Again
I: Frank
14th December, eleven days until Bellatrix’s wedding
Os Kervo
Frank didn’t know what to do. Throughout their entire three day trip to Os Kervo, Alice never said a word. No matter how many times Frank gently attempted to get her to open up about what happened or on how she was feeling, his only response was a blank, puffy-eyed star, red from her never ending supply of tears.
Frank could guess what happened. Alice asked Narcissa to leave, she said no, Alice left anyway, exactly as he had predicted. He knew it was a terrible idea. He knew that the whole situation was destined for disaster the moment Alice brought up the new Heartrender sentry. He tried to warn her, tried to convince her to leave it be, to carry on with her life but Alice was the type of person whose attention was like a knit sweater stuck on a nail, snagged tightly and hard to break free. Her brain was dead set on Narcissa and nothing could shake it off course. But Frank refrained from screaming ‘I told you so!’ triumphantly from the treetops because while he was Alice’s annoying, super intelligent, reasonable best friend, he was also a decent human being knowing of the concept of empathy.
Frank grew anxious as they neared Os Kervo, brain in overdrive as he did the thinking for both Alice and himself. The popular privateer, Prongs, was still recruiting new members for his crew and was specifically looking for a Squaller. He knew he’d most likely be accepted into the crew but would Alice? Especially in her current state? A Heartrender would be useful, sure, but would Prongs be able to see past the jagged edges of Alice’s broken glass and see the potential within? Frank wasn’t going anywhere without her. Did they travel all this way, only to be turned down? What would they do then? Going back home was not an option, Alice would be too tempted to make the same mistake twice. Would they go somewhere else then? Where? Shu Han, Fjerda and the Wandering Isle were out of the question, Frank had no desire to be murdered, experimented on or drained like the Kaelish were all bloody vampires. Ketterdam? No, Frank was very fond of his free will. The Southern Colonies? Novyi Zem? Frank was allergic to jurdaso it would be hard, but doable.
Frank fought the urge to bite his fingernails(unhygienic, he knows but that’s never stopped him before) as they arrived. He slipped off his horse and took it by its reins. He glanced worriedly up at Alice, who showed know sign of even knowing that they stopped.
“Alice?” No response.
Frank stepped forward and took the reins of her horse. “Alice? Please?”
“Excuse me,” cut in a voice. Frank glanced over his shoulder. A red haired woman with a crimson bandana tied through her braid and a slight Kaelish lilt asked, “Sorry if this is intrusive but is your friend alright?”
Frank glanced up at Alice. “She will be. I hope.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
Frank started to say ‘no, thanks,’ before he cut himself off. “Y’know what, maybe. I have to get her off. Can you hold these?” He held out the reins of both horses.
The woman took them eagerly. “Yeah, no problem. You are?”
“Frank Longbottom,” he said. “And that’s Alice Fortescue.”
“Lily Evans.”
Frank nodded in acknowledgement and walked up to Alice. “Alice, can you look at me, please?”
It takes a minute before those words seem to seep into her brain and she turned her head to meet his gaze.
“We’ve gotta get you down, okay?”
Another minute and then a slow nod.
“Where you headed?” Lily asked.
Frank glanced over, eyebrow raised, as he helped get Alice down. “What makes you say we’re going anywhere?”
“Your horses are weighed down by what I’m assuming is all your belongings and these are rentals. So, unless you’re coming to live in Os Kervo - which, I honestly can’t even imagine, you Ravkans have many better civilizations -, you’re just passing through.”
Frank let out a breath and scanned the harbour, looking for the legendary Marauder. When he spotted the flagless but grand and elegant vessel, he nodded in its direction. “There, hopefully. Though, Alice’s current state may…hinder our plans.”
Lily glanced over and a grin spread across his face. “I doubt it.”
When Frank only raised a brow again, Lily called over her shoulder. “Captain!”
A man Frank hadn’t noticed before(somehow) came sauntering up, clad in a red coat the shade of Lily’s bandana. He was Zemeni, or at least partly, and had the most untamed curls Frank had even. A pair of circular black glasses sat perched on his nose and a compass just as gold as the suns along his coat dangled around his neck.
“What’s up?” He asked, glancing between Lily, Frank and Alice, who was now standing at Frank's side, hands clutched around a crimson ribbon she had yet to let go of the entirety of their journey.
