Boyfriends
Regulus is avoiding absolutely everybody. He’s been waking up earlier and going to bed later and trying his best not to look when James smiles at him every day. It’s only been a couple days since the whole ‘I kissed James Potter that night’ incident with Evan, but Regulus has been feeling a little suspended in time. He feels frozen in the moment he was in when he heard that story, when his friend told him maybe James Potter couldn’t love him and he believed him.
It’s been snowing every day now, cold and wet and everything that makes Regulus think of home. He’s been avoiding that topic too, as of late, but with only a week left before Christmas hols he’s been receiving a few letters from his mother. Most of them are pretty tolerable, short instructions for him when the train arrives since they don't have the time to come and pick him up. There was one, though, about a page and a half long, detailing what was expected of him upon his return to Grimmauld place.
Walburga is working her way up the ministry scale, with help of many other like minded politicians that always scared Regulus as a kid. They always walked through his home like ghosts, haunting the halls with their lingering looks and misplaced hands. There were a lot of light touches to his shoulders, belittling pats on his head, and hands on his arms growing up around people like the elder Mulciber and Avery. Even Barty’s father had made a few appearances, him being what Walburga considers competition.
So, for the past few days, he’s been receiving letters from mother dearest that have begun to map out his own role in all of this. He is to respond when spoken to with a selection of a few automated responses: “I’ll be in support of my mother,” or “I plan on joining her and furthering the cause after my graduation” or “yes” and never “no”.
It’s fine, really, because Regulus really doesn’t hate it, at least not as much as Sirius always did. Sirius did a lot of saying no, and a lot of refusing to do whatever small thing Walburga had requested of him. Regulus learned from his mistakes, learned what not to do based on what got the most slashes from their mothers wand or the worst whippings from its tip. So, Regulus doesn’t mind. He’ll nod, he’ll say yes and he’ll survive.
Sirius almost didn’t survive, and Regulus has nobody to floo to if he ends up battered and bleeding on their carpet like his brother. He has no friend he can live with, no secret pretty boy boyfriend he can cuddle with when he cries, no cozy living room he can share with anyone but his tears. Regulus’ friends have it no better than him, they’re no safer, no more coddled by their own parents, so Regulus will just have to make do.
Which is what he plans on, or was planning on, but James. James.
James Potter has invaded every crevice of his mind. He has seeped into his very being and softened all the bits his parents hardened. He melted all the parts of Regulus that had frozen over, and hidden himself comfortably in the very essence of Regulus’ being. Regulus’ being used to be stone, it used to be marble carved by his mother’s curses and hardened with his brother's lies. He used to be hard, he used to be protected, his mind used to be a pleasure for his mother to peek into.
Now, if his mother questions a single thing he says he’ll have to master occlumency in half a week to keep her from seeing James in every thought he has. He’s worried that protecting James in his mind might even make him think of him more. He assumes that maybe after he talks to James, which he has to do before the end of the week, he won’t have anything to protect anyway.
So all in all it’s gearing up to be quite the splendid week for Regulus Black as he wakes up early to thoughts of James and Walburga and everything he isn’t sure he’s enough of a person to do.
It’s cold in their room this early, around 6am, since Barty and Evan won’t wake up until 7 and breakfast begins in half an hour. He’s begun sleeping in socks to avoid the scorching bite of a frozen hardwood floor fresh out of bed.
It’s Tuesday and Regulus’ first class is at 8, with Barty and Evan, so he’s going to do as much as he can to avoid having to see them before then. Evan hasn’t been pushing or prying at all, so that much is nice, he seems to also be rather content to exist in this sort of silent limbo they’re in. Barty, as he has expressed many times to Regulus, has absolutely no idea what is going on.
“Goodmorning,” Regulus says to himself in the bathroom mirror after he shuts the door and casts a silencing charm so that the other two boys don't wake when he starts the shower. He, unfortunately, is out of toothpaste and hasn’t quite mastered refilling the tube with magic the way Sirius always could growing up, so he begrudgingly picks up the absolutely ridiculous strawberry toothpaste Barty uses.
The tube has some sort of stupid muggle cartoon girl in green and white stockings on it, and it quite literally says ‘for kids’ on the side. Regulus squeezes some of the pastel pink paste onto his toothbrush and tries not to enjoy the flavor as he brushes and rinses it through and out of his mouth.
The shower is hot, a little too hot for most, but it stings Regulus into life as he stares blankly at the tiled wall and lets the water roll down and over his body like the tide. It feels weirdly nice to let it blind him, to let it wash off all of who he is and burn the new skin that forms. It’s hot when he opens his mouth and lets some of it drain down his throat, washing out his insides with the steady stream of water over his face, crashing against the jagged edges of his nose and lips and whipping his cheeks as he blinks.
He washes himself slowly, letting the soap drip down his skin before rinsing it under the shower head, watching as it pools around his feet and foams around the drain. When he turns off the shower he assumes it’s around 6:20, and he towels off quickly so he can get down to breakfast by 6:30.
He slides out of the bathroom quietly, leaving the door cracked so Evan or Barty don’t hear the lock click. He dresses quickly, sliding into a pair of pressed black trousers and a t-shirt which he tops with a loose gray sweater he’s pretty sure has a hole somewhere, which would devastate his mother but he can’t find it in himself to care.
He slides his feet into a thick pair of black socks before slipping into his shined black shoes, lacing them up quickly and grabbing his robes and bag on his way out. The two boys in his room remain asleep, facing each other from their opposing beds, arms extended like they could be touching if they were just a foot closer. Regulus opens and closes the door on them as quietly as he can, slipping through a small crack in it before taking the steps two at a time and passing quickly through the common room.
As soon as he exits the wall behind which the Slytheirn dorms reside there’s a firm hand on his shoulder and he’s being tugged into a weird sort of nook behind a long tapestry just to his right.
“What the bloody-” Regulus gets out before he sees who’s assaulted him and feels all his resolve melt at James’ soft eyes burrowing into his own. He lets James kiss him, lets him cut him off mid sentence and kiss him with minty breath and soft lips. He’s got Regulus’ face in his hands, palms on his cheeks gently cradling him in a way Regulus does not think he deserves.
It’s a short kiss, it’s gentle and close lipped and so sweet Regulus almost forgets everything else he needs to be thinking about. That’s what’s tricky with James Potter, he’s lovely like ignorance.
“Where have you been?” James asks him now, foreheads resting against one another and hands still on Regulus’ cold face. He’s looking into his eyes with such genuine concern, and a little bit of hurt Regulus wants to beat himself over causing.
“I’ve been busy,” Regulus mutters into James' warm hand, letting the words slip into James’ very skin and travel to his mind through each cell that connects them.
“Why haven’t you talked to me? You know you can talk to me,” James says, so soft, so imploring that Regulus almost dies.
“I’ve just been busy, James,” Regulus says, trying so hard not to crack, fighting so hard against whatever magic James uses to pry him open like Pandora’s box.
“That’s okay, but why didn’t you say anything? You could have just written to me, or told me one day before breakfast. I don't mind that you’re busy, and if you need anything I’m here for that too,” James says, breath fanning over Regulus’ now far too warm face.
Regulus wants that to be true, but James is holding him like water in his hands and he can feel pieces of himself slipping through his grasp every time he remembers he isn’t solid enough.
“Are you?” Regulus asks, small and childish and almost pleadingly.
