Barty Crouch Jr. had clearly seen better days. This became apparent to Regulus as he stared into the hardened eyes of a man he once knew for the first time in a decade. There was not much left to see in those eyes. The flame that Regulus had grown accustomed to be wary of had been snuffed out, the life in them had been taken. Regulus Black looked at Barty Crouch Jr., sitting in a cell waiting for death, and he found himself thinking that this was a man he no longer could recognize. But in all fairness, the same could certainly be said about Regulus himself. A long way had both men come from the little boys they had once been, walking along the halls of Hogwarts thinking themselves invincible.
“Hello, Barty,” Regulus said amicably, careful to keep his voice neutral.
Barty met his eye and Regulus could see something like a spark begin to form in those eyes again. He was sitting on the floor in his cell, looking up as Regulus entered the dimly lit room.
“Well hello, old friend. Come to say goodbye?” Barty did not bother speaking politely. His voice was just as sultry and dangerous as it had always been. Regulus found comfort in this.
“You have put yourself in quite a precarious situation,” Regulus said, gaze turning to inspect the room around him and the cell in front of him. Who knew Hogwarts even had cells?
“Well, you know me. Always causing problems,” Barty grinned, and Regulus understood why many had claimed him to be quite mad. Barty had always been prone to a little madness, a certain kind of carefree nature that inspired fear and caution to the people around him. Regulus supposed that his already fragile sanity had not been improved by the harsh conditions of Azkaban.
“Yes, I do know. I must say, however, that I do not find your predicament as amusing as I used to when we were children. We are a long way from childish pranks on stuck-up housemates, now, are we not?”
“Ah, those were the days.” Barty’s voice turned wistful, his eyes faraway, until he snapped back as quickly as he had gone. “But you don’t like what I’ve done this time, Reg? Are you disappointed in me?” His grin was feral. It was no secret that Barty had lived the majority of his life striving to be a disappointment to his father.
“No, I do not like what you have done this time, Barty,” Regulus gritted out, not quite being able to disguise the frustration in his voice. No, he did not like it. He did not like that Barty had spent over a year trying to execute a plan that could undermine everything Regulus had been working for. He did not like that Barty had succeeded with said plan, and that Regulus could feel the last fifteen years slipping through his fingers as the reality began to sink in, that he had given up every single thing he cared for and still lost in the end. Every pain, every scar on his body and scar in his mind, all in the name of trying to put an end to this all, and it was all for null. He was back, and Regulus had failed, and he was staring into the eyes of the one responsible for it. His friend, his brother, his enemy.
“And yet you still came.” It wasn’t a question, it didn’t need to be. Even after all these years, even after rifts big enough to kill and hurt big enough to die from, even after looking at each other and not recognizing what the other had become, even then, they still somehow knew each other, down to their very bones.
“And yet I still came,” Regulus echoed.
“Then what’s your plan? Are you going to open this door and just let me go? I am the reason the Dark Lord, the very man you tried to give your life to defeat, is back. I am facing the Kiss for my crimes and you are just planning on letting me go?” Regulus knew the words to be true. They might be positioned on the very opposite sides of this coming war, but Regulus would still open that door for him, would still let him go, because this was Barty. His Barty.
“If you say the word, I will,” Regulus promised, and his voice was still as steady as it had always been.
Barty looked pensive for a moment, almost as if he was considering it, considering the life he would live if he escaped this prison alive. The sight he saw must not have been very appealing, because he sat back against the wall and declared, with as much gusto as he could manege:
“Well, no, thank you,” Barty grinned, “I’m quite comfortable where I am right now.” When Regulus didn’t deign that with an answer, he continued. “You know, I see this as a rather fitting end. This was always the type of life I imagined I would lead. One where I would end up in a cell.” Barty forced a laugh. Regulus did not call him out on his lie.
“It is your choice,” Regulus replied at last. “I will not force you out of this prison.” It was quiet for a moment, and Regulus watched as Barty struggled to keep up his false bravado, and he could see the exact moment when Barty’s mask broke. His entire body slumped forward, his face suddenly seemed riddled with wrinkles and the dark bags under his eyes clashed horribly with his sickened pale skin.
“There’s just not much to live for anymore, is there? There hasn’t been, ever since he…” Ever since he died, Regulus finished in his mind. And that was it, wasn’t it? The reason Barty Crouch Jr. would never step out of this cell and the reason Regulus Black had been living as a dead man walking for years with only one purpose in mind, ready for the day when he could finally just stop. Ever since they died, ever since they had been left alone in a world that had never treated them kindly, the only light they had ever known dragged from their bloody hands. Regulus and Barty were so similar in many ways. They had both lost everything.
“All these years… All these extra fucking years that I never asked for, but that were forced upon me. That day, I was ready to lie down with him and never wake up again, and yet here I am, sixteen years later still living for some Merlin’s forsaken reason. Aren’t you tired, Regulus? I am. But it’s okay, because he is waiting for me, has been waiting for me, and soon I will get to hold him again. So soon…”
Regulus Black did not cry, but standing there, looking down at the person he had once called his best friend as he welcomed death with open arms, Regulus felt like screaming ad beating his fists against the wall and fucking wailing because this, this is what the world had done to them, this is what the world had made them into. What a cruel twist of fate that it would be them, Regulus and Barty, who were the only ones left alive. The two people who carried the most darkness inside them, instead of all the people they had lost, all who were so much more deserving of having these extra years. Pandora, Evan, Dorcas, James, all of them who had been robbed of the years Regulus and Barty had been given so freely.
“I know you understand, Regulus. I can see it in your eyes. You are waiting for the day you get to be with your person again, no? Maybe you are stronger than me, then. For being able to keep going on. Or maybe you are simply more stubborn. You made a promise to take down the Dark Lord and you are not going to stop until you achieve it. Well, good luck with that. I guess I won’t be there to see it.” And now, Regulus could no longer stop the tears from falling. Slowly, and without much fanfare, the tears were rolling down his cheeks, wetting his lips. Barty was not faring much better.
“I will never forgive you, Barty Crouch,” Regulus said, and if you had not seen his tear-streaked face, you would never have known he was crying.
“I know. I will never forgive you, either.”
“I love you, Barty.”
“I know. I love you too, Regulus.”
“Say hello to Evan for me, will you?” As he said this, Regulus reached out his hand through the bars as he knelt before them, Barty meeting him halfway.
“‘Course I will. Hey, I’ll even say hello to Potter for you, if I find him and he doesn’t immediately punch me in the face.”
“That is very generous of you.”
They held each other’s gaze and hand, time not really ticking, as Regulus was taking care to try to forget all the details on Barty’s face. He would rather remember Barty from his youth, wild and spirited and smart and the only person who ever really understood him, jagged edges and all. With what felt like an immense effort, Regulus retracted his hand, making sure he was careful, and stood up again.
“Goodbye, Barty.”
“Goodbye, Regulus. See you soon.”
Regulus didn’t look back as he started walking away. He didn’t look back as Barty inspected the vial now in his hands, or how he unscrewed the cork, or how he downed the entire thing with a smile on his lips. He did not think about how Barty Crouch Jr. died with a name ready on his lips, or the whispered words he let float in the air.
“I am coming, my Love. I am coming, Evan.”