Perfect
Last night there had been this look of Evan’s face, one Barty had never seen on him before. It was this hue of stoic, precision and ice-cold fury, boiling enough to slice through ice yet still freezing enough to burn skin. A horrific juxtaposition of rage. The kind of anger that would ache.
And Barty wanted to hold it until his skin sung from the scorch of that wrath.
Dorcas, Regulus and Barty were sat outside the hospital wing waiting for news on Pandora. Evan, being her brother, was the only one allowed in, so the rest of them were sat like chumps hoping she would be fine.
Of course, it was only a broken hand but it was Panda. She meant more to them then the very breathe that they breathed. War wouldn’t be enough if she was ever hurt, war would be mercy. The 4 of them would slaughter the masses for her, they would get themselves killed if it came to it.
Barty has never been much of a martyr but Pandora is a saint and he will lay his cold, unforgiving body at her feet in holy worship if she asked.
He would for all his friends. Let him be shadowed by the earth and stained with the mark of Cain, if only those whose he holds close will bask in the eternal glory of the sun.
There’s this kernel of self-hate and destruction lodged in his throat that he can’t seem to swallow or cough up, and right now it is burning his insides.
“Its only her hand how long is this going to take, it six in the fucking morning,” Barty hisses, he is tired, he hasn’t showered, he frustrated and everything feels like too much.
“Go then,” Regulus spitefully say to him, “if you don’t want to be there for Dora go.”
“I want to be here but it’s been hours and lessons start at 9.”
“When have you ever been on time for lessons,” Regulus says tilting his head, dark circles are under his eyes and there slightly blood shot, “you just don’t want to be there for her and that fine, Crouch, but don’t piss us off as well.”
Dorcas is sat next to regulus, looking at Barty like he’s the most self-centred creature in the world, and he can feel them ganging up on him. He hates it, it makes his eyes sting and his throat close. He hates that feeling it leaves his with this uncrushable desire to get in trouble or hurt someone just for a reaction, just for a distraction.
“I want to fucking be here!” he glares at them.
“Clearly,” Dorcas mutters sarcastically.
He knows everyone is tired and worn thin but he wants to rip his hair out from frustration.
“Fuck you, Meadows,” Barty says and starts to get up, they obviously don’t want him here.
As he stands, he pulls down the back of his shirt, he had had it subtle up as they were sat on the floor. The cool stone had been comforting on is scarred back.
“Fuck you, Crouch” Dorcas says in retaliation.
Barty is just about to turn to leave, as the hospital wing doors creak open and a ray of light floods through.
“Madam Pomfrey said you lot can come in now,” Evan says as he slides through the gap in between the doors. He looks just as tired as the rest of them… maybe worse.
His checks are flushed and his eyes are red, yet his hair is still impeccable and his shirt isn’t crinkled because of course he has to be so fucking perfect even after the night they had had. Bartys own hair is probably sticking in several directions and as he looks down, suddenly feeling a flow of insecurity, he sees the creases in his black button up and the lines in his trousers from where he was crouched on the floor. He looks and feels as if he had been sleeping on the streets for the last 2 weeks. Yet Evan… Evan still looks put together, even Regulus looks less perfected than usual and still Evan is pretty much perfect.
That’s the thing with Evan he has this aura around him of perfection, terrifying perfection. This atmosphere of professionalism, as if he can’t make a mistake. Barty knows that’s not true but from the outside there’s no performance of arrogance just pure confidence not in the way Reggie is. Regulus has this bubble in which if he makes a mistake then the person who witnessed it will never be able to open their mouth to speak of it.
No, Evan walks around as if he has never and will never make a mistake.
There’s this sense of formality Evan Rosier holds that is soul-shaking. He appears to have no impulses, temptations or even anger. And it just so happens Barty is full of those things.
In fact, it’s all he’s made of.
When Evan punches someone his hits don’t miss, if he shouts at someone his words strike their heart and in anything Evan Rosier does, he does it with easy precision.
He has this natural talent for perfection that even Regulus Black doesn’t possess. Regulus, who is controlled and collected, who plays his life like a chess game, can’t beat Evan Rosier, who too plays his life in the same way yet his doesn’t collect the others players pawns instead he collects his opponent.
Evan Rosier is a temptation to even life itself, he is seamless.
He moves toward the door as Reggie and Dorcas follow Evan back inside the hospital wing.
Pandora is propped against several pillows in her hospital bed, her arm is slightly elevated being held in the air by, undoubtably, a charm Madame Pomfrey used.