“Of course I am,” James says and he sounds so earnest Regulus forgets he’s lying, “I’m here now, if you need to talk, or if you don’t, I’m here just to be here, Regulus.”
Regulus wants to scream. He wants to go back into his room and stop caring if he wakes up his roomates and scream bloody fucking murder at the walls and the floor and every single thing he sees because what. Because James Potter has this way of just saying things like saying them can fix everything and Regulus has this way of letting him.
“I’ve just been busy,” Regulus says again, looking everywhere but James’ stupid beautiful overwhelming eyes.
“You haven’t even been anywhere, Reg, you’re friend, the blonde one, even asked me if I’d seen you recently,” James says and Regulus feels himself immediately recoil.
“What?!” Regulus asks, trying his best to maintain at least some small semblance of order in his own mind as it races with thoughts of Evan talking to James.
“Oh, yeah, by the way I didn’t know we were telling friends,” James says, and he looks ridiculously pleased and Regulus wants to scream.
“We’re not,” Regulus says with a frown, “Evan figured it out for himself, y’know because you gave him the jacket you were wearing when you made out with him at that party last year.”
James looks like Regulus just smacked him. His eyes widen and his jaw goes a little slack, his hands come away from Regulus’ face to drag down over his own as he lets out a rather upsettingly attractive groan.
“Reg, that was literally an entire year ago,” James says, and Regulus has to laugh because James thinks he’s jealous.
“I’m not jealous, James, it’s just that you made him swear to never tell anyone and then ran off with your friends claiming you’d never love again, and if you don’t recall allow me to remind you that the next day you tried to win that girl who left you all drunk and desperate back with that absolutely ridiculous flower show in the great hall,” Regulus says quickly, the words coming out harsh and heavy in a rush of something Regulus thinks might actually be just a tad bit of jealousy.
“Regulus, I need you to tell me why that is a problem now,” James says, waving his arms around to bring attention to the situation they’re currently in.
“It’s just,” Regulus starts, trying to figure out how to say this without sounding like a child begging to be held, “you said you’d never love again, you said kissing was fine but that you’d never love again.”
James looks annoyingly content when he hears Regulus’ response, he smiles ever so slightly like he’s in on a joke and Regulus is just a bit slow on the uptake, “Reg, that was over a year ago, and I was a drunk fifteen year old fresh out of a relationship, I’m pretty sure everyone says that after a break up.”
Regulus just blinks at him, and feels rather small and a little dumb but also still feels right because it’s not just that, it’s not just never loving him, it’s never being proud of it.
“You made him vow not to tell anyone,” Regulus says to the floor, watching as his shoes scuff against one another on the stone.
“Regulus you made me vow not to tell anyone,” James says, and Regulus tries his best to pretend he’s not right, “I don’t even know what you want me to tell anyone, Reg. I told you I’d be yours, and you kissed me. So is it me that just wants to kiss, is it me who just wants to kiss in the forbidden forest?”
Regulus isn’t sure what to say, he isn’t sure what to feel because James is saying these things and he’s saying them so gently. He isn’t yelling, he isn’t harsh, he’s just talking. He’s almost whispering, actually, and his hand is back on Regulus’ face, soft and warm and grounding as Regulus' mind floats around in the air above him.
“I don’t know what I want,” Regulus says, mumbled and tiny and void of any of the gentleness James is awarding him.
“I do. I know what I want,” James says, stepping back up to Regulus with such gentle carefulness Regulus wants to only ever have to be touched by him, “I want you, whatever that entails, and I want to tell the world, but I’d do it in secret. It’s not for show, I’d do it all in secret because that's what you said you wanted. But if you’d let me I’d tell the world, I’d tell Evan even if he didn't already know, I’d tell Sirius and hope he can just get over himself, I’d tell my mum and my dad and make scrapbooks of us to keep back at home with them.”
Regulus doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t think it’s true, it’s too good. Regulus has never deserved anything good.
“I’m not going to be enough for you,” he hears himself say, and damn whatever charm James has placed over him that is making him say thoughts like that.
“You already are,” James says, warm in Regulus’ ears, “if you’ll let me let’s tell your friends. Let’s tell Crouch and Meadowes and that Pandora girl that I’m actually sure already knows.”
“Do you actually want to?” Regulus asks, so sure James is just trying to make him happy, so sure none of this is actually for James.
“Yes,” James says so earnestly Regulus can feel it in his core, “yes, I’ll make dinner or something and meet them all. I want to meet them all, as yours.”
“You want me to tell them what? That you’re what?” Regulus asks, so afraid of anything that James could say in response to that question.
“I’m whatever you’ll let me be Regulus,” James responds in a whisper, like maybe he’s revealing more than he wants to too, “I’d like to be your boyfriend, as cheesy as that sounds, I’d like to call you mine.”
Regulus shouldn't blush, because he should be mad, and he should still hate the world and everything in it but with James everything is golden. Everything is bathed in a filter so warm and lovely that the world seems worth looking at. And James wants him, or at least he’s saying he does, and James wants to be his and maybe, just maybe, Regulus is actually sick and tired of not having him.
Because in four days Regulus will be on a train home, and it’s Christmas. It’s cold and it’s dark at 3pm and his mother is waiting for him with his entire future in the palm of her hand but she doesn’t have this. This is just Regulus’.
“I’ll tell them that,” Regulus says, fighting the smile that rushes to his lips when he sees James’ own shining right at him, “we’ll tell them that, then.”
“So you’re my boyfriend?” James asks, voice full of everything good and cozy and happy in the world.
“I guess I am,” Regulus says, finding it annoying that that word makes him feel like something solid again, like something real, like he might belong to someone and be worth something, “if that’s really what you want?”
“Oh, stop second guessing me, I say what I mean, I always do, you never need to question me, you’re the cryptic one,” James says with a small tug at one of Regulus’ damp curls and a little bit of a kiss to his forehead that makes Regulus quite literally melt into him.
“Okay, then,” Regulus says, “when do you want me to plan dinner?”
“Tonight?” James says, “the sooner the better please, I think that blonde Rosier fellow rather dislikes me, and I don’t do all that well with people disliking me.”
“Oh it’s not that bad, being disliked that is, you’ll be fine,” Regulus says, leaning into James with an unavoidable sigh when James wraps his arms around him.
“I won’t be, I need him to like me as soon as possible, please,” James says into the top of Regulus' head as he holds him tight against his chest, “so tonight?”
“That’s fine, I can tell them at breakfast,” Regulus says, nodding into James’ broad chest and fighting the urge to burrow all the way in and make a little home for himself in the warmth of James’ aorta.
“Do you want me to join?” James asks, still talking into Regulus' hair as he holds him like he may never let go. Regulus really wouldn’t mind if he didn’t, and maybe in a couple hundred years someone will find their bones all tangled together in the dirt.
“No, I’ll just tell them that we’re going to host dinner in the dorm later, I’ll let you be a surprise,” Regulus says, feeling James smile against his scalp.
“You know me so well,” James says and Regulus doubts that but lets himself feel good about it nonetheless, “should I just come into your room and kiss you? Do you think they’d clap? That would be cute.”
“I doubt they’ll clap, James, one thing you’ll quickly learn is that our friends are very different,” Regulus says, letting himself laugh into James’ chest like it’s a vault he can hide all these pieces of himself in, “but do whatever you please, either way they’ll figure it out.”
“What should I make?” James asks, pulling away just enough to be able to look Regulus in the eye.
