bad idea, right?

People who knew Evan and Barty would call them attached at the hip at best and downright codependent at worst. It wasn’t as if they were each other’s only best friends. Hell, Evan had known Regulus just as long, Pandora was his own family, and Dorcas had been his friend since year one. But it was no secret that Evan and Barty’s relationship was slightly different. It wasn’t that they were necessarily closer, though that may very well be true, but it was more apparent in the ease with which they interacted. They simply seemed to understand each other in a manner that transcended trivial matters such as spoken words. 

Take the breakfast table for example. Regardless of whatever they were fighting about on any given morning, Evan and Barty had an unspoken routine in the mornings. Wordlessly, Evan would generously butter two pieces of toast, passing one onto Barty’s plate. Barty would serve each of them exactly three sausages (no explanation behind the number, just the way it had always been), fill their glasses with pumpkin juice, and salt and pepper Evan’s eggs just the way he liked it (but seriously, why hadn’t they found a way to magically adjust the salt to each person’s likings?). They’d trade plate for cup silently, not even looking up from whatever textbook or newspaper they were reading (Evan) or pausing whatever impassioned conversation they were having further down the table (Barty). They were, for lack of better words, simply in sync. They got each other. It was as simple as that.

And when you’ve lived the first five years of your Hogwarts years in perfect synchronization, it’s easy to notice when that changes.

Hence, by the next week after the party, Evan knew something had shifted.

It was in the way they moved around each other. They spoke fairly normally, none of the awkwardness that had existed before Evan came out as gay. They bantered like normal, helped each other with spells, and ran around the castle wreaking havoc whenever one of them was pissed off at the world. Yet the quiet comfort that had existed between their movements, that was gone. And Evan couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault.

Evan would pass Barty a slice of toast, and when their fingers brushed, Barty would jolt, dropping the toast entirely a few times. Cups of orange juice were spilled, knocked ankles under the table caused Barty to flee. 

He’s disgusted by me, Evan thought. 

He shouldn’t have done that stupid dare. It had been awkward enough between them after the duel, when Evan had been forced to stare into Barty’s fucking brown eyes and had no idea why it had made him feel so on-edge. And then he’d had to go and accept Remus’s stupid dare and give Barty a love bite, of all things. Why hadn’t he just taken the shot? He was really starting to regret his competitive nature.

It wasn’t that Evan thought Barty hadn’t enjoyed it. No, the sounds he had made during the dare made that abundantly clear, and Evan wouldn’t lie and say that he didn’t get a massive ego boost from that. Because, for better or for worse, Barty had made his way around the Hogwarts population, so if Evan was making him make those noises, he must be doing something right. No, it wasn’t the love bite itself that was the problem. The problem was the aftermath. Evan had seen him right after, leaving the Gryffindor common room with some girl. As if he’d needed to cleanse Evan from his system, to prove he was straight. Evan wasn’t offended. He knew Barty wasn’t homophobic, and he’d been nothing if not supportive (except for his odd hatred of Benjy Fenwick). But Evan knew how he must’ve felt. The same way Evan had felt all the times he’d snogged girls. He’d made Barty feel wrong, disgusted even. And it was all his fault. Why didn’t he just back down?

The next Hogsmeade weekend came quickly. Barty, still acting odd around Evan, no longer climbing into his bed after nightmares or playfully wrestling in the common room, decided to take a date. Evan wasn’t quite sure if their bet was still going on. Barty hadn’t mentioned anything since he’d come out as gay, as it was probably not fair to continue considering there were considerably fewer gay guys at Hogwarts than straight girls, and most of them would never be bold enough to ask Evan on a date outright. Still, the idea of not even having that to bond him and Barty left Evan feeling even more unsettled.

“Evan, which one should I wear?” Regulus asked, holding up a dark green sweater and a black sweater. At least that was something good. It seemed like Potter had finally gotten his head out of his ass and asked Regulus out. Well, asked out was possibly the wrong term. In reality, James Potter had asked Regulus to help him study for his Potions exam, since the whole school knew Regulus was a Potions genius. But, the poorly veiled excitement Regulus approached the situation with made Evan think that, just maybe, they wouldn’t just be ‘study partners’ for long.

“The black one. It makes you look all dark and sultry.”

“I am not dark and sultry,” Regulus protested.

“Are we talking about Reggie?” Barty asked, the bathroom door opening as he dried his hair with a towel.

“You put him up to that,” Regulus accused. 

Evan smirked. “I couldn’t have planned that even if I tried.”

Barty crossed the room towards his dressed, pulling out winter clothes, since Scotland was starting to get cold even in early October. 

Evan tilted his head at Barty, trying to figure out some sort of puzzle that he wasn’t quite sure of yet. 

“Who are you going to Hogsmeade with, Barty?” he asked casually.

Barty glanced up, staring at a spot slightly next to Evan’s head. That was something else he was doing lately - refusing to look Evan in the eye. Just another way Evan had gone and fucked things up.

“Julia Violet.”

“Is that the blonde you were snogging at James’s party?” Regulus called from the bathroom, where he was ‘not’ doing his hair so he could ‘not’ impress James Potter.

