Evan(s) Interlude
Evan Rosier is a little bit too tired and startlingly cold. His blankets aren’t soft and his clothes are weirdly rough, which makes no sense since he knows how much they cost his father. His socks are too tight and his knees feel too knobby.
The sun is setting and he’s not quite in the mood to get back up out of bed for dinner, not after this morning.
This morning when he saw Regulus grab that jacket off his trunk and finally realized where he recognized it from. This morning when he’d gone off to Slughorn’s with Barty and caught a glimpse of his shorter friend walking down the grounds with the captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team. This morning, seven hours ago, that still hasn’t returned that shorter friend.
So, Evan is in bed and he’s sweating but cold and far too aware of his bones as he attempts to figure out how to tell his friend that he maybe should not be doing what he’s doing. His feet feel slick in his socks and his hair is far too frizzy when it itches his eyes.
“Ev?”
He’s feeling a little nervous.
“Ev, you in there?”
Suddenly there’s another body in the bed, a slightly taller very warm body rolling onto him over the coarse feeling of his well pressed covers.
“Bartemius Crouch Jr., will you please piss off,” Evan groans through his covers as his broad friend lays atop him in a rather ungraceful recreation of a seal on a rock. Evan, ridiculously, does feel a little bit more comfortable.
“Oh shush, I’m getting cozy,” Barty says as he slides himself off Evan to join him under the covers, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, you’re laying on top of me,” Evan says with a huff wriggling down the bed slightly so that Barty’s elbow exits the gap between his stomach and ribs.
“Okay? Well you’re laying underneath me, and I’m not complaining,” Barry comments with a wiggle of his eyebrow before he ducks his head into the space between Evan’s neck and the ends of his blonde hair.
“Oh, I thought you preferred me on top?” Evan says as he turns his head towards Barty with a raised eyebrow and a small secret smirk.
“Oh, I wish,” Barty exclaims through a laugh as he pushes closer into Evan, draping a long leg over his own and laying his arms over his chest.
“Mhm, keep dreaming,” Evan says with a smile, accommodating Barty’s new position by leaning slightly into him and scooting a little further up onto his pillows.
“Everynight, love, you come to me in dreams,” Barty says with a sigh.
“I what?!” Evan says with an exaggerated gasp, leaning away from Barty to clasp his hands over his chest and gawk at him. The dark headed boy laughs openly, eyes creased and white teeth dancing up at the lights above them.
“Exactly,” Barty says as he collects himself, pulling Evan back in and draping himself unceremoniously across his chest again.
“Right, well, only in your dreams, Crouch,” Evan says as he slides a cold hand into Barty’s alarmingly soft hair.
“At least I’ll have that,” Barty says with a wink before returning to his spot in Evan’s neck, “are you okay though?”
Evan feels better. He feels a little lighter and quite a bit warmer as he turns to answer, but he knows he can’t really tell Barty this. He knows it has to be Regulus who tells him, or never does, and he’s rather hoping he can pass this off as something else.
“My father sent me a letter yesterday,” he says, manifesting to Salazar that he can pretend that letter bothered him this much, “he was upset that I’d failed the last potions assignment.”
“You failed the amortentia assessment?” Barty says, softer and upsettingly kind into his neck.
“Yeah, I couldn't describe the scent well enough apparently.”
“Oh, so you brewed it right?” Barty asks and Evan can feel the tip of his nose beneath his ear when he nods, “he failed you just from the paper?”
“The paper was worth more than the actual potion,” Evan says with a sigh, trying so hard not to remember the vanilla leather scent that wafted from the cauldron and from the boy beside him when he’d brewed it.
“That’s ridiculous,” Barty says with a huff, “I’ll write to Slughorn if you need me too.”
“Thank you oh great protector of mine, but I already talked to him about it after lunch and he just told me that with amortentia the actual brewing isn’t the point of the lesson but more of ‘how it affects the mind’”
Evan can feel Barty roll his eyes, and he can smell the huff of sweet strawberry toothpaste breath against his neck.
“That’s absolute rubbish,” Barty says, squeezing Evan’s chest with a gentle hand and pressing a soft kiss to the base of his jaw, barely there and barely anything, Barty is a very physical person, “what did your dad say?”
Evan is trying very hard to not scream when he opens his mouth as Barty traces his hand up and into his hair, playing softly with the strands as they fall between his long fingers, “just said I have to get my mark back up to outstanding or he’ll take money out of my inheritance.”
“Is that even legal?” Barty asks, hand now dancing down Evan’s face and back to his side, “like he is even capable of doing that?”
“I don’t even know,” Evan says with a rather hard to accomplish shrug, feeling Barty’s chin jut against his shoulder, “I’m sure he’d find a way.”
“Tosser,” Barty says as he rolls back on top of Evan.
“Wanker,” Evan says with a small smile as he wraps his arms around his friend.
“Please tell me you guys have clothes on under there,” Regulus’ voice carries from the creakily opening door.
Barty lets out a loud laugh in Evan’s ear before turning his head towards their third roommate with a deep smirk and a twinkle in his deep brown eyes, “wouldn’t you like to know.”
Evan can’t see him, but he’s sure Regulus rolls his eyes at him, “I would, actually, that’s why I asked.”
Evan rolls himself out from under Barty and catches himself on his dresser before he falls to the ground off the bed, standing up as Barty pouts up at him from the pillows.
“Glad to see we’re clothed,” Regulus says as he strolls over to his bed, discarding that all too familiar jacket onto a hook by his bed posts, “have you both been to dinner already?”
“Not yet, no,” Barty says, still rolled up in Evan’s blankets like a small baby in a stroller, “you want me to just go grab us plates and bring them back?”
Regulus smiles at him, and Evan can see the traces of red on his curiously swollen lips.
“That'd be great, actually,” Regulus says as he starts towards the bathroom, “not in the mood for people-ing right now.”
Barty slides slowly out of the bed with a nod and a smile, grabbing his robes and starting towards the door as he says, “Ev, you want to come with?”
Evan does. He really, really does. But Evan has to stay here, because Evan has to talk to Regulus.
“I’m gonna stay and try and see if I can rewrite that paper for Slughorn,” Evan says, the lie slipping through his teeth with the ease of honey off a spoon, “will you grab some extra dessert for me though?”
“Always,” Barty says with a wink before disappearing quickly out the door.