“What you made me was delicious, maybe that?” Regulus suggests with a smile, remembering the savory flavor of James’ curry and the way it smelled mixed with James' skin against that counter.
“Alright, easy enough, I’ll make some naan too, tastes really good when you dip it in,” James says and Regulus can see the gears turning in his messy haired head as he starts to work through recipes or plating in his mind.
“Alright, well you can plan that all out on your own I’m sure, and I do actually have to go where I was heading before I was physically assaulted and drug over here,” Regulus says, feeling all of the weight he’d been harboring deep in his lungs exit with a laugh when James pouts at him.
James’ arms are still around Regulus, looser so that they can see each other speak but warm and firm around his smaller waist as they talk. It takes literally every ounce of control Regulus has in his body to step out of James’ warmth and turn towards the tapestry that’s so valiantly hiding them.
“Do you have to?” James asks, “why don’t we both just skip and we can go to the forest again, I’ll get grapes or something we can share so we can have a little picnic date.”
Regulus’ smile is immovable as he looks at James’ pleading face, “I have to go tell my friends they get to meet my boyfriend tonight.”
James looks content with this as he lets Regulus bask in his wide smile and dazzling eyes, lit up with what Regulus is starting to think might be him. He reaches out once more to pull Regulus back in, hands on his hips and grabbing tightly at the loops on his pants as he presses a gentle kiss to Regulus’ smiling lips.
“Yes, you go do that actually,” James says as he lets Regulus go, smiling at him and motioning him out with a nod. Regulus smiles back, warm and a little wet from the kiss and walks out backwards just so he doesn’t have to turn away from James.
James, as always, is warm with whatever must be in Regulus that he takes and takes and takes with every swipe of his tongue in his mouth and bite at his lip. Regulus thinks he can have all of him, really, if it would make him smile like that. He could swallow his heart whole, chew him up and digest him, if it would make his lips shine just so.
The tapestry falls back into place and James disappears behind it, but if Regulus really listens he can hear his breath still coming a little harsher than normal with an accelerated heartbeat Regulus wants to be feeling again.
Evan and Barty are probably up by now, and likely about to leave the dorm (they’re more inclined to showering at night, so Regulus knows not to account time for that). Regulus briefly considers waiting for them, but decides that might be a little awkward, so he starts his journey up the stairs to the Great Hall. About halfway up the stairs he hears the tapestry ruffle, and doesn’t resist the urge to look back and see a rather warm looking James step out from behind it and start up the stairs about a flight behind Regulus.
Regulus lets himself smile, just slightly, like the beginnings of a sunrise over a hill. James is looking at him already, always looking at him, and he beams like the sun never set.
James waves, high and fast, excited like a child seeing their best friend after a long weekend. Regulus just lets his smile broaden, giving James a little bit more of himself as he shows more teeth or more gums. James winks, and Regulus just rolls his eyes and turns his head back to face forward as he reaches the top of the steps.
The Great Hall is rather full, it being near 7 now and most classes will start at 8 or 9. Regulus finds himself a seat at the Slytherin table quickly, sitting in the blank space he and his mates typically occupy. Most people know not to sit there, they’ve already had a few instances of cursed first years when Barty found his spot already occupied.
Dorcas must have already eaten, but she’s still at the table with a mostly empty plate in front of her. Regulus hadn’t necessarily been avoiding her, but they’d mostly been existing in silence for the past few days.
“Goodmorning,” Regulus says as he sits across from her, grabbing his napkin and folding it into his lap as Dorcas looks up at him in mild surprise.
“Morning, you stop being mute?” Dorcas asks, never one to avoid a topic. She had been trying to get him to talk, trying to pull him into conversation or stay and eat when Barty and Evan would eventually arrive, but he’d just shake his head or up and leave.
“I wasn’t mute,” Regulus responds, shoveling some yogurt into a small bowl.
“Okay, so maybe not of natural circumstances but why were you dead silent for multiple days?” Dorcas asks with an inquisitive eyebrow, pushing the remains of her breakfast around on her plate with a dirty fork.
“No reason, really,” Regulus says, sighing as soon as he sees Dorcas’ unamused face, “just didn’t want to deal with people.”
“People or a specific person?” Dorcas asks, dropping her fork and leaning her head into her hands on the table.
“People,” Regulus says shortly, scoping some fruit atop his yogurt before mixing it in with a silver spoon, “anyway. What are your dinner plans?”
“My dinner plans?” Dorcas responds, confused and thankfully distracted from the whole Regulus-avoiding-Evan case.
“Yes, that’s what I asked, what are you doing for dinner?”
“Well I’ll be in here, like literally everyone else,” Dorcas says, looking at Regulus the same way most people do, like he’s a puzzle with a couple missing pieces they’ll never find.
“You are invited to dinner in my dorm,” Regulus says as he swallows down a spoonful of blueberries and white vanilla yogurt, “I have someone I want you all to meet and they’ll be making dinner.”
“Is it your secret lover?” Dorcas asks, excited and hushed as she leans even further across the table towards Regulus.
“Are we walking about Regulus’ secret lover?” Barty suddenly asks, appearing from slightly behind Regulus and slamming into the seat beside him with all the grace of a large baby.
“No,” Regulus says, steeling himself as Evan places himself into the seat beside Barty.
“You’re talking, at least,” Barty says with a slight nudge of his elbow into Regulus’ side as he starts to pile biscuits onto his plain plate.
“Regulus says you all are hosting dinner tonight?” Dorcas asks the two boys to Regulus’ right, and Regulus watches from the corner of his eye as they both make a sort of face at her like confused toddlers when they’re mother tries to explain the names of food.
“Wasn’t aware of that,” Barty says, more to Regulus than anyone else, “are we?”
“I’m hosting it, you two are, obviously, invited, and someone I know who would like to meet you all will be cooking,” Regulus says, words towards the table so he doesn’t have to face Barty or Dorcas’ reaction to the deep blush he can feel spreading all across his face.
“Ah, so we are talking about your secret lover,” Barty says with a grin, “we get to meet them?”
Regulus just rolls his eyes and says, “dinner will start at seven,” before promptly standing up to leave. Barty catches his sleeve as he attempts to whip around and head for the door, tugging him back down into his seat and leaning into him with a smile.
“Oh, so good to have you back, Reg, I can’t wait to meet this lover of yours,” Barty sighs as he pushes Regulus’ unfinished food back towards him and hands him his spoon, “now eat your breakfast and we don’t even have to discuss dinner again until seven.”
Regulus is still so aware of Evan, how silent he’s been during all of this and the way he keeps glancing behind himself to the Gryffindor table where James Potter is currently piling enough food onto one plate to feed a small army. Evan looks surprised at first, then a little regretful, something in his eyes gives him away as Regulus steals glances from around Barty.
He doesn't speak much for the entire meal, just responding when spoken to by Barty or Dorcas, and Regulus does much the same. Barty keeps his word and doesn’t tease the rest of the meal, and Regulus feels something soften in him towards his friend at that, like he maybe really did miss him. Regulus almost feels bad for ignoring him the past few days, he had nothing to do with any of it, but Regulus is actually quite certain Barty would understand; he already seems to.
Regulus chews and swallows, and watches silently as his friends bicker and laugh through sleep-dropped eyes and drool swollen lips. Dorcas is the first to get up, her first class starting slightly earlier since she’s the year above. Once she’s gone, it’s suddenly clear Evan nor Regulus were speaking as Barty belatedly upheld an entire conversation on his own.
