers!!! wasn't expecting that when
i started writing, but it just felt right. love that for them. barty nearly
going to work at the ministry for evan ☹☹☹ oh, he loves him so
much. and evan being like: babe, no, do what makes you happy. oh,
they're so in love 😭😭😭

anyways, that's that on the evan and barty part in just lovers. tomorrow,
i will be posting the next chapter of just lovers!!! hope everyone
enjoyed, and thank you to anyone who comments. i appreciate them
all, and all of you <3
End Notes

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