Lily nodded in Frank and Alice’s direction. “New recruits.”
Prongs brightened, eyes sparkling. “Really? Wonderful! Who might you two be?”
Frank swallowed, a surge of anxiety swirling in his gut. The speech he had been preparing for the past seventy-two hours fizzled and seeped out of his brain, disappearing like a magician would at the end of their show. He held out his hand for a shake. “Frank Longbottom, sir. And this is Alice Fortescue.”
Prongs frowned at Alice. “Is she alright?”
Frank cringed. “Not at the moment. She’s not typically like this but she’s…been going through some things, as of late.”
Prongs nodded. “Understandable. However, there isn’t much private space on the ship…is that going to be an issue?”
Frank glanced at Alice. “I don’t think so? I certainly hope not.”
Prongs nodded again, brows furrowed in thought. “Do either of you have any previous sailing experience?”
Frank shook his head. “No, but we have some…abilities that may prove useful.”
The sparkle was back as Prongs easily caught Frank’s vague hint with steady hands. “Really? What kind?”
Frank glanced around, leaning back to peep at some of First Army soldiers wandering about the docks. After confirming that there were no peeping eyes, Frank flicked his fingers. A small gust of wind fluttered through their feet and Prongs’ coat flapped in response.
Prongs looked absolutely ecstatic. “Wonderful. Amazing, truly. And your friend?”
Frank lowered his voice. “Heartrender.”
Lily snorted. “How many Corporalki are you gonna take in, Captain?”
Prongs grinned and it was blinding. “I already have four, what’s one more?”
Frank blinked. “How many Grisha do you have?”
“Most of my crew is Grisha, Longbottom. My ship is a safe haven for all those who need it and, unsurprisingly, most of those who seek me out are escaping a reality in which they are hunted. Which includes you and Fortescue."
Frank swallowed. “Thank you. We appreciate it.”
Prongs’ grin faded into something softer. “Don’t thank me. I’m just doing what needs to be done. And besides, it’s not like you’ll be boarding for free. You can thank me by filling my sails.”
Frank nodded quickly. “Of course.”
Prongs looked over his shoulder, gaze narrowing as calculating eyes flickered between the hoards of people walking the streets of Os Kervo. When he found what he was looking for, he whistled, loud and high. Many, many, people turned their way but Prongs was unfazed. He waited as one by one, a small crowd of people gathered around, all sporting bandanas like Lily in varying ways. If it wasn’t terribly obvious before, it became very clear that Prongs was Captain as he began barking orders.
“Gid, Fab,” he said to two tall, redheaded boys around Frank’s own age, their bandanas tied around opposite biceps. “Take these horses to the rental.”
They both nodded with large cheeky grins, took the reins from Lily and ran off.
Then to Lily, “Allium, you have the list of supplies. Take Molly and find as much as you can.”
Lily linked arms with yet another redhead - Molly, presumably - who had her bandana tying her hair back in substitute of a hair bobble. The two of them went straight for the loudest streets of Os Kervo, towards the market.
The last two were not Kaelish, though the tall, lengthy lad with crisscrossed scars along his face definitely had some part in him. There was no doubt that the other was Ravkan but perhaps he had some Fjerdan background, with the blond hair and blue eyes.
“Moony, Wormtail, these are our new recruits; Frank Longbottom and Alice Fortescue. Help me show them around the ship and get settled in, yes?”
“‘Course Prongs.” Moony said, grabbing some of Frank and Alice’s belongings that had been dumped on the ground when Gid and Fab had taken the horses away.
Frank quickly gathered as much stuff as he could. How inconsiderate would it be if he let Prongs - generous, kind Prongs - and his crew do all the work
Wormtail looked them both - though his gaze lingered on Alice with a slight cock of his eyebrow - cautiously before he grabbed whatever Moony would allow him to hold.
Prongs led them down the docks and aboard The Marauder. It became very clear that Prongs’ crew was most definitely on the smaller side. Aside from Prongs, Moony, Wormtail, himself and Alice, there were only five others aboard, two of which were quite obviously his parents; his mother and Sol. The other three crew members glanced over from the small table they were conversing around but returned to their discussion without so much as a shrug.
"Mary!" Prongs called across the deck and a Zemeni woman with frizzy curls pushed out of her face by her own bandana looked up. Prongs made a 'come here' motion with his fingers and she slipped out of her seat.