Eventually, though, breakfast came to a close and the three friends ventured up to their first class of the day cordially. As they walked up the worn stone steps Evan fell slightly behind, lagging as Barty took a step and ending up at Regulus’ slower side.
“James?” Evan whispers from beside him, angling his mouth like he’s blowing out a candle in Regulus’ face, “James is cooking for us later?”
Regulus just nods, curt and soft causing just a single curl to unhook itself from behind his ear.
“What does that mean?” Evan asks now, and Regulus can see the internal conflict scratching apart the strings of skin holding his composure. Regulus gets it, he’s protective too. If Barty doesn’t get it together soon Regulus may very well find himself in Evan's previous shoes, sitting across from the blonde boy in bed and telling him he has to move on.
“We talked,” Regulus says, keeping any emotions out of his whispering mouth, “he’s my, uhm, person.”
Evan pauses ever so slightly, raises a soft brown eyebrow and hides a chuckle, “are you trying to say he’s your boyfriend?”
“Is that okay?” Regulus asks, suddenly reminded that James is a boy, and so is Regulus, and he really should have considered that when he told James they could tell people.
“Mate, I told you I made out with him what makes you think I’m going to be homophobic?” Evan asks with another muffled chuckle.
“Do you think it’ll be okay with Barty?” Regulus asks, trying to console his mind as it begins filling itself with screams and yells in voices that remind him toujours pur.
“Reg, Barty’s best friend is a lesbian and he’s literally out as bisexual,” Evan says with a more serious look on his face, “did you not know that?”
“I didn’t know what bisexual was, I thought he just meant he liked more than one person at a time. Is he gay?” Regulus asks, wracking his brain for any sort of knowledge on that term, or any other sort of words that might be synonymous with it.
Evan’s lips drop down in a stale frown he tries to hide by turning to trace the pattern so the cobblestone walls before he turns back to tell Regulus, “Reg, bisexual means attracted to both genders, there's more sexualities than just straight and gay.”
“I didn’t know that,” Regulus frowns, slowing down as Barty stops momentarily to talk to some blonde haired Hufflepuff with a too-tight shirt, “how did you know that?”
“Well, Barty’s the one that told me about it, to be honest, but Dorcas knew about it too, said there’s other options like pansexual, demisexual, and asexual, which, uhm, is me. I guess.”
“Is that for the not liking kissing?” Regulus asks, not quite sure how to phrase himself.
Evan smiles, “yeah, uhm, it’s basically that. Anyway, Barty learned what it was from some book or magazine in London a couple summers ago, can’t believe you just thought he was into double fisting.”
“Shut up,” Regulus mutters through his scowl as Barty and the Hufflepuff girl start walking towards the classroom, “and never tell him.”
“Okay, admit Potter is your boyfriend and I won’t tell Barty you thought he only liked group sex.”
Regulus huffs out a sigh and funnels through a thin door frame behind Evan as Barty holds it open for them. They sit beside each other at a bench in the back left of the classroom, and Regulus leans ever so slightly towards Evan as he sets his bag down, “Fine. James Potter is my boyfriend. You can meet him officially tonight.”
Evan stifles a laugh and smiles at Regulus with a sort of gentleness in his eyes, they soften further momentarily and he briefly leans back towards Regulus to say, “I’m glad it worked out.”
Regulus just nods and lets Evan lightly pat the side of his thigh where he stands beside the blonde’s sat head. Barty was still holding the door during this exchange and saunters his way down the aisle towards them now, bag tossed carelessly over one shoulder and collar rather lopsidedly buttoned. Regulus watches Evan look away.
–
It’s loud in their dorm room tonight, as Barty and Regulus attempt to magically move their furniture around as their friends sit upon it. Barty watches Regulus carelessly flick his bed horizontally, forgetting his dresser stood beside it and knocking a small mirror atop Pandora’s laying head.
Barty also watches as Evan jumps from his bed to Barty’s own and flops down on his slightly softer mattress, burrowing into the pillows with his shower-softened hair. Barty foolishly hopes that his pillow may smell his shampoo tonight. He’s not quite sure why that’s the thought he has.
Regulus has been rather, well, let’s say excited about this dinner ever since he woke up enough to process what he’d so casually dropped on them that morning. He was still rather quiet throughout their first class, but Barty had thankfully noticed him and Evan finally talking on the way to it - though he couldn’t make out what was said between them.
Now, since that class let out, Regulus has been in some weird sort of panic mode. Like he’s preparing for the end.
“Rosier, get your ass up and help me transform that book into a table,” Regulus calls out from beside Barty as he grabs a blue covered book from his bed, “Barty, can you transform some socks into chairs? Try to make them match.”
“As you wish, sir,” Barty responds with a one-fingered salute before grabbing spare pairs of socks from the floor beside his bed. There’s not many since Dorcas has been delegated with cleaning up, but he finds a couple lost pairs under his bed he charms into soft seated wooden chairs.
“When is he coming again?” Dorcas asks from the door, as she leans against the wood lazily and surveys the surprisingly organized room.
“Seven,” Regulus responds as he waves his wand worldlessly at the chairs and lines them up at the table, “so, I think soon.”
Barty checks the heavy silver watch he wears on his left wrist, seeing the hands signal the time as 6:53 and flashing it at Regulus so he can properly confirm, “in seven minutes.”
Barty steps back towards the center of the room from his now horizontal bed frame at the wall and sits at the end of the table, patting the seat beside him as he locks eyes with Evan. The blonde haired boy steps around the table to take the seat from Barty’s rhythmic hand and leans ever so slightly into Barty as he scoots it in towards the table.
Barty hates that it makes him warm. He hates that it makes him feel something in his chest. When people touch him he feels it in his… well… But when Evan touches him, which he does surprisingly often, Barty feels something in his lungs. In his fucking ribs.
“What do you think they made?” Evan whispers to Barty as he tucks himself closer to the brunette boy. His ribs are cracking.
“Depends,” Barty responds, slipping a comfortable smirk on his recently bitten lips, “who do you think they are?”
Evan pauses for a moment, and something flutters across his candle lit features that Barty can’t quite place, but it passes quickly as he responds, “I’m not sure.”
Barty was honestly expecting more, but he nods and says, “Me neither, mate, I’m honestly expecting just about anything except probably his brother - but you never know with the Black’s, and we know it’s a Gryffindor.”
Evan gags over Barty’s shoulder and pinches his thigh beneath the table, “you’re disgusting. Disgusting. No.”
“Just saying,” Barty whispers with a tilted smile, “their parents are like second cousins or something so… wouldn’t be shocked.”
“You repulse me. Imagine if he heard you saying that,” Evan says with a groan as the rest of their friends start sitting down around them.
“He would probably just roll his eyes,” Barty says as he lets his knee rest against Evan’s under the table, “or frown in that one way that makes him look like a cat.”
Barty feels Evan’s smile against his shoulder. He feels himself totter sitting still.
Eventually he steadies his mind and looks up to see Regulus standing back up from his chair opposite Barty. There’s an open chair to Regulus’ right but beside that one resides Pandora. Directly across from Pandora is Dorcas, then Evan is sat to her right, with Barty at the end facing Regulus. Evan gets to sit across from whoever walks through that door, and Barty is almost envious but figures his glares and stares will actually work better with the angle. It’s all about the lighting.