Evan is far too aware of his bones again. He can feel where his joints meet and move beneath his skin, he can feel the way his muscles wrap around them. His hands are a little sweaty and Regulus is standing right across from him.
“Reg?” Evan asks, surprisingly solid for how shaky his body feels.
“Mhm,” Regulus responds as he shuffles through his drawers to pick out what Evan thinks is pajamas.
“Can I ask you something?” Evan says, trying his best to segway this into what it needs to be without alarming his friend. Regulus isn’t a big fan of talking, not really, he’ll tell you a story like no other but he’s not the fondest of confrontation.
“Uhm, sure?” Regulus says in a question of his own, obviously wary as he turns to face Evan.
Evan doesn’t want to be standing anymore, not when he knows this is bound to be an uncomfortably long conversation, so he sits lightly down on the edge of his bed and motions briefly with his hand for Regulus to do the same.
“When were you planning on telling us that the guy who’s got you running for a kiss at midnight is James Potter?”
Admittedly not the most graceful way he could have said that, but he got his point across. He feels a little less shaky having at least gotten that out into the air, and he feels a little less like the villain here when Regulus immediately denies him.
“Never, because it isn’t.”
Evan just shakes his head, he can feel the shorter hair at the back of his neck touch his skin ever so lightly as he tilts back up to point at the jacket hanging by Regulus’ alarmingly stoic face, “that’s his jacket.”
Regulus looks up at the jacket now, his calm face breaking when he returns his gaze to Evan, “how do you know that?”
“I’ve seen him wear it before,” Evan says with a small smile, trying his hardest to get rid of the small scared look in Regulus’ eyes.
“When? He told me he never wore it out,” Regulus says as a small frown starts tugging at his moving lips.
“Do you remember that party last December, to celebrate the end of the year before everyone went home?” Evan asks as he watches a rather confused looking Regulus nod, “you didn’t go because it was in the forbidden forest, so it was just Barty, Cas, and I.”
“Yes, I know,” Regulus says with a hand in his hair, tugging lightly at the curls above his ear, “what does this have to do with James’ jacket?”
“Well, he wore it that night, and it figures he’d forget that,” Evan says, remembering how soft the fleece of that jacket feels inside and how warm a drunk James can be within.
“Weren’t you a little too pissed to notice that? Why were you even looking at him anyway?”
Regulus looks rather lost, which Evan assumes is valid in this situation as Evan tries his best to control his face. His friend is looking at him with such genuine confusion, it dances in his squinting eyes and drools out of his slack mouth.
“Reg, I kissed James Potter that night.”
“Barty can we please go? It’s so fucking cold I can feel my balls literally falling off,” Evan says as he watches his breath form a white cloud of smoke in font of him.
The fire is burning wildly beside them but there’s too many people blocking Evan from the actual flames so none of the heat is reaching him. Barty is standing all too comfortable, well warmed by about five too many drinks and hardly even looking at him as he shivers in his small brown jacket.
“Hold on, I’ll just get you another drink,” Barty says, already turning away to find the small table between the thick trees where all the 7th years placed bottle upon bottle of Merlin knows what.
“This oughtta warm you up,” Barty says as he comes back with an entire bottle of firewhiskey in his hands, “can't believe they forgot to charm them against people under sixteen, it’s our lucky night, Ev!”
Evan winces from the cold in his fingers as he reaches for the bottle, but does feel a wave of warmth swarm his body as he takes his first swallow. It’s hot and rough down his throat as he attempts to chug it at Barty’s chanting, and it spills a little down his chin as he removes it from his whiskey wet lips.
Barty swipes the stray dribble away with a warm hand, and Evan feels suddenly so cozy he could lay down and sleep right here. Barty is close, as he always is, right up against his chest as he fights the urge to cough at the stinging in his throat. Barty’s hand is now around his neck, lazily swung around him as casual as can be, heating him up through the layers between them.
Evan has never really been drunk before, he’s had a few sips of the weird alcohol Barty steals from his parents over breaks, but he’s never chugged a whole bottle like that. It hits him much sooner than expected, but then again he’s not all that aware it’s even happening. He feels warm all of a sudden, even a little sweaty, as Barty leans into him with a stolen bottle of his own.
“You think I could pull a sixth year?” Barty asks, words slurring lazily around his tongue and melting hot against Evan’s neck where he speaks them. Evan is quite sure someone has put him in a carousel.
“Pardon?” Evan says, not quite sure how he forms the word or what is happening with the ground and that weird spinning sensation in his gut.
“I asked if you thought I could get with a sixth year,” Barty says, even closer to Evan’s ear and much louder against his tingling skin. He’s fully on top of Evan at this point and Evan is reveling in every inch of him as they collide. Barty’s hand is gripping the shoulder opposite it around Evan’s neck, and his other hand is pressed holding a bottle against Evan’s chest. His feet are tangled by Evan’s in a thick bunch of roots and their heads keep knocking together with every sway Evan isn’t aware he’s causing.
“I don’t know,” Evan says with a small frown tugging valiantly at his rather unabashed lips, “I don’t want you too.”
Oh, Merlin, he’s never drinking again. He is never going to drink again a day in his life.
But then Barty smiles and Evan thinks maybe a little bit of honesty never hurt anyone.
“Oh, Ev, I’ll make sure I find you again before we leave no worries,” Barty says, all too casual and far too friendly. Evan wants to fist his hands in his stupid floppy brown hair and pull. He’s not sure if that’s in a violent way or not.
“I don’t know, B, can’t we just stay here? I like it here,” Evan says through a rather embarrassingly prominent pout, watching as Barty looks up at him through laugh creased eyes. He hates that he can see himself in them, he looks all wobbly and dark.
“I know you do, Ev, but a boys got to have a little fun,” Barty says with a wink, nudging Evan’s head with the elbow he has draped behind it. Evan isn’t quite sure what’s happening but he’s actually quite certain he wants to kiss Barty right on the lips. Just to kiss him, though. He just wants to know what he’d feel like, or what toothpaste he uses. He doesn’t want what Barty is so clearly after, and his drink-addled brain isn’t quite sure if Barty would ever let him just get a taste.
“If I tell you I think you could, will you leave it be?” Evan asks, finding a tree somehow and leaning back against it with Barty at his front now. Barty’s bottle has somehow depleted in the time this conversation has taken up, and Evan wonders how he never saw him take a sip. Evan feels like the stars are spinning when he looks up, and feels himself fall down with them right into Barty’s open mouth as he laughs.
