Not-So-Hidden Thorns

1976, October 31st - Barty

“Barty,” a voice whispers directly next to my ear. I groan, pulling my pillow over my head. 

“Go away,” I whine, still too half asleep to question who is talking to me and why. 

“Bartemius Crouch Junior, wake up.”

Reluctantly, I open my eyes, removing the pillow and sitting up drowsily, running a hand through my hair. I blink at the figure beside my bed. A faint light comes from the person’s wand, illuminating the room slightly. 

“Pandora?” I hiss as my vision clears. “What the fuck? How did you get in here?”

“I have my ways,” Pandora says with a wave of her hand. “Move over.”

Mind still hazy, I oblige, pulling my knees up and sitting back against the headboard to make space for her. She climbs onto my bed, sitting cross legged and flicking her wand to draw the curtains around us. 

“Muffliato,” Pandora whispers, casting a soundproof shield around us. I rub my eyes, sighing. 

“Dora, I love you, I really do, but it does not feel like a reasonable hour to be awake.”

“It’s 3am,” she informs me. “Anyway, this is important.”

A bell rings in my head as I become more conscious. “Oh, happy birthday, by the way.”

Pandora smiles. “Thanks. But that’s not it. Though I do hope it being my birthday can help to convince you to help me.”

“Alright…”

“I need to know how to kiss someone.”

I stare at her, slowly processing the words. “You… what?”

Pandora hums impatiently, as if it’s completely ridiculous that I don’t immediately understand what she’s saying. 

“You heard me.”

“Uh… okay. So… why? And how do I come into this?” I ask, incredibly uncertain about this whole thing.

“Well, you know Xenophilius?”

I bite my tongue to stop myself from saying something nasty. Xenophilius Lovegood came into Dora’s life halfway through fourth year, and he’s been annoyingly difficult to get rid of, despite the entire friend group’s efforts. None of us think he’s good enough for Pandora, but we try not to let her know that. Most of the time. 

“Yes,” I say rigidly. 

“I want to kiss him, but I don’t know how.”

“Uh huh.” Pandora gives me an expectant look. “What?”

“So I need you to teach me!”

“Nope. Nuh uh. No way.” 

“Barty please,” she begs. 

“I’m not going to teach you how to make out with your boyfriend!” I groan. “And definitely not at 3am! Besides, I don’t think Xenophilius would much like the idea of me giving you this type of lesson.”

Pandora waves a hand. “Oh, he’s fine with it. We talked about it.”

I sigh, running a hand down my face. “Of course you did.”

“So…?” 

“Dora, like I said, I love you. But this is… too weird.”

“Come on,” she pleads. “I know you know how to! You’ve done it loads!” 

“Merlin’s beard,” I mutter, leaning my head back on the wall and closing my eyes. “Ugh, fine! Fine! But you owe me big time.”

“Thank you Barty!” She squeals, lurching forward to hug me. 

“Yeah yeah, alright,” I sigh. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

***

Evan

“Happy birthday dear Pandoraaa,” I sing along with the rest of the group, grinning. “Happy birthday to you!”

“Hip hip, hooray!” Barty yells at the top of his lungs across the Great Hall. McGonagall sends a sharp look his way, but personally, I think there’s some amusement in her eyes. 

“Fifteen years old,” Dorcas says with a low whistle. “How’d that happen?”

Pandora smiles. “Well, the passage of time is both an integral aspect of the universe and a complex social construct -”

We all collectively groan. “You Ravenclaws,” I tease, “such smartarses.”

Barty, Regulus and I start making our way towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower after breakfast, Barty rambling on about something I’m only half listening to. Reg is walking quietly beside us, even more silent than usual. I knock my shoulder against his. 

“Hey, you good?” I ask softly. Regulus shrugs.

“Fine,” he replies, but his tone makes him seem distracted. “What do you think of Sirius’s friends?” He asks after a moment. I blink at him. 

“Um… what?”