“Reg, should we stay sitting when they come in or should we stand up,” Pandora asks as Regulus steps around her to reach the door, which has yet to be knocked on but Barty figures he’s just preparing.
“Uhm,” Regulus responds as he leans against the door with a tight look on his face, “I don’t know.”
“I’ll stay sitting then,” Pandora says, “that feels right.”
“I guess that makes sense, it might be too much if we all greet them at the door,” Regulus says as Barty feels Evan’s knee lay more weight onto his own beneath the table.
“Alright, well, I, personally, cannot wait to see who–” Barty is cut off by a short knock at the door, three little rasps just loud enough to break conversation but soft enough so as not to rush whoever should open the door.
Regulus steels himself quietly with his back to his friends, and Barty watches as he wipes the palms of his delicate, little hands on the creases of his finely pressed black trousers. When he reaches for the door he holds the handle slightly longer than normal before twisting it, as if he was asking permission to open it.
He twists eventually though, and Barty is watching the door like a cat watches a mouse, waiting impatiently for this secret person to reveal themselves.
Barty would be lying if he said he hadn’t been curious. He was, in fact, obnoxiously curious. Insatiable, even. He realizes he may have been a contributing factor in just how fast this actually seemed to be moving, but then again he couldn’t be exactly sure how long Regulus had known this person.
Barty loves Regulus. Barty loved Regulus differently once, when he was younger. He loved how his slightly French accent, that has mostly diminished over the years much to Barty’s dismay, used to roll syllables off his pink tongue. He loved how he moved in his sleep and accidentally used to kick Barty under tables when he went through his growth spurt. Barty loved Regulus the way a man would love a woman. Barty realized men could love men that way too, because of him.
He got over the crush rather quickly, to be fair, realizing soon that that would never work– realizing Regulus needed family, not a crush. So Barty became his brother, and he loves him like that now. He loves him like sleepovers brought on by nightmares and late night talking under blankets. He loves him like scary stories in the dark and truth or dare at birthday parties.
So, Barty is rather intrigued by Regulus’ new development.
Regulus had bever really expressed interest in, well, anyone since Barty had known him. He’d never had a partner, never confessed to any fantasies or crushes, never agreed or disagreed when Barty would point out who he found attractive. So, Barty is surprised, excited, and nervous.
He’s nervous because for a boy who pretends not to feel anything, Barty knows Regulus would drown before he would breathe. He’s seen him do it with Sirius. Hurt himself out of how aggressively he loves. Barty has watched him lose that before, and though that was different because he lost his brother, he’s not confident losing whoever this is would be beneficial to healing from that.
Barty is stolen from his thoughts as the door fully opens, and behind its wooden frame stands James Bloody Potter and a floating stack of plates. Barty has to purposefully keep his jaw shut, feeling gravity tug at its base in surprise.
“Uhm,” James says as he awkwardly enters the room, “hi. I’m James.”
Regulus closes the door behind James and his floating dishes with a stifled cough before he turns to face the room, full of what Barty assumes to be similar looks to his. Shocked, confused, bewildered, bamboozled, etc.
“Yes,” Regulus says as he slips a hand into James’ after waving all the plates and dishes onto the table with a swipe of his hand, and Barty would spend more time being impressed by that if the next words out of Regulus’ mouth weren’t, “this is my boyfriend.”
“What?” Barty hears himself say before he even chooses to speak, he shakes his head and tries to smile, “I mean, yes, hello, uhm, right.”
Evan links their ankles under the table. Barty chances him a glance, but Evan’s face is one of such a neutral stance Barty can’t even read it.
“Hi, James,” Pandora says from across the table, “You can come sit by me, I’m Pandora.”
Regulus shuffles James over and around the end of the table towards his seat, and as they sit down glances furtively around at the rest of the table as he says, “yes, so, James these are my friends, uhm, Barty,” Regulus gestures at Barty and he tries his best to wave and smile but he’s pretty sure he looks more like a injured seal trying to attract help, “Evan, Dorcas, and Pandora as you heard.”
James clears his throat, a rather large hand fisted at his chest as he pushes a hushed cough into its sepia skin, “it’s nice to meet you all,” he says, “I made us all curry and naan, uhm, I hope you all like it.”
Barty isn’t sure how he’s supposed to be reacting. As far as he knew Regulus hated James Potter. As far as he knew James Potter was still just that twat that stole his brother and probably deserved death or imprisonment or at least some serious side eye in the halls. Now, James Potter was holding Regulus’ hand atop the table and smiling gently at Evan.
“It looks lovely,” Pandora speaks again, going ahead and scooping some of the orange colored curry onto her bowl from the center of the table. Dorcas follows suit and smiles at James in thanks as she grabs some pieces of rather warm looking bread from beside the curry pot.
Barty takes a moment to take in everyone’s faces as Evan takes his serving. Pandora seems perfectly unaffected, and Barty is honestly sure that she already knew all about this. He’s surprisingly not upset by that and assumes she probably knew what was up before Regulus even did. Evan’s still hard to read, but he seems to be softening up a bit, though there’s a weird tension in the air when he and James lock eyes that Barty almost chokes on. Dorcas seems fine, somehow, though you can tell she’s still processing.
She’s the next to speak after taking a generous spoonful of curry, “So, James, you’re Regulus’ boyfriend.”
James nods with a disgustingly attractive smile on his plush lips. Barty wants to kick him, he’s undeniably attractive. It makes him gag.
“Yeah, I am, uhm, is that okay with you?” James asks, and Barty suddenly remembers that not every friend group is made up of ridiculously queer children – and realizes suddenly that James may not know it’s okay to be gay.
“Mate, I’m literally a lesbian, if that’s what you mean by ‘okay’, yes it’s okay to be gay,” Dorcas responds with a tentative smile, “but can I ask, uhm, i don’t mean to sound weird or speculative but, like, how?”
James laughs. Regulus blanches. Barty scoops curry into his bowl. Evan places a hand on Barty’s thigh.
“Ran into him at Sirius’ party, I think you were at that one,” James says to Dorcas, who nods and bites her smile, “kept wanting to run into him after that. So I did, so we were friends, and then it turns out Regulus Black is more than just, well, my best mate’s little brother, and turns out I really like Regulus Black.”
Dorcas nods, “does Sirius know?”
“No,” Regulus responds quickly, “we’re not planning on telling him anytime soon.”
“Is that smart?” Evan asks now, looking at James. Why is he looking at James?
“Well,” James starts, looking between Regulus and Evan with a heated pink in his cheeks, “we’ll tell him eventually he just needs a little more time to get comfortable with even the idea of Regulus.”
“Doesn’t sound like the smartest plan, to be honest,” Evan replies, “the whole ‘vowed to secrecy’ thing never works.”
He’s still looking at James, and James is looking at him, and there’s something there that makes Barty’s skin crawl.
“It was my idea, Evan,” Regulus cuts in, attracting Evan’s pale eyes, “I don’t want to tell Sirius.”
Barty watches Evan nod slowly and feels the awkward atmosphere thicken as Evan continues to watch James oh so carefully. Barty is almost jealous.
“I’m not hiding it, if that’s what you think,” James says to Evan, only to Evan, despite being loud enough for the rest to hear, “I’m sorry about that party. I’m sure that’s why you think I’m trying to keep this a secret on purpose; I’m not ashamed of it.”