“Oh, so he’s James now, huh?” Barty teased.

Regulus blushed, ducking back into the bathroom to continue fussing with his hair.

“So, Julia Violet?” Evan prodded, a little awkwardly. It’s not that he cared, of course. Perhaps it was slightly awkward that Barty was going out with the girl he had snogged to prove his very heterosexual tendencies to the entire castle after Evan had proved his very homosexual tendencies on him minutes before, but it wasn’t all that deep, obviously. And it wasn’t like Evan was going slightly crazy with the idea that his stupid love bite had potentially scared Barty into never coming within five feet of him again, because the thought of being around Evan was nauseating. Evan was generally very calm, cool, and collected about all of it. Obviously.

“Yeah, she asked me out after…” Barty trailed off awkwardly, fidgeting with his sleeves. Barty being awkward was a rare phenomenon, and Evan hated that he was the cause of it.

“After the party, right? That’s great, she seems lovely,” Evan remarked, half-lying as he barely remembered who Julia Violet was, except that she was blonde, but trying to be supportive nonetheless. Maybe if he kept encouraging Barty’s ridiculous conquests, he wouldn’t be so awkward around Evan.

“I guess so. Don’t really know her much.”

“I’m sure you’ll have fun,” Evan assured him, more for himself than Barty. “You always manage to.”

Barty shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I suppose I will.”

___________

One hour later, Evan found himself nursing a glass of firewhiskey at the Hog’s Head. He wasn’t particularly proud of daydrinking by himself, but he was feeling shitty and it was raining outside, and it was so easy to bribe the bartender to slip you some alcohol with a couple of Sickles.

He wasn’t quite sure why he was in a bad mood. He’d like to have blamed it on the weather, but he knew what was actually bothering him. Barty.

He knew it may not be that big of a deal, that perhaps he was overanalyzing, and Barty hadn’t been acting differently at all. But he knew that wasn’t true. He knew Barty, better than he knew anyone else on Earth. And he knew when Barty was acting off. 

But Evan was a coward, so instead of apologizing to Barty for making him uncomfortable, he sat there in the Hog’s Head and continued to drink. He wasn’t a Gryffindor for a reason. 

He was so lost in his drink that he didn’t even notice when, just thirty minutes after he’d settled down at the bar, another body slid beside him. 

“Barty? Shouldn’t you be on your date?”

“Decided to ditch and come grace you with my presence, Ev.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Why’d you actually leave?”

Barty grabbed Evan’s drink, taking a long swig of it. “I’m serious, Evan. I came to see you.”

Evan froze momentarily at the earnestness in Barty’s voice. Barty had ditched a girl to see him? 

“Why?” Evan said, slightly embarrassed by the rawness in his voice and he made eye contact with Barty.

“I missed you,” he said simply. 

People who didn’t know Barty Crouch Jr. wouldn’t have taken him for a sentimentalist. But he was. Perhaps it was something about how he was raised, memories he had retained from the days when his mother had still cared for him. Evan knew that he didn’t express it for many people, and he knew he was lucky to be one of them. And yet, he was still surprised whenever Barty so unabashedly declared that he missed spending time with him. His heart still beat a little faster, no matter how many times Barty said the words.

“I see you every day, Barty,” Evan replied carefully, not wanting to show how much he had missed Barty too.

Barty beckoned the bartender for another drink for him and Evan.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“What did you mean then?” Evan challenged. He wasn’t trying to irritate Barty, he really wasn’t. He knew why things had been weird, knew it was his fault. But for some masochistic reason, he needed to hear Barty say that he was disgusted by Evan. Even though he knew it would hurt more than possibly anything had ever hurt before, though he wasn’t sure why, he needed to hear that Barty hated Evan’s lips on him.

Barty turned to Evan, his leg knocking Evan’s. This time, he didn’t run away.

“You know you’re my best friend, right, Evan?”

It should have been a relief to hear him say that. It wasn’t the first time he had, anyways. And Evan knew it. He had known it the first time he’d met Barty, as kids at one of their parents’ dinner parties. Everything in his life seemed to pull him back to Barty, and he knew that he would never quite be complete without him. Yet for some odd reason, it hurt to hear him say it. As if “best friend” didn’t quite cover what they were to each other. But that was silly, of course. What other word was there to describe what they had?

“I know. And you’re mine,” Evan replied, smiling even though it pained him for some inexplicable reason.

“We’ll be okay, right? No matter what.” Barty asked, and it seemed like he was pleading. Sometime he got like this, so afraid that even after everything, Evan would leave him. Evan didn’t know how to tell him that he didn’t think there was a force on Earth that could pull him away from his best friend.

Evan’s eyes crinkled, and he placed a hand over Barty’s. He looked down at their hands, his dark skin covering Barty’s pale fingers. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Bartemius.”

Barty smiled, seemingly satisfied with that answer. He reached for his drink and downed the rest of it.

“Straight firewhiskey, really, Evan?”

Evan grinned at him ruefully. “Takes the edge off all the self-hatred.”

