Regulus Black was dead.
Well, actually, that hadn't been confirmed yet. In fact, Regulus was missing. He had deserted the Dark Lord. Really, he was better off dead if he wasn't already.
So, Regulus Black was dead, and Barty didn't know how to move on from that news.
He momentarily considered seeking Evan out. Evan was trustworthy, and most importantly, he would understand how devastating losing Regulus was.
Barty eventually decided against it. It wasn't safe in these times, especially after what Regulus had done, and Barty would sooner have chewed off his own arm than endangered Evan Rosier in any way.
Instead, he resigned himself to getting completely pissed and wallowing in his misery, which he successfully did for the next several hours. By the time the sky was streaked with orange and gold, Barty had emptied four entire bottles of firewhiskey and smashed another two.
He lazily eyed the shattered glass and the puddles of firewhiskey covering the kitchen floor that he was sitting right in the middle of, and decided that he couldn't be arsed to clean up.
He could barely even remember why he'd been drinking. All he knew was that he was completely knackered.
Barty was snapped out of his sleep by the sound of floorboards creaking. He instinctively jumped to his feet and almost immediately crumpled back against the counter, his balance thrown off by the slippery floor and his vision blurry from a throbbing headache. He wasn't sure how long ago he had nodded off, but it was pitch black outside.
He swiveled his head from side to side, squinting into the darkness in an attempt to locate the source of the noise.
A cloaked figure stepped into the kitchen, raising two pale hands in the air as Barty pulled out his wand. One of the hands reached up slowly and pulled the hood back, revealing a familiar mass of dark curls.
Barty exhaled a sigh of relief and tried to calm his racing heart as he took in the sight of Sirius Black's gaunt face in his doorway.
Sirius' gaze swept across the room critically before landing on Barty, who was still leaning quite embarrassingly on the counter, his legs refusing to support his weight.
"So I take it you got the news?" Sirius deadpanned, gesturing vaguely at the floor.
Barty just snorted. He didn't bother asking how Sirius had found him, he knew he had his ways. He didn't bother asking what he was doing here either, because he knew the answer to that, too.
"You look like shit, Black," he retorted instead, because dry humour was familiar - safe. "You know, the zombie look doesn't suit you very well."
Barty said it as a joke, but it was true. Sirius looked only half alive. His usually flawless skin was now sickly and ashen, and his grey eyes that were so much like his brother's looked dull and empty. He had large bags under his eyes that were a concerningly purplish colour, and his chin was covered with dark stubble.
Sirius cracked a small smile before looking down at his feet. Several seconds passed in silence before Barty realized that Sirius' shoulders were shaking.
He awkwardly scratched his head, slightly distraught. How exactly was he supposed to comfort someone whose brother had just died?
He stumbled unsteadily to Sirius and wrapped his arms around him. The latter didn't say anything, he just squeezed back and sobbed harder. Barty rested his chin on Sirius' head and cried with him. They stayed like that for a long time. They didn't talk about it afterwards.
Instead, they got high and avoided their problems, just like they had done back in '76. It had only been three years, but it felt like a lifetime.
"You know," Sirius slurred, as if he had read Barty's mind, "Last time we got high together like this, I thought I was at my lowest. Now here we are, three years later, at rock fucking bottom." He dramatically threw his arm out and gestured to the room at large.
And then Barty laughed. Because the situation was truly so bad that if he didn't laugh he would cry. And, though he would never admit it, he had missed Sirius Black's signature dramatics.
Barty didn't bother responding further, and Sirius didn't speak again for a long time. Eventually, after they'd taken literally every drug they could get their hands on, Sirius leaned back and sighed, lost in thought.
"You loved him, didn't you?" he asked suddenly, making Barty choke on his spliff.
"W-What?" he sputtered between coughs.
"You were in love with my brother, weren't you?" he asked again simply, uncharacteristically calm.
Barty just gaped at him, unsure of how to react to his nonchalance.
"Uh, yeah... Yeah, I was, a long time ago. Took me a while to get over it, if I'm being honest."
Sirius nodded, not looking surprised in the least. "I figured."
"You- You figured."
"Yes, I figured, Bartemius," he repeated, rolling his eyes. "I'm actually a lot more observant than you lot ever gave me credit for. And besides, you weren't really all that subtle. That first night in March '76? It was painfully obvious that you only fucked me because that was the closest you could get to having Regulus. I didn't mind, though. After all, I only let you fuck me because I couldn't have Remus, at the time."
Barty stayed quiet for a few seconds, struggling to come up with an appropriate response. He had a hard enough time properly remembering his Hogwarts years when he was sober, and now that his brain was completely scrambled, he didn't stand a chance. So he opted to change the subject instead.
"How is Remus, then?"
"Oh, er, yeah, Remus is alright. Tired, mostly. I think we all are, at this point."
Barty snorted. "Yeah, mate, I noticed. You look like you haven't slept in months."
Sirius waved dismissively. "Sleep is for the weak. And you can shut up, anyway, you're not much better off, are you?"
"Yeah, alright, fair enough." And then he added, because he had to ask, "How's James?"
Sirius' face dropped. "I, er, haven't told him yet. Wanted to... spare him a little longer, I guess."
"Of course you did. You know that you can't avoid it forever, though, don't you?"
"Yes, Bartemius, I'm aware, thank you. But I can damn well try."
"Cheers to that," Barty agreed, raising his joint back up to his lips.
"And Evan? How's he?" Sirius sighed. "I certainly hope your love life's going better than mine."
"What do you mean?" Barty asked, confused. "I thought you said Remus was alright?"
"Remus is alright. Or at least I think he is. My relationship with Remus, though... Well, that's a bit of a disaster currently. Everyone thinks he's a spy, you know. Just because he's a werewolf. Sometimes, I find myself almost believing it and then I hate myself for daring to doubt him. I mean, if I can't trust the man I love, who can I trust? Ah, I don't know. Trust is hard in these times. Love is harder."
"That it is. It absolutely is. Wish I could tell you it's better on this side, but it really isn't. We're in hiding, all of us. Can't go out in public or we'd get massacred by the Aurors or the Order. Never been a fan of Dumbledore, but you lot are good, I'll give you that. I haven't properly spoken to Evan in months. It's all stolen moments in borrowed time. Don't know how much longer we can last."
Sirius sighed again, tipping his head back to rest it against the windowsill. "Fuck, this is so depressing. Let's not talk about the war, or relationships, or Reggie, or James, or... Actually, let's just not talk at all. Pass me that joint."
Barty handed it to him and he accepted it gratefully, taking a long drag.
For a few hours, they passed joints back and forth in silence, burying their problems under smoke and cannabis. For a few hours, they allowed themselves to forget.