As they sit beside her bed like children listening to a nursery rhyme, Evan says, “she’s on a lot of painkillers, so she’s a bit out of it.”
““How you feeling, Dora?” Regulus asks as he gently rubs circles onto her shin with his thumb.
““I feel great,” a grinning Pandora says, smiling at Regulus dreamily.
“Dorcas chuckles and raises an eyebrow in a way only Dorcas Meadows can do, “yeah, we see that, Pans.”
“Barty is curious so he lets the words jump from him, “so, how’d you do it?”
“Panda just starts slowly nodding as if she recounting the memory in her head, then an even brighter smile then before shines from her face, “I can’t remember much,” she says as she motions with her hand, “but,” she points at him, “I kissed an angel and then I was pushed into and I fell off the table I was sat at and when I tried to get up my hand was all… a bit bent.”
““Who the fuck pushed you?” Barty exclaims.
“At the same time Dorcas say, “you got pushed!”
“Evan turns to both of them and says, “it’s no uses, I’ve already asked who pushed her and she didn’t see.”
““Well we find out and when we do, they will be finding parts of their body for months,” Regulus calmly says, his face still as stone and quiet with anger yet he still is rubbing tender shapes unto Panda’s leg.
“See Barty probably shouldn’t find that as attractive as he did.
“That’s so sweet,” Pandora says with round eyes aimed at regulus.
“I’m sorry but are we all skipping over the fact Pans says she kissed an angel,” Dorcas pointedly says with sharp eyes, “I mean what painkillers did Pomfrey give her.”
“I have no idea, but Panda is insistent it was an angel,” Evan says, “she has told me about them 20 times.”
“I swear it was an angel!” Pandora calls.
“No one’s doubting you, Dora,” Regulus says.
Barty reply’s with, “well we are a bit.”
Regulus give him his ‘don’t talk down or bad about Pandora or else your life will start to crumble’ look.
“They were perfect, a halo shone bright on their head like they were sent from the heavens,” Pandora says with a dazed look in her eyes, “it was all golden, lips like they were kissed by Aphrodite herself and…”
“Salazar, can I get some painkillers over here!” Barty says, he can feel the grin on his face.
“It’s best to just let her ramble this bit, I’ve been through it at least 20 times since we got to Madame Pomfreys,” Evan says also smiling.
Panda was told to stay in the hospital wing for the day while her hand fully healed but the rest of them where still sent to continue the day as normal, despite the lack of sleep they had gotten. Which is how Barty ended up at the breakfast table trying not to let his head fall in his breakfast.
His breakfast, as per usual, is toast with no butter and water. He hates anything else. Once in third year, Dorcas had put marmalade on his toast because apparently, he didn’t eat enough, he didn’t touch the rest of the toast in his plate and picked up a whole new piece.
The issue isn’t that he doesn’t eat enough, he does. He eats about 4 pieces of toast every morning, so he’s by no means deteriorating, not like regulus is at least.
It’s just that when he grew up, most of the time, he was feeding himself and putting bread in the toaster is easy to make, so he got stuck in that routine. And on the occasion his mum made him breakfast, when she wasn’t rotting in her bed or trying not to sob as she told him how much she loved him, she always cooked something she had the energy to make, which normally ended up being toast.
When he has to go home for summer, his father never stocks the kitchen and his mum is too tired to leave the house for to long, so all there is is bread and canned baked beans.
Its comforting and slightly stupid but he feels like his mother’s love is held in toast and the songs she hums. He thinks she only hums to please him and his father, to pretend she’s getting better but he won’t let himself think about that.
“Who wants to skip potions with me?” Barty asks.
“No,” Regulus says firmly, “do you know how many lessons you have already missed.”
“Can’t be that many, anyway who cares,” Barty says with a shoulder shrug, “the school wouldn’t expel me, my marks make the school look good and my dad basically donates money for me to be kept here.”
“Still, you have to go,” Regulus says not looking up from his book.
“I got 12 OWLs which no one has done before, I will pass my NEWTs easily, don’t force me to go to the lessons!”
“You only got that many because you wanted to prove your father wrong when he said you would get none,” Regulus mutters and finally makes eye contact with Barty, “and you are going to lesson.”
He just grins and says, “fine but you’re going to be my partner in potions.”
“I already talked to professor Slughorn a few days ago and made sure my partner was Emmeline Vance,” Regulus says.
Barty lets his mouth hang open, “you fucking traitor, Emmeline Vance what do you have a crush or something.”
Regulus rolls his eyes and says, “please, how did you get 12 OWLs when you’re that stupid.”
He hears Dorcas chuckle next to him.