"Captain?" Mary inquired as she got close.
Prongs nodded to Frank. "I'd like your assistance training him, so to speak. We finally have another Squaller to tag you out."
Mary threw her head back with a breathless laugh, shouting something in her first language with triumph. Prongs laughed with her and Wormtail broke out into a grin.
Mary focused on Frank. "Mary MacDonald. Do you have a name or shall I just refer to you as 'other Squaller'?"
Frank cleared his throat. How many times was he going to introduce himself today? "Frank Longbottom."
Mary nodded in acknowledgement. She promptly ignored him in favour of speaking to her Captain. "Headed to the crew cabin, yes?"
Crew cabin? Singular?
Prongs nodded. "Would you like to show them or are Marlene and Arthur waiting on you?"
Mary glanced over her shoulder with a small shrug. "If they are, they can wait. C'mon Frank and...is she okay?"
As greatful as he was and as caring as they were, he was starting to get a little irritated. Alice was very obviously not okay and the details are none of their business.
Well, he argued with himself, you made it their business by stepping on this ship.
Mary smiled, small and knowing. "Nevermind. Stupid question. This way."
Frank breathed a small sigh of relief. He stepped forward to follow, but stopped in his tracks, glancing back at where Alice hadn't moved from the spot he'd guided her to.
"Go," Prongs said softly. "She'll be alright for a couple minutes."
Frank forced himself to nod and turn his back. Trust was the most important thing in a group like this. How was a crew supposed to work if it's members weren't able to easily rely on each other? And it was surefire way to be marched directly off the ship and stranded on the docks. Or worse, turned into the Second Army. Or would he be forced off a plank? No- that was pirates. Prongs was a privateer, whatever the difference was.
The crew cabin wasn't what Frank had been expecting, both on the ride here and just now when he found out there was one cabin opposed to several stuffed with bunk beds. Hammocks dangled from every surface and many of them had small trunks shoved underneath and a varying amount of trinkets littering the little shelves mounted on the wall, boxed in with display cases to they wouldn't be damaged or thrown across the cabin in rougher patches of waves.
Mary led Frank to one of the hammock equivalent of a bunk bed along the far wall, almost tucked in a corner. Frank nodded in thanks and neatly set his and Alice's belongings on the ground.
Frank followed Mary, Wormtail and Moony back up to Alice and the deck, where everyone else Frank had seen off the ship was now on. The crew still looked terribly small with all its members in one space but, well, they seemed to be doing just fine for the year Prongs had been in charge so Frank wouldn't doubt their capabilities.
When Frank had slotted himself back at Alice's side, Prongs moved to stand atop a crate of some sort and clapped to gather everyone's attention. The light chatter instantly died down as he cleared his throat, gearing up for some sort of speech.
"Hello, hi," he said, waving to everyone. "So, as I'm sure you've all seen, today we've gained two new crew members! Frank Longbottom, Squaller, and Alice Fortescue, Heartrender. Yes, Alice is okay, it would be greatly appreciated, I'm sure, if you didn't ask. The situation is not physical- at least, I don't think so. Right?" Prongs glanced down at Frank, who quickly shook his head. "Great, good. Just as I thought. The situation is not physical, you've all been there, she'll get better, we'll help as needed, just as everyone else did for you when you first arrived, yes? Splendid. Now, Frank, for just a quick round of introductions so you can attempt to put names to faces, that's Marlene, Fjerdan and a Healer-" the blonde Mary had been speaking to earlier raised her hand. "That's Arthur, Kaelish, Inferni-" the redhead who Mary had also been talking to smiled with a little wave. "Gideon and Fabian, both Heartrenders and twins, are over there with their younger sister Molly, otkazat'sya. You know Mary and Lily, but what you didn't know was that Lily is a Healer, who's dabbled in a bit of Tailoring. That's my mother Euphemia, though she'll insist you call her Effie- she's otkazat'sya. My dad Fleamont, or Monty, who you'll know as Sol, is an Alkemi. Moony, more commonly known as Remus, is your first mate and a Durast. Wormtail, or Peter, a Tidemaker, is your second," somewhere over Frank's shoulder, Peter grumbled about losing a coin toss. "And in any matters relating to the ship, I am your Captain but otherwise, please call me James. There are a couple of unwritten rules to follow as well. Don't touch Remus or Mary unless they give you direct permisson, even if they do touch you first. Never drink or eat anything given to you by Gid, Fab or Marlene, it's either pranked or made so poorly it's probably poisoned. If you find any chocolate in unusual places, don't eat it unless you want Moony to smother you in your sleep. Never challenge Pete to a game of chess unless you want your ego bruised so badly it's practically non-existant and...I think that's it. I'll tell you the specifics of your job description and the inner-workings of the ship privately in a moment. I think that's everything...do you have anything you want to say? Anything you think the crew should know?"