“I’d have to prove you right or wrong either way, mate,” Barty says with a small smile Evan knows will only ever be his, he foolishly wants to reach out and take it, keep it.
“I have full confidence in you, no need to prove anything,” Evan says with a firm shake of his head, his hair brushing with Barty’s own as he moves it back and forth.
Barty is so Barty, Evan thinks. He’s so himself. He can see it now, when he tosses his head back to flick the hair from his eyes and when his smile goes slightly crooked like it does when he talks to Evan. He’s so young, Evan thinks, so full of whatever it is that makes people write novels and inspires muggles to make those weird moving pictures that always make Pandora cry. He’s everything fleeting, like youth and vigor and dreams. But he feels like infinity, especially now, under Evan’s cold hands and the soft light of a waning moon.
“You just don’t want me to leave you alone,” Barty says with a raise of his perfectly arched eyebrow and a tug at his bottom lip.
“I just don’t want you to leave me,” Evan says before blinking rather harshly and covering it up with a far too loud laugh.
How does anybody behave when drunk? It’s like it’s seeping into the very chemicals that make him up and dismantling all the framing he’s engineered to maintain himself.
“Love you too, Ev,” Barty says, because he does. Evan knows he does.
“Love you,” Evan responds, because he does too.
“Right well, I’m going to prove you right and you’re going to figure out how to have a good time without me, I won’t always be around you know? Live fast, die young and all,” Barty says as he starts to pull away, much to Evan’s dismay.
Evan’s arms fall limp when Barty removes himself from them, and his hands start picking at every thread in his pants just for something to hold on to. Evan’s not the best at being alone. Especially not with so many people around, and he can’t seem to shake this overwhelming urge to snog this man in front of him.
Barty gives him a final smile and wink before he’s gone off to find some bird to chat with, and probably eventually take to bed. Evan will never understand that. Except maybe he does because he’s quite pissed and he needs to kiss Barty Crouch Jr or he may die.
“Did she really dump you?” Evan hears a posh accent not dissimilar from his own ask just beside him, though he’s rather sure they’re not talking to him.
The response confirms that the question was directed to the tall boy in a big red jacket that’s standing just a foot away from Evan and his tree, “Pads, can we just leave it for tonight? I just want to get pissed.”
“Well that, mate, we can absolutely do,” a new voice joins in, this one slightly higher pitched and filled with an occasional voice crack as whoever it belongs to shuffles over in the dark.
“Want me to find you someone new to kiss and forget all about her?” The original voice asks, and Evan thinks that it might be Regulus except it’s ever so slightly deeper.
“I’m alright, thanks mate. Just need another cup of fire whiskey and I’ll be good to go,” the boy closest to him says.
Evan is sure they can’t see him and he’s not all that sure who they are but that last one, the one who apparently just got dumped by some bird, has one of the hottest voices Evan has ever heard. Evan starts to wonder if he needs to kiss Barty, or if maybe he just needs to kiss someone.
He can hear shuffling from the other side of the tree as the boys move about and head towards the drink table, and so as to avoid being seen he scoots around the trunk of the tree opposite them.
“Woah, mate, sorry,” the beautiful voice sounds out, and this time Evan is rather convinced they’re talking to him, much supported by the fact that he did in fact just run head on to the boy in the red jacket.
“My bad,” Evan says, and he can feel the words slurring like melted ice in his mouth.
“Really isn’t,” the boy says again, and Evan looks up now to see who it is.
“James Potter?” Evan asks as he takes in the rather inarguably attractive head above him.
“That’s the name, darling,” James Potter says. Evan would gag if he didn't want to swallow this boy's voice whole.
James Potter stands at about 3 inches taller than Evan, and he’s so broad Evan is quite sure he could have mistaken him for a tree if he was ever so slightly more drunk. He’s wearing a fleece lined jacket Evan rather envies, deep dark maroon on the outside and soft white within. It zips up in the front but James has it zipped only halfway, a bit of his black shirt peeking through underneath and elegantly highlighting the bark colored skin that peeks out at the collar.
Maybe Evan does just need to kiss someone. He tries hard not to think of Barty when he puts a hand on James’ chest to steady himself.
James, Evan has always observed, is rather loud. He’s obnoxiously happy and far too eager to laugh at far too early hours of the day. Now, though, that horrendously annoying gryffindor that stole his best friend's brother away looks like he needs a hug or he may die. His eyes are drooping with drink and sadness, and Evan can tell he’s been crying from the way the skin around his eyes looks a little swollen. James Potter is easy to hate, but apparently also easy to forgive.
Or Evan is just really drunk and maybe a little bit horny. Is that what this is? He’s heard Barty talk about it before, how it feels when you want to have sex. How it feels to be attracted to someone like that, or how it feels to do something about it. Of course, Barty is always talking about girls, so he typically is always talking to Dorcas, but who can blame Evan if he can’t help but listen in.
Evan, however much he may listen, has never really understood. Sure, he’s been attracted to people before, in fact he wakes up every day next to what may be the most beautiful man to ever walk the Earth. He’s never wanted to have sex, and maybe that’s just because he’s 14, but Barty wants it and as far as Evan knows so does Regulus, so maybe he just had to drink a little to spur it on. Maybe he was afraid of it.
“I’m Evan,” Evan says, realizing he hasn’t spoken in over half a minute and that his hand is still very much on James Potter's chest.
“Rosier?” James asks in reply, a thick black eyebrow dancing atop his rather startling eyes. They’re hazel, Evan thinks, but he can somehow see an entire forest within them.
“That’s me,” Evan says, stepping a little closer to James under the pretense of completing his trip around the tree.
“Where are you going?” James asks, genuinely curious as Evan takes one more step in James’ direction. It’s actually rather endearing, Evan thinks, that even as drunk as he obviously is James Potter will still live up to his chivalrous reputation.
“I’m not sure,” Evan responds, tilting his head the way he sees girls do towards Barty and trying to avoid that he can now see said friend snogging the daylights out of some black haired girl against a tree just behind James’ back.
“Could I come with?” James asks, and he is absolutely flirting. Evan can see it in the way he moves to widen his stance, how he cocks a small smirk to the side of his face and teases his tongue against his teeth with every word he forms.