“Sirius’s friends,” Regulus says impatiently. “Y’know. Potter and Lupin and Pettigrew.”

“Yeah, I know who the bloody Marauders are.”

“Well what do you think of them?”

I pause, chewing on my lower lip. I’m not sure what kind of answer Regulus wants from me. This whole thing is thoroughly confusing.

“Well… Sirius is —”

“Not Sirius,” Regulus interjects with a slight eye roll. “I know what you all think of him.”

“Right.” I find myself wishing our DADA classroom wasn’t so far from the Great Hall. “Um… I think that Potter’s got an ego ten sizes too big, and that he’s a bit… loud. Lupin and Pettigrew seem alright I suppose, though there’s something definitely off about Lupin. Where does a kid not raised by one of our parents get scars like that?” I shrug. “I dunno Reg. Honestly, I haven’t given them much thought.”

Regulus nods slowly. He doesn’t provide any more explanation, nor does he ask more questions.

“Why do you ask?” 

Regulus seems to consider his answer carefully. “Trying to figure something out.”

“Uh huh. Right, sure.”

Duelling is evidently Barty’s favourite type of lesson. He enjoys it almost too much, in my opinion, gets a sort of manic expression on his face when he fights, though it’s nowhere close to when he fully gets… crazy. Still, it makes me uneasy. Still, even I can admit there’s a certain thrill to it; spells cast quick enough that colourful lines of light criss cross through the air. Besides, who doesn’t like the things they’re good at?

“Stupefy!” My opponent - a Gryffindor who is a less than elegant duellist - shouts. 

“Protego,” I say boredly, suppressing the urge to examine my nails, despite how amusing the look on the boy’s face would be. “Expelliarmus,” I follow up, though he dodges at the last moment. 

“Wrap it up gentlemen!” Professor Rowle calls. I know the teacher, vaguely, from multiple family functions in which the Sacred Twenty-Eight were often in attendance. However, since the war began to become more prominent - and the biggest question in conversation turned to ‘who’s side are you on?’ - the Rowles have been notably absent from these gatherings, along with some other pure-blooded families. More ‘blood traitors’, as my father likes to call them. 

I win the duel, easily. The Gryffindor gives me a dirty look as he walks back to his friends, part of his robes singed from one attack or another. I smile sweetly at him and return to Barty and Regulus. Barty whistles, slinging an arm around my shoulders. 

“Have I ever told you how fucking hot you look when you do that?” He says with a grin. I roll my eyes at him and Regulus groans. 

“One day you two are genuinely going to make me throw up,” he grumbles. Barty blows him a kiss, then pulls me in for a real one. Public displays of affection aren’t uncommon for us. It’s not uncommon for Barty, period. The amount of times I’ve seen him at a meal with his tongue down somebody's throat is downright ridiculous. I pull away after a moment, and Barty pouts at me. 

“Boring,” he mutters. Regulus places a hand on my shoulder and gives me his most sincere look.

“Thank you, for saving us from what could’ve been a disastrous display of public intercourse.”

I snort with laughter and Barty scowls at Reg. 

“I hate school,” Barty sighs as he flops onto a sofa in the common room. 

“You hate home more,” I point out as he pulls back to make space for me. Barty hums, replacing his legs over my lap.

“Touche.” 

Regulus sits down in an armchair across from us, looking lost in thought. He’s been suspiciously quiet all day, and I’m determined to work out why. Eventually. Subtly. Apparently, Barty has other ideas. 

“What’s up with you?” He asks Regulus, chucking a pillow at the other boy. Regulus barely manages to catch it. He really must be distracted. 

“Barty, why do you insist on pissing off everyone around you? You’re a fucking pain,” Regulus snaps, a bit more harshly than he needed to, in my opinion. I sense Barty stiffen, but besides that, he doesn’t show any sign that the insult hit its mark. He holds up his hands in surrender, sitting up. 

“Hey, don’t take whatever this is out on me.” I’ve always admired Barty’s ability to talk back to Reg. The boy can be fucking terrifying sometimes. They glare at each other for a long moment, before finally, Regulus sighs. 

