bad idea, right?

Something was up.

Ever since Hogsmeade weekend, Evan and Regulus had been acting odd, and Barty was onto them.

It started when he returned to the dorm on Saturday to find Evan and Regulus huddled on Regulus’s bed, exchanging furtive glances as they conversed. Regulus had a protective arm slung around Evan’s shoulders, who looked like he had just been shaking. Evan didn’t glance up at Barty, refused to meet his eye. 

Over the next few days, Barty saw Regulus sneak into Evan’s bed, or Evan sneak into Regulus’s, each night, and they’d stay in there for long periods, a silencing charm cast over the area.

Barty didn’t feel excluded, per se. He was just confused by what they had to hide. Barty had thought that anything Evan and Regulus told each other, they could tell him. He knew that wasn’t completely fair, as there were things he told Regulus about and not Evan (mostly when he did detention-worthy things he knew Evan wouldn’t approve of) and there were things he told Evan that he didn’t tell Regulus (oddly deep reflections on his family and his childhood whenever they got high after class). He knew it wasn’t fair to be mad when they did it, and he wasn’t mad, exactly, just confused. Because if something had happened to one of them, something bad, he’d want to know. Because they were his best friends. Barty genuinely loved them, and he couldn’t say that about many people. But he could say that confidently about Regulus and Evan. He’d die for them, he’d kill for them. He loved them in different ways, of course. Regulus was like a brother to him, an annoying thorn-in-his-side that he could never quite get rid of but loved arguing with anyways. Though he and Regulus argued, he knew both of them would do anything for each other. 

Evan was, well, Barty wasn’t exactly sure how to describe it. Evan was like another part of him. From the moment they’d met as kids to their time throughout Hogwarts, Barty was convinced they were two pieces of the same soul. They were different, of course, different in more ways than he could count. But in every way that mattered, they were the same. Barty wasn’t silent very often, but Evan was one of the only people - no, the only person - with whom he could just sit for hours on end, passing a spliff back and forth and gazing up at the stars. Barty allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of Evan and Evan only, and only because he knew Evan did the same. They’d bare their hearts out to each other at midnight in the Quidditch stands, then wake up the next morning and pretend it never happened. Evan was just, Evan. 

Which is precisely why Barty was so baffled by this new development. Because, as much as Barty knew that Evan and Regulus were best friends, and that Evan had every right to confide in Regulus about whatever he wanted, Barty simply didn’t understand why Evan hadn’t confided in him instead. What could Regulus help with that he couldn’t? He’d thought they had a special bond, and yet Evan was avoiding him like the plague, and spending all his night in Regulus’s bed.

By Wednesday, Barty could no longer handle it. He’d been walking on eggshells around Evan, trying to talk to him in between classes and lunches, only to be blown off. He’d loitered around all their usual smoking spots, hoping Evan would come out for a quick smoke between classes, but Barty found himself smoking alone, wondering where Evan could be. He was getting impatient. He’d never gone so long without interacting with Evan. Evan was quite possibly the most constant thing in Barty’s life. He was woken up every morning by Evan’s slamming of the bathroom door, purposefully loud to wake Barty. He bickered with Evan on the way to breakfast, a half-awake Regulus trailing behind them. He’d sit in the Great Hall and make fun of Regulus’s crush on James Potter with Evan, then inevitably start bickering with both Evan and Regulus over eggs and potatoes. He had practically every class with Evan, spent every break with Evan, and spent his evenings arguing, playing chess, studying, or smoking with Evan. So, yes, Barty’s life without Evan was fairly pointless. 

And, more than anything, life without Evan was boring. Sure, he argued with Regulus still, or talked Quidditch with Dorcas, or listened to Pandora’s stories, but no one challenged Barty the way Evan did. They were in the same intellectual field, fascinated by the same things. While Regulus read his poetry and philosophy books and Pandora reflected on the human condition, Evan and Barty lived entirely in the present. They were doers, always tinkering with new spells or throwing insults or dueling whenever they got bored. They constantly stimulated each other, constantly challenged each other. Being friends with Evan was like one long mind game that he could never solve. Even their bet was honestly less about the actual dates and more about fucking with Evan. Barty loved the challenge of outdoing Evan, of sabotaging his dates and competing with his effortless charisma. 

All of this is to say that Barty was bored, frustrated, and, though he would never admit it out loud, a little lonely without Evan. So on Wednesday afternoon, he set out to figure out what exactly Evan was hiding, and why the fuck he was avoiding Barty.

Barty knew Evan met with his study group in the library on Wednesday afternoons, so Barty decided the perfect plan was to intercept him on his way, pull him into a broom closet, and demand the truth.

At approximately 3:30pm, Barty stood in one of Hogwarts’ many hallways, waiting until he saw a certain blonde making his way to the library. Barty spotted him a couple paces back, looking lost in thought. Barty let his eyes linger on Evan, able to see him for the first time all week, since Evan had been practically running away from Barty all the other times he’d seen him.