Evan’s pissed enough that he kind of likes it, tries to let it heat his face up with something better than the red hot feeling he got when he saw Barty and the girl.
“If you ask nicely,” Evan says, flirtation slipping from his tongue like sap from a tree and sweetening James’ gaze above him with something akin to mischief. Because this is absolutely something they should not be doing, which is why they both feel like they absolutely have to. Funny how temptation works.
“How would you suggest I do that?” James asks, taking a few steps of his own towards Evan until they're flush against one another and Evan can feel the bark of the tree against his back.
“I’m a physical learner,” Evan says, drink giving him a confidence he’s never had and making up every sentence that comes from his mouth before he can even have a single thought.
James doesn’t need any other innuendos, he doesn’t need any other formalities or greetings, because as soon as Evan locks eyes with him he’s got their lips together and his hands in Evan’s hair.
Evan will not lie and say James Potter isn’t a great kisser, because he is. Because he uses a little bit of tongue at Evan’s bottom lip but not too much it’s gross, and he lets Evan decide the pace once they’re connected. Evan takes control gratefully with a tug at James’ bottom lip, and the kiss tastes like whiskey and fire and a little bit of cold lingering in their short breaths.
Evan isn’t sure what’s wrong, because it’s a good kiss. It’s a really good kiss, and Evan just feels like it’s happening. He’s not sure what’s wrong because this is objectively fucking hot, and he couldn’t really care less. It’s nice and it’s warm and it tastes like the night, but he’s not sure he’s as into it as he’s supposed to be.
Because when you have a kiss like this, with a stranger in the dark, it’s supposed to be passionate. It’s supposed to be soft moans and short gasps of breath, and Evan should be hardening at James hands on his hips and in his waistband but he finds himself upsettingly indifferent.
He tries, he really does, to feel the same way James is so obviously feeling. Because James just had his heart broken and Evan may not be the best person he knows but he’s not heartless. But it’s a kiss, it’s just kissing, and Evan likes it but he doesn’t want whatever is bound to come after, and he doesn’t feel his cock chasing it or his body begging for it like Barty says he always does. He just feels like it's a nice kiss.
So, when he pulls away, his drunk brain tells it like it is, “I thought that would be better.”
And, oh no, because now poor heartbroken golden boy looks like someone just cursed his dog.
“Was I not good?” James asks, searching Evan’s face with a sort of dejected pleading.
“No, you were I think, I think I just don’t like kissing,” Evan says, far too honest for James Potter, but he just hopes that in the morning James won’t even remember his name.
“Can we try something else then, maybe? I liked it,” James says, and the small pout on his lips somehow dismantles all of Evan’s worries because, come on, he’s just so sad.
“Like what?” Evan asks, hands snaking up and down James’ wide arms as he silently begs James to smile again.
“You can kiss me,” James says, and as Evan feels the confusion pull at his features he adds on, “as in I’ll go against the tree.”
If Evan is being honest he doesn’t really see how power dynamics are going to change anything, but he’ll let James indulge because he’s drunk and a little heart broken himself.
“Okay,” Evan says, and turns and shuffles with James until the broad man is up against the tree and Evan has to get up on his tiptoes to kiss him again.
The kiss is good, as was expected, but when Evan feels James’ heart rate pick up he tries to find his own only to discover it actually a little bit slower than normal. James has a thigh between Evan’s as he lowers himself down the tree, and he’s starting to mouth along Evan’s jaw like a fish out of water. He’s hot, yes, but Evan would rather just stick to regular kissing.
So he tugs James back up and there it is again, a good kiss. It’s a little softer now since Evan is just trying to let himself enjoy without even thinking about what else James might be thinking they’d do next. James has a warm mouth, and somehow he smells like orange candy and a little bit of pine. Evan thinks it’s rather nice, and the inside of his jacket is softer than cotton as Evan’s arms wind within it.
“Prongs?” The posher voice from earlier calls from what Evan assumes is a few feet away, and it’s like someone kicked James upside the head with how quickly he jumps and scatters.
“Shit,” he mutters as he pulls himself away from Evan with wandering eyes and bitten lips, “shit, you can’t tell anyone, okay?”
Evan had assumed it wouldn’t really matter, but he feels himself nod as he chews at his bottom lip.
“James? Mate where are you?” the voice calls again, and James straightens up quickly before rather embarrassingly scattering away.
“Oh, there you are,” the voice says and he peeks around to find James Potter smiling down slightly at Sirius Black, “have you been snogging someone?”
James just tucks his lips in his mouth and starts to walk towards the drinks, but Evan sees the elder Black follow and hears their conversation as it carries, “you’ve been snogging someone!”
“Oh, leave it,” James says as he picks up a cup and pours a generous amount of some sort of clear liquid inside.
“Who was it?” Sirius asks, grabbing a cup of his own and allowing James to portion out his drink within.
“Nobody, really,” James says with a small shake of his head, setting down the bottle and starting back towards the fire.
“So, no more Rose, no problem, then?” Sirius asks, far too loud but somehow drawing no more attention than usual.
“Well, quite frankly, I don’t think I’ll ever love again but kissing is fun,” James says, having already downed his whole drink in the time it took Sirius to say his previous sentence. Evan can see the liquor loosening his eyes, he can see it relax his jaw and trickle down his forehead in shiny beads of sweat.
–
“I found Dorcas after that and we left, she had just been standing around with some random other fifth years from Ravenclaw, Barty ended up going back with that girl and, as I’m sure you remember, not coming back until lunch the next day,” Evan says, and Regulus watches as he plays with his hands in his lap, picking lightly at the skin around his nails.
Regulus is not quite sure what to do with this information. For one, he feels slightly betrayed that Evan made out with James Potter (brother stealer) and never told him. He also feels irrationally jealous that Evan got to kiss James first, and didn’t even enjoy it.
Maybe he’s also a little upset that James swore to never love again, and here he is making Regulus fall head over heels for a man he’s now rather sure just wanted a good heart felt snog. But, then again, James said he’d be his. He said he’d be his if Regulus would have him, and that sounds a little far off from just wanting to kiss.
But then again it’s all hidden away, like a shadow covered Evan behind a big sturdy tree. Always away from other eyes, always quiet and sneaky and far less important than drinking with his friends. Regulus knows, reasonably, he did swear James to secrecy, but James agreed. James didn’t fight, or pry, or feel some chivalrous desire to proclaim Regulus as his in any loud or romantic way James had been known for when he’d dated that girl in his fifth year.