Frank shook his head.
James beamed. "Wonderful. Now, everyone, I'd like to be out of here bright and early tomorrow and the sun has already started to set. Everyone know what they're doing?"
"Aye!" The rest of the crew cried.
"And!" Effie shouted before anyone could take off. "Dinner is in an hour and if you're not there, I will find you, drag you to a chair and physically restrain you until you've eaten."
"Aye." Came the reply, inlaid with such fondness that would suggest it wasn't the first time Effie had made that threat.
With that, James hopped off the crate and everyone spurred into motion.
James appeared in front of Frank, Remus at his side. He opened his mouth, presumably to explain what was going on, as well as Frank and Alice's place in this organized chaos, but Lily nudged his shoulder before he could speak, flask dangling between her fingers.
"Surely you're parched after such a magnificent speech." She said teasingly.
James chuckled and took her offering. "Very much so. Thanks, daffodil."
That, unlike anything else anyone has said since they arrived at Os Kervo, seemed to seep into Alice's brain with startling speed. Her posture went rigid, her eyes focusing sharply on the red bandana weaved throughout Lily's braid and her fingers tightened around the ribbon in her palms. Before Frank could properly process what in the Saints had just happened, Alice's eyes were watering and rivers of tears began streaming down her cheeks. A soft noise of pure pain spilled past her lips, a noise that quickly turned to great, heaving sobs that wracked her body with the force of them. She collapsed to the deck and Frank followed to try and catch her as she curled into a ball, eyes wide with concern and brain running a mile a minute.
"Alice? Alice? Can you hear me? What's wrong? What happened?" Ramblings that not even Frank himself could understand poured out of him as he desperately tried to get a grab on the situation.
What the fuck is happening?
II: James
James is a truly horrible person. A horrible, disgusting, absolutely vile excuse of a human being. Who in the right mind makes their newest recruit cry after knowing them for all of an hour?
James Potter, apparently.
James’ gaze flickered between the crumpled figure of Alice and his own hands, trembling with horror.
You stupid fucking heartless idiot. What is wrong with you?
Apologies began spilling past his lips as he knelt down, words running so fast James didn’t know whether or not they were even comprehendable. “I’m sorry! I’m so, so, so sorry. I don’t even know what I did. Or said. But it was obviously somethingand I’m terribly sorry. I never meant for this to happen!”
Apparently, Frank understood because he waved him off without even tearing his gaze away from Alice. “It’s alright, I know. I don’t even know what happened myself but if I had to guess, it would be the ‘daffodil’ that tipped her off.”
James felt as though his stomach was about to unload itself onto the deck. Your fault, your fault, your fault, your fault. “I’m so sorry. It’s just supposed to be a dumb little joke, calling Lily by any other flower. I didn’t- I’m so-“
Lily set a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back a bit so she could look into his eyes. “You alright, Captain?”
James blinked, eyes drifting as he thought. Of course you’re not okay. You’re fucked in the head, that’s what. You’ve just made someone fucking cry and you’re shoving your presence down her throat. You’re not okay but you need to look it, you fucking attention-seeker. You have a crew to look after, for Saints sake! Pull yourself together!
He cleared his throat and gave Lily what he hoped was a convincing smile. “Yeah, I’m good,” he stood and turned to Frank. “You can let Alice cry it out or, if you’d prefer, we can get a Corporalnik to calm her into sleep. Either way, I’d suggest you head to the crew cabin. Less eyes.”
Frank looked up, blinking in surprise at the quick change in demeanour but nodded. James gave Alice one last guilty look before addressing Remus and Lily. “Both of you go with. You’re more than capable of explaining how things work Moony and Lily, make sure she’s okay physically and if Frank gives the word, put her under.”
