Awful Things

Missing someone is like an unending storm, a tempest of emotions that relentlessly sweeps through your heart. It's a yearning that gnaws at your very core, a deep-seated ache that refuses to heal.

Barty misses a lot of people. First and foremost, he misses Evan. Missing him was a profound abyss, a void, he couldn't fill. Evan had been the sunshine to Barty's clouds, a radiant presence in his life. It wasn't just Evan's kindness that Barty missed; it was the shared moments, the stolen glances, and the laughter they shared.

As he closed his eyes, memories flooded his mind. He could see Evan's bright smile, feel the warmth of his touch and hear the sound of his laughter. The scent of Evan's cologne and citrus-scented shampoo still lingered in the corners of their shared space, a haunting reminder of what was lost.

Not a single day passed without Barty's heart aching for Evan. It was as if his very soul yearned for its missing half, the emptiness that couldn't be filled. In those moments of solitude, he found himself reaching out for a presence that was no longer there, haunted by the cruel reality that Evan would never return.

Sometimes, Barty found himself missing his mother. Baloo, the faded teddy bear, was the last tangible link to her memory, and he clung to it as if his very life depended on it.

His mother's passing had been shrouded in mystery, possibly the result of some insidious mental illness, a casualty of his father's relentless cruelty. She had always been a warm and gentle soul, a beacon of love in a household plagued by darkness. But she was misunderstood by many, her spirit crushed by the weight of Barty Crouch Sr.'s callous actions.

Barty knew the truth behind his mother's suffering, the conflict and cruelty that had marked her life. He had witnessed the tension, the fear in her eyes when his father's rage erupted. It was a burden he had carried silently, a darkness that had shaped his childhood. And in the quiet moments with Baloo in his arms, he sought solace from the haunting memories of a family torn apart.

He also missed Pandora and Regulus, their untimely deaths haunting him more each day. Barty found solace in revisiting the cherished memories of their Hogwarts years, the echoes of happy times spent together a bittersweet comfort.

Each memory held a unique place in his heart. He remembered the laughter that had echoed through the corridors, the late-night conversations by the common room's fire, and the shared triumphs and trials of their school years.

Pandora, a Ravenclaw by house, had seamlessly woven herself into their group of friends. While she didn't wear the emerald and silver of Slytherin, her presence had become an integral part of their found family. She possessed a charm that transcended house boundaries, a charisma that drew them all together. Barty often found himself reminiscing about the moments when Pandora's quick wit and Evan's infectious laughter had illuminated their shared world.

Regulus, too, held a special place in his heart. His quiet remarks and impeccable fashion taste had earned him a unique position within their group. Despite the rivalry between the Black brothers, Regulus' friendship was a testament to the unbreakable bonds they had forged. They had become more than friends; they were a chosen family.

As Barty allowed these memories to wash over him, he couldn't help but smile through the veil of sorrow. Their absence was a wound that time could never fully heal, but their presence in his heart remained steadfast, a reminder of the enduring power of friendship.

Last but not least, he missed Dorcas as well. Every passing day was marked by thoughts of her and an ever-present concern about her fate. Barty couldn't help but wonder what had become of her, whether she was still alive, navigating the same treacherous world that had claimed the lives of their friends. The uncertainty gnawed at him, a relentless worry that refused to be silenced.

Dorcas was a remarkable girl, her wit and resourcefulness shining even in the darkest of times. Her ability to find her way out of trouble, no matter how dire, was a testament to her resilience. Barty clung to the hope that these qualities kept her safe, that she had outwitted the dangers that lurked around every corner. It was a fragile hope, but it was all he had.

With a sigh, Barty lit a cigarette, the slender column of smoke curling into the dimly lit room. As he lay back in his bed, the shadows dancing on the walls, his thoughts drifted to the people he missed. Each loss weighed heavily on his heart, a burden that grew heavier with every passing day.

Why had the cruel world stripped him of those closest to him? Why had it left him with nothing but cigarettes and alcohol to drown his sorrows? These questions echoed in the recesses of his mind, but they offered no solace, only a reminder of the void left behind by the absence of those he cherished.

As Barty lay in the bed, the faint melodies of birdsong in the distance carried him back to a time when life was painted with a different palette...

Spring had brought with it the promise of new beginnings. Barty and Evan were nestled in the cosiness of their dorm, preparing to retire for the night. Evan occupied the bathroom, the soft sound of running water and the occasional splashes reaching Barty's ears. Meanwhile, Barty himself was engrossed in the pages of 'The Picture of Dorian Gray,' where the paper yielded a satisfying, almost velvety rustle each time he turned a page. The story had ensnared his attention so completely, that he remained oblivious to Evan's repeated calls.

'Barty! Barty! Could you please bring me a towel?' Evan's voice held a hint of urgency, jolting Barty out of his literary reverie. He sprang to his feet and retrieved a towel from Evan's neatly made bed. The door creaked open, and he extended the towel toward the other side, his arm brushing against the cool doorknob.

'I'm in the bath... you're gonna have to come in,' Evan's voice wafted through the crack in the door, carrying a palpable undercurrent of embarrassment. As Barty cautiously entered the bathroom, he couldn't help but chuckle nervously. The situation was undeniably awkward, and his heart raced with the unspoken tension that hung between them.

