Cigarettes And Dark Arts
Evan
Back during his years at Hogwarts, Evan used to hate that part of Diagon Alley: the darkest street, frequented by the worst kind of people. He’d always avoided it, fearing the unfortunate encounters that could take place there. With time, he’d become one of the shops that lined up the dark alleys’ regular customers, in search of forbidden books, or artefacts to bring Voldemort whenever he required them. However, those streets still made him feel quite uncomfortable.
“I hate it here” he murmured after meeting the truce gaze of a man wrapped in a dark cloak. Everyone there wore dark colours, though Barty stood out in the middle of the gloomy street in his black ripped up jeans and leather jacket. It was late at night, the sun had set hours ago, a thick blanket of clouds concealed the moon and the stars dotting the night sky, causing the place to sink in darkness, with nothing but the flickering light of a few street lamps to enlighten their way.
“There’s nothing to worry about” Barty reassured him. “If someone bothers you, just show them your mark and they’ll instantly leave you alone”.
He was right. There was at least one positive thing in being a Death Eater: the Dark Mark was a safety guarantee against dark mages. Another man walked past them, Evan accidentally bumped into him. The man dropped something, a small glass bottle shattered on the floor, the liquid it contained expanded like an oil stain on the concrete. “Sorry sir” Evan apologised.
“Look where you’re fucking going, kid” the man hissed at him. “Look what you’ve done. It was the last potion in the whole store”.
Evan glanced back at the liquid: poison. He was totally sure that that was poison.
“I already apologised, sir. There’s nothing I can do for your pois- potion” he replied dryly.
The man bared his teeth, pulling his wand out. “You’ll fucking pay for this”.
At that, Barty stepped in their way, pointing his own wand at him. “Lay a single finger on him and you’re dead” he hissed.
The man held his gaze for a moment, then lowered his wand. Evan finally managed to meet his eyes: a Death Eater. He’d seen him only once, at a meeting, when he’d reported some news to the Dark Lord. He was a spy, not even close to reaching the higher ranks.
“You’re lucky he respects you, Bartemius Crouch” he recognised Barty, whose jaw twitched as he heard him using his complete name. He didn’t speak another word to Evan.
Barty followed him with his gaze until he disappeared behind the corner, then let his wand slip back in the pocket of his jacket. He grabbed his lover’s hand, shifting closer to him. “Stay close”. Evan nodded, squeezing back.
Holding hands with Barty was probably one of the things he loved the most in the whole world, apart from kissing him and the nights they spent together. Evan had mapped every single inch of his hands, which fitted perfectly in his. They were soft, usually warm, nails often painted with black nail polish, silver rings adorning his fingers every now and then. The two of them proceeded down the empty alley, walking past the gates of the closed shops. Just a few of them were still open, though they would close before midnight. The wind howled in the air around them, a light rain had started beating on the concrete. Evan avoided a puddle, regretting not having put on something warmer. “I really hate it here”.
“It’s not this scary during the daytime” Barty commented. Dark Arts fascinated him too much for him to care. They were there to buy something the Dark Lord needed, so it wouldn’t take them long, however Barty liked to browse through the shelves, curious to find another interesting book to study, or a useful artefact to purchase, ‘in case of need’ he always said.
They soon got to their destination: a small shop at the end of the street, disguised as an old textbook shop for magical students. It was notorious for its sought after products: you could literally find everything in there. Every item sold was definitely illegal, things that could cost you Azkaban only for their possession. That was why Evan often stopped Barty from buying too much stuff there: if the Aurors caught them, their destiny would be behind bars nonetheless.
There, a crusted wooden insignia hung above the door, written in black edgy letters, the painting faded by time and bad weather: ‘Eagle’s Eye’.
Barty let go of Evan’s hand and opened the door with a loud creak to announce their entrance. Those hinges definitely needed to be oiled. The shop consisted of a single square room, a burgundy painted door on the left side of the wall opposite the entrance that Evan had no idea where led, and a trap door behind the counter which brought to the underground storage room, where the most dangerous stuff was kept. Everything was shrouded in darkness, illuminated by nothing but a few candles held by skeleton hands, three on each wall. Evan glanced at the closest one, hoping those bones weren’t actually real ones, like the couple of skulls resting on two shelves opposite each other, which he knew had belonged to two of the owner’s enemies. He feared to find out what it had been of the rest of their corpses…
Barty didn’t seem bothered by those human bones, already devouring the room with his eyes, ogling at the old books and flasks behind the display cases. He tried to reach for an electric blue gem lying on a shelf to move it aside and pick up the book behind it, and Evan closed his fingers around his wrist, stopping him. “Don’t touch anything” he whispered.