“Aye.”
They all went off, Lily and Frank supporting Alice as they disappeared below deck. Moony gave him a pitying, concerned look before he followed.
James glanced around, watching as the rest of his crew scurried about, finishing up the few remaining jobs before turning in for the night. He should be going to help them but instead, an itch settled under his skin and his eyes stung. The voice in his head - the one that closely resembled his own. Him from another life, perhaps? Or maybe the future, taken to screaming at him to guide him along the right path - was so, thunderously loud James could barely hear anything else. Couldn’t register anything else, aside from its lectures and the unquenchable, unidentifiable need for something, crawling up his arms like his veins had suddenly turned to snakes.
He slipped below deck, creeping carefully around the still-sobbing Alice and distracted Frank, Lily and Remus. He snuck into his small little cabin, closing the door carefully behind him without so much as a click. He sighed as he turned and slid down the door, crumpling to a heap of limbs on the floor. His ears rang and his chest ached, his cheeks dampening as he let his tears fall.
You’re pathetic. Why are you crying? You have nothing to cry over. Alice has a reason - you - and you don’t. You’re supposed to be stronger than this. What would your crew think, seeing their disappointing excuse of a captain crying like a little child over absolutely nothing?
“I don’t want to,” James whispered, tucking his knees up to his chest. He tugged on his hair before his hands came to wrap around himself. His dug his nails in, dragging them down his flesh in an attempt to kill those snakes. “I’m sorry.”
Sorry doesn’t cut it. Pretending to struggle simply because others are? A low bar, even for you. You don't even have an excuse for 'suffering'. You have wonderful, loving parents, a loyal crew, a sure future and a healthy and safe environment.
"I know, I know, I know." James' voice cracked between the steady thump against the door every time he rocked against it.
You deserve to be punished, to feel all the hurt you've forced onto others. You want an excuse to suffer? Get up.
Although a little shakily, James stood.
Cross the room.
James did as he was asked, walking around the bed to the small wash basin next to it. He stared at his pitiful reflection. Hair mussed, and not in an attractive way, from where he was tugging on it. His clothes were rumpled. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his cheeks covered in a film of salty tears, still growing thicker. He sniffled, cringing at the sound that flooded the otherwise silent room. How was this the man in charge of eleven - no, thirteen, now - lives? How was this the man who was supposed to live up to Sol's grand reputation? How was this supposed to be the Commander of the Suns, Master of Seas?
Take of the coat. You don't deserve it anyways.
The crimson jacket fell to the floor, gold dulled to yellow without any light to reflect off it.
Roll up your sleeves.
James pushed his white undershirt up to his elbows.
Higher!
They were up to his shoulders, now.
Grab the letter opener.
The metal felt heavy in his palm, chilling temperature seeping into his skin. Goosebumps arose, skittering over his arms and darting over the claw marks he already made.
Put it to your arm.
James pressed the blade, shaped like a dagger because nine-year-old him thought it looked cool, to his forearm.
Higher!
Metal dug into the meat of his bicep. Strangely, his crying had subdued and the frantic hammering of his heart had dulled to the rhythmic thump of his failure.
Drag it across. Hard. Hard enough to break skin, hard enough to drip the crimson of your shame, hard enough to leave behind sharp lines of evidence.
James did as he was asked, stifling a small gasp at the zip of pain. He watched, entranced as a river of blood trickled down his arm. He found he quite liked it, the warm caress providing a strange sort of comfort as it slipped across his skin and dipped into his inner elbow, dripping into the basin below one drop at a time. The sting was punishing, refreshing, justified. James made others hurt and for it, he deserved to hurt, too.
That's it. Finally, something you can do right. Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
James listened and watched his collection grow. When the voice was satisfied, he cleaned off the blade and set it aside. He rinsed his arm when the voice allowed it and pressed a towel to the cuts until the bleeding had relented. Then, he rolled down his sleeve, swapped his Captain's coat for a maroon wool sweater his mother had knit for him ages ago and it was like it hadn't even happened at all. It had, of course, James wouldn't be able to forget it. Didn't want to. He wanted to remember the burn so every time he so much as thought about bringing pain to his friends, he'd know better.
A soft knock sounded at his door a while later. James furrowed his brow and swung it open. Remus stood on the other side, eyes still holding that concerned gleam it had earlier.
