radio, someone still loves you

Though Barty had lived with Evan and Regulus for three years now, they weren’t exactly the kind of roommates who sat around, having pillow fights and sharing their secrets every night. He wasn’t sure which kind of roommate did do that. Although, to be honest, that’s essentially what Barty imagined James Potter and his friends doing in their dormitory every night. 

The three of them, though, they had never been the types to have midnight heart-to-hearts. Sure, Barty and Regulus had confided in each other occasionally since first year, usually when one was forced to explain himself after waking up screaming. And Barty and Evan had obviously opened up to each other in some odd way over the past few months. Which was all well and good, but Barty wasn’t exactly foreseeing them holding hands in a bloody gratitude circle anytime soon.

At least, until Regulus walked into the room the night before the Gryffindors’ Halloween party.

“Smoking as usual, I see?” he remarked, glancing at Barty and Evan perched by the windowsill, passing a fag back and forth between them. A regular one, though Barty had been begging Evan to get them a spliff ever since Evan had smoked one with Remus Lupin.

“We’re creatures of habit, Reg,” Evan quipped, breathing out smoke in the same breath.

Regulus smiled lightly, his hands fidgeting with his tie. He seemed nervous. Which was mildly concerning, considering Regulus didn’t really get nervous. Not since first or second year, at least He got sad, sure, angry quite often, and haughty almost always, but very rarely was he nervous. Regulus looked younger when he fidgeted, like he did before he had put up the mask of coldness Barty knew he tried to sell.

“What’s up, Reg?” Barty prodded carefully. He tried to keep the worry out of his voice, knowing it would cause Regulus to either retreat or blow up. 

“I, er, was hoping to talk to you guys,” Regulus said, looking down at a spot below Evan and Barty’s eyes.

Evan glanced sideways at Barty, the phrase in his eyes clear. What the hell happened?

“Alright,” Evan answered. He snubbed out the fag and stood, dusting off the ashes from his trousers. Beckoning to Barty, he sat on the rug in the center of their room. Barty obliged.

Regulus hesitated a moment, before joining them on the small woven rug. Pandora had knit it in second year – a rectangular rug, dark gray with an emerald snake slithering along the edges. She could enchant the snake to lift its head and hiss with a flick of her wand.

“Pandora thought I should talk to you both before the Halloween party,” Regulus began. "You know, before I talk to Sirius again."

“We don’t have to go if you’re having second thoughts,” Evan rushed to say, and Barty nodded fervently in agreement.

“No, no, that’s not it. But I should tell you why I was acting odd at the beginning of the term.”

“But we know about Sirius leaving already,” Barty put in, a little lost as to what Regulus was getting at. “You don’t need to relive it for us.”

Regulus stared back down at the rug. “That’s not exactly the full story,” he spoke after a moment.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, yes, that’s part of the reason I was acting odd. But there’s another reason.”

Barty and Evan said nothing, their silence a clear question.

“I kind of realized something over the summer.”

Regulus paused for a second, looking up towards Barty and Evan, a soft expression in his eyes.

“I’m, um, gay,” he said finally.

Barty supposed he should have been more surprised. After all, it’s not like lots of wizards they knew were gay. Barty knew it was more accepted in the wizarding world than the muggle world, but it still wasn’t common by any means. At least at Hogwarts. And especially among pureblood families.

But yet, it also explained a great deal. It explained Regulus’s behavior the past few months, to be sure, but more than that, it explained this closed-offness that Barty had always detected in Regulus. As if he had some large part of himself he’d not yet released. It was his sexuality, Barty now realized.

Growing up in a pureblood family, perhaps Barty should’ve been bred to be more disgusted, more appalled by Regulus’s declaration. After all, he’d heard all that his own father had said about gay people. “Abominations, the whole lot of them,” he’d tell guests at dinner parties, after too many glasses of red wine.

Barty couldn’t, though. Looking at Regulus, wrapped in green scarf, hands enveloped by the large ends of his robe, not a single bone in his body was disgusted or appalled. 

