It was a dark evening at Hogwarts, the castle walls shrouded in thick mist, making everything that happened within them seem like a secret. In the heavy, cold air, there was an odd, almost tangible feeling of unease. Two young men, who knew each other better than most could ever understand, stood on the crumbling balcony of the Slytherin building, battered by the wind.
Evan Rosier, with his blonde hair and ice-blue eyes that always held an expression of calculation and distance, stared into the distance. Next to him, almost too close, stood Barty Crouch Jr., his blonde, tousled hair and determined gaze fixed firmly on Evan.
Their relationship was not normal, not in the way most people would have understood. It was toxic, filled with power plays and manipulation, but at the same time, there were moments when it felt like a bond that tied them together—one that no one could comprehend.
“You’re too close,” Evan said, his voice cool but still slightly trembling as Barty moved another step closer.
“Oh really?” Barty raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I thought you liked being close, especially to me.”
Evan scoffed, but didn’t pull away. Something about Barty, the way he constantly challenged him, kept him hooked. Maybe it was the hatred in Barty’s eyes that drew him in, or maybe it was the sweet pain they inflicted on each other.
“I know what you’re planning,” Evan said, his voice tinged with suspicion as he looked sharply at Barty. “You’re not going to meddle in my business again.”
Barty laughed, a deep, dangerous sound that echoed in the night air. “Oh, you know how I am. I always meddle, Evan. And you like it.”
Evan scoffed again, but he couldn’t help the flicker of unease that rose in him. Whatever Barty had in mind, it was never simple. It was always a challenge to resist him. But deep down, Evan knew he could never escape him.
“Do you really think I like this?” Evan tried to step away from Barty, but Barty gripped him firmly at the waist, his hold unyielding.
“You’ve never truly understood me, Evan,” Barty murmured quietly, his hand sliding lightly over Evan’s body. “You play the game like it’s just a game, but for me, it’s more. I want you. And you know it. But what you don’t understand is that I’m not good at letting go of you. Do you get it?”
Evan stared at Barty for a moment, his lips pressed together. He wanted to respond, wanted to tell him that he never truly wanted to invest in this relationship, but something inside him held him back. Maybe it was the sense of control Barty evoked in him, or maybe it was the knowledge that he, too, could be just as destructive to Barty as Barty was to him.
But as he tried to pull away from Barty, he noticed something. Someone else. Someone nearby.
“What is that?” Evan murmured, glancing into the darkness of the castle walls. A figure emerged from the mist, a shadow standing out against the surrounding darkness. Another Slytherin? A threat?
Barty followed Evan’s gaze, and immediately, the expression in his eyes changed—sharp, like a predator defending its territory. He grabbed Evan by the wrist, spun him toward him, and held him firmly.
“You’re mine,” Barty hissed, his voice low and possessive. “No one else can get that close to you. No one.”
“You’re crazy,” Evan whispered, but the dangerous gleam in Barty’s eyes captivated him. “No one tells me what to do.”
“Yes, I do,” Barty whispered back, pulling Evan closer onto the balcony, even nearer to himself. “I’ll never let you go.”