“Fine. Sorry.” 

***

Dorcas

I like to think of myself as a practical person. A logical person. Someone who thinks things through and makes the sensible decision. And I do. In every scenario. Every single one. Except where Marlene McKinnon is involved. 

For some reason, back in fifth year (it was a Thursday, in May. I remember), logic forgot it existed. Reason flew out of my mind. For the first time in my life, I made a stupid decision. A stupid decision that led to a lot more very very stupid decisions. So, by now, I’ve accepted that I can be rational in every other aspect in life. Except Marlene. 

“You know,” I say against her mouth, my hand tangled in her hair. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” She says the second part in perfect time with me, leaning back to give me that smirk that makes my brain do crazy things. 

“Yes. I know. You’ve said that, every time. But it never seems to stop us.”

I shrug. “Tradition is tradition.” I grin and kiss her again, pushing her up against the wall of her dormitory. “When did you say Evans and MacDo—”

“Lily and Mary,” she corrects me, giving me a stern look. I roll my eyes slightly. 

“— Lily and Mary will be back?” Marlene smiles mischievously. 

“Not for another hour, at least,” she whispers, the words brushing against my lips and driving me absolutely insane. I hum, weaving my fingers into that newly dyed hair.

“Good.”

I stride into the Slytherin common room with a smile on my face. It’s hard not to grin when you just spent the last hour doing what I’ve been doing. Barty, Evan, and Regulus look up as I enter. Barty narrows his eyes. 

“Who did you fuck?” He asks bluntly. I roll my eyes and flip him off, settling down in an armchair. 

“Nobody.”

“Come on, Dorcas,” Barty whines. “Give me something.” Evan snorts in amusement. 

“You’re pathetic, Barty,” he says.

“I need to live vicariously through her, my love life is nonexistent,” Barty argues. Evan raises an eyebrow, which earns him an eyeroll. “You don’t count,” he huffs, poking Evan in the chest. Evan looks at me. 

“Not sure whether to be offended or not.”

Barty clicks his tongue, tilting Evan’s face back toward him. “I just mean you’re special, darling,” he says with a grin. He kisses Evan quickly then turns back to me. “Please,” he wheedles. “If not fucking, then what were you doing?”

I fold my arms. I glance at Regulus, who doesn’t really seem to be listening at all. I sigh. “Not fucking. Didn’t go that far.”

“Aha! But you were with someone! Hear that Ev? Our little Dorcas is all grown up,” Barty coos. 

“I’m older than you!”

“Irrelevant.” He waves a hand, leaning forward with interest. “Who then? Girl? Boy?”

I shoot a pained look in Evan’s direction, who shrugs as if to say, ‘don’t bring me into this’. I grit my teeth, knowing there’s no way out of Barty’s questioning. 

“Girl,” I mutter. “Not that it’s any of your business, Crouch.”

“Marlene McKinnon,” Regulus says suddenly. We all turn to stare at him. It’s the first time he’s spoken since I arrived. He meets my gaze. “It is her, right?” He sounds almost bored. Then again, that’s his tone for basically everything. Barty looks at me with wide eyes. I chew on my lower lip, then nod reluctantly. Barty wolf whistles.
“Damn, Dorcas. She’s hot.”

I smirk slightly. “Yeah, she is.”

“How long have you been not-quite-fucking her then?” Evan asks, sounding amused. 

“That,” I say, pointing at him. “Is definitely none of your business.”

***

Marlene

‘You’re going to get in trouble if you keep messing around with her,” Mary says, folding her arms. I roll my eyes.

“And why is that?”

“Her friends are bad news,” Mary snaps. “She hangs around with Black and Crouch. Death Eaters after school, I’m telling you.”

“Not Dorcas,” I reply confidently. 

“Done!” Lily says from behind me. She comes around to the front and holds up a mirror for me to see. I grin, turning my head from side to side. 

