Willow
Evan knows his parents loved each other once, a long time ago, he knows this because instead of knights and dragons being his bed time stories his mother would sit at the foot of his bed and nurse Evan into a gentle sleep with tales of his parents’ love.
They had danced in the snow and read aloud to each other under willow trees. They made him believe in love.
Yet they also made him see how easily you could fall out of it.
Evan always focused on the falling in love part while Pandora fixated on the falling out side of their parents’ romance. Most would expect it to be the opposite way around and while Evan was never much of a romantic, he found public professions of love and big picnic dates horrific, he still craved the moments in between. He loved the simple, seemingly forgotten parts.
The reading to each other and dancing in the snow kind of moments.
Pandora never hated love but she never placed her faith in it either.
Her relationship is what she calls open, meaning they can sleep with other people but they can’t form romantic or emotional connections with others.
They differ in that aspect too. Evans never slept with anyone; he has done the build-up as if he is going to have sex with the girl than he just can’t.
He feels uncomfortable and shaky, as if he’s not attracted to them at all.
He doesn’t know what to do? where to put his hands? how to breathe? He has honestly felt like laughing before, his thoughts sound like an inner monologue. As if he is in a book, he wants to turn to the audience and say well this is fucking awkward.
He feels bad for the girls but he doesn’t quite know what’s wrong with him. He thought he could be gay but he was definitely attracted to his only proper girlfriend, Emma.
He was only in fourth year then and at that time all this could be ignored.
Evan remembers so vividly making a bloody list in his head about it:
Enjoys kissing.
Enjoys dates with her.
Sometimes enjoys doing stuff to her.
Occasionally enjoys her doing stuff to him.
But it had taken at least a year of them dating, maybe longer for him to want anything sexual to happen beyond kissing and even then, he preferd just lying together as he gently brushed her hair with his fingers and when she would rest her head against his chest humming gently.
Honestly, he feels fucking broken half the time. He doesn’t want this; he wants to be normal like everyone else. Bartys definitely has shagged girls and regulus has… well frankly Evan has no clue about regulus’ partners, he’s secretive with everyone but Pandora and on occasion, Dorcas.
He hates this weight that he ignores and ignores and ignores until he can’t. One day he won’t be able to brush it off as him being only young or that his feelings for Barty meant he didn’t want anyone else.
Because he does want Barty in that sense to, its hard not to when he looks at Evan with that smile after getting out of the shower or when he says something stupidly smart, catching even the teacher off guard. He’s brilliant like that.
Annoyingly brilliant.
Evan hasn’t told anyone either of his secrets, not even his twin.
Yet pandora seems to sense his crush of Barty, he doesn’t suspect she knows about him not wanting sex. Well he does want sex; in the sense he wants to feel like everyone else but he doesn’t want it, not really, not until he has had all the simple parts of loving someone first.
He needs to be so humanly connected to them before he can even entertain the idea of sleeping with someone.
And knowing he will never have that with Barty hurts so so badly.
Knowing that even if Barty liked boys.
Even if he remotely liked Evan, he wouldn’t be able to give Barty what he wanted.
That fucking kills.
Barty had missed dinner and lessons but as soon has he sauntered into the dorm room it was fairly obvious why.
A smug grin laced his face, and not the one that made Evans stomach do flips instead it was the kind that made it pretty clear why Barty had skipped runes.
Also, the purple marks that’s where imprinted onto his neck gave Evan a fucking clue.
His heart is in his throat and he can’t quite swallow. Pathetically, all it makes Evan want to do is play with Bartys hair or run his finger down the column of his neck just too show Barty how good he could be.
Whoever the new vampire sucking on Bartys neck was wouldn’t last.
It just can’t, his girlfriend’s rarely ever stay more than two weeks but it hurts so much. He feels as if someone is slowly scraping his insides out with a spoon till all that is left of his is his breaking heart.
The reason Barty’s girlfriends don’t last a few weeks isn’t because there like first year’s relationships. No, it due to the simple fact that there short and sweet, full of dates bartys not properly interested in and lots of sneaking away to broom cupboards.
Over the past year as Bartys flings have gotten even more common, Evan has sunk into a routine, submission to be more exact. As if he is now willing letting his heart be dissected.
Evan and Regulus both normally get an earful of complaints about the dates to hogsmeads and eyebrow wiggles that insinuates why a half dressed Barty has walked into the dorm room well after curfew.