Regulus remembers that, of course, as anybody who attended Hogwarts in fall of 1975 would. James Potter got on a table in the Great Hall a week after the first term started and loudly proclaimed his love for a small beautiful Ravenclaw girl named Rose. The sappy sucker even charmed roses to fall from the enchanted skyscape ceiling when he asked her on a date. She’d have been a fool to say no. Regulus wished she was a fool.
They dated rather publicly for months, and Regulus had avoided that as much as physically possible, it’s actually why he’d refused to go to the party. The forbidden forest was daunting, yes, but with enough persuasion Dorcas Meadowes could probably get him to jump off the roof. Regulus knew James and Rose would be there. So Regulus refused to go, and actually had a lovely reading night in the library with Pandora, so he's grateful in the long run.
James and Rose were in love. They said it loudly every morning at breakfast and as they dropped each other off for classes. James was besotted, absolutely gag inducingly beside himself for that pretty pale girl with the black hair that Regulus dreamed would disappear. He’d take her to Hogsmeade every weekend and buy her more gifts than she could carry. He’d invite her to everything he did with his friends, and soon enough Regulus even saw Sirius or Lupin walking with her on their own.
James Potter loves loudly. James Potter loves in enchanted roses and table standing declarations. He sins in shaddows, in forbidden forests and half-past-midnights.
“Why didn’t you tell me then?” Regulus asks his friend, trying his best to make eye contact and not continue to trace the scratches in the wooden floor beneath him.
“It didn’t matter then,” Evan says as he also looks up at Regulus, eyes a little guarded and mouth in a thin straight line, “everybody kisses strangers when they’re drunk.”
“James Potter is not a stranger,” Regulus says with a firm frown fighting his lips.
“He was then, he still is, to me,” Evan says, and Regulus hates that he isn’t wrong. Regulus is upset though, and there's something twisting into his gut like a knife, and he’s too scared to rip it out so he just has to make Evan hurt with him.
“That’s not true,” Regulus snaps, feeling his blood flow in the whip of his tongue, “that was never true, we all know who James Potter is.”
“Doesn’t seem to matter that much to you now, though,” Evan rebuttals, and, well, fair.
“You don’t get to forgive him for me,” Regulus fights back, feeling the knife stab deeper every time he cuts at Evan, “you don’t get to decide James Potter needs a good kiss and it’s okay that he ruined my best friends life because, oh no, he looks just oh so sad right now.”
Evan winces, Regulus sees it more than hears it, how Evan tenses up at Regulus’ words like he finally dug the knife in deep enough to bleed.
“I didn’t forgive him for you,” Evan says, searching Regulus’ now stoic face with wavering eyes, “I was drunk and upset, and he was just there.”
“Right, so you never told me about it because it didn’t matter, not because you knew you’d done something wrong?” Regulus responds, stealing his face into a shield of neutrality that seems to scare Evan more than when he’d been scowling.
“Reg, I never told anyone because I was embarrassed, it hardly had anything to do with James,” Evan says through an exasperated sigh, running his hands up and down his trouser clad thighs, “I didn’t want to tell anyone I made out with someone and didn’t like it.”
“We were fourteen, Evan, who would’ve cared?” Regulus asks, “we would have known it was just because it was James you had kissed.”
“It wasn’t, Regulus, it wasn’t just because it was James I had kissed,” Evan says, dipping his head down and watching as he starts picking at his skin again.
“What do you mean?” Regulus asks, rather confused and far too upset to rationalize anything coming out of Evan’s mouth.
“I mean, the kiss was good, it really was, but I didn’t want to do anything else. I don’t want to do anything else, I hardly even really enjoy snogging. With anyone.”
Regulus just blinks.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t like it, is what I mean, like how Dorcas only likes it with women? I only like it never. I fancy people, and I find people attractive, but I just don’t want to have sex,” Evan says, and Regulus can see it in the tension seeping from his shoulders that that’s more than just an argument to get Regulus off his back. Regulus knows how it feels, to admit something like that. And he may not understand it, but he doesn’t understand how Pandora can want to kiss women and he still supports her.
As mad as he is, he still has to support his friend.
“Okay, well that’s okay Evan, the problem is that it was James,” Regulus says, trying hard not to fault Evan for not telling him again. He’d never encourage his friends to keep secrets, that could never end well.
“It’s not my fault he was there, you’re not even mad at me,” Evan says and Regulus feels the scoff form in his throat before he even opens his mouth.
“I’m quite sure I am actually rather angry at you, Rosier,” Regulus says with a faux smile at his deflated friend.
“I’m just trying to warn you, Regulus, I’m sorry it was James but I’m also really not because if it hadn’t been I wouldn’t be able to help you,” Evan says as he stands from his bed and warily steps towards Regulus.
Regulus briefly wonders if Barty got lost in the castle, but then he remembers that Barty is a little too well known and can’t leave the room without getting roped in to at least 15 other conversations on his way around.
“What do you mean, help me?” Regulus asks, standing to be even with Evan and looking him in the eye as he arches a single eyebrow at him.
“I mean the boy you begged to kiss may never want anything more than just that,” Evan responds, softly and gently as if he’s cradling a baby to sleep.
“But it’s James Potter,” Regulus says, “he cooks me dinner and asks about the stars.”
Regulus hates how dejected he sounds. He hates how small and feeble his voice is as he recalls James’ smile and how he holds Regulus’ hand every time they take more than one step beside each other. He hates that Evan might be right, because Regulus Black is no pretty girl. Regulus Black is no long haired beauty with a plush chest or skirt lined thighs.
“Only after midnight,” Evan says with the smallest of pity frowns on his rather pink lips, “I’m not upset he wanted to kiss me, I was never upset about any of it, but that’s because I never loved him, and never planned on it, so him swearing me to secrecy and vowing to his friends to never love again didn’t affect me. But it’s going to affect you, Regulus.”
Regulus feels his heart beat pick up a little too much for his liking. He can feel sweat in his hair and on his scalp. He feels a little like breathing might be more work than crying and quite a bit like a fool.