“You’re fucking awesome, Lils.” I run a hand through my newly-cut hair, layers and bangs falling back into place slightly messier than before. “And I love the red,” I say, gesturing to the dyed tips. Lily had complained about not being able to dye it the muggle way, but magic worked just fine. I glance up at Mary, who still looks skeptical. 

“I’m just saying I don’t want you to get hurt,” Mary huffs. I sigh. 

“I won’t, Mary. And if I do, I promise to let you curse her as much as you want.” 

“So do you like it?” I ask, twirling a strand of hair around my finger. Dorcas grins. 

“I love it, Marls.” 

I wave my wand at the door to my dormitory, and hear the lock click shut. I kiss Dorcas eagerly, wrapping my arms around her to pull her body closer to mine. 

“You know,” she says breathlessly, the words slightly muffled against my mouth. “We-”

“Shouldn’t be doing this?” I say in unison with her, my lips tugging upward into a smirk. “Yes, I know. You’ve said that, every time. But it never seems to stop us.”

Dorcas shrugs, mischief glinting in her eyes. “Tradition is tradition.”

I make a soft sound of surprise as she pushes me up against the wall, kissing me again lightly. “When did you say Evans and MacDo-”

I cut her off. “Lily and Mary,” I correct, giving her a reprimanding glare. I will continue to try and get my friends and Dorcas to stop hating each other until the day I die. Dorcas rolls her eyes.

“— Lily and Mary will be back?” She amends. My dormmates left for Hogsmeade half an hour ago. 

“Not for another hour, at least,” I say softly, watching as her breath hitches. 

“Good.”

***

James

Regulus isn’t here. He isn’t in the tower. I run a hand through my air, feeling my anxiety growing with each passing minute. I know there’s probably a logical explanation. It’s almost certainly not because of me. But then again, maybe I’d scared him off last night. It had been quite a… heavy conversation. Maybe he never wanted to face me again after everything he told me. But no. There was surely a perfectly logical explanation.

I should leave. I should go back to the dormitory and just sleep, then come back tomorrow. He’ll be here tomorrow. I can’t expect him to come up every night, can I? But still, I wait. I sit against a column and I stare up at the sky, wondering absently which one is Regulus. I wait, and he doesn’t come.

***

Regulus

It probably should’ve occurred to me sooner that I forgot to tell James I wouldn’t be at the tower tonight. Not that I owe it to him. In fact, it serves him right if ends up waiting there in the cold. He’s the one who’s been intruding on my privacy two nights in a row now, seeking me out despite the fact that we are in no way friends. Does he want to be friends? Merlin, I hope not. That would complicate things far too much. 

“Pandora,” Barty says, standing up and raising his bottle full of butterbeer. “You are so amazingly weird. I love you. Here’s to being fifteen!”

Everyone laughs, and Pandora smiles at Barty. He sits back down beside me and takes a long drink. I raise an eyebrow at him. 

“How much have you had?”

He shrugs. “Not sure.”

“Well it must’ve been a lot in order to get drunk off butterbeer.”

“I’m not drunk,” Barty replies with a grin. “Not off alcohol, anyway. I’m drunk off life, Reggie. Isn’t it amazing? Life?”

I pause. “Amazing isn’t how I’d describe it.”

Pandora flicks me in the forehead. “No being depressed at my party.”

We’re sitting in Evan, Barty, and my dormitory, surrounded by an outrageous amount of snacks. When asked how he got all of it, Barty simply shook his head and winked, saying it was a secret he would take to the grave. 

“Ow!” I huff, batting Pandora’s hand away. She laughs, turning to start a conversation with Dorcas. Barty takes another swig of his drink, and when he brings it away from his mouth, it’s empty. 