“What party?” Barty is asking before he can think, sitting up straighter and searching for ships in Evan’s eyes that might carry a map to help him follow this conversation.
“It’s nothing,” Evan whispers towards Barty before James can answer, “and okay. So you haven't told Sirius yet, does that mean you have a plan to do so one day?”
“Not yet,” Regulus says shortly as he rips off a piece of bread and swirls it around in his curry, “now can we drop that subject please.”
“Well I saw a group of fairies by the quidditch pitch the other day,” Pandora starts, dissipating the stale air with her whimsical voice and drawing almost everyone’s attention as she begins her story. Almost everyone’s attention, except Barty. Barty, who is watching as Evan keeps watching James.
His eyes watch Evan’s own trace along James’ face, and watches him nibble on the top of his bottom lip as he scrutinizes James’ hand on Regulus’.
Barty leans into Evan, softly letting his chin rest on his shoulder and whispering in Evan’s ear, ‘what party?”
Evan sighs. Barty deflates alongside it.
“I told you, it’s nothing,” Evan whispers back, finally moving his eyes back to Barty.
“Why did he apologize to you?” Barty asks, trying his best to keep his voice undetectable as he hears Dorcas’ own starting to summarize some story about a ghost in a bathroom, “what party was he apologizing for?”
“Barty,” Evan warns with a frown, “can you just let it be?”
“Why did he apologize to you, Ev, what did he do?” Barty asks, worried now because whatever it was that James apologized for he did so in reference, as well, to Regulus.
“He kissed me, okay,” Evan whispers quickly like he wants it to disappear, “okay? We kissed and he told me not to tell anyone.”
“What?!” Barty asks, far too loud and far too dramatic as he snaps back from Evan and glares directly at James Potter’s oblivious head. The group had been laughing, and Barty hears the last of that dissolve into the air as everyone turns to look at him.
Regulus raises a sharp eyebrow at Barty, and Evan’s eyes go wide beside him. Barty is looking at James. Barty is looking at James’ stupid pink lips. Lips that Evan must have looked at too and deemed perfectly kissable. Lips that have tasted Evan, lips that were for some reason ashamed of that.
“You guys kissed?” Barty asks, looking between James and Evan and noticing as the shades of realization paint James’ face.
“He didn’t know?” James asks Regulus, failing to whisper as he looks anywhere but at Barty.
“Regulus knew?” Barty asks as he feels his eyebrows dance higher and higher on his face.
“I only told him once I realized he was seeing James, Barty, I was trying to protect him,” Evan says with a sigh.
Dorcas has a hand over her mouth and eyes on Pandora, who seems to be handling this the best as she simply continues to dip and eat her naan and curry.
“You knew he was seeing James?!” Barty asks, now upset that his best friends had both been withholding this information from him.
“I realized because of the jacket, he’d been wearing it that night,” Evan says, eyes tracing the rises and falls of Barty’s eyelids, “it’s not a big deal anymore, it was over a year ago.”
“But you kissed James Potter,” Barty says with a firm frown.
“So did I,” Regulus says with a tilted eyebrow.
“That’s different,” Barty says, his eyes trailing along Evan’s neck, watching as his shirt stretches over the rather prominent bones beneath his collar.
“Why is that different?” Regulus asks, stroking a thumb over a confused James’ hand.
“You’re like my brother, I want you to get action,” Barty says with an attempt at a light wink towards Reg, but he can’t seem to shake whatever that icky feeling in his gut is that he swallowed down with Evan’s confession.
“What?” Evan asks, now, looking at Barty through furrowed brows and a weird uptick at his lips, “what am I like then?”
Barty is stumped by that, actually. Because Evan and Regulus are both his best friends. So, why is it that he was shocked by Regulus saying he was with James, and physically repulsed when Evan said he once was too? Shouldn’t it be the same? Evan’s ankle is still locked with his.
“Different, I guess,” Barty says, looking down at his bowl and stirring his barely touched meal, hoping Pandora will just start telling another story and everyone can move on, “I’m sorry for interrupting you, Cas, keep talking.”
James looks rather lost when Barty sneaks a glance at him from under a short curtain of his hair as he spoons a mouthful of curry into his lips. James’ hand is still in Regulus’ and his other is limp around his spoon as he looks back and forth frantically between Evan, Barty, and Regulus. Eventually Dorcas takes one for the team and does, in fact, continue her story as if she’d never been interrupted in the first place.
Barty tries his best to ignore it, that ugly green monster clambering up his lungs and into his throat, clogging his very pores with jealousy. Evan is not his. Evan is his friend. And maybe he gets caught up in all their faux flirting and hand holding, and maybe teh flirting isn’t so fake for him, but they’re friends. So Barty resigns himself to his upset and silence.
–
Dinner goes relatively well after Barty’s weird outburst. Evan knew he’d be surprised, but he honestly thought he’d just pat him on the back and say well done or something cheesy. Afterall, Barty himself had been with his fair share of Gryffindor sixth years, and Evan is pretty sure one of them is also a friend to Sirius Black. Which, Evan assumes, is what the problem was.
Barty had been quiet the rest of the meal, but James had gotten to open up a bit more, typically prompted by Pandora. Eventually the awkward air had dissipated as it remains proven that James Potter can apparently win over just about anyone. Evan briefly wonders if he could even manage to woo Walburga, with his somehow endearing smile and softly spoken words. Evan himself has fallen victim twice now, and he’d like to think he’s a man of great resolve.
They’re now at a point in the night that has Regulus and James on Regulus’ bed, table and chairs re-transfigured into their original forms and beds moved back to normal. James had actually done that bit with his hands, and Barty had ended up moving Evan’s bed before James could even touch it. Evan just raised an eyebrow and chose not to linger.
Dorcas and Pandora are in Barty’s bed, legs dangling off the end and over his trunk as their backs lay flat on his comforter. Pandora’s doing some sort of weird magic on Cas’ hair to get the braids to stand up and make shapes in the air. Beside them is Evan himself, and Barty, sat criss-crossed atop Evan’s fluffy duvet with their knees barely touching.
Regulus has his legs in James’ lap, and the elder of the two is playing absentmindedly with the seams at the ends of his trousers. Regulus, surprisingly, doesn’t shoo his hand away or move out of reach, instead Evan watches as the pale boy shifts inwards, closer to James. He tucks his knees up to his chest and leaves his feet in James’ lap, sitting up now folded against the broader boy who puts a casual arm around his back.
Evan’s been watching them all night, noticing how James always seems to be touching Regulus and Regulus always seems to let him. He even seems to want it.
Regulus was never one for physical affection before, and when they were just kids the only time Evan ever saw Regulus hold someone, or be held by someone, was when Sirius was still around. Regulus allows Evan or Barty to mess up his hair every now and then or, if he’s lucky, lean against him in a seat, but never to hold him like they do each other. Evan doesn’t mind, of course, just grateful that Regulus at least has stopped flinching every time someone brushes against him.
Barty, on the other hand, is a very physical person. He sits in Evan’s lap and lays in his bed and wraps arms around his shoulders as they walk through the halls. Evan is sure, though, that he’d do the same to Regulus if he’d let him.
All to say, Regulus is letting himself be held now, by a man Evan thought was a bit of a dumb jock previous to tonight, and he’s smiling more than Evan has ever seen before. Every now and then James will lean closer and whisper something unintelligible to Regulus, and the smaller boy will tuck his face into James neck with a smile Evan almost feels like he isn’t supposed to see. It’s easy to let it go, that party last year, when right now Regulus looks softer than Evan can even recall James’ jacket being.