“We love you, Reg. You know that, right?”

“You don’t let me forget it, unfortunately,” Regulus drawled, but Barty could see the smile playing on his lips.

“We don’t care if you’re gay, Reg,” Evan added. “In fact, Barty’s probably celebrating. With you out of the running, he might actually have a chance at finding a bird.”

“Shut up, Rosier.”

“How did you realize?” Evan asked, ignoring Barty.

Regulus flushed. “Well,” he started. “That’s more what Pandora thought I should tell you.”

He took a breath before speaking again.

“Well, er, after Sirius left, I went into his room. To look through some of his stuff, burn it because I was angry. And I found this picture of Sirius with all his friends. I’m not sure why, but I kept it by my bedside table. And then I started, well,”

Barty gestured for him to go on.

Regulus grumbled in frustration. “Fine, I bloody dreamt about James Potter.”

Barty and Evan’s mouths dropped in unison. 

“Is this a prank?” Evan whispered. “Is Pandora going to jump out and hex us?”

“Evan,” Barty scolded, recovering from his shock. “Why would Regulus ever lie about being in love with James Potter?”

Regulus groaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you guys.”

“It’s okay, Reg,” Evan teased. “We want to hear about all your crushes, even if they are James Potter.”

“I don’t have a bloody crush on him,” Regulus snapped. “I’m not an adolescent girl. I had one dream, that’s fucking it.”

“I think the lady doth doth protest too much.”

Both Evan and Regulus turned to blink at Barty.

“Did you just quote Hamlet?” Regulus asked, looking genuinely flabbergasted.

A slip on Barty’s part. He’d gotten too comfortable with Evan knowing his secret, he’d let himself get careless.

Barty laughed it off. “The fuck is Hamlet? The weird old guy at the corner of Honeydukes’ always says that.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Nice to know some things never change, Barty.”

“Oh, things are changing, alright. Soon you’ll have little curly haired babies with Potter, and Evan and I will be the uncles–”

“Aside from the fact that that’s anatomically impossible, I am not having babies, dating, or even talking to Potter. It was a moment of weakness. Don’t make me regret telling you.”

Barty sighed. “Love is crazy, man. Next thing you know Evan will be in love with me.”

Evan scoffed. “Keep dreaming, Crouch. You’re not my type.”

“Hot as fuck isn’t your type?”

“I’m sorry, who are we describing again?”

“You would be lucky to have me, Rosier.”

Regulus chuckled. “Thank Merlin you lot are straight. Because if you two ever dated…so help us God.”

“Trust me, that’s not going to happen,” Evan promised.

Barty gasped in mock offense.

Evan hit him with a pillow and Barty tackled him to the floor, wrestling the pillow from him and hitting him back. 

So he supposed they did have pillow fights and sat around sharing their secrets.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

________________________

“Has anyone seen my helmet?” Dorcas called from across the room. She was crouching on the hardwood floor, peering under Barty’s bed.

Pandora sifted through the pile of costume weapons and accessories on the floor, holding up a large bronze object with a blood red plume on it. 

“Here it is, Cas,” she said, handing it to the taller girl.

It was an hour before the Gryffindor party started, and the five of them were in the boys’ room, getting their costumes ready. Despite their initial hesitance, Regulus and Dorcas had actually gotten quite into the whole Greek theme. Likely because it consisted of donning all black and scowling (Regulus) or holding a large spear to threaten the rest of them with the entire night (Dorcas). Pandora knew them well, clearly.

Barty was currently attempting to strap the large bronze breastplate – which Pandora had made by Transfiguring a goblet she’d nicked from the Great Hall – over the tight white t-shirt he was wearing. His bottom half was outfitted in a metal tunic of sorts, worn over a white skirt he’d borrowed from Dorcas. 

It was outrageous, his outfit, but outrageous exactly in the way Barty adored. He wore long sandals on his feet, and a helmet headpiece similar to Dorcas’s on his head. He felt bloody cool.