“Who’s up for spin the bottle?” He asks with a wild grin. I groan. Barty introduced the muggle game to us sometime last year, and it’s safe to say it’s not one of my favourites. Despite his reputation, Barty has no issues with muggles. Not really. How can he, when his mother is muggleborn? He brings many things into school that the rest of us would never have heard of, like this game.
Pandora nods emphatically, and the group can’t deny her anything, especially not today. Barty whoops and motions for us to get into a circle. He spins the bottle in the center with a practiced flick of his wrist. It comes to rest on Evan. 

“Ugh, boring,” Dorcas mutters. “You kiss each other all the time.”

Barty flutters his eyelashes at Evan, pretending not to hear Dorcas. “Oh but Evan, I’m not sure I feel that way about you,” he says in an overly dramatic tone. Evan rolls his eyes and drags Barty in by the back of his neck, kissing him with an ease that only comes from practice. I roll my eyes and Barty breaks away with a look of mock outrage. 

“You ruined my roleplay,” he says to Evan with a shake of his head, before looking around the circle. “Who wants to go next?”

“Me me me!” Pandora exclaims, grabbing the bottle eagerly. “I know how to now,” she says with a wink in Barty’s direction. Who knows what that’s about. The devilish item in question lands on me, and I narrow my eyes at it, already plotting how I could murder that inanimate object. Pandora jumps at me from across the circle and I barely have time to respond before she takes my face in her hands and kisses me. I make a surprised ‘mmf’ noise, but kiss back anyway, because Barty will make me take another turn if I don’t. Pandora breaks away with a wide smile, and that makes it worth it. 

“Happy birthday Dora,” I say with a smirk. She laughs and flicks me in the forehead for the second time, before returning to her spot. This continues for a few more turns (one of which involved Dorcas complaining about having to kiss Evan, who’s red flag was apparently that he was a male human being) before the fucking bottle lands on me again. Barty smirks at me. 

“Pucker up, Black,” he sing-songs. I sigh. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of being so annoying, Crouch?”

“Nope!” Barty reaches out and tilts my chin up, pressing his lips to mine. What surprises me is how gentle he is… until his teeth sink into my lower lip. It’s not painful, but it makes me jolt in surprise, pulling away with a scowl. Barty laughs loudly and Evan grins at me. 

“Looking a little red there, Reggie,” Dorcas teases. It’s true that I can feel heat rising in my cheeks, but I ignore it, acting as if I didn’t hear her. 

“Enjoyed that?” Barty asks, still laughing. 

“You bit me,” I deadpan. He shrugs. 

“Got carried away.”

Evan smacks Barty on the shoulder. “Hey! Friends don’t bite friends.” He pauses. “Well, without being asked, anyway,” he amends. Barty gnashes his teeth at Evan with a smirk and Dorcas cuts in. 

“Alright you two get a fucking room.”

“This literally is our room, Meadowes,” Evan fires back, and the two begin a heated bickering match. Over what, exactly? Well, that's impossible to tell. I glance over at Pandora and see her smiling, with such a look of pure joy on her face I can’t help my smile too.

It must be nearing two in the morning when the party finally begins to wind down. Barty is lying with his head in Evan’s lap, talking quietly about something while Evan nods along, playing with Barty’s hair. Pandora is half asleep on Dorcas’s shoulder, giggling drunkenly every once in a while. I’m staring into the bottle of firewhisky in my hand, the real alcohol having been broken out an hour or so ago. I’m swirling the bottle slowly with a gentle movement of my wrist, watching the liquid become a tiny whirlpool. In the haze of my mind, I imagine getting dragged in the flow of a real whirlpool, water pulling me around and around, down down down until –

“If Hogwarts is a rose,” Barty says suddenly, cutting off my train of thought. “Does that make us the thorns?”

“Who said Hogwarts was a rose?” I ask, frowning. Barty shrugs. 

“Nobody. It just makes sense in my mind. It’s beautiful but dangerous too. And complex.” He laughs. “I’m so drunk right now.”

“Yeah, I think we’d be the thorns, based on how much everyone hates us,” Dorcas muses. “What’s that thing people say? Roses always have hidden thorns?”

I snort. “We’re anything but hidden.”