Yet today all he does is stand in front of the door, his hands in his pockets.
“Where in Salazar’s name have you been?” Evan asks, he is pissed off. It was the first day back in runes and Evan had spent the whole lesson fending off the seat beside him so the next time they have class Barty can sit next to him.
“Don’t start, Evs, I’ve had a 2-hour lecture from the new DADA professor and then a fucking 1-hour sentencing from McGonagall,” Barty says running a hand down his face as if he’s had a long day at work or something, “I have such a headache, I want to bash my head in.”
“Your beaters bat is over there if you want some help with that,” Regulus quips, eyeing the bat in the corner of the room and Evan would think he might do it if there weren’t a small smile on his face.
“Ill beat you with that in a minute,” Barty says then chuckles to himself, “did that sound oddly sexual to you two too?”
Regulus says, “yes, oddly.”
At the same time Evan sadly says, “a bit.”
“Awh, what’s wrong, my rose?” Barty says sarcastically, he had started calling Evan that as a joke in first year, “worried about me where you?”
“Yes, Barty, me and Reg have been pacing back and forth terrified you had been taken hostage by a troll,” Evan reply’s dead-pan.
“I’m so glad you guys where worried about me,” Barty grins, “but I am certain you will be happily relieved to know I am safe and well.”
“We are barley containing our glee,” Regulus grits out.
“Your just sooo funny, Reggiekins,” Barty says as he walks to Reg, his arms outstretched as if he’s going to try hug him.
Instead, Barty collapse on top of regulus squashing the book he was holding and Reg, himself.
“Evan, start looking for a troll to take him off our hands,” Regulus cries out as Barty wraps his arms around him.
Halloween, or hallows eve as Panda calls it, was last week but Evan had swiftly learnt at breakfast that the Party is tonight.
“Why are they having it tonight? That’s plain stupid,” Regulus states, Evan knows first-hand that Reg likes parties. Actually, if you can get him drunk enough, he will be the life of it.
Yet this one is different it’s not just any old Slytherin motive, its Halloween. Which means all the houses attend. Anyone in fifth year and above is permitted to come, the Prewett twins put together the party when they were in fifth year but as they have left now they apparently passed the responsibility to the infamous foursome that is James “oi Evans” Potter, Sirius “I only love myself and James” Black, Peter “professional shit-chatter and weed-smoker” Pettigrew and Remus “Study hard and look hot doing it” Lupin.
“So, the teachers won’t expect it,” Barty says.
“And no one was here for actual Halloween,” Dorcas adds.
“It’s still ridiculous,” Regulus mutters aggressively biting a carrot.
Evan looks up and makes eye contact with Barty, who widens his eyes and nods to Regulus.
“Reg, we don’t have to go, you know,” he hears himself saying.
“Of course, we are going,” Regulus says sounding outraged and turning his head to Evan.
“Really, Regulus,” Dorcas says, “if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”
Even Bartys nodding in agreement.
“Obviously we are going to be there otherwise it will look like I didn’t go because he was there,” Regulus says waving his fork in front of him as he speaks. They all know who “he” is without having to ask and Evan feels his eyes trail over to Sirius, a boy he was once close with when they were children, he is laughing with Potter but his eyes flicker over to Lupin.
“You sure, Reggie?” Barty asks but Evan can tell he practically got his fingers crossed in hope they can all go to the party.
“Certain.”
As it turns out Regulus definitely wasn’t certain.
Evan is sprawled out on his bed; he can feel his shirt lifting slightly as he raises his arms over his head. As he looks up to fix it, he catches Barty’s gaze. His eyes trailing across his waist and Evan feels like he can physically feel him. He stops his hand that was going to pull his shirt back down and just watches Bartys eyes, they slowly look up his body and he must have realised Evan saw him… doing whatever it was he was doing because he quickly goes back to clasping Panda’s heel up.
His hands move swiftly looping the tread through the hoop on her satin shoes, as Pandora twists her braids into a plait. Dorcas had done hers and Evans hair before they left for autumn holidays. She was just better than themselves at it, Evan had tried to learn because his mother didn’t have the time to do their hair anymore. Yet he had no real instructions and poor Pandora had ended with a rather bad set of braids, she didn’t complain though instead she gave him a kiss on the check and thanked him.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this reg?”
He is pre-drinking which involves pacing and every so often taking a swig of fire whiskey.
“I’m fine,” Regulus says tightly.