“Fine maybe not Emmeline, what does it give you a better view of Avery’s head or something,” Barty retorts.
“Shut up, Crouch,” Regulus says with a huff but Barty can tell he’s amused.
“What he’s not your type?”
“No, he’s far to impulsive and to readily easy to hex people for me… bit too much like you actually,” Regulus says looking back at his book.
Barty retaliates by throwing a bread roll at his head but Reggie’s hand just grabs it mid-air.
“Bastard, forgot you are a seeker.”
“No one can forget you’re a beater though, not with all you stuff you throw at people,” Dorcas says smiling at him.
“And no one can forget you a chaser with how you follow McKinnon around the pitch,” Barty says grinning.
“I do not follow Marlene round the pitch, she follows me.”
“It’s Marlene now is it?” Barty tease.
“I’ll cut your tongue out your mouth,” Dorcas says still entertained.
“I’ll pull your eyes out of your head, might help you stop staring at her,” Barty says equally amused.
“I’ll- “
“And I will rip your vocal cords from both of your throats if you don’t hush soon,” Evan cuts in.
His head is in his hands and he looks pale.
“Hungover?” Reggie says.
As Barty looks around the room, he sees dozens of students all with their heads on the tables and shaky hands lifting water to their lips.
The ‘marauders’ all have sunglasses on and look miserable.
Serves them right, the bastards.
“Very bloody hungover,” Evan says.
“With the things you said to last night, Rosy, I surprised you didn’t drink the whole school away,” Barty comments.
A furious blush seems to be soaking Evans face, which he had never seen on him before. Evan Rosier doesn’t blush, not for anyone or anything, so this is strange…
He’s embarrassed. Barty can work with that, gives him a week of teasing Evs now.
“You going red, Rosier,” Barty croons and pinches Evans cheek, right beside his mouth. Evan doesn’t pull away, he just fixes Barty a harsh stare.
The pink returning to normal, “your awfully touchy today, Crouch,” Barty starts to lower his hand, “with the way your acting I would say you want to hold hands again or something.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees regulus look up from his book and Dorcas smirking into her mug.
“Wouldn’t be opposed to it, Rosy,” Barty teases and playfully reaches for his hand.
‘Bet you wouldn’t be, Crouch” Evan says raising an eyebrow and putting his hands on the table, so if Barty was going to hold his hand the rest of the Slytherins would see too.
Barty never was very good at subtlety, or never cared for it much either but the silver cross that burdened his neck and the firm imprints of his dads’ belt on his back were a sorted reminder that holding Evans hand was not a good idea.
“I think the hand-holding isn’t enough, Rosy, we should probably kiss to make things a real sight,” Barty grins, and winks at Evan.
“As if,” Evan says, looking back down at the table.
“What?” Barty says.
“As if,” Evan says looking up at his from where he’s resting his head on the table, “that’s all I am saying… as if.”
Barty can see the simile toying on his lips.
“As if what?”
“As if, Bee, as if.”
He stares at Evan; he can’t really help it.
Evans eyes roll over to the other side of the table, breaking the eye contact. Barty follows to where he is looking and sees Dorcas pulling her bag strap over her shoulder.
“I’ve got to return some books,” she says and runs her finger over several books in her bag, as though she is checking she has them all.
Regulus starts to stand too, “I will come with you, I have to get that book for pandora. The divinations one.”
“Thought you had sworn off all things divinations based,” Barty says as he looks up at Regulus.
“It’s for Dora,” and that’s all the explanation needed.
Barty watches as the back of their heads as they walk away and then swiftly turns to Evan, “So you really won’t skive to smoke?”
Evan properly sits up and smirks, “I could be tempted.”
“You would defy Regulus’ orders,” Barty says, putting a hand over his heart, pretending to be outraged and complimented all at the same time, “just for me”
“Just for you, Bee,” Evan says playfully and Bartys eyes swarm down when Evan gently bites his lip.
What in the ever-loving god is wrong with him today?
Evan knocks him out of it by nudging his shoulder, “You got a spliff on you or do we have to ask Xeno to sort us?”
“No, no I got like two grams yesterday with the money you gave me,” Barty says patting his pockets, he is wearing the same trousers from last night so it should still be in them.
He can’t feel it so he stands up and shoves his hand deep in his pocket, Fuck.
“Fuck,” Evan says, “Crouch if you have lost it, I’m going to kill you.”
“I have it somewhere,” he states now looking through his robes as well, “don’t worry your cotton socks about it, Rosy, I’ll have it somewhere.”
“We are going to have to ask Xeno aren’t we.”