Because maybe James is using him. Maybe James is just as human as everyone else and maybe he sins. Maybe he hurts people, and maybe Regulus is an easy person to hurt. But Regulus doesn’t want to stop, not when it feels this good. Not when it’s like gold for a beggar, and he’d beg if he had too. Because James, even in the shadows of the moon and the hidden gaps of a secret keeping castle, is the most beautiful thing Regulus has ever had.
So if James is using him, he’s not done falling for his fool's gold.
But he thinks his chest is caving in and he thinks maybe he might be in love with someone who will never love him back. And Regulus hasn’t said he’s loved anyone since his brother, he’s never even thought it. And now, now that he’s loving a boy made of sun and sweet nothings, he realizes that maybe it wasn’t that he can’t love. Maybe it’s that he cannot be loved. Maybe he isn’t enough.
But if James wants him, or his lips and tongue, who is Regulus to tell him no?
“It’s fine,” Regulus says, swallowing a rather thick lump of something he feels getting stuck in his lungs and clogging up his airway, “what makes you think I want love from him anyway?”
“He makes you dinner and asks about the stars,” Evan says, small and sad and gentle like rain, “and you wear his jacket every day like a safety blanket, you smile more and you blush everytime someone says a word starting with the letter J.”
“Maybe I just really like the kissing,” Regulus says, trying so hard to breathe and feeling so, so small.
“I’m sure you do, but you like dinner and the stars more,” Evan says.
And that’s enough for Regulus. That’s well and enough of this conversation, the words that keep choking him from the inside out and the ideas that won’t seem to shake out of his head when he tugs at his hair.
So he leaves. He walks right out the door and up the stairs and past a chatting Barty holding three plates in the common room and right up to the Gryffindor tower. Which, as soon as he arrives, he regrets coming to.
He’s just down the hall from the portrait but he can see as James steps through it with his friends, arm around a rather stunning looking woman Regulus is pretty sure is called Mary and mouth open in a laugh Regulus had bathed in not two hours ago. The woman, now, glows with it. James’ laugh radiates off her dark skin, glistens in her round eyes and bounces off the curls atop her head.
Regulus quite literally cannot breathe. Because he’s not that either.
He’s not tall and smooth and flawless like she is, he doesn’t walk to class in heels or go to dinner in short skirts or tight shirts. He doesn’t have perfect breasts that bounce when he laughs, or any of the pretty things this girl has as James hangs off of her.
James isn’t not gay, but Regulus isn’t sure of what other options there are and he’s quite sure that James would never say he’s Regulus’ in front of anyone other than the mushrooms and grass beneath their feet in the forest. Forbidden forest; fitting that.
So Regulus just proceeds to not be able to breathe. Because he isn’t right. Not for James, not for his brother, not for his parents or his quidditch team. He’s not a pretty girl or the perfect heir, he’s not a good brother or a good enough seeker. He’s just Regulus. And Regulus is not good enough.
So his skin starts itching, like he needs to scrape it off and grow a new layer. His hands are shaky and he feels far too hot. He knows this, he knows what this is, and he knows typically he can open a window and make himself small enough he doesn’t have to feel anything but the breeze.
But he’s by the Gryffindor tower and the window he found is of stained glass and no hinges. So he curls up in the space in front of it and presses against it to feel something cold, and it helps momentarily. It helps with his skin a little bit but he’s still not sure he’s breathing right so he tries to find his heartbeat.
“Hello?” He hears a small soft voice ask from a few feet away, and he assumes he’s as invisible as ever so they must be talking to someone else. One beat, two beats, three beats.
“Hello, are you okay?” the voice asks again, slightly closer and definitely lower to the ground. Regulus would look if he could but he doesn't think he can open his eyes.
He tries to talk but all that happens is that his mouth finds air again and takes a noisy inhale of the surplus around him. The person inches closer, and Regulus can make out the tips of black shoes on the ground between the crack in his knees where he’s buried his head.
“Can you breathe with me?” the voice asks, and Regulus still has no idea who it is but he finds it actually helps to have something like them to focus on.
“I can’t,” he tries to speak, he tries so hard but it’s like the words are stuck, all he can say or think or feel is, “he doesn’t love me.”
He hopes they didn’t hear that.
He breathes in a shaky breath, feeling the air vibrate off his tongue and ricochet in heavy rough beats off his lungs.
“Just breathe in 1, 2, 3, 4,” the voice says, and Regulus finds himself following the steady soft beat of their voice, “and out, 2, 3, 4.”
They repeat that several times before Regulus can raise his head, just enough so that his eyes peek out over his knees and he can finally make out that Lily Evans is currently sitting on the dirty stone floor about a foot away from him counting off his breaths. She’s quite pretty, really, all freckled skin and long ginger hair that cascades over the folds of her back as she scoots an inch or so closer to Regulus. He thinks she might be trying to block him from the view of anyone else in the hall, and he briefly wonders if she may be an angel.
“Hi,” she says when she sees his face, “do you want me to keep counting for you? Do you need some water?”
Regulus’ throat is rather dry and he briefly wonders if he’d been trying to swallow air like food instead of breathe. His body is shaky, but functioning and he finds that he can breathe alright with just Lily in his view and the cold of the window against his back.
“I’m fine,” he says, trying to neutralize his face and straighten himself out but quickly picking his knees back up to his chest when he sees how they shake on the floor.
“Here,” she says, reaching into her pocket and transfiguring what seems to be lotion into a small cup and casting a hushed, “aguamenti,” into it before passing it to Regulus.
Regulus’ palms are clammy like he’s sick, and his hands shake ever so slightly when he takes the cup, but he gulps down the water gratefully and attempts a small smile at the kind girl as he passes the cup back.
“I’m really okay,” he says, leaning his head back against the cold window and hoping to Merlin, nobody else sees him, “you can go to dinner with your friends.”
“I already ate,” she says with a close lipped smile, “have you?”
Regulus just shakes his head but says, “a friend brought dinner to our dorm, so I think I’ll probably head back there now to eat.”
Lily nods, and looks at him ever so imploringly as she says, “can I ask you something?”
Regulus wants to say no but sees no other way of leaving until she gets what she wants, as with all interactions with a Gryffindor. So he nods and says, “okay.”
“Why are you up here?” she asks, and he watches as she crosses her legs on the ground, her thick thighs pressing together as her skirt digs into her waist.
“No reason,” he says, glancing over her shoulder to the portrait hole that held the man he’d kissed and the woman he draped himself over.