He’s definitely not fine.
Barty stands up and walks over to him placing his hands on either side of regulus’s shoulders, “remember, trust me.”
Regulus looks up at Barty with wide eyes and Evan can see the panic shine off them.
“You’re stuck with us,” Barty says and nods his head over to Dorcas, Pandora and Evan.
Regulus nods while inhaling a deep breath and that’s it. He turns to then rest of them, his face now filled with confidence not in an obnoxious way, no, just in a Regulus Black way that made you aware of the control he has and the power that comes with it.
Barty seemed to have that affect on Reg, he could always calm him down as if his presence could brush away regulus’ anxiety. They have always had that bond, it used to make Evan jealous to his core, but now he knows they need each other like an anchor needs a boat.
“Ready?” Regulus asks them.
That’s how Evan ends up on the quidditch pitch at 12:30 AM on a Wednesday night.
People are cheering and butterbeers keeps flying over his head, the sound is particularly loud and ringing in Evan’s ears due to the large silencing and illusion charm put over the pitch as not to alert any teachers. To any professor its supposed to look like normal yet if they get to close the magic will fade and separate revealing at least three hundred drunk teenagers.
The stench of beer and ash is so strong Evan can practically taste it… so it’s just where he wants to be. He loves parties, the atmosphere of them. This bubble of life and the wave of alcohol that makes everything feel eternal is divine.
The gripping humanity makes him want to keep downing drinks and chain-smoke muggle cigarettes.
So, he does.
Shot.
After shot.
Bartys talking- No flirting with a girl.
After shot.
Regulus is next to him looking at his brothers and friends, “I mean who gives themselves a group name.”
After shot.
Barty is now kissing the girl.
After shot.
And another shot.
Until he remembers he’s his mother’s son with her talent to get absolutely, catastrophically shitfaced after only a few drinks.
He also has his mother’s habit of not knowing when he is one drink too far gone, which is exactly why he’s headed for the stand with an assortment of liquor on it. Bottles are balancing on the edge and stray lighters are littered around, crowding the large table. There’s fancy decants of port, cheap muggle vodka and an array of wizard beverages that are undoubtably stolen from students’ parent’s alcohol cabinets or top kitchen cupboards.
All the coloured glass is bleeding into a sway of dye like a stain glass window in Evans drunk mind.
“Rosy, darlin’, slow down why don’t you,” a hand wraps around his wrist.
Instantly, he knows it Barty, even with the concealment charm hiding his tattoos while there at Hogwarts. Mostly he knows it him because no one else, other than one of his friends, would be stupid enough to grab his arm unless they wanted a punch and it couldn’t be one of his other friends due to the fact, they know he wouldn’t listen to them telling him to not drink unless it was Barty.
He raises his eyes from the bottle of vodka he had just grabbed to look at his best friend.
There’s a pink flush to his cheeks, which tells Evan he’s been drinking, but there’s no gleam in his eyes that Barty gets when he’s properly drunk, so he can’t be as pissed as Evan.
“Don’t think so,” Evan replies, “I’m having a wonderful time.”
“Oh, I’m so glad,” Barty says with a playful smile, “and your very drunk.”
“And you’re an absolute slag,” Evan says biting his lip, “but in the morning I’ll be sober.”
“Fucks sake, Rosy,” Barty says laughing, but his hand stays firmly on Evans wrist in fact he’s pretty sure his grip has tightened, “how drunk are you, mate?”
“Ohhh,” Evan slurs pushing the bottle against Bartys chest, “so your calling me mate now, thought you called me darling a few seconds ago.”
As Evan says it, he looks at Barty with what he hopes are his innocent, doe eyes. He’s forever been using that particular talent to get him out of trouble ever since he can remember and right now, he feels like he’s in trouble.
And suddenly, Evan could have sworn the blush that was now blooming on Bartys cheeks wasn’t from the alcohol.
“What I can’t call you both,” Barty says pulling Evan closer by his wrist.
“No, you can’t, pick one,” Evan says feeling like this is a desperate chance to get Barty to admit to his feelings, even if Evan knows he doesn’t have any for him.
“What one do you want me to pick?”
Evan lets out a harsh laugh and says, “you can’t ask, you just have to pick.”
Barty looks slightly hurt but leans even closer, just enough that he can feel Bartys breath on his ear.
“Do I get one if I call you darling?” Barty says pulling away and looking Evan dead in the eyes.