James forced a smile. "Hey, Moony. What can I do for you?"
"Are you alright, James?" Remus asked bluntly. James rather liked that about Remus, always straight to the point. Though James himself was more the type to ramble for five minutes before actually making any sense, he had always appreciated the way he didn't have to jump through hoops and puzzle whatever it was that Remus was trying to get at.
"'Course I am," James replied with a small, breathy chuckle. It felt like the dragon trapped between his ribs scraped it's claws along his heart. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You seemed freaked out, earlier, with the whole Alice situation."
James waved his hand, shooing the concerns away. "Startled me, is all. Didn't know what was happening."
Remus looked him up and down and James held his breath. Was he truly as bad a liar as he pretended to be? Scouring amber eyes met hazel.
Remus' shoulder relaxed and a small smile graced his face. "Okay, I believe you. Don't give me such a scare next time, alright Prongs?"
James smiled with him, relief flooding his veins. "Yeah, okay."
III: Evan
Ketterdam
You see, Evan had a little bit of an issue. An issue he never saw himself having, an issue he wasn't quite sure how to deal with. Of course, Evan has had troubles before. Out of waffles(Pandora had been introduced to them for the first time a years ago, about a month or so after she showed up and if she didn't have them at least three times a week, she got progressively more...concerning)? Just drag her to the Wimborne Wasp to treat her to some actually decent waffles as opposed to the vile she gets in boxes off some Kaelish ship. Nicked himself? Pandora'll patch it up. Out of bullets? Rufus Scrimgeour has the one's Cas likes and always sells 'em for a good price. Fjerdans taking a stroll down the East Stave? Just hide out in the Slat, Barty and Zar'll keep him company? Does Zar have what Pandora calls 'zoomies'? Take 'em to the warehouse district and play a game of hide and seek, or let him swim in that empty patch of water between Harbors five and six.
But, this issue can't be resolved. The only way he can think of getting rid of it would to be to properly dispose of it but Evan has a feeling that it'll only make things worse. He doubted he'd even be able to, he's grown far too fond.
The issue is one Bartemius Crouch Jr.
There's just- something about him. Maybe it's the way he walks, like he's on top of the world. Or maybe it's in that manic grin, borderline sociopathic and he knows it, but doesn't give a shit. Maybe it's the way he dresses, absolutely no regards for colour combinations in that unique, Ketterdam way and simultaneously a walking insult, saying 'yeah, this is how you all look. See how ridiculous this is?' Maybe it's the way he speaks, words of varying levels of offence rolling off his tongue, so sure, so confident, so him. Maybe it's the sharp gleam in those fucking eyes , rich, deep and dangerous. Maybe it's the way his demeanor can change with the snap of his fingers, low and threatening with whoever he's dealing with for Cas, snarky and annoying with the boss herself, gentle but in that special Barty way with Pandora, funny and talkative around Casper, relaxed and everything else combined with Evan himself. Maybe it's the way he smells, like expensive whiskey, stale cigarette smoke and ink. Maybe it's the way Barty just- understands him, his need to be away from everything related to his father, his need to just destroy things sometimes, simply because he can. Maybe it's the way Barty's the only one who can understand him on a linguistic level. Sure, Evan loves Pandora, Casper and Dorcas and would commit even the most horrifying of crimes for them, but Barty's the one who taught him Kerch to be able to talk to them in the first place. Barty's the one who can translate when Evan forgets a word. Barty's the one who'll occasionally have full-Fjerdan conversations with him to make him feel as comfortable as possible. Maybe it's the way Father would've hated him. Maybe it's the way Barty's Ketterdam personified, chaotic, unhealthy and unpredictable. Maybe it's the way he's unapologetically himself, never allowing anyone or anything to shove him into a little box.
It doesn't matter why. It doesn't matter how Evan got to where he is, but he's here. He's here and utterly infatuated with Barty Crouch Jr.
In fact, he's staring at him right now. Has been for the last however long. Currently, it's him, Barty and Pandora in the Slat, sprawled around the room. Pandora's draped across the couch, feet propped up over the backrest and head dangling upside down, long hair pooling on the floor below. Barty's collapsed on the floor, a half-empty bottle of Kaelish whiskey Evan had knicked for him from the Viper's Den(Cas knows he does it, she doesn't care. She usually drinks the rest, anyway) at the end of his shift dangling between his fingers. Evan himself is sat at the table, watching Barty have a slurred conversation with Pandora about only Djel knows what.
