bad idea, right?

Being gay didn’t change Evan much. 

Well, he supposed he had always been gay, but he thought that it didn’t really count until he really realized it, since before, he’d tried to convince himself that he liked girls. Which, looking back, was almost laughable. How many years had he snogged Hogwarts girls, wishing that their lips were rougher? How many times had he tried to shag girls, dreaming of strong, angular limbs in place of their soft curves? Honestly, Evan was shocked he hadn’t realized it sooner. He should’ve realized it the first time he attended Remus Lupin’s study group. He’d blushed every time Remus glanced at him, eyes darting towards him when Remus wasn’t looking. He should’ve realized it the first time he went into muggle London, becoming flustered when he saw posters of muggle rock bands, with the blokes dressed in tight pants and short tops. He should’ve known much earlier, but now that he did, he hadn’t changed much.

He didn’t dress differently, he didn’t speak differently. He was still the same old Evan, too tall for his own good, mind darting between spells and arithmancy sums, the book he was reading, and snippets of muggle music that Dorcas and Marlene would play for him. 

But even though being gay didn’t change Evan, it sure as hell changed how he saw the world. 

For instance, Evan was currently allowing his eyes to drift over the Ravenclaw table, glancing appreciatively at Benjy Fenwick. He hadn’t been able to get the taller boy out of his mind since their encounter in the halls, especially once he realized that Benjy had been flirting with him. It was the first time he’d gotten attention and truly appreciated it. Not in the way that he was flattered when girls complimented him, but in a way that spread warmth throughout him, putting a little extra swagger into his step as he walked throughout Hogwarts.

And now that he’d realized he was gay, his eyes had been opened to an entire world under the surface at Hogwarts. He started noticing the stares of other boys as he walked through the halls, the eye contact that lasted just a moment too long to be platonic. Now that he’d come to terms with it, he decided it was a better time than ever to experiment with his newfound sexuality. Which is why he found himself in a broom closet for a second time that week, with Benjy Fenwick instead of Barty this time and with considerably less space between them. 

To Evan’s credit, it had been surprisingly easy to get Benjy into this broom cupboard. It seemed as if all the tentative charisma he’d built up over the years worked as well on boys as it did on girls. If anything, better, because he wasn’t faking his interest the way he did with girls. It had only taken Evan walking up to Benjy in the library, stroking his arm, and shooting one of his trusty winks to get the older boy to follow him out into the hall.

Kissing Benjy was already better than all of his other snogs and shags combined. Benjy wasn’t as tentative as the girls Evan snogged were, pinning Evan to the wall with one arm across his chest, his lips working their way down Evan’s neck. Evan bit back a moan as Benjy’s free hand scraped his chest, long nails clawing at Evan. He’d never been this alert while snogging someone. He’d also disassociated when he was with girls, often thinking about something far away whilst going through the motions. But this, Evan wanted to feel it, to be in the moment and see the hunger in Benjy’s eyes as he nipped at Evan’s skin, to feel the cold, rough pads of his fingers on Evan’s warm skin. It was exhilarating. 

Evan left the broom closet 25 minutes later looking sufficiently flustered. He was sure there were marks sprouting up on his neck and chest, and though he usually hated when girls did that, he didn’t really mind this time. Obviously he’d cover them up before class tomorrow, but for the meantime, he didn’t feel any rush to do so.

He walked back towards the dungeons lost in his thoughts, barely noticing anything around him until he smelled the distinctive scent of smoke. Evan glanced to his right to see Barty sitting in an alcove, legs dangling, a cigarette between his fingers and his muggle guitar across his lap. Regulus had gotten it for him from some place in London when he moved in with the Potters last year, and Barty had been obsessed with it ever since. He’d learned all the songs in the small book that Regulus had gotten for him, and had now moved on to making up his own little melodies to pass the time. He was absolutely brilliant, though Evan would never admit it to him.

“Smoking inside, Barty?”

Barty looked up at him, a small guilty smile on his face.

“Too cold outside. You wouldn’t want me to freeze, would you, Ev?”

Ev. The nickname had always made Evan feel something he couldn’t describe. It’s not like other people didn’t call him that, but something about when Barty did it made Evan feel like the world paused for a moment. It always reminded Evan of the closeness he and Barty shared, the amount of times Evan had spilled his entire life to Barty without even blinking an eye.

Which was part of the reason he had so much trouble telling Barty he was gay. He wasn’t trying to be a prick, he just wasn’t sure how Barty would react. Which was dumb, because Barty had only ever been supportive of Regulus and Dorcas and Pandora. But it felt different for Evan somehow, as if they shared a bond unlike the rest. They did, a sort of bond based on complete comfort in each other’s presences. And he was worried that his being gay would make Barty no longer comfortable to be around him like that. Evan worried he’d start to overthink the times they’d share a bed, or casually knocked their dangling feet together while smoking in the Quidditch stands, or exchanged flirty banter on their way to class. Because it wasn’t anything, of course. Barty was straight, and Evan was not, and even if Barty wasn’t straight, he’d never go for Evan. Barty practically sparkled, drawing the attention of everyone around him involuntarily. He needed to be with someone who sparkled like him, who could match his light. Evan was dark and gray, content living his life in simplicity. He didn’t have the same need for theatrics and attention as Barty. Sure, he didn’t mind attention and flattery - after all, he was only human - but he didn’t need to jump on top of tables or be the center of every conversation. Evan felt he was fairly dull, to be honest, especially after the excitement around his new hair had worn off. Barty and him would never work. Not that he wanted that anyway. 