“I won’t press further, but I know that’s not true,” she says with a small nod and a huff as she stands herself back up. She reaches a pale freckled hand out to Regulus from above, and he takes it despite his desire to curl back up and fall through the middle of the Earth.
He nods at her as he rights himself and attempts to figure out his best way out of this as he says, “thank you, and if you wouldn’t mind not telling anyone about this?”
She just nods back and hums in agreement, “of course, do you want me to walk you back to your dorm? I’m sure you’d be fine on your own but I’m always quite shaken up after a panic attack like that, especially in a public space, so if you wanted someone with you until you got back I wouldn’t mind.”
Regulus wants to say no, he wants to not need anyone and he wants to be enough even for himself, but he isn’t, so he doesn’t.
“That wouldn’t be horrible,” he says flatly, letting himself relax at her smile and finding himself rather glad he agreed as she simply turns and starts towards the dungeons without another word, still about a foot from Regulus and not trying to get any closer.
They walk in silence, but with her beside him he finds less people have something to say to him in the halls. She smiles at everyone they pass, and even says brief hello’s to a few random students Regulus couldn’t recognize to save his life. She seems kind, like someone you’d want to make friendship bracelets with, which is a rather ridiculous thought and Regulus will be blaming his panic-addled mind for ever having it.
When they descend the stairs to the great hall, before they can turn down the next flight, Regulus stops dead in his tracks. Because there’s James.
There is James Potter brimming with laughter and painted with a smile. There is James Potter, yet again with that Mary girl, walking out of the great hall in all his beautiful bronze glory. There is the boy Regulus’ mind would rather short circuit over than think about. There is the boy Regulus Black kisses on stolen time and loves in all the dark places.
And Regulus feels it. He feels the knife in his gut and the lump in his lungs, and then he feels a soft hand on his arm. He feels a hand so lightly on his elbow at the same time James sees him. He feels that smile, that secret sideways one, at the same time that hand tigs lightly on his loose sleeve.
“Regulus?” Lily asks, quiet and discreet in the hall of people, and she’s standing just perfectly so that if anyone passed they’d have no idea she was touching him.
When Regulus finally looks back at her he knows he’s been caught, and he knows then that James has been too, but he just nods and starts leading them silently down to the dungeons.
When they reach the hall the slytherin common room is in Regulus turns to Lily with a small cordial smile on his face, “thank you, Evans, for helping me.”
She nods with a smile on her pretty plush lips, “you’re welcome,” she says, and then she seems to start another sentence before cutting herself off to say, “can I tell you something?”
Regulus isn’t quite sure what happened that made Lily Evans think he was the man to tell things to or ask things of, but yet again he’s grateful and he owes her so he nods as he tugs lightly a stray curl above his eyes.
“I’m not making assumptions, and I won’t say anything, but I was loved by James Potter once too,” Regulus opens his mouth immediately to say something but she motions for him to wait with a wave of her hand and continues on, “in first year, he swore he loved me, and would love me, until the day he died. We were eleven, of course, so I told him no. He told me he loved me and I told him no, and he swore he’d never love again. He swore he’d die before loving again. Then there were a lot of far too public declarations and rather embarrassing stunts, and then there was second year and I kept saying no. Then, eventually, came Rose. Rose for whom he charmed the sky and danced on tables, Rose, with whom he'd walk to class and kiss in halls.”
Regulus isn’t sure where this is going, but the way Lily speaks keeps him quiet, keeps him listening.
“Rose and I never got that secret smile I know I wasn’t supposed to see, and we never got him stumbling through the common room with a smile just like it at 3am. He didn’t love us like that. He loved us for the show. He loved us because he thought he was supposed to. He didn’t love us like sneaking out every night and canceling practice, and I’m not assuming you’re the person he’s been doing that for, but if you are, you don’t need to panic outside the common room. If you are the person he’s been smiling over at breakfast and tripping over his own goofy feet to see at night, which, again, not saying you are, but if you were, I would never worry that he doesn’t love you.”
Regulus has absolutely no idea what to say to that, so he just swallows. He swallows around the rather confused feelings stuck in his throat and blinks away the honesty he felt rip apart his face as she spoke.
Lily Evans just offers him a smile and a brief hold at his elbow, squeezing him so slightly but in such a comforting manner Regulus almost thinks he might like her. Her hand drops as quickly as it rose and she turns away and back up the stairs quiet as a mouse.
Regulus isn’t quite sure what to do with that. Regulus isn’t quite sure what to do with any of the blatantly ridiculous things he’s been told today. Regulus is not quite sure what to do with anything.
He is hungry, though, and if at this point Barty should be in the room, so Evan won’t be able to get another word in about James until they’re alone again. Which, Regulus does not plan on allowing to happen any time soon. So he just turns around, shocked and so insanely confused, and enters the common room as quietly as Lily left.
–
Lily has absolutely no idea what just happened but she’s actually rather impressed with herself for the speech she’s just given. In fact, she rather thinks it may be one of her best advice speeches yet, and she gives quite a few so that is saying a lot.
In all honesty she feels she should be a lot more shocked by the idea of James Potter and Regulus Black, but something about it makes sense to her. She’s loved the wrong person before, and in her experience the wrong person turned out just right. Because she’d loved her beautiful coconut scented friend from afar in secret dreams and stolen smiles. She’d loved a woman. She loves a woman. And everything so wrong about that is what makes it just so right.
And, yes, James being with Regulus is far different than what Lily has with Mary. Because, sure, Regulus’ parents are assholes and his older brother left and moved in with James. Because, yes, he’s a Slytherin and James is Gryffindor and he’s bred for politics and James just wants to play quidditch but some things just make sense. James smiling at Regulus as soon as he noticed he was in the same room as him makes sense, and James keeping it all for himself does too.
Lily is keeping Mary all for herself. She’s keeping her in firelit AMs and common room couch talks. She hides her in the folds of her stomach where she’s felt her hands and in the skin of her lips where she’s tasted her tongue. They share secret smiles now too, in the halls and in the dorm and anywhere they see each other. So, Lily gets it, as much as she can, and she hopes one day Regulus will see it too, how much love can reside there with the secrets of their skin.