Barty had changed a lot since Evan had journeyed to Ketterdam. The front strands of his hair, his face-framing pieces, had been dyed time and time again. Barty had explored colours - reds, blues, purples, yellows, even hot pink once - before finally settling on this bright, neon green. He'd gained a several piercings- on his ears, his tongue, his belly-button, his nose, his eyebrow and only Djel knows where else. The biggest, ever growing change, in Evan's opinion, was the steady collection of tattoos. Of course, all five of them had one, a dagger with a viper for a hilt on their bicep, but apparently Barty had found one to be too little. One night, Pandora had managed to get her hands on a tattoo gun during some drunken adventure no one even knew she went on. While both she and Barty were completely sloshed, Pandora had broken it out, determined to prove to Barty how perfect her art skills were. And so, a small heart on the flesh between the first and second knuckle on Barty's left pinky finger was added. From there, the words 'FUCK OFF' had been added to the rest of his knuckles, a wolf - presumably Zar - to his other bicep, a sword just before his ear, another snake curled around his thumb, a rose Evan tried very hard not to look into around his one forearm, and many, many others. Evan absolutely adored the fact Barty was getting the chance to truly be himself(Evan didn't have to look very hard to find out Barty had never really had that freedom before), he really, truly did but oh my fucking Djel those tattoos were going to kill him.
A thump against his leg snapped Evan out of his disgusting, unholy internal monolog to glance down. Zar sat at his feet, an amused and knowing gleam in his eye.
"Shut it." Evan mumbled in Fjerdan, nudging Zar back with his foot.
Zar gave him a look that was the wolf-equivalent of laughing before thumping him harder.
"What?"
Zar jerked his head in Barty's direction and stuck his tongue out.
Evan glanced between the two of them. "I don't know what you're trying to say."
Zar sighed and rolled his eyes. He jabbed Evan with a paw, stared pointedly in Barty's direction, bit Evan's hand and tried to drag him in to Barty's side.
"OW!" Evan shouted, snapping his hand away. "What the fuck?!"
Barty and Pandora paused their conversation to stare at Evan. One look at the predicament - Zar gazing up at Evan, unimpressed, and Evan staring incredulously down at Zar, bleeding from the shallow but deep enough to break skin bite marks in his hand - and Pandora burst out laughing.
Evan turned his gaze to her and practically pouted. "What the fuck, Panda?!"
"What did you do?" She asked between laughs. "That's his 'Evan is being an idiot' face."
"He does not have an 'Evan is being an idiot' face!"
"He does too! And that's it!"
Zar thumped his tail against the floor in agreement.
Evan narrowed his eyes down at his wolf. "Stop ganging up on me with my sister."
Zar stuck his tongue out and ran to Pandora. She slid to the floor and sat cross-legged, letting Zar curl up with his head in her lap while she gently stroked his fur.
Barty stood, steady on his feet despite all his alcohol consumption, and walked to Evan's side. "Lemme see."
Evan squinted at him, holding his hand to his chest. "Why?"
Barty shrugged. "'Cus I wanna."
And, well. Evan doubted he'd ever be able to say no to Barty.
Barty made a small, huffy noise that set loose sparks in Evan's stomach as he took hold - far too gently for Barty - of his hand. Evan let himself be dragged to the pathetic excuse of a kitchen the Slat had to offer. The cabinets were an ugly shade of orange wood that went with absolutely nothing else in the house(seriously, are all the Kerch colourblind?) and half of the doors had fallen off. The fridge was hanging on by a thread, often making some weird gurgling noise. Half of the drawers didn't open, you had to wait five seconds after turning on the tap for water - drinkable, thankfully - came pouring out the spout. The dishwasher only cleaned dishes on the left side of the racks, the toaster either undercooked or burnt your food - no inbetween, and the oven only had one setting- broil.
Barty opened the medicine cabinet and Evan didn't even cringe as it squeaked painfully. He grabbed a few plasters before shutting it again. He turned on the tap, grabbed a cloth while he waited, and put Evan's hand under the streaming water. Evan watched, far too entranced for such a simple task, as Barty wiped away the beads of blood and applied plasters to wounds that most certainly didn't need them. Then, in an effort to send Evan to a Healer for a spontaneous heart attack, pressed a gentle kiss to Evan's knuckles.