“Get one what?” Evan says swallowing hard.
“A name.”
“What?’ Evan asks confused but clearly his heart knows because its beating ridiculously fast and his breathing feels heavier.
“Like a pet name,” Barty says confidently but he’s swaying slightly, foot to foot, in a way that tells Evan he’s nervous, “like darling.”
“You want me to call you darling?”
“No, something else,” Barty says, “you know, something sweeter, less harsh.”
And then Barty yanks the bottle straight out of Evans hands and sets it back down on the table, “no more drinking for you, got it?”
Evans significantly more sober now, considering the conversation, and can compute in his head that if its Barty, who has once drunk 2 bottles of fire whiskey to himself and then declaring his going to break all the laws his father has set by the time he’s 21, telling him not to drink it’s probably a good idea.
As if the whole exchange Evan had had with Barty, only a minute ago, was sobering then Dorcas running up to them out of breath and saying what she says was like a bucket of ice being poured over him.
“Pans broken her hand or something, fucking hell hurry up.”
Evan barley hears her before Barty grabs his hand pulling him along, as they try to follow Dorcas.
Evan doesn’t even think about Barty’s hand in his.
Or how warm his hand is.
Or how it is damp with sweat as if he had been nervous.
Or that his legs feel like they are giving out.
Or how him and Barty are pushing past people with no regard.
And he defiantly not thinking about Barty’s hand when it lets go of Evans as they arrive at the corner of the pitch where Panda is sat on the floor.
Her face is dry and free of tears but regulus is knelt next to her gently resting her hand, palm up, in his. Evan can see how his face is tense with panic and he’s gently shaking as if an easily healed injury is too much for him to even think about.
There’s a red-haired girl also kneeling next to Pandora and when she looks up, he sees its Lily Evans. He doesn’t even have time to think of what his sister is doing with bloody Lily Evans as he walks over to Pandora and scope her up into his arms.
Pandora lets out a squeal, “Evan, what are you doing?”
“Hospital wing,” is all he says, it’s all he thinks he can say.
Last time Dora was injured like this was two years ago when his father had thrown a glass plate at his mother, missing and as it shattered, a glass shard flew into Pandora’s thigh. She had been at the top of the stairs, as she usually was during arguments between their parents, but she had come down to them to try mediate as she told Evan later that night.
He can still hear his mother’s horrified shrieks and the look of disgust on his father’s face, not because of anything they had done but due to how revolted with himself he was.
His father had run forward and fell to his knees before Panda as she wrapped her shaky hands around the piece of glass sticking out her leg.
There was hot, sticky blood coating his hands, his fathers and his mothers. It was only Pandora, the one who had been injured herself, to suggest someone grab a wand and heal her.
She was what kept them going, like the wind slipping between branches of a willow tree gentle pieces of catkin flowing through. She’s not delicate or small, she’s eternal and surrounding but not in a suffocating way, she’s free as if your unable to grasp her yet it doesn’t make you want to grab her instead you want to watch as she lives freer than anyone else.
And in moments like these you can see it more than ever, she’s the very atmosphere of being at peace.
At peace with herself and whatever divine hands slipped her into this world.
She is his sister and he’s so proud that he gets to be her brother.
So very proud.
“Evan, my legs are fine.”
“Hospital wing.”
“Can I at least thank Lily.”
“I’ll come with you,” says Evans with her face being the picture of worry.
Evan looks back as Dorcas comes between them, “it’s fine, Evans, madame Pomfrey won’t want to many people there.”
“Are you s-“
She’s cut off by Regulus who is only steps behind Evan, “it’s fine, I’m sure Dora will come see you when she better.”
Dorcas has started to follow Reg and himself, as has Barty who is gripping his wand firmly in his hand.
He thinks they are saying something to him but all he can hear is his mother’s screams and weeps of “she’s alright, she’s alright” over and over again in his head till he feels sick to his stomach.
He can’t look at Pandora or he will see that look on his father’s face from that night.
That look that Evan has seen on his own face, in the mirror. The look of how much you hate yourself because of the things you do but for some reason you can’t stop.
If he stops running, he will also hate not only himself but his parents for staying together even after that night, even after that wakeup call of their only daughter and his sister bleeding out onto them.
That night there had been so much blood that had he cupped his hand together they would have been over flowing with hot, sticky, ruby liquid.
He can see the doors of the hospital wing and it feels like salvation.