“Barty, let’s add some blood to your outfit, make it more convincing,” Pandora suggested, retrieving her wand. She murmured a spell under her breath, and specks of red appeared on Barty’s white shirt, as if he’d just stabbed his prey. 

“You’ve outdone yourself, Dora. It looks awesome.”

Pandora blushed lightly. “I just love Halloween,” she sighed, before returning to the mirror to continue her makeup. 

Pandora looked lovely. She’d threaded gold ribbons through her silvery braids, with little moon-shaped beads at the ends. She wore a flowing white dress, with silver cuffs along her arms and silver sandals. Her eyes were covered with gray crescent and silver sparkles, a green wreath atop her head. She could’ve told Barty she was an actual goddess and he might have believed it.

Next to her, Dorcas stood, adjusting her helmet. She looked striking as well. She’d enchanted her brown eyes to match Athena’s grey ones, and they were frighteningly beautiful. Dorcas wore a white dress similar to Pandora’s, the pale color a stark contrast against her dark skin. She’d layered stacks of gold jewelry along her arms and on her fingers, with golden sandals on her feet.

“How does anyone wear these bloody helmets?” Regulus grumbled from his spot on his bed, fiddling with the clasp on his own headpiece. 

“Don’t worry Reg, we’ll make sure Potter can still see your pretty face,” Barty jeered.

Barty could hear Regulus rolling his eyes from across the room.

“For the love of Merlin, I don’t care about Potter.”

“Sex dreams don’t lie,” Barty shrugged.

“It wasn’t a sex dream!” Regulus objected, still struggling with the clasp.

“Sorry, lovemaking dream,” Barty smirked.

Dorcas snorted. “I still can't believe you told them about Potter.”

“Pandora told me to!”

“I don’t want secrets between us,” Pandora affirmed. She glanced at Barty pointedly. “We should be happy Regulus was comfortable enough to share it with us.”

Barty returned to adjusting his breastplate. A scolding from Pandora wasn’t something to take lightly. 

Barty glared at the bathroom door, which remained closed.

“What the hell is Evan doing in there? It’s been like fifteen minutes.”

“I heard that,” Evan called through the door. “I’m trying to figure out this bloody armor.”

“Come out, Ev,” Pandora replied. “I’ll help you.”

The bathroom door swung open and Evan walked out, looking entirely different from when he walked in.

Evan had clearly taken the whole sun god thing in stride, turning his braids a warm golden color, with similar charms to Pandora’s, except suns instead of crescent moons. Like Barty, he wore a metal breastplate, his a golden color rather than bronze. Unlike Barty, he wore it over a fitted white tank top, and wore white trousers rather than a tunic. Like his sister, Evan looked like he really could be a minor god, his bronzed skin glowing and the tank top accentuating the delicate muscles in his arms.

“Why does he get to wear pants?” Barty grumbled, frankly a little jealous of how good Evan looked, without even really trying, the bastard. 

“I thought you wanted to look sexy?” Evan asked, raising a brow at him. 

“Are you saying I do?” Barty winked suggestively.

“That is so incredibly far from what I’m saying.”

Barty pouted. “You wound me, Ev.”

“Cool makeup, Cas,” Evan said, turning away from Barty. 

She grinned at Evan. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Rosier.”

Evan adjusted his shirt self-consciously, though Barty was unsure what the fuck Evan had to be self-conscious about.

“You know, there’ll be a lot of lovely girls there tonight,” Dorcas trailed, looking towards Evan.

“Are you trying to pimp me out, Meadowes?”

“I’m just saying, Evan, I know a lot of girls who’d be thrilled if you gave them a bit of attention.” 

Evan snorted, causing Pandora, who was tracing a gold pencil across his eyes, to shake a little. 

“Hey, how about me?” Barty protested. 

Dorcas sighed. “Do we really need to bolster your ego more, Barty? Besides, it’s not like you need my help flirting with girls.”

“I can’t tell if I should be offended right now,” Evan wondered aloud.

“Hold still,” Pandora directed, fixing a gold wreath into Evan’s hair. 