You couldn’t know whether those magical artefacts were cursed or not unless you asked directly to the owner. A man was standing before the counter, waiting for him to return, probably from the underground room. The hood of his black cloak masked his head, though Evan would recognise that walking cane everywhere. Lucius Malfoy.
He took a look around, making sure Barty didn’t lay a finger on anything: glass ampoules, jars filled with dark creatures’ particles and other stuff he couldn’t quite recognise, daggers with poisoned blades, books that held the most treacherous spells, old parchments with magic formulas the world had forgotten about, amulets, rings…
“Let’s get this done quickly and leave this place” Evan murmured. “It’s getting late”.
That room was teeming with dark, arcane magic, whose sweet call was already having its effect on Barty, asking to be set free, to find its way back into the world. Evan wondered how the owner had managed to collect all of those items, sources of nothing but destruction.
The halo of death hovering in the atmosphere sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.
“I really, really, hate this place” he muttered for the third time.
He knew Barty loved it. He knew how much that world fascinated him. But Dark Arts were dangerous. Extremely dangerous. Once you meddled with them, there was no turning back. They would change you deeply, you’d become nothing but an instrument for a much bigger design, a force stronger than you. Evan’s life mission had become keeping his boyfriend as safe from it as he could.
Lucius turned at the sound of his voice. “Oh, look who we have here” his lips coiled up in a grin. “Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr.”.
“Lucius” Evan hissed as a greeting.
“What brings you guys here so late at night?”.
“We could ask you the same question” Barty said.
“I would answer it’s none of your business”.
“Our response wouldn’t be much different”.
They glared at each other, interrupted by steps walking up a flight of stairs. The trap door opened and the owner walked out, carrying a pile of books with something rectangular covered by a black velvet cloth, probably a box, on top of it. “Here is what you requested, Mr. Malfoy”.
“Thank you Whitcher” his eyes glistened with interest as he studied the book spines. “Would you mind showing me the contents of the casket?”.
“Are you doubting my reliability?” Whitcher blurted out, offended. “I’ve never tricked a client in my whole ninety years of career”.
Yes. Ninety years. The man looked no older than seventy, however he’d been alive for more than a century. How was that possible, Evan had no clue. He didn’t want to meddle in affairs he wasn’t involved with. He was sure the wizard wasn’t immortal, he’d probably only assumed some filter to prolong his longevity. Such charms always involved a side effect, a price to pay. Evan didn’t want to know what his had been.
And as for tricking his customers, rumours spread quickly among Death Eaters, he’d learned about someone who’d been deceived by him three times. Of course, when dealing with such twisted and mysterious individuals the only thing you could do was keep your guard high and be attentive. Lucius wasn’t stupid. Therefore, he invited Whitcher to reveal what he wanted him to. The shopkeeper’s gaze flew to Evan and Barty. “Oh, don’t worry about them” Lucius said. “They’re friends”.
The old man muttered something under his breath, removing the black cloth. Underneath there was a casket of dark wood with a bronze lock, the key was resting on top of it. The mechanism clicked as he opened it with one swift movement, revealing what was inside. Evan placed a hand on Barty’s arm, though he still craned his neck to peer at the items: nothing but a purple amulet with a polished golden chain and a silver spider shaped comb embedded with black gems Evan couldn’t recognise. They both irradiated magic. Not a good kind.
Lucius smiled. “Perfect”.
Evan didn’t want to know what they were, nor what he needed them for. Barty seemed to have a different opinion on it. “What are those?” he asked before he could stop him.
Lucius turned towards him. “As I said before, that’s none of your business, Crouch”.
“You wouldn’t want to get in trouble, Lucius” Evan said. Malfoy’s eyes moved to him, as poisonous as a snake’s. “Don’t worry, Rosier. I know what I’m doing. Thank you for your thoughtfulness”.
They didn’t exchange any other word as Lucius paid for his goods. Barty surveyed the room, slowly walking around. He browsed through all of the texts on the shelves, the jars behind display cases, a stuffed snake, what looked like a black tarantula moving in its case, a wand hidden behind a huge tome, whose past owner was unknown.
“Have a good night, Rosier” Lucius said, walking past Evan. “And make sure your dear friend doesn’t end up in trouble” he emphasised the word friend.
There, Evan realised he knew. He knew about the two of them. He’d probably seen them at the meetings, holding hands under the table cloth, perhaps calling the other with one of their usual nicknames, or maybe even kissing, hidden behind a column, thinking nobody could see them. Shit.
Lucius leaned forward, whispering so that only Evan could hear. “Your secret is safe as long as mine are”.
He didn’t bother waiting for a reply, pushing the door open.
