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birth, death and a thousand moments between
“He's late again! I can't believe this,”
Evan frowned passively, hand against the window sill. “Are you sure he's not just busy with the wedding preparations?”
“I'm sure,” muttered Barty, frustrated. He tugged on a strand of hair absently, hands trembling just the slightest bit. “He’s said he had to go meet Narcissa twice this week but Lucius mentioned on Saturday that she's been with her mother in France for the month.”
“Maybe he's finally putting those transfiguration skills to good use,” said Evan, “You remember he used to make us all those illegal portkeys,” Barty wasn't convinced.“I hate this,” he said, suddenly, vicious. He aimed a kick at the window sill and, that having done nothing, shot a whizzing spell at the flowerpot situated right above Evan’s head.
Evan cursed, dodging the last remains of the now shattered flowerpot. Once he was sure Barty’s wand wasn't aimed in his direction again, he jabbed a threatening finger at him. “You don't mean to make this a fight right now, Crouch. Put down your wand,”
Barth frowned sullenly, but sheathed his wand. “I hate this,” he repeated. “Regulus is hiding something. Something big,”
Evan scoffed “What do you mean to do about it then? It's not like Regulus has ever let anyone in-”
“It's not just that,” interrupted Barty, heating up. He jogged to the other side of the room, counting days in his head. “He's been down lately. The past few months, he's. He's going through life like he doesn't mean to wake up the next day. You can't have not seen it,”
“Maybe it's just stress,” expressed Evan, but the halfheartedness of the thought showed in the droop of his shoulders.
“Rosier- Rosier, open your eyes! It's not stress about something we know that's for certain, and I'm surprised you're even entertaining this thought.” In the lamplight, Evan fumed, lips turned downward in a straight line.
“You can't fix it,” he lashed, sudden. Barty would say he was surprised by the rapid change in his demeanor, but years as his dormmate made him used to Evan’s hot and cold moods. His furious eyes fixed on Barty as he stood. “You can't fix him. It's not like we're best buddies for life like a bunch of Gryffindors. It's the Dark Lord’s work we do now, and if Regulus’