'This is awfully embarrassing...' Evan's words trembled slightly, mirroring the unease they both felt. 'Just put it down on the floor.' his voice carried a touch of unease, clearly eager to bring this awkward situation to an end.

Barty complied, leaving the towel in the bathroom, and hastily exiting without properly closing the door behind him. As he laid back down on his own bed and glanced up, an unexpected tableau unfolded before him. Evan's body lay exposed, facing away from Barty, yet the mere sight was enough to quicken the heartbeat of the fourteen-year-old, causing his breath to hitch with an unexpected intensity.

In a flustered hurry, Barty shielded his eyes and face behind his book, a desperate attempt, to divert his attention and regain composure. However, the vivid image of the birthmark on Evan's hip remained etched into his memory, an indelible mark that intruded upon his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, Barty found himself unable to banish the image that had been seared into his mind by the unintentional glimpse he had just witnessed.

Evan's birthmark remained a poignant memory, one of the many things that Barty dearly missed about him. It was a beautiful and unique aspect of Evan, something pure and unblemished that has always captured Barty's attention. Its texture was like a soft, pale brushstroke against Evan's skin, a mark that made him more endearing.

As he lay alone in his bed, his thoughts meandered back to that particular night, the night when everything changed. The room around him seemed to take on a new level of intimacy, the soft glow of the dimly lit lamps casting gentle shadows on the walls.

That night, back in their fourth year, something had shifted within him, an awakening of sorts. At that moment, he had come to a profound realization: all those inexplicable feelings he had experienced, the inexplicable connection he had with Evan, it was all rooted in the same emotion - his growing, undeniable crush on the blond boy. The memory of Evan's body, now etched vividly in his mind, invaded his senses once more, making his heart race and his breath quicken.

As the memory of Evan's body lingered in his mind, it was now interwoven with an unrelenting sadness that seemed to emanate from the depths of his being. His heart ached with a profound longing, a deep yearning for the other half that had been tragically torn away from him - Evan's half. The intense emotions, the sensuous memory, and the overpowering grief converged within him, creating a complex tapestry of feelings that left him both haunted and deeply moved.

Barty had come to the stark realization; that his life from now on would be an unending cycle of yearning for his lost loved ones. His tears flowed like a ceaseless river, their salty streams tracing the well-worn paths down his cheeks. They tasted of sorrow and longing, each droplet leaving behind a lingering saltiness on his lips. It was as if his very soul wept, the anguish welling up within him like a relentless storm, its torrential downpour drowning him in an overwhelming sense of loss.

His longing for Evan, Pandora, Regulus, Dorcas and his mother had become an all-consuming void, a relentless abyss. It was a visceral ache that transcended mere thoughts or emotions; it was a tangible presence in the room with him.

The room around him bore witness to the torment. The walls, once witnesses to laughter and companionship, now seemed to close in on him, their oppressive presence echoing his cries. The soft patter of rain against the windowpane served as an unintentional accompaniment to his sorrow, its rhythmic tapping blending with the symphony of his grief.

As he lay in that dimly lit room, the world outside continued to turn, oblivious to the torment within.

The persistent tapping of a beak on the window, however, drew Barty out of his lethargy. It was an urgent sound, a stark contrast to the rain's gentle melody. With some effort, he made his way to the window, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. The days of isolation had left him disoriented and weak.

He peered outside and was met with the sight of an owl, its feathers ruffled from the rain, holding an envelope tightly in its beak. The bird's presence was unexpected and Barty's heart quickened with curiosity and apprehension.

With a slow and deliberate movement, Barty opened the window, allowing the owl to enter. Its screeches filled the room, an insistent demand for attention. Barty attempted to soothe the bird, his hushed words failing to quell its agitation. The owl eventually dropped the letter onto his bed, then departed in the same hurried manner it had arrived, disappearing back into the rainy night.

Barty closed the window behind the departing owl, its screeches fading into the distance. The room once again fell into silence, broken only by the persistent rain outside. He turned his attention to the envelope, its presence a mysterious interruption to his solitude.

It read,

to: Barty Crouch Jr.

from: Remus J. Lupin

As Barty unfolded the letter, his thoughts swirled with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. Remus Lupin's name on the envelope was a surprise, considering his association with Regulus' brother and his stance against Voldemort's forces. Barty's initial instinct was caution, unsure of what the letter might contain.

I know we've never spoken, but I'm also alive. Maybe this would make you want to meet me? I was Evan's friend. Please.

R. J. Lupin

The words on the page, however, carried a different tone, one that softened his scepticism. The acknowledgement of their shared connection to Evan, Barty's lost love, piqued his interest. There was a hint of longing in Lupin's words, a desire for connection and understanding.

Barty's heart ached at the mention of Evan, a name that held immeasurable significance for him. He felt a twinge of vulnerability, a yearning to remember and honour the person who had meant so much to both of them.

The letter ended with an invitation, an address to a nearby coffee shop, where Lupin wanted to meet him in a week. Barty studied the message, torn between the uncertainty of this unexpected encounter and the possibility of finding a connection with someone who shared his grief.

As he contemplated his response the tapping of rain on the windowpane seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for him to make a choice that could change the course of his life.