They had never really hated James, anyway, Regulus seemed to have a grudge against him because of the whole “my brother ran away to you and left me with our horrid parents” thing, but honestly Regulus just needed someone to hate other than Sirius for that. Evan briefly wonders if they’ve talked about that, but figures maybe that’s theirs to figure out. Nonetheless, evan never outright despised James Potter, and he’s sure Barty didn’t either. Turns out he’s a rather impossible man to hate.
So, the group seems to get over the surprise rather quickly, or at least swallow their distaste alongside scoops of that ridiculously delicious curry. Dorcas seems rather excited, actually, and Evan figures she’s plotting another plan to get into McKinnon's pants – seeing as James and the blonde are friends. She’s been not-so-indiscreetly asking quite a few questions about the quidditch team, when practices are, when they host parties, how he feels about Marlene. James goes along cordially, and seems adorably oblivious as Dorcas quite literally name drops his seeker about ten times in five minutes.
Barty is listening, Evan thinks, but he keeps glancing over at the boy to find him already staring directly at him, mouth slightly parted like he might have something to say, and each time he gets caught he shakes his head and averts his eyes back to whoever is speaking. It’s weird, because their knees are brushing every time Evan leans forward, and Barty isn’t leaning into it the way he usually does. Not that Evan expects anything of Barty but it’s a little bit concerning to be honest. Barty’s best form of self destruction is isolation.
“B?” Evan whispers over to the silent boy beside him, careful not to lean too much into him but letting the cpas of their clothed knees press against each other, “are you alright?”
Barty is looking at him already when he speaks, eyes following the movement of his head down towards the brunette’s ear, lips tightly closed as Evan carefully lets a hand rest on Barty’s thigh. Barty moves away.
“I’m fine,” Barty says quietly, cold and a little too harsh for Evan’s liking – is he really that upset that Evan ‘betrayed’ Regulus? Evan is almost one hundred percent certain Barty has slept with Regulus’ brother’s boyfriend before. Hypocrite.
“Look,” Evan starts, scooting closer to Barty without touching him so he can muffle his voice enough nobody else will hear, the rest of the group is currently laughing as Pandora makes a giraffe out of Dorcas’ braids, “Reg and I have talked about it. The kiss,” Barty winces, “He’s not upset with me, B, why are you?”
“Why would I care about what Reg had to say about it?” Barty asks, and Evan has to carefully control his face, making sure his confusion doesn’t show too much through his furrowed brow.
“Isn’t that why you’re upset? Because I didn’t tell him, and we were supposed to hate Potter?” Evan asks, chewing on his bottom lip as Barty’s deep brown eyes search his own.
“Uhm, right,” Barty says with an odd shake of his head, “yeah.”
Evan pauses, scoots a little closer and raises an eyebrow, “right, but Reg and I talked about it; it’s okay. Not that it has literally anything to do with you, but if that’s why you're upset, you don’t have to hate me for him. We already talked it out. He doesn’t even hate me for himself.”
Barty just swallows, and Evan traces the motion with his eyes, watching his adam's apple bob behind his perfect somehow December sun-tanned skin. “It’s just…” Barty starts, but he cuts himself off with a shake of his head and returns his eyes to the hair spectacle beside them.
“It’s just what?” Evan implores from beside him, finally letting himself touch the slightly taller boy beside him, just nudging his elbow with his own, lingering perhaps a second too long.
“Nothing,” Barty says with a small frown tugging at his red lips, “if he forgives you it’s fine.”
“Is that what the problem was? Is there something else?” Evan asks, “I only ended up kissing him because you left me anyway, you were making out with that girl literally directly across from us. In all honesty I thought you’d seen us and forgot.”
“I wouldn't have forgotten that,” Barty says, something cruel laced in his tone, like he’s so repulsed he can’t even say the words right.
“What’s so bad about it, then, if it isn’t because it was James,” Evan asks, growing more annoyed by the second, “you didn’t get on Regulus for kissing someone.”
“I told you, it’s different,” Barty says through clenched teeth, anger seeping out through the cracks between the pearly white bones.
Evan tries his best not to start yelling, “why?! Why, Barty, is it different?”
“Because,” Barty starts, then stops, opens his mouth, and closes it again with a firm shake, “it just is.”
“That is not a good enough reason,” Evan seethes, leaning closer and closer to Barty’s neck as he whisper-yells at him, still trying to keep any attention off of them, “you have to know that’s just a shit reason, B.”
Barty just frowns, tilts his head ever so slightly when Evan huffs out a breath onto his neck, letting Evan closer somehow, “you’re different, okay? He’s like a brother to me.”
“Right,” Evan fights the urge to shove Barty, “you said that at dinner. What the fuck does that make me?”
“You’re…” Barty starts, chasing a thought with his eyes closed and mouth open, “you’re you. You’re Evan.”
“Yeah, that’s my name, what am I to you though, if Regulus is like family and I’m just,” Evan pauses and flails his wrists in the air so as to say ???
“You’re different, okay?!” Barty lets out, a little too loud and a little too wild as he abruptly stands and just walks straight out of the room leaving a rather disheveled and angry Evan sitting alone on his bed with four newly attentive eyes on his blubbering figure.
“Uhm,” James starts, “is he okay?”
Evan just offers the room a small smile as he stands up as well, slower and making an attempt at being calmer, before saying, “he’ll be fine. I’ll be right back.”
With that he leaves the silently stunned foursome in the room and rushes out of the door and up the stairs. He’s sure someone in the room will distract them all soon enough, surely Pandora could figure out how to make Dorcas’ hair dance, and they can all laugh at that and pay him no mind.
Barty couldn’t have made it far in the 30 second gap between when he left and Evan followed, so Evan scans the common room first, noticing nothing more than a couple second years writing papers by the fire. He assumes Barty is probably in the hallway, or maybe hiding out behind that weird stale tapestry that blocks a rather random nook just before the stairs.
He funnels out of the common room quickly, eyes darting around the upsettingly empty hall before approaching the slightly swaying tapestry. He can just barely make oy the sounds of rushed breath behind it.
“B?” Evan asks as he pushes the fabric aside to come face to face with his confused brown headed friend, hunched in on himself against the wall, “Barty, what the fuck is up?”
“Can I just get a bloody minute alone?” Barty exclaims, fisting his hands at his sides and glaring sadly at Evan.
“B, tell me what the problem is, and I’ll leave you alone. I’m not just gonna leave you here to steep in whatever the fuck anger issues you’re having right now alone, though,” Evan responds, trying to console his own upset and confusion when he sees just how lost Barty looks in that corner.
“You,” Barty says, “you’re my problem.”
“Why?” Evan asks, “why are you so upset with me?”
“It should have been me, okay?! It should have been me who kissed you that night, and I never would have kept it a secret, alright?! I never would have sworn you to silence, Ev, I’d have walked right out to that campfire holding your hand. And I hate that. Because it shouldn’t be me. It shouldn’t because I’m not good and you’re good and you kissed a boy and kept your promise to keep it quiet and you probably haven’t kissed anyone since and you were sad because maybe you wanted more than a kiss and I’m not a more than a kiss type of guy but, Merlin, Ev, I want to be.”
