radio, someone still loves you

By the time Evan woke up, Regulus had already left the dorm. They were a week into the term and, like clockwork, Regulus and Pandora would sneak off to Merlin-knows-where after dinner each night, and Regulus would be done from the room before Evan and Barty woke up each morning. He wasn’t avoiding them, per se, but he had hardly said a word in the dorm since they had returned to Hogwarts, save the occasional “Are you done in the bathroom?” and “Can I turn the light off?”.  Regulus was in their classes and at all their meals, but wherever he was in between was lost on Evan.

“Where does he keep disappearing to?” Evan asked Pandora while they were on their first Sunday night walk of fourth year. The twins had made a promise to find time alone when they’d started Hogwarts, and in the years since, they’d never missed a Sunday night chat.

Pandora broke off a piece of chocolate from the bar Evan was holding, popping in her mouth.

“His brother ran away from home, Ev. He’s entitled to his privacy.”

“He’s not private around you. You two are attached at the hip nowadays.”

Pandora pursed her lips. She always did that when Evan complained; it made him feel like her younger brother rather than her twin. 

“Can’t you just tell me what’s going on with him? I know you know more than you’re saying,” Evan tried again.

“It’s not my story to tell,” Pandora spoke after a moment. Her brown eyes were fixed on a constellation Evan couldn’t identify. 

“Fine,” Evan grumbled. He knew he sounded like a petulant child, but Regulus was his best friend. 

He had told Regulus things he had never even said aloud to himself. The times he’d cause a fuss right before marks came out to spare Pandora from their father’s wrath. The day he saw his mother bleeding on the kitchen floor after a screaming match with his father. The ways he’d entertain himself and Pandora in their bedroom, too afraid to go outside and hear the cutting remarks of a mother jealous of her own daughter. Evan confided in Regulus because he knew he understood, in a way he didn’t think the others did. Not Dorcas, whose mother had a new, much younger boyfriend, but at least still cared about her daughter. Definitely not Barty, whose father was some do-gooder politician who had entire articles written about his parenting in Witch Weekly . And Pandora – well, Pandora often tried to see the best in people, even their god-awful parents. She didn’t hold the same animosity toward them. He knew Pandora could handle herself, that she didn’t need to be protected, yet Evan had still done his best to shield her from the brunt of their parents’ cruelty. One fucked-up Rosier twin was more than enough.

But now Regulus was pulling back, and Evan had no idea why. Suddenly he’d replaced Evan with his sister, and Evan couldn’t help but resent Pandora a little for that. Why could she help Regulus, but he couldn’t? Was he not trustworthy enough? And, if he didn’t have Regulus or Pandora, who did he have?

“Who am I supposed to hang out with when you and Regulus have your little heart-to-hearts?”

“Why don’t you help Dorcas with her plays?”

“I’m not feeling particularly suicidal this fall,” Evan replied, grimacing. Dorcas got a little intense when it came to Quidditch strategy.

Pandora paused, as if she were considering her next words carefully. 

“Hang out with Barty then,” she suggested.

Evan liked Barty. Of course he liked Barty. They’d been friends for three years. But Barty wasn’t exactly a ‘spill-all-your-secrets’ kind of friend. Barty walked around like he had no care in the world. He wrote letters to his mother every week, he cracked jokes with his professors, he played pranks and caused mischief like there was no consequence. Evan just didn’t really know how to relate to him, someone who seemed so perfectly happy all the time. 

“I do hang out with Barty. We live in the same room,” Evan said, avoidantly.

“That’s not what I mean. You’ve never really gotten to know Barty, the way the rest of us have.”

“I know Barty,” Evan muttered. “He likes dung bombs and Fizzing Whizzbees.”

“There’s more to him than that, Evan.”

“Quite frankly, I’m not sure that there is. Or if there is, he doesn’t want to share it with me.”

Pandora stopped and turned towards Evan.

“What’s your deal with Barty?” she demanded.

“What do you mean?” Evan asked, feigning dumb. “I don’t have a deal.”

“We’ve all been friends since the beginning of second year. Why don’t the two of you get along?” 

“We do get along!” Evan protested.

Pandora just cocked an eyebrow at him. A Rosier classic. Not as enjoyable when it was being used against him.

“It’s not like we fight ,” Evan explained defensively. “We’re just not best friends.”

“Why not?”

“We’re not similar, Pandora,” Evan said, exasperatedly. “He likes pranks and sex jokes.”

“As opposed to you, who’s Mr. Mature?”

“He thinks I’m a swot, definitely. He’s never had to work hard for anything in his life, but he sits and judges me .”

“Did he tell you that?” Pandora asked doubtfully.

“No. But he’s never in the library, and he always tells me to relax when I’m stressed about an exam in that annoying drawl of his. He thinks it so cool not to care about anything,” Evan burst, all the insecurities exacerbated by Barty’s ‘nonchalant’ attitude coming to the surface.

“He’s a nice guy, Pandora. And a good friend to you all. But we’re just never going to be friends like that.”

Pandora sighed, holding out the last block of chocolate to Evan.

“You’re more similar than you realize, Evan.”

Evan finished the block, licking chocolate off of his fingers.

“How?”

“Well, to begin with, you’re both too proud to ever admit that you’re wrong.”

“I can–” Evan started.

“Give him a chance, Ev. You might be surprised.”

Evan licked a smudge of chocolate off his upper lip.

“Let’s go inside. I’m getting cold.”

____________________

After he’d brushed his teeth and put on a fresh pair of pajamas, Evan opened the window once again. He pulled out the pack of fags from his trunk, placing a new one on the windowsill. 