“Yeah, we take pride in being arseholes, thank you very much,” Evan says, his words ever so slightly slurred.

“Not-so-hidden thorns, then,” Barty hums. “The not-so-hidden thorns of Hogwarts. Always there to remind everyone we can’t all be good. That this school isn’t all good. That it can hurt you if you aren’t careful.”

There’s a moment of silence before Pandora lifts her head from Dorcas’s shoulder with a sigh. “What in Merlin’s name are you all going on about?”

***

Barty

Pandora and Dorcas leave in the early hours of the morning, clinging to each other as they stumble out of the dormitory, giggling and trying in vain to be quiet. How Pandora continually manages to sneak into the Slytherin common room without fail is still a mystery to me, and one I don’t think I’ll ever know the answer to. Regulus vanishes into the bathroom, leaving us alone. I sigh as I look up at Evan, tracing the slope of his jawline with my gaze, the colour of his eyes in the dim light. 

“You’re pretty,” I slur through the haze in my mind. He glances down at me, lips tugging upward into a soft smile. He leans down to brush his lips over mine. 

“I know,” he whispers, and I laugh, sitting up to resituate myself in his lap, taking his face in my hands and kissing him properly. My fingers card through his hair, golden strands soft beneath my fingertips, so at odds with his darker skin in a way that’s fucking gorgeous. He kisses back, slow and gentle, aimless, not really leading anywhere. After a minute I break away, sighing and leaning my head onto his shoulder. 

“I love you,” I mumble into his shirt. When we say those words to each other, we mean them in the friendship sense. We mean them in the way that our souls are inextricably bound together, that we love each other in the deepest sense of the word. Not romantic. But code for the things that are harder to say. You’re my safe place. You make me feel like someone worthwhile. I need you. Things like that are much more difficult for us to speak. So we say this instead. 

“I love you too.”

We both know what it means. We both know it’s not a declaration of romance. Attraction and romance are two different things. That fact is the grounds that our relationship is built on, the foundation of the trust we have in each other to not step over that line. Because beyond that line brings trouble. It makes everything more difficult, more complicated. And neither of us need things to be more complicated than they already are.

Regulus is a fucking monster. This is the first thought that crosses my mind as a pillow hits me in the face, effectively waking me up from my beauty sleep. 

“Excuse you,” I grumble, tossing the pillow back in his general direction and burrowing under the covers. “I was having a very pleasant dream.”

“You don’t dream,” Regulus calls from where he’s probably waking Evan up in a similar matter. “Unless it’s a sex dream,” he amends.

“Nightmare then.”

“Slightly more believable. Barty, get up. We have this thing called school which I’d prefer was prefaced by breakfast, and if you take too long, we’ll miss that event.”

“Fuck you Regulus,” I groan, pushing myself up into a sitting position and rubbing my eyes. 

“No, thank you, but I appreciate the offer,” Regulus drawls as he starts walking towards the bathroom to change. He’s never once changed in front of us. I pretend I don’t know it’s because of the scars that cover his body, because of the fear of being exposed. 

“You’d be lucky to have me!” I call, but I’m met with the sound of the door closing. I sigh, getting out of bed and trying to find something to wear. I can feel eyes on me and I don’t need to turn around to know that Evan’s watching. I smirk to myself, pulling on a shirt a little slower than I probably need to. 

“You’re such a slut,” I say as I turn. Evan’s sitting against the headboard of his bed, head tipped back to rest against the wall, watching me. 

“Oh no, you caught me,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Whatever will I do now?” He bites his lip to hold back a laugh and I roll my eyes, trying to keep them from snagging on his mouth. At that moment, Regulus re-enters from the bathroom, takes one look at us, and shakes his head. 

“You two are so horny, fucking hell,” he mutters. Evan just chuckles and gets up to change. 

“What, like you aren’t?” I say to Regulus as we make our way down through the common room, knowing Evan will catch up eventually. 

“No, I’m not,” Regulus says shortly, not looking at me as we walk. 