"Ta-da!" Barty said proudly and Evan swallowed, forcing the extra blood out of his cheeks and attempting to get it to his brain before he passed out.
"Ta-da indeed. Thank you, B."
Barty grinned. "Anything for you, my rose."
Ah, yes. Also that. That stupid, bloody nickname. The nickname that made Evan want to shove Barty against the nearest available surface, even though he knew it was only a silly, little joke.
Evan swallowed. "Don't call me that." Please, please do.
Barty only grinned wider. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Evan shook his head fondly and Pandora burst out cackling.
"They're both so stupid, aren't they Zar?" She said to an extremely proud-looking Zar, who nodded in agreement.
Annnnnnd the extra blood was back. Great. Evan was never much of a blusher but apparently, all things relating to Barty Crouch had other plans.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Evan hissed as he practically leaped across the room, snatched up the nearest pillow and began to repeatedly smack Pandora over the head with it while she giggled.
Zar ran to grab another pillow and gave it to Pandora to retaliate. The two Rosier twins chased each other around the open space until Pandora managed to shove Evan into a corner.
"Zar!" Evan cried dramatically, throwing his pillow over Pandora's head in surrender. "How could you do this to me?! You're supposed to be on my side!" He let out a theatrical groan as he slid down to the floor in a heap of limbs.
"No! My rose, my prince, my love!" Barty shouted, picking up Evan's abandoned pillow and hopping up on the couch, holding it high in the air as if it was a sword. "Do not lose hope, yet! I'm coming to save you!"
"Well, in that case, Panda, finish the job now. I don't want to be around to watch him fail pathetically." Evan said croakily.
Pandora hummed somberly, both twins ignoring Barty's indignant squawk. "As you wish."
Pandora slammed the pillow over Evan's chest one more time. Evan coughed before dropping his head to the side, feigning death.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Barty cried with a sob, jumping off the couch and falling to the floor. He crawled slowly to Evan's side, cupping his face. "Please, please, my rose. You must wake up or I'll go insane."
The door slammed open and Dorcas stormed inside, looking like the exact definition of rage. Casper slunked in behind her, file in hand.
"Evan, Barty, stop being gay. We have more important things to talk about right now." Dorcas snapped as she violently pulled out a chair at the table and dropped into it.
Evan sputtered, instantly shoving Barty away as he tried to find a reasonable excuse for what the fuck his boss just walked in on.
Barty leaned back casually. "That's homophobic."
Dorcas shot him a withering glare. "Unless you two have miraculously become a couple, no, it's not. And besides, you know damn well I'm a lesbian."
Evan forced away the fantasies that rose to the front of his mind of him and Barty as a couple. "You alright, boss?"
Dorcas scowled. "No. Mulciber is late. Again."
"Mulciber? The guy renting out that space for the Avada Kedavra?" Pandora asked.
"The AK, yes. He's late on his payment. Again."
Barty raised an eyebrow. "What is that? Three months in a row?"
"Yes. He told me he needed a bit more time to come up with the money on the first but it's been two weeks. If he can't pay, he can't pay. It's pissing me off." Dorcas broke off into a grumble, shoving her face in her hands.
"And perhaps, also stressing you out?" Pandora said gently.
Dorcas tilted her head to get a look at her out of the corner of her eye. "What?"
"Is it also stressing you out?" Pandora repeated. "When's the last time you ate? Or had a drink of water?"
Dorcas hid in her hands again, mumbling something incoherent.
Pandora made her way to the kitchen. "I'll make you something. Get yourself a drink."
Dorcas listened because you don't say no to Pandora. She stood and snatched Barty's abandoned bottle of whiskey off the floor, taking a large swig.
"I meant a drink of water, Cas." Pandora called over her shoulder.
Dorcas cursed under her breath and towards the kitchen. She stopped in the door frame and looked over her shoulder. "Barty, Evan, check up on Mulciber tomorrow. Get the cash. I'm not waiting another day."
They both nodded in unison. "Of course, Cas."
She paused before adding. "Be careful. I don't know what he has up his sleeves, but he's a tricky bastard. I know he can pay. Don't know why he's stalling. Don't get yourselfs caught in something you can't get out of."
"We won't."