Dorcas was right, Barty supposed. He technically didn’t need any assistance flirting with Hogwarts girls. He did enough of that on his own, though nothing ever came of it. It was just harmlessly flirting, a way for Barty to let off steam when he was bored. It’s not like he would ever date any of them anyways. Barty wasn’t exactly the dating type, and he was sure the girls of Hogwarts shared that sentiment.

Barty glanced at Evan, who was still struggling not to squirm as Pandora applied various makeup products to his face. Evan was the kind of bloke he imagined Hogwarts girls wanted to date. He’d probably take them to Hogsmeade, hold their hand, write them love notes or something. Sounded like a bloody nightmare. He’d leave that to Evan.

Though he’d never seen Evan date anybody, or even really flirt, for that matter. So perhaps neither of them would be holding hands with some fourth-year girl and skipping to Hogesmeade anytime soon. 

Regulus, who had entered the bathroom when Evan had abandoned it, finally came out, lacing up his boots. He wore black trousers and a fitted black long sleeve, a dark purple shawl hanging diagonally across his upper half, secured with a bronze clasp. He wore Hades’ trademark helm of darkness on his head, a helmet made of black metal, his curls pushed back into the helmet. The Blacks, for all their problems, were blessed with some bloody good genes. The pulled-back hair accentuated Regulus’s strong nose and jaw. 

Pandora, done with Evan’s gold makeup, approached Regulus with a brush.

“Reg, can I put some black eyeshadow around your eyes?”

Regulus obliged wordlessly. All of them knew there was no use arguing with Pandora about Halloween.

Pandora got to work smearing dark powder around Regulus’s eyes as the rest of them put the finishing touches on their costumes.

Barty joined Evan and Dorcas by the mirror, the three of them fixing their hair and headpieces.

“You know,” Dorcas said off-handedly, her attention still on her helmet. “If you know about Regulus, I might as well tell you about me.”

Barty looked at her questioningly.

“I’m a lesbian,” Dorcas confirmed, looking steely towards Evan and Barty, as if daring them to say something.

“Okay,” Barty said after a moment. “That’s great, Cas.”

Dorcas’ shoulders relaxed a bit. “Really?”

Evan shoved her lightly. “Why would we accept Regulus and not you?”

“Yeah, we’re no hypocrites,” Barty agreed.

Dorcas bit her lip. “Well, you know, it’s not exactly easy to be a lesbian witch in…” she gestured towards the castle.

Evan’s smile softened, and Barty slung an arm around Dorcas’s shoulders.

“If anyone tries to mess with you,” Evan began.

“We’ll beat the shit out of them,” Barty finished.

“I was going to say we’d teach them a lesson, but sure, that.”

Dorcas pushed their heads softly. “Idiots,” she said, but there was a smile on her lips.

“What’s going on over there?” Pandora called, still fiddling with Regulus’s hair.

“Decided to tell the two idiots that I’m gay too,” Dorcas replied.

Pandora clapped her hands. “I’m glad you did, Cas.”

She looked over her shoulder towards Evan and Barty. “I’m not a lesbian, but I do think girls are lovely. I think everyone is lovely, really.”

Barty smiled at her. “Whoever you decide to love is bloody lucky to have you, Pan.”

Dorcas shook her head. “Nobody is good enough for our Dora.”

Pandora giggled softly. “You guys are too sweet. No more secrets between us, okay?” 

They all nodded in agreement.

“Not to break up this moment,” Regulus started. “But we should probably go.” He pointed at the clock, which showed it was 8:32, nearly a half hour after the party had begun. 

Springing up from their positions, they grabbed their weapons. 

As they walked towards Gryffindor Tower, Barty noticed Regulus twisting the ring on his middle finger.

“You feeling okay about seeing Sirius?” he asked.

Regulus slowed, leaning against a stone pillar. The rest of them stopped, huddling around Regulus.

“We can leave at anytime, Reg,” Dorcas promised. “Or we can ditch and finish our Honeydukes’ stash in the astronomy tower.”

Regulus let out a shaky breath, turning to look at Evan. 