Evan has to take a few steps back. So many, in fact, that he accidentally exits the tapestry and finds himself back in the hall staring blankly at the hanging woven piece. He breathes for a moment, or he thinks he does.
What.
“What?!” He asks, pushing back through the tapestry and coming face to face with an in-motion Barty, who must have been on his way to seek him out beyond the tapestry.
“Merlin, E, do I have to say it again?” Barty asks, quieter now, looking at the inch of ground between the tips of their shoes.
“I don’t understand,” Evan says quietly, “were you jealous?”
Barty bites his lip, Evan can’t help but watch. Fuck.
“Yes,” Barty says softly, “yes. Because, well, I think I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, and I like sharing clothes and sleeping in your bed and the way your shampoo smells on my pillow and the way you let me hold your hand when I get bored in class and I know friends do those things, I guess, but, well, I think maybe this whole time I’ve been pretending. Pretending that maybe you were mine. That's what you are to me, mine, to answer your question from before.”
“We’re friends, though,” Evan responds, shocked and confused and forming absolutely no thoughts, “I don’t, uhm, I don’t really like anything else.”
Barty raises his head with a small confused scowl, “what do you mean?”
“I mean that when I kissed James Potter I realized I only like kissing, like that’s it, I don’t want to have sex, ever, and that means I can’t be yours. I can’t, B, because you’d need that," Evan realizes maybe he’s been pretending too, maybe with all the held hands and sweet nothings and hands in hair he’s been pretending he can have Barty too, knowing he never really could.
“Okay,” Barty says with a straight face, “so?”
“What?” Evan asks, suddenly aware of how close Barty’s tipped head is to his own as he traces the laces of their shoes with his eyes.
“So? Why would that matter?” Barty asks, lowering himself so as to get Evan’s wandering eye snack onto his face.
“It matters because I can’t be ‘yours’ because of that, obviously, we have to stay friends because I don’t want that.”
“Are you being serious?” Barty asks, and Evan feels like he’s being had on.
“Barty, do you seriously think you’d want to date me knowing we’d never have sex. Like ever. Like at all.”
“I don’t care about sex, Ev, you and I haven’t had sex in the past five years of our friendship and I never complained,” Barty says with a small smile Evan wants to cradle in his arms like a gift.
“Yeah, because we were friends, mate,” Evan says, trying his best not to let himself hope.
“Friends have sex, sometimes more than people in relationships,” Barty says, letting that stupid smile widen, “what I’m trying to say is, is that what’s been holding you back?”
“Well, uhm,” Evan realizes he’s basically been dating Barty for five years in that moment, that maybe he’d been fooling himself out of his own insecurities, convinced he’d be doomed to pine after his beautiful best friend until he died, “yeah.”
“Well, I don’t care, about sex not that you’re asexual, which is what you’re saying, right?”
Evan nods, Barty slips a hand onto his arm.
“That’s great, Ev, I’ve got a right hand anytime I wanna get off anyway,” Barty says as he pulls Evan just an inch closer to himself. Evan feels soft.
“Won’t you miss it?” Evan asks, trying to sound older than he feels.
“Sex?” Barty asks, chuckling as evan nods, “mate I haven’t slept with anyone since that party.”
“What?” Evan asks, shocked despite himself, “really?!”
“Yeah, man, I’m always with you,” Barty says with that stupid glistening smile Evan realizes he might be allowed to taste now.
“Oh,” Evan responds, “right.”
“So,” Barty says, “yeah I was jealous about Potter, and I’m sorry I stormed out but if I’m reading this right you’ve also been interested in me for a while, no?”
“Maybe,” Evan says, trying to reconcile the range of emotions he’s been through in the past twenty minutes, “yeah.”
“Okay, well, if you don’t mind I think I have a solution to our problems,” Barty says as he runs a hand through Evan’s blonde hair, “see I thought you just didn’t want me back, but if you do, you can have me.”
Evan curses himself internally for the blush that causes on his stupid pale cheeks, but he warms even further when Barty places a warm hand upon it, “I’m having trouble processing this right now.”
Barty laughs, hearty and woodlike, like a shake of a branch form above or the rustling of leaves on a path, “Evan Rosier, I am asking if you’d like to date me, no sex involved, in fact no changes necessary to our current relationship, just uhm, now I can tell you I think I’m in love with you and it not be weird.”
Evan almost falls over.
“You’re not bad for me, you know,” Evan says, remembering Barty’s initial explosion when he’d found him behind the tapestry, “you’re good too.”
“I can try to be,” Barty says with a small drop of the corner of his lips, “for you. I’ll try to be.”
“You are,” Evan implores, “you already are.”
With that Evan gives in, he gives in to the hand in his hair and on his cheek, he succumbs to the soft chill of barty’s cufflink against his chin and kisses his best friend. Kisses him softly, lips closed, gentle like snow on the beach.
Barty kisses him back, kisses him just to kiss him. Doesn't move his hands down his body or slip any tongue, just holds his head delicately in his wide palms and kisses him back. Barty is gentle in a way Evan has only ever seen him be when he’s sleeping, or when he’s high, and he lets Evan lay his head in his lap. He holds, and kisses, and asks for no more than what is given. When they pull away Barty presses a soft kiss to the tip of Evan’s nose, then his forehead, pulling him into his chest to hold like a prize.
“I think I’m in love with you too,” Evan whispers directly into Barty’s heart, lips rubbing against the fabric of his shirt as he speaks.
“That’s why you’re different, Ev,” Barty says as he rubs circles into Evan’s back, “because you're mine.”
–
It’s been about ten minutes since Regulus’ roommates left and James is trying his best not to blame himself for that scene. Regulus had whispered to him that it was probably a ‘them thing’, even compared them to Remus and Sirius to help James understand the nature of the situation, but James still feels like a ruiner.
The night had been going rather well after the initial awkwardness at dinner, and James was pleasantly surprised by how kind Regulus’ friends actually are. Dorcas asked a lot of questions, and James is pretty sure she has some sort of obsession with Marlene but figures that may actually be a good thing, especially because he’s rather sure Marlene returns the feelings.
Pandora has been a favorite of James’, whimsical and interesting in a way that keeps you listening even when she’s detailing a gruesome encounter between a man and a violent garden gnome. She also asked James at one point after the two boys left about his parents, which is easily one of James’ favorite topics of discussion.
He’s in the middle of telling them about how he’d learned to make that curry tonight when the door opens and the two previously angry men return hand in hand silently, as if nothing ever even happened. James is seeing the parallels between them and his own two roommates now, as they sit down and Barty folds himself into Evan like he’s a home for him to live inside of.
He glances over at them as he pauses his story, watching as they resituate themselves and share an unreadable glance with Regulus from their bed. Regulus just nods with a proud sort of smile James isn't sure he’s seen on him before.
“They’re dating now,” Regulus leans over to inform him and James’ mind buffers, stutters, and then loads him instructions on how to nod.
“Uhm,” James responds, “should I just keep telling my story or…”
“You can continue the story, James,” Barty pipes up from across the room, “if you wouldn’t mind starting from the beginning though,” he requests as he smiles at James for what he assumes is the first time and nods at the Gryffindor from his cozy spot in his boyfriend’s (?) lap.
“Right, uhm, so,” James starts, attempting to process the absolutely estranged dynamics of this friend group as Dorcas and Pandora seem completely unbothered and Regulus continues to bare that soft proud grin, “okay well when I was a kid I used to spend most of my time watching my mum cook…”