“Uh huh sure. Like I haven’t heard you at night.”

He freezes, hand on the doorknob leading out of the common room. I grin. 

“Muffliato doesn’t completely block noise, Reg.”

Regulus doesn’t respond, shaking himself back to life and opening the door, striding down the corridor and leaving me to catch up. 

“I’m just saying,” I say as I hurry after him. “If you need a release of tension that’s better than your own hand, I’m sure I can find you someone.”

“Barty, if you try to set me up, I will end you. Slowly. Painfully. Over a period of multiple months.”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Fine. Sure. Whatever you say.” I pause for a moment. “Who are you imagining?” I ask innocently. Regulus lets out a long suffering sigh. 

“I know I’m seriously going to regret asking this Bartemius, but what do you mean?” 

“At night. Who are you imagining?”

Regulus gives me a blank look. “Nobody.” I don’t believe it for a second, but something in Regulus’s eyes stops me from pushing it. We turn a corner and reach the Great Hall, making our way over to the Slytherin table. We sit down and I pull out a small black eyeliner pen, conjuring a mirror into existence that floats in front of me. I hear somebody scoff a few seats away, and a nasal voice rings out. 

“A faggot and using muggle makeup? No wonder his father doesn’t want him.”

I pause for only a second, forcing myself to breathe through the burning rising in me. The chaotic mess of anger that lurks beneath my skin. I carefully finish what I’m doing before finally deigning to look in Snape’s direction. 

“Sorry, what was that Severus? Couldn’t hear you,” I say sweetly. He scowls at me, pushing a strand of greasy black hair out of his face. 

“I said you’re fucking pathetic, Crouch. Using that filthy stuff like a muggle, instead of just doing a simple spell. Or are you too incompetent even for that?”

I flick my wand under the table, and a large amount of dramatic, neon green eyeliner appears around Snape’s eyes. A few people on my side of the table snicker, but he doesn’t notice. Yet. 

“And enlighten me, what exactly is the problem with using this?” I ask, twirling the pen between my fingers. “Because it’s muggle? Isn’t your mother non-magical, Severus? Isn’t your so-called best friend muggle born?” 

I can physically see the blow land, and Snape’s mouth turns down even more, eyes narrowing in a way he probably thinks is threatening, but is ruined by the makeup he still isn’t aware of. It’s an effort not to keep from laughing. Everyone around us has fallen silent, watching the exchange, and out of the corner of my eye I can see Regulus observing the interaction with a bored expression. But I notice the cold calculation in his gaze, feel him tap his foot against mine, a silent show of support. Not that I need it. Snape opens his mouth to retort, when an arm wraps around my shoulders from behind. I don’t need to look up to know it’s Evan. I could recognise his touch anywhere, anytime.

“Got something on your face there, Severus,” Evan says, voice mockingly cheerful. Snape glowers for a moment before conjuring a mirror of his own, and the expression on his face is worth a thousand detentions (ones I actually go to, as well). 

“You little fucking cocksucker,” he hisses. “Got your faggot boyfriend here to defend you now, too?”

“Woah, easy there on the slurs,” I say with a grin. “It’s a fine balance between a sensible amount of bigotry and overdoing it. People might start thinking you’re dramatic, Sevvy. Merlin forbid.”

Snape waves his wand, but the makeup doesn’t vanish. Despite what he may think, I’m anything but incompetent. When I want to be. He stands up abruptly, chair screeching on the floor as he strides from the room with a hundred eyes on him. I whistle lowly. 

“Wow, what an overreaction, am I right?”

Sirius fucking Black. How does one begin to describe Regulus’s older brother? You don’t, really, because you can sum him up in three words: total fucking prick. Well, that’s my personal opinion, anyway. And it’s good Evan and I are so set on our thoughts about Sirius, because without us around to hate him, Regulus might start to forgive the son of a bitch. 