And, as we’re practicing honesty, she didn’t really like seeing James stumble out of the common room draped all over Mary either. She also has the urge to curl into a ball and convince herself she isn’t good enough when she sees how Mary talks to men, how she flirts and bats her eyelashes just to get a cheaper skirt or a tastier tea. But she also knows that every night it’s her and Mary kissing on the couch, and it’s her and Mary laughing every time James wanders in completely oblivious to them. It's her and Mary holding hands under the table, and it's her and Mary kissing each other goodnight.
It’s her and Mary, now actually, locking pinkies under their robes when they find each other in the hall.
“Hi,” Mary says, smooth like honey dripping down Lily’s smile.
“Hi,” Lily says back as they start their journey up the many stairs to the tower.
“I thought you were still up in the common room, you never joined us?” Mary says as a question, tilting her silk voice ever so slightly up at the end with a glint of curiosity in her eye.
“I was, but I found a Slytherin having a panic attack when I stepped out to join you guys and I walked them back to the dungeons once they calmed down,” Lily says, careful to avoid any hint that the person she’s talking about might be Regulus Black.
“Ah, I should have assumed, always a princess in shining armor, you,” Mary says with a soft smile on her dark lips. Lily feels herself flush, which is not easy to avoid being as pale and subject to flustering as she is.
“Yes, well, if you ever need a dragon slaying you know where to find me,” she says with a smile of her own, feeling the sort of magic that is Mary seeping through her open mouth.
“I’ll be sure to let you know if a dragon ever trapsin the tower,” Mary says, continuing the joke with the softest laugh Lily has ever wanted to drown in, “did you get dinner, though?”
Lily nods as she turns them towards a non-moving staircase on their way up, “I ate before you guys even left, I’d gotten dinner before I came back up from potions tutoring, so I wouldn’t have to walk back up and down so much.”
Mary laughs again, and Lily thinks she’d make this journey a thousand times over just to feel that against her skin, “well, shit luck there then, but I’m glad you ate. I packed you a plate too, if you want to share it later now.”
“I’d love to,” Lily says, a smile permanently affixed to her face and starting to ache in her cheeks, “what did you grab?”
“Honestly mostly dessert since they served pork, and I know you don’t like it, but I got some asparagus and potatoes for you as well,” Mary says, using her spare hand to pull a shrunken and wrapped plate out from the pocket of her robes adorned with all the aforementioned items.
“You are lovely, did you know that?” Lily says with a brief kiss to her cheek as they enter an empty hall.
“I did, but you wouldn’t mind telling me again would you?” Mary says pressing a kiss in return to a spot on Lily’s neck her hair isn’t covering.
“You’re lovely,” Lily says, feeling warmth and something oh so soft trickle down her body from the spot where she can still feel Mary’s kiss, “you’re so lovely, lovely, lovely.”
Mary giggles like a schoolgirl, which, well, she kind of is, and Lily lets her tug her closer as they approach the Fat Lady portrait. Lily did always hate that they called her that, and had asked for her name once in first year and found out it was Valkyrie, which Lily thinks suits her much better than “Fat Lady”.
Lily thinks it must be awful to be referred to by body shape. She always loved Valkyrie, always envied her confidence and the way she never batted an eye at the awful name students always called her. Lily’s body looks a lot like hers, with its round edges and thicker limbs. Lily used to be afraid she’d be called “fat girl” after she found out what Valkyrie was called, and she used to cry herself to sleep when she thought James Potter was making fun of her every time he’d confess his love in the dining hall.
So, Lily asked for her name, and she told everybody she could to use it. James helped, as loud as he is, and everybody always listens to him, so just about everyone calls her Valkyrie now. She’s seen how it makes her smile more, how she’s kinder and less teasing to those who treat her the same.
“Good evening, Valkyrie,” Mary says, causing a secret smile to dance on Lily’s lips as the painted woman smiles back, “have you been having a good night?”
The woman swirls in her colors and answers with a rather upbeat, “I have, yes, and how have you two beautiful women been?”
“Rather good as well,” Lily says, “Slughorn told me that the student I’d been tutoring passed their first exam in potions so soon enough they should be back up in their marks!”
“Oh what splendid news!” the portrait responds with a clap, “give them my regards, please, and let me know if you need me to go snooping down there anytime to find some secrets, you know I recently heard from a friend down there that that Slughorn guy might be smuggling kids restricted books.”
Lily blinks at her, shocked, “really?!”
She knows it’s a petty crime but she was made a prefect for a reason so she is genuinely a little bit offended.
“Might just be hearsay, but as far as I know it’s true,” Valkyrie says with a curt nod, “anyway, you two girls just let me know if you need anything and go in there and do whatever it is you do.”
Lily just laughs and nods, watching as Mary thanks her and repeats the password to get in before wishing her a goodnight and stepping through the hole behind her. Lily follows after her own well wishes and feels something soften inside her when Mary says, “I’m so glad you asked her name, she’s fucking bad ass.”
Lily just laughs and smiles through a soft blush at Mary’s inadvertent praise as they step over to the couches currently facing a rather intense looking game of chess between Peter and James.
“Who’s winning?” Mary asks her as they settle into the plush couch just a little too close to one another, but it’s honestly nothing compared to James and Sirius so nobody even bats an eye.
“James right now, but I doubt he even knows it so Peter will probably win again,” Lily says, pointing out a play she knows James doesn’t have any idea he can make.
“Have you ever played against Peter?” Mary asks, watching Lily watch the game as she places a soft warm hand atop Lily’s pale thigh.
“No, I’m a little afraid I’d win and ruin his whole reputation,” she responds, stifling a laugh into Mary’s hair as Mary hides hers in her shoulder.
“Oh, right, wouldn’t want to take that away from him,” Mary says with a smile as she returns to watch the game play out beneath them.
Lily lets her mind wander as Mary’s hand does the same on her thigh, thinking quite a few thoughts about the brown haired boy playing chess and the slightly younger boy he smiled at just twenty minutes ago. He looks happier, ridiculously, like even just seeing Regulus for a split second can make his day that much brighter. Maybe it can. Maybe Lily hopes it does, because James Potter deserves that. He deserves someone who loves him so much he can’t even breathe.
The night goes by in orange lit laughter and fire burnt smiles, and Lily finds herself falling into Mary again once everyone else has gone to bed. She feels it, whatever it is that makes James that much happier and Regulus that much more scared. She feels it when Mary kisses her so softly she thinks it’s the only thing giving her air, and she feels it when she watches Mary fall asleep in her shirt.