He loved the feeling of smoking. Before, he’d never really understood why his father was always huffing on his pipe, or why Muggle teenagers always seemed to be smoking them on the streets of London. But smoking wasn’t like the one or two times he’d tried alcohol, snuck up to his room from one of the Rosier dinner parties. There was something soothing about the burn in his lungs, the delicate cloud of smoke that disappeared into the night. It gave Evan a sense of control, something to focus on when his thoughts started to get away from him.

Regulus was gone again, though it couldn’t be with Pandora, since Evan had just walked her back to the Ravenclaw common room. Perhaps Reg was in one of his alcoves, drawing in his sketchbook. Wherever he was, Evan didn’t have it in him to search tonight.

He lit his fag with his wand, tapping the ash against the ledge before taking a puff. He exhaled, letting his head drop back against the wall. Thank Merlin .

The bathroom door swung open and Barty stumbled out, dressed in sweatpants and rubbing a towel on his head. He paused when he saw Evan. 

“Sorry to interrupt your smoking session,” Barty quipped, an awkward smile on his face.

Evan took another puff and exhaled, noticing Barty’s curious glance at the smoke.

“You want to try?” Evan asked, holding the fag out to him.

“I’ve never–” Barty started, before closing his mouth. “Sure, why not?”

He walked over to Evan’s side, hovering next to Evan’s bedpost.

“You can take a seat if you want,” Evan tried. “I won’t bite.”

Barty smiled, more genuine this time, taking a careful seat next to Evan on the bed.

“Breathe in,” Evan advised, “then hold it for a second, then breathe out slowly.”

Evan watched as Barty inhaled and held his breath. His dark eyes watered a little, but he seemed to hold out, and exhaled a small puff of smoke.

“Not bad,” Evan remarked. “How’d it feel?”

“I might need to try again before I let you know,” Barty replied, twirling the fag between his fingers.

“It’s good, right?”

Barty closed his eyes for a moment, taking another drag.

“I think it’s the most alive I’ve felt in a while,” Barty answered. 

Evan would’ve thought Barty always felt alive.

He studied the brown-haired boy for a second, who sat with his eyes closed, hair still wet from the shower. He looked peaceful, happy. No worry lines on his forehead, no nervous fidgeting. Must be nice , Evan thought. And then. I wonder what he thinks about.

“Thanks for the fag, Evan,” said Barty, opening his eyes and rising from the bed. “Sorry I bummed it off of you.”

“S’all good.”

“You know,” called Evan, as Barty headed for his bed. “You can bum one again tomorrow night. I probably shouldn't be smoking them all by myself anyway.”

Barty looked surprised at Evan’s offering. Hell, Evan was surprised too. He hated to admit it, but perhaps Pandora had gotten to him.

One corner of Barty’s mouth turned up. Not a smile, but not a frown either. 

“Okay.”

Evan put the fag out, closing the window. “Okay.”

And it was, actually. It was okay.

So the next night, Evan lit another fag, and Barty sat next to him, and they passed it back and forth. They didn’t exchange more than 10 words during the entire interaction, but Evan didn’t really mind. It was nice, he supposed, having someone to smoke with. 

And so they repeated it. On Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. A fag, passed back and forth, a comfortable silence hanging over the dorm. It wasn’t like all the silences they’d had before, awkward silences Evan felt he had to fill with small talk about Transfiguration or Quidditch. It was a welcome silence, a shared understanding of a peaceful ritual. 

On Thursday, halfway through their first (read: third) fag, the door to the dorm opened just as Barty handed it off to Evan. The two boys froze. Barty’s eyes met his, widening, as if they’d been caught. 

“What are you guys doing?” Pandora asked, Regulus by her side.

Fuck .

“Uh–” Evan started. “We were just–”

“Smoking, Evan, really?” Pandora tutted, grabbing the fag and snubbing it out on the windowsill.

“That was a perfectly good fag, you know,” Evan groaned. 

Pandora held up the pack that was lying on Evan’s bed. “So this was your idea?” she asked, eyebrow raised yet again.

“Well,”

“Sorry, Barty. I’m afraid my brother has corrupted you,” Pandora informed Barty, who still sat on Evan’s bed, watching the encounter with a poorly hidden smirk.

“That he has, Pandora,” Barty affirmed, shaking his head in what Evan knew was mock disapproval.

“I’m sure Barty corrupted himself willingly,” Regulus put in, seemingly in a better mood than the past few days.

“I’m taking these, Evan,” Pandora threatened, sticking the pack in her robe pocket, before heading towards the door. “Walk me to my dorm, Reg?”

Regulus obliged, smirking at Evan and Barty as he left.

As the door closed, Barty dissolved into laughter. “Caught and lectured by your own twin sister. You’re never living that down, Rosier.”

“Oh, shut up, Barty, you’re not innocent either.”

“No, but I was corrupted,” Barty declared, making what Evan assumed was supposed to be the face of morality. 

Evan just rolled his eyes. Barty really did have a flair for the dramatic.

“Wait,” Barty stopped, suddenly frowning, “does that mean we’re out of fags?”

Evan got up, digging through his trunk until he felt a rectangular box. He held it up triumphantly.

“I’ve got five more boxes in my trunk.”

“You’re not so bad, Rosier.”

“I thought I corrupted you?”

Barty accepted the fag Evan held out, lighting it with his wand.

“These are worth corruption,” he admitted.

Evan stole the fag back, taking a long drag.

“Glad to hear it.”