Honestly, I don’t think Regulus really knows how he feels about his brother. He says he doesn’t blame him for leaving Regulus behind when he escaped Grimmauld Place, but I’ve seen the pain in his eyes when Sirius is concerned, heard the way he screams and cries sometimes when he thinks nobody is around to witness it. So perhaps he doesn’t blame him for getting out. Perhaps he blames him for the hole he left behind, however unfair that may be logically speaking (logic and I aren’t particularly good friends, so I don’t give a fuck what it says, I’m on Regulus’s side). Sirius broke Reg’s heart. That’s enough reason for me to never forgive him.

Which is, more or less, how I end up duelling him in the middle of a corridor.

This isn’t the first time this has happened. But it’s not common. So people around us are still shouting and laughing and getting all excited. 

“I don’t want to fucking hurt you, Crouch,” Sirius yells as he fires a spell at me. 

“That’s a blatant lie,” I laugh, the sound a little crazed. That fire in my skin is always right at the surface, ready to burst out in a fit of insanity. Evan says it’s a trauma response. Regulus says it’s because I haven’t learned emotional control yet. I don’t care what it is, as long as I can get it out once in a while. It itches, wanting to play, wanting to fuel me with adrenaline and help me do whatever I feel like doing. Wanting to set me aflame and watch everything else burn. 

Sirius shrugs. “Yeah, alright, maybe I want to hurt you a bit.” He smiles cruelly and I’m reminded that Sirius Black will always have that darkness in him, the horrible, twisted thing that he and I and everyone in the cultish world that is the wizarding nobility is born with. Handed down over generations, through centuries of inbreeding. No matter how much he tries to be golden like James Potter, no matter how much he tries to be good, he’ll always be one of us. A little dark, and not a little crazy. 

“Don’t worry, it’s mutual,” I grit out through my grin as I attack. Sirius barely dodges, eyes slightly wide. That had been a wordless spell. When the fire is ruling my body, sometimes I don’t need words. Sometimes I’m drunk on power and my usual limitations are stretched a bit further. 

“You did it again,” Regulus hisses, pacing back and forth across the library floor. “Barty. Barty, are you listening to me?!”

I look up at him with a sigh. “Yeah, Reg, I’m listening.”

“You can’t… you can’t do that, Barty. You can’t go ballistic on my brother.”

“He attacked me.”

“After you goaded him into it,” Regulus snaps, running a hand through his curls. “Merlin, Barty, I can’t… I can’t keep having this conversation with you. You need to get a fucking hold of yourself. These anger issues you have? They’re childish. You aren’t thirteen anymore. Grow. Up.” 

“Reg,” Evan says, voice sharp. “You know it’s not that easy.”

“I get angry sometimes too, you don’t see me going insane, you don’t see me laughing as I barely dodge a Confringo curse!” A ringing has started in my ears, nearly drowning out their voices. You aren’t thirteen anymore. 

“Please, Sirius wouldn’t have used a full-force blasting spell. He probably used a less dangerous Confringo hybrid.” I dig my fingers into my hair, trying to stop the sounds, trying to get my father’s voice out of my head. Grow up. How many times had he shouted those words at me? Grow up. Grow up. Grow the fuck up, Bartemius, get the fuck up off the floor. 

“That’s not the fucking point! You’ve seen the way Barty’s eyes go, the way he just loses himself –” Stop being a child. 

“Can you stop talking about me like I’m not even here?!” I yell. Both Evan and Regulus fall silent, staring at me. I take a deep breath, banishing the voices as best I can. “I’m sorry, Reg. Really, I am. Can we forget it, please?” Regulus holds my gaze for a moment, before giving a stiff nod. 

“Fine. For now.”

He sits down at the table with us, and there’s a long, heavy silence. Evan starts talking about Snape and how he’s been walking around with that neon green eyeliner all day, and I laugh and fall into an easy rhythm and act like nothing ever happened. And to anyone else who hadn’t just heard our conversation, nothing would seem amiss. But Regulus just watches me with those unfathomable grey eyes, and says nothing.