“Can I have a smoke?”

Evan’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he pulled out a pack of fags nonetheless, wordlessly lighting and handing it towards Regulus. 

Regulus held the fag between the finger with the ring and his pointer, taking a deep inhale. He didn’t cough on the exhale, impressively, and if Barty didn’t know better, he’d think Regulus had been smoking for years. Even Evan looked impressed.

Regulus glanced at their surprised impressions.

“We’re French nobility. They teach Blacks how to smoke practically before they can read.”

He took another few drags of the fag before disappearing it with a flick of his wand. He raised his chin, a determined look settling in his eyes.

“Let’s go.”

The Gryffindor common room was already buzzing when they arrived, a jumble of the four older grades, wizards and witches from practically every household. Well, except Slytherin, though that had changed now that the five of them were there.

The first one to spot them when they entered through the portrait hole was James Potter, who was dressed as  a Quidditch player, except his jersey was splatter with blood and torn, with fake blood covering his face and neck as well. His hair was as unruly as ever.

“Glad you all could make it,” he shouted over the music, grinning at them, which Barty found mildly ironic considering last time they’d met, he’d been shouting at them for a very different reason.

Pandora, the friendliest of their lot, smiled at him. “What are you dressed as, James?” she asked politely.

Potter chuckled. “I’m a dead Quidditch player. It’s supposed to be scary,” he explained. His eyes scanned their group, and he brightened when they landed on Regulus.

“Regulus! Great that you’re here! Sirius has been waiting for you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Barty could see Regulus’s face redden slightly under Potter’s gaze. Not a crush, my ass.

Potter grimaced. “Fuck, I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Forget I said anything. Anyways you should go find hi–”

“Where is he?” Regulus cut in, focusing on a spot just below James’s eyes. 

James gestured towards the hoard of people in the center of the room vaguely.

“Somewhere in there. He’s hard to miss.”

“Great, you’ve been a lot of help,” Regulus deadpanned. James blinked at him, clearly having trouble detecting the sarcasm in his voice. Barty tried not to laugh. God, this was going to be fun to watch.

Regulus broke away from the rest of them, shooting them a look that Barty assumed meant I’m going to find my brother, but Barty chose to interpret as, I’m going to find my brother, and I’m also in love with James Potter.

With Regulus gone, Jame stared at the four of them uncertainly, before seeming to spring back into his previous enthusiasm.

“Anyways, there’s drinks over there,” he gestured toward a long table near the window. “Remus is controlling the music, which means there’ll probably be some punk in there that no one in their right mind will dance too, but he has the best record player, so it’s a sacrifice we have to make, unfortunately,” he rattled off. Barty wasn’t sure if his long rant was from nerves, or if that’s just the way James Potter was. 

He paused for a moment, looking towards Evan.

“And, hey, no hard feelings, man. About the whole…incident.”

Evan just blinked at him. James seemed to take that as him not understanding.

“You know,” he prodded. “The whole you punching me thi–”

“Got it,” Evan interrupted, seeming to break out of his shock. 

“So we’re good?” James asked.

“Sure,” Evan responded noncommittally. As James left, he turned to them with an incredulous expression on his face.

“Bloody insane, the whole lot of them,” he muttered. Barty had to nod in agreement. 

Pandora pulled Dorcas’s arm in the direction of the dance floor. 

“Come on, Cas. Let’s go dance.”

Dorcas groaned, but allowed herself to be pulled away.

Barty and Evan looked at each other, then in the direction of the drinks table.

“Let’s–”

“Yeah.”

Yet just as they poured themselves cups of whatever unlabeled punch was on the table, they heard Pandora call for them from the corner of the room. They turned to see Pandora and Dorcas with a group of other fourth and fifth-years.

“Evan, Barty! Come on, we’re playing a game!”

Evan and Barty approached the group warily.

“What’s it called?” Barty asked, eyeing the empty Firewhiskey bottle on the floor.

The dark-haired Gryffindor – Mary McDonald, Barty was pretty sure – answered.

“Spin the Bottle.”