Almost the second it happened, the entire atmosphere changed. He hadn’t seen all of what had taken place but when he remembered the last person he had seen near that blasted auror, he knew that the crack of a staff hitting bone was far from good. Upon turning around, Barty was onlooking the scene just in time to witness the staff being thrust into the ground, sending a wave of power towards the collapsing victim and making him fly backwards, falling heavily onto the ground a few metres away, body limp as a rag doll. The way his heart sped up and then stopped and his mind clouded over until there was only a single name left repeating itself was sickening. Every drop of adrenaline from the fight left his body when he saw who it was, lying face down on the gravel, skull partly caved in. This was something he didn’t think he would ever forget, not even decades in the future.
While he was aware that there were still people surrounding him, spitting out curses and fighting for their lives, it felt quiet. So fucking quiet. He wasn’t disturbed by the sight, or angry at that godforsaken auror, or even smothered by grief. He was just confused. Why he was confused, Barty didn’t know, he just was. It wasn’t a confusing event, he had watched it happen, he knew what he had just witnessed, it was just…confusing.
Without thinking, he took off his mask so he could see and breathe better, putting up a barrier to ward away any attackers as he slowly stepped closer to the mangled body of the man he loved. He was aware of the curses breaking down the barrier and trying to get to him but he didn’t care. Taking his time, Barty let his eyes flicker across Evan’s face, taking in the point at which his head was dented and covered in what he could only assume was bits of bone, blood running over them and onto the muddy floor, soaking it through and dying it darker. The nausea he felt at the sight was almost completely hidden by the confusion that still riddled him. Confusion that made him feel like an innocent toddler being told his cat had been put down.
As he reached Evan, he fell to his knees and stared down at his face. He was so beautiful. Even with his skull shattered and caved in. Even with blood spilling from his head and matting his hair. He was so pretty even in death. It wasn’t fair.
No emotion was present when he grabbed Evan’s bruised, bloodstained hand and apparated them away, leaving the battle for somebody else to fight.
There was no point in trying to carry his body over to the sofa, he was too heavy and the shock had weakened Barty to the point where he couldn’t even stand. He sat next to Evan and numbly trace his jawline with a single finger. Blood clung to his finger as he pulled it away and that was when the grief set in. That was the moment it registered in his mind the permanence of what had happened. His mother would have described it as him ‘Spreading his wings and leaving for his next adventure’ but to Barty, he was just an, empty mockery of what used to be Evan.
The anger came after. Possibly a little too late, if he was honest. But perhaps it was a good thing. Maybe it was good that he couldn’t feel anger beforehand, if he had, he probably would have gone after Moody and died too. Evan wouldn’t have wanted that. He wouldn’t have wanted to be avenged, he always wanted to settle his fights himself and Barty getting himself stupidly killed would have only disappointed him. He slowly reached down and lifted Evan from the white rug, arms shaking from the pressure. He tucked one hand behind his back and used the other to cradle his head, trying to prevent any gushing blood or bits of brain from spilling from the gouge in his head. He moved so he was able to face Evan’s corpse well enough to see him properly. He was hoping he would be able to imagine that the injury was not there and look at him properly one last time but the unnaturally relaxed nature of his body was too sickening, he thought it was possibly worse than it would be when the Rigour Mortis set in. At least then, he would just feel like a cold, empty shell and not a real bundle of flesh that was once his entire world.
He couldn’t bring himself to pull Evan any closer, the smell of his blood and the feel of his flesh would haunt him forever if he did. So he lay him back down on the carpet and stared down at him for some amount of time.
Tears were dancing their way down his cheeks, falling onto the fabric of Evan’s shirt and soaking into it slowly. He used one hand to hold his face and look into his eyes, taking in the way they were bloodied and rolled back, looking somewhat deflated or fake, like he was a lifelike doll and not a person.
He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. He didn’t want to hand Evan over to some funeral home that didn’t care about him but he couldn’t leave him here in the living room to rot. So he took him somewhere else. He grabbed his coat, checking that what he needed was in the pocket, and then used more energy than he should have to apparate the two of them to the forest. The forest they had gone to only the previous week. It was nice to fly around there, blending in with the rest of nature for just a moment. He didn’t think he would ever go there again. Deciding on avoiding the place forever seemed like the safest option. This would be his last goodbye.
He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed Evan’s less-bloody cheek firmly, pulling the cloak from his pocket and throwing it over him, watching as Evan disappeared from view.
The cloak was not authentic and would probably fade from use eventually but it would keep Evan hidden from thieving hands or startled eyes for long enough for the earth to take him. Maybe he would come back as a swan. He had always said he would.
A wave of pain hit his heart when he looked at the place where he knew Evan lay. He wasn’t crying anymore but he knew that the grief had at least doubled since he had stopped.
As Barty stepped away and closed his eyes, taking himself back home, he felt the last bit of sanity drain away from him for good. And he couldn’t help but feel relieved.