Now that the shock of Evan’s new hair had settled, Barty came to realize how it had changed him. It wasn’t quite as drastic as he’d initially thought - after all, it was just hair - but Barty noticed the confidence it had given Evan. He seemed more comfortable in his own body, giving his cocky smirks a little more truth than before. Barty knew Evan would never be truly arrogant - he was still the shy boy he’d once known - but Barty had to say the confidence became him. For so long, Barty had watched Evan shrink himself down into something imperceivable, somehow disguising his lanky self into the shadows. But now, Evan seemed to step into himself, with more control over his being than he’d seemed to have before. Barty could see it in the easy playfulness in his eyes, now brought bright and alive by the lightness of his hair. He could see it in the sureness of his jaw, sharp and defined and set, as if he was ready to speak his mind at any moment. He could see it in his hands, long fingers and silver rings, constantly moving but no longer as frantic, instead more methodical, as if playing a piano. And though it was unfamiliar, Barty liked this side of Evan. He’d waited for years for Evan to see himself the way Barty did, as a force to be reckoned with. Barty just couldn’t believe that now that Evan was finally there, he wouldn’t even look at Barty.

So as Evan crossed the alcove where Barty stood, Barty reached out one hand and grabbed Evan’s wrist, pulling him into the broom closet.

“What the fuc– Barty?” Evan asked, confused.

Barty shifted in the closet, moving a few supplies to lean against the door.

“Surprised to see me, Ev?”

“Why would I be surprised? We live together.”

“I don’t know, Evan, maybe because you’ve been avoiding me for a week and I have no idea why.”

Evan had the audacity to look guilty at that. Barty wanted to shake his stupidly broad shoulder and knock some sense into the idiot. Did he really not know why Barty was mad?

“Barty, you don’t underst–” Evan began, shifting uncomfortably.

“Don’t understand what, Evan? What is it? School? Family stuff? A random bout of existential dread? What the fuck is it that I’m so unequipped to deal with?”

“Not everything is fucking about you, Barty. Did you think about the fact that maybe this has nothing to do with you? Maybe I’m not avoiding you out of spite or simply to piss you off?” Evan sounded frustrated now, staring Barty hard in the eye as he fiddled with his loose tie.

“You haven’t spoken to me in five days, Evan. You seem to be getting along fine with Reg, Dorcas, and Pandora. How am I supposed to now take that personally?”

“Because I know you won’t get it, Barty!” Evan burst, raking a hand through his now-buzzed hair. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“What don’t I get, Evan?” Barty shot back, shouting now. “I was there the first time your dad hit you, I was there that time you ran away from home for a week, I was there for every all-nighter you pulled during O.W.L.s. I know you better than anybody and I know when you’re fucking hiding something from me. So tell me, Evan, what is it that I don’t know about?”

Evan took a staggered breath, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Barty, it’s not that I don’t want to talk to you about this,” Evan began, his voice a little bit cracked. “I just don’t know if you want to hear it. I don’t know if it’ll change things.”

“Evan,” Barty said, impatiently. “I’ve been your best friend for your entire life. I’m lost as to what you could possibly say that would–”

“Fuck this. I’m gay, Barty.”

Barty’s world froze for a moment.

Oh.

It wasn’t like Barty didn’t have gay friends. Merlin, at this point, all his friends were gay. And it wasn’t that he was particularly surprised by Evan being gay, or that he cared. Of course he didn’t care. Evan was his best friend, and he didn’t give a fuck who Evan wanted to fuck. So why did his stomach feel like it had just been turned inside out?

Barty looked up slowly to meet Evan’s eye. Evan fiddled with his chain, a nervous habit he’d had for years. Barty could tell Evan was waiting for a response. But Barty’s throat was suddenly dry, his brain unable to form thoughts. Evan was…into blokes. He was going to snog guys, maybe even Hogwarts guys. He was sure Evan would have no trouble finding someone to shag either. Yes, it was the 70s, and being gay wasn’t exactly celebrated, but it was hardly new to the wizarding world. Hogwarts had a fairly active gay community, and though they didn’t go around flaunting it in front of homophobes, gay people at Hogwarts interacted and dated quite freely. So yes, Evan would be perfectly fine. In fact, Barty had seen more than one bloke shoot interested looks at Evan since his haircut, including Benjy Fenwick, the notorious flirt of Ravenclaw. 

He wasn’t sure why the prospect of Benjy Fenwick snogging Evan made Barty so uncomfortable. He wasn’t homophobic, he was sure. He hadn’t cared when Regulus had told him he was gay in fifth year, nor had he when Dorcas started dating Marlene McKinnon. So why did he feel like this now, for Evan? Perhaps it was Barty’s protective streak. He’d always felt like him and Evan were responsible for each other, neither of them having siblings the way Regulus did. They looked out for each other, and this was just Barty doing that again. Making sure that Evan was okay, that he wouldn’t get hurt or taken advantage of. 

But looking at Evan, he realized that Evan seemed more sure of himself than he had in a while. Barty had thought it was just the haircut, but he was coming to realize it was this realization, too. Evan didn’t seem unsure about it, or conflicted. Instead, he seemed rather…calm, as if realizing he was gay wasn’t anything notable. And Barty knew he had to support Evan. He would, no matter how unsure he was about his own new feelings, because it was Evan. Evan, who snuck into his bed whenever he had nightmares. Evan, who constantly snuck food onto Barty’s plate when he thought Barty wasn’t looking. Evan, who would always lend his notes to Barty, no matter how many times he swore it was the last time.

And because it was Evan, Barty swallowed his discomfort, met his infuriatingly beautiful brown eyes, and said, “Ev, you know it doesn’t matter to me.”

Because it didn’t. It really didn’t.

If only Barty could explain this odd new feeling in his stomach.