“Long time no see, Mr. Rosier” Whitcher caught Evan’s attention. His knotty fingers were intertwined on the counter, his golden hawk eyes pointing directly at his. “Good evening, Whitcher”.
“How can I help you today?”.
Evan fished for the piece of paper in the pocket of his jeans and unfolded it on the counter. “Could you get these for me?”.
The man quickly read through the list, then looked back at him. “His orders, I suppose”.
Evan nodded, then watched him pick up two out of the five items from the shelves Barty was looking at. Then, he told him he would go downstairs to grab the rest. Evan swallowed, knowing what kind of stuff was there. Barty didn’t seem bothered, not even a little, too busy observing a dagger of almost the same shape as the one Evan had tattooed on his left ring finger.
Whitcher came back with said items, plus a book with a black leather cover with purple adornments. “I forgot to tell Mr. Malfoy it had arrived” he explained to Evan’s inquisitorial glance. “Could you please let him have it?”.
Evan studied the title, written in white letters: ‘Secrets of the Darkest Art’.
‘Why would Malfoy ever need something of this kind?’ he thought.
“Of course” he nodded, picking it up. Magic. It was full of magic. For a moment, he felt his fingers burning, though it only lasted a second. It looked like a completely normal book on the outside, but it was clear it held some far more complicated secrets. Barty gently took it from his hands as Whitcher packed the rest of the items for Voldemort. He looked rather impressed, turning it in his hands. He opened it, flipped through the pages, then shut it again. Evan couldn’t quite decipher the look in his brown eyes, shining under the dim candlelight.
⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅
Evan needed to smoke. Just a cigarette, to help ease the anxiety mounting in his chest. He didn’t smoke frequently, barely one or two cigarettes every week, though he always felt better after a good drag or two.
He reached for his packet of cigarettes and pulled one out. Barty glanced at him as he was about to light it up, hand held up to protect it from the cold breeze.
“May I have one too?” he asked.
“I thought you’d quitted smoking months ago”. He’d started at the beginning of their fourth year, because of Evan, and had stopped around the end of the seventh. He hadn’t touched one in months, and later started to ask his boyfriend to lend him one pretty rarely.
Barty shrugged and Evan handed him a cigarette, then brought the lighter up to his mouth. Barty inched forward too, the tips of their cigarettes touched as a flame sparked between them. They always lit them up like that when they smoked together. It kind of felt… intimate. Barty held Evan’s gaze and, shit, he wanted to kiss him. He stepped back, watching him breath in, then slowly exhale after a few seconds. Barty took another drag on his cigarette, just as Evan lowered his. A second later his lips were on his. Barty’s back gently hit the wall of the building on their right as Evan cupped his cheek. Barty puffed a cloud of smoke and he breathed it in, kissing him again. He tasted like mint and tobacco.
Evan’s chest pressed to his as his knee slid between his legs. “We’re not supposed to waste time here” Barty pointed out. They were still in that dark alley Evan hated so much. Though, suddenly, he didn’t care that much anymore.
He hushed him with another kiss, and no more complaints aroused from Barty’s lips.
Evan loved that. He loved him. Desired burned inside him, as devouring, consuming, as always. He wanted him. He needed him.
Barty’s hands trailed up Evan’s back, the back of his neck, his cigarette slipped from his fingers, ending in a small puddle. “Shit, I hadn’t finished it yet” he cursed.
Evan drew his head back, bringing his own to his lips, which he pressed to Barty’s once again while exhaling. “Much better” he commented, voice low.
Then, a noise. “Fuck” Evan muttered. He stopped, hand resting on Barty’s hip, mouth still a few centimetres from his. None of them dared to move for a second, then… Barty let out a sigh of relief. “It was just a stray cat”. Evan followed his gaze and saw a black cat sitting on top of a bin’s metal lid. His tail swung behind him as he stared at them curiously. Awakened from the haze of the moment, he stepped back. “Let’s go home, Barty”.
“But-”.
“Let’s go home” the look in his eyes left no imagination to his intentions. A smirk made its way on his lips, which Evan couldn’t wait to feel on his again.
“Yes, it’s got pretty late, now that I’m noticing. Moreover, I’m pretty tired, we should really get some good sleep” he said.
Evan flashed a knowing smile at him, following him down the end of the street.
They both knew they were definitely not going to be sleeping any time soon. The night was theirs. A moment to focus on themselves after the troubles and commitments of the day, in which they could finally breathe, free from every pressure, and spend some quality time together, in which Evan could finally have his lover all for himself.
After the sunset, there were no more Death Eaters, no more Voldemort, nor Order of the Phoenix, no more wars and curses, dangers and death.
Just them.
All that mattered to him.