“Stop that. The only person who gets to hate you is me.”

Evan’s eyes flickered to Barty’s face, analyzing. “Did you really leave your date to see me? You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did,” Barty said softly. “I feel like an arsehole for how I’ve been acting.”

“It’s not your fault,” Evan insisted. “I was the one that made you uncomfortable.”

“What?” Barty asked blankly. “How?”

“Truth or dare? Isn’t that the reason for your week-long fuckfest?”

Barty flushed, probably remembering his many shags over the past week. 

“I–” he managed, at a loss for words for the second time that week. Evan should’ve taken a picture for Dorcas.

“It’s okay, Barty,” Evan assured. “Nobody thinks that you’re gay or anything. It was just a dare. It was my fault for putting you in that position.”

“I’m a big boy, Evan,” Barty replied, “I can put myself in uncomfortable positions all by myself. And you didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

Evan arched a brow at him. “You’ve run off every time I’ve gotten within 10 feet of you.”

“And they call me the dramatic one,” Barty muttered.

“It’s fine, really. I’m gay, and you’re straight. I’d have the same reaction if I’d had to snog a straight girl. Merlin, you’ve seen me have that reaction.”

Barty opened his mouth to reply, but nothing seemed to come out.

“And don’t even think about apologizing, Crouch. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place, I won’t again, I swear.”

Barty shifted. “It was a game. I’m not so easily bothered.”

“I’m not offended, Barty,” Evan said softly. “Shockingly enough, my straight best friend not being attracted to me won’t destroy me.”

Barty scowled slightly, looking up at Evan. He ran a hand through his brown hair, which had an impressive ability to be sticking up in twenty different directions at all times. 

“Yeah, I forgot. You have Benjy Fenwick for that, anyways.”

“Stop pouting, we’re fine, Barty. And I stopped seeing Benjy a couple days ago,” he replied smoothly.

“Really?” Barty asked, an unreadable expression in his eyes. “Why?

Evan though back to two nights ago, in the Room of Requirement.

Benjy and Evan were laid out in front of the fireplace. Lately, they’d kept talking even after they were done shagging. Benjy was funny, and intelligent. 

“You’re best friends with Crouch, right?” Benjy had asked suddenly, toying with the chains around Evan’s neck.

“Yeah, us and Regulus have known each other all our lives.”

“That’s Sirius’s brother? He seems good. James Potter seems to think so, too.”

Evan chuckled. “I’ll never cease to be surprised by your ability to detect attraction even before someone realizes themselves.”

“Hey, you should be grateful for me. Otherwise, you’d be just another sexually repressed gay Slytherin.”

“I’m not sexually repressed!” Evan had protested.

“Sure, you aren’t,” Benjy laughed.

“Why do you ask about Barty?” Evan asked.

“Well, it’s just…he seems like kind of an arsehole.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He walks around the place like he owns it, expecting all of us to give him attention.”

Evan shifted uncomfortably. “There’s more to him than you’d think.”

“And the way he treats you,” Benjy continued.

Evan stared at him blankly.

“The way he flirts with you, constantly? Even though he knows that you’re gay, and he’s straight.”

“That’s just the way we are. I don’t mind.”

“That’s because he’s practically got you brainwashed! You don’t even realize how he’s toying with your emotions.” Benjy was practically shouting now.

“He’s my best friend, Benjy. I’m seventeen years old, I can handle myself.” He got up, feeling slightly nauseous.

“You deserve better than him, Evan.” Benjy said, staring him dead in the eye. “One day he’s going to ruin you, and you’re so blinded by your affection that you won’t even notice.”

Evan walked towards the door, unable to look back.

“He’s my best friend,” Evan whispered. He remembered Barty running from the table when Evan had accidentally brushed his arm that morning. He remembered Barty parading some Ravenclaw girl through the halls, making out in the Common Room. Barty probably hated him for what he had done at the Gryffindor party, but even then, he was his best friend. He would always come first.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore, Benjy.” Evan said, a little louder, before closing the door behind him.

“Evan?” Barty prodded. “What happened?”

Evan just looked at him.

“I swear, if that idiot hurt you–”

“He doesn’t like you much,” Evan interrupted. 

“What?”

“He doesn’t like you,” Evan repeated.

Barty bit his lip, thinking. 

“You ended things…because he didn’t like me?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Barty searched Evan’s face for something, and Evan wasn’t sure if he’d find it.

“You did the same for me, Barty. With Helena?”

Barty flushed. “How did you know–”

“She glared at me everything we saw each other. She called me Emmett. Wasn’t hard to guess which friend of yours she had insulted.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Didn’t need to. Like I said, I would do the same for you. Well, I did do the same for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” Barty spoke. “If you really liked him.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Barty grinned. “You sure? Because if you’re heartbroken, we could buy some Chocolate Frogs, and I could learn one of those Diana Ross songs you like, and you can sit in your bed and use up all the tissues in the castle.”

Evan placed a few Galleons on the bar, shoving Barty off of his stool. “Come on, heartbreaker. Let’s go back to the castle. I’m freezing.”

And so they did.