Barty realises he must have lost it, “We have to ask Xeno.”
Evan groans and stands up.
“Some twat must have nicked it,” Barty mutters in frustration as they walk to the Ravenclaw table, “sleazy cunt.”
“You pickpocket people all the time, Barty,” Evan says.
“No,” Barty corrects him, “I occasionally pickpocket, I always steal. But that’s from fucking shops I’m trying not to support capitalism and all that shit.”
“Your best friends are Regulus, Pandora and I, you do realise our families are the very definition of capitalism,” Evan says, “But I agree if we find out who nicked the weed, we shove it down their fucking throat.”
“That just a waste, lets at least smoke a gram of it then shove other half down their throat.”
Evan laughs while nodding, “sounds like a plan.”
Xeno is sat with his usual Ravenclaw group: Chloe Rozanski, a stunning girl who always has her blonde hair in a ponytail; Romarno Mount, an equally stunning lad who all the girls fancy yet they can never seem to actually date him; Eva- Jane Turret, who smokes a lot and sniffs a lot more, she believes that makes her interesting, Barty thinks she’s trying to over compensate for her boring name; Lucy, Barty doesn’t know her last name, but she’s genuinely funny and Panda has kissed her before; and finally Ronny Yaxley, he’s a proper pureblood, sacred 28 level pureblood but he likes to smoke and is a Hufflepuff so Barty guesses that counteracts the fascist family.
“Xeno,” Barty says.
The table all turn to look at where Evan and he are stood. He sees Janes eyes go wide; she always looks a bit scared whenever she sees them no matter how long they have known her.
People tend to react like that when they see Evs and him. He knows they look threating, they are both rather built and way past 6-foot-tall, plus their reputation doesn’t make them seem any better.
“Barty,” Xeno says standing up and put a hand one his shoulder and the other on Evans', “Evan.”
“You alright?” Evan asks.
“I’m well, Friend, take a seat, the both of you.”
It doesn’t escape Barty notice he doesn’t ask back of how they are, because that’s the thing with Xeno, he may act like a hippy dippy, Jon Lennon wanna-be but in reality, he is all about business. He’s a smart, cunning bloke hiding behind the facade of a whimsical Irish accent and a cloud of strong-smelling smoke.
He can’t be actually brain dead, otherwise pandora wouldn’t be dating him.
Evan looks at Barty and nods, they both sit either side of him and lean forwards slightly, just enough to make him know they power they hold. They sit close enough to make a normal person uneasy.
““So, what can I do you fellas today,” Xeno says, “I have a selection for you to choose from.”
“3 grams of whatever bud you have,” Barty says, he is not going to let Xeno go on a rant about star dog and cali for 25 minutes he can’t be asked for that shit. Not when Roman’s leg is pressed against his.
Last time he had been this close to Romarno was just before they left for summer holidays, and it had been during a threesome with the two of them and Chloe, who was sat opposite him and was gentle twirling her tied-up hair around her pointer finger.
He had been so gone, like into another dimension high, all of them had. It serves him right for dropping 2 pills after all ready smoking a joint.
It wasn’t bad, not at all, just a different experience to what he was used to. And as it turns out there’s a reason none of the girls can properly pull Roman into a relationship, he will just say that while Chloe had been very focused on both of them, Roman had been much more interested in Barty.
He doesn’t know if Chloe knows but if he does, she hasn’t said anything and Barty wouldn’t either, obviously but he will keep the information in his back pocket just in case Roman were to hurt someone he loves.
Evan doesn’t know about the threesome, none of friends do. The only reason Barty had even got so fucking high with them to begin with, was because he and Dorcas had a shouting match at each other in the corridor and he needed something to calm him down before he said something he regretted. As it turns out Mason and Chole had been rather good at comforting him.
Xeno says, “Of course my friend,” and slowly reaches into his pocket.
He takes his sweet time fishing around his pocket, trying to find the right amount, assumable.
Christ, Barty thinks, what’s he waiting for? Christmas.
Eventually, Xeno pulls out a small ball and hands it to Barty, who slips it into his pocket.
Before Barty can jump up and leave, Xeno grabs Evans arm and says, “How is Pandora?”
“She’s alright, Pomfrey said she can leave by the end of the day,” Evan replies.
“So, she is healing well?” Xeno asks.
“Yeah she’s fine, she broke her hand she wasn’t hit by a bus.”
Xeno simply bows his head in some sort of dismissal.
Who does this jumped up twat think he is?
Evan just grabs bartys arm and drags him away to the front of door before Barty can put his thumbs through the hippie’s eye sockets.