Barty hopped down from the alcove and they walked side-by-side in amicable silence for a few moments. Barty glanced sideways at Evan, his eyes widening slightly as he caught sight of Evan’s neck.

“Evan Rosier. Is that a hickey?”

Evan blushed, looking up slightly to avoid Barty’s gaze.

“Er– no?”

“Don’t lie to me. So tell me, who’s the lucky guy?” Barty smirked, but there was something unreadable in his eyes as he tracked the marks on Evan’s neck.

Evan looked down, fiddling with his rings.

“Benjy Fenwick.”

Barty’s jaw dropped open. “Fenwick?That idiot?”

“Hey! He’s fit!”

“Sure, if you’re into brown-haired pricks with massive egos.”

“You’re just my type then, Crouch,” Evan shot back. 

“You wish,” Barty said, coughing slightly.

“What’s your problem with Benjy?”

“Oh, my bad, didn’t mean to insult your boyfriend.”

Evan rolled his eyes, “Are you nine years old, Barty? He is not my boyfriend. I didn’t realize it was a crime to have a casual hookup. I’m talking to the king of them.”

“Just saying you could’ve chosen better. What asshole leaves marks on the neck of someone they’re not even dating? It’s inconsiderate.”

Evan scoffed, speeding up a bit. Barty was so fucking insufferable sometimes. Actually, all the time. He somehow seemed to have an opinion on everything in Evan’s life. No matter who he dated or snogged, girl or boy, it seemed that Barty was intent on disliking them, and Evan had no idea why. 

Barty jogged to catch Evan, grabbing his arm to face him.

“Hey, I’m sorry, Ev. Snog whoever the fuck you want.”

“Gee, thanks, Barty. So glad to have your approval,” Evan deadpanned.

“Just take the fucking apology, Rosier. You wanna duel?”

Evan smiled in spite of himself. “Sure, why not.”

The two boys headed towards the room they usually dueled, an unused classroom on the third floor. They’d discovered it back in third year and had been coming ever since.

Evan loved dueling with Barty. It was absolutely exhilarating to spar with someone who acted as impulsively as Evan, throwing spells back and forth as fast as they could. Evan loved trying out new ones he discovered, and Barty would inevitably build off of them himself. It was a constant push and pull, neither of them willing to give in, which only made them better.

As they took their positions on opposing sides of the room, Evan drew his wand, pointing it straight at Barty. Lately, they’d been trying to have completely wordless duels. Evan silently cast a curse he’d been working on at Barty, which made your opponent’s hands go numb for a few seconds. 

Barty shrieked for a second, looking down at his finger, before throwing his head back and cackling. That was Evan’s favorite part. Barty seemed to get so much joy from sparring, reveling  in the competition even when he was losing. 

They traded curses back and forth for a while, dodging each other’s spells with crouches and jumps. Eventually, they got bored of being silent and began to shout their spells, attempting to back each other into walls.

“Expulso!”

“Locomotor Wibbly!”

“Torpent Manus!”

“Oculorum Caligo!”

Throwing spells, they got closer and closer, until their wands were within foot of each other. Evan was panting, exhausted from the magic, as Barty wiped a bead of sweat from above his brow. 

They always ended their duels like this, wands struggling against each other in a doubled spell, holding out to see who would win.

But unlike most times, the spell only continued to get stronger, neither of them surrendering to the magic. Evan was propelled forward by the magic, until he was a few inches away from Barty. The two of them were enclosed in a bubble of active magic, vibrating around them. Evan stared Barty dead in the eye, taking a step towards him.

Evan could see his reflection in Barty’s eyes, big pools of brown overcome with an unexplainable hunger Evan was sure could be found in his own eyes as well. They lit up from the magic, making Barty look slightly crazed in a way that Evan couldn’t help but revel in. Perhaps Barty was crazy; Evan probably was too. But he rather liked it that way.

The magic grew even stronger now, as he found himself practically nose to nose with Barty. He smelled like peppermint and rain.

“Bowing out, Rosier?” Barty taunted, his breath dancing across Evan’s jaw. Evan shuddered from the warmth.

“In. Your. Fucking. Dreams.” Evan bit back, staring down at Barty. 

They were close now, closer than they’d ever been before. Evan felt like he should run, that he was getting into dangerous territory here, though he wasn’t sure why. Yet at that moment, a bludger couldn’t have knocked him away from that spot, feeling Barty’s hot, angry breath tickle his neck as his hazel eyes met Barty’s dark brown ones in a long stare. Evan wanted to look away, but Barty’s piercing gaze fixed him to his spot, his nose grazing Barty’s.

“It’s your funeral, Ev,” Barty whispered.

Barty’s lips were close. So close. There was only a centimeter of space between them. 

“Fuck you, Crouch,” snarled Evan, succumbing to all his pent-up anger towards Barty, all his frustrations that Barty seemed intent on ruining Evan’s love life with no reason for it.

They stood there for a moment, stuck in a haze, surrounded by magic and breathing in one another’s breaths. 

Until the magic finally broke. 

Evan was shot back, almost into the wall, from the impact, as was Barty. It seemed to snap him out of some sort of daze, as if Barty’s proximity had cast some sort of odd spell over him. Knowing Barty, he probably had uttered some spell to confuse Evan. Yeah, that was why Evan was feeling hot all over, a warmth pooling in his stomach and his heart beating out of his chest.

Yes, it must have been a spell.

Evan mumbled a bullshit excuse to Barty, practically running out of the room. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling right now, why he and Barty’s duel had lasted so long, and so close. Evan ran, ran down the hallways and out the doors and to the greenhouse, where he finally relaxed, lighting up a spliff and staring up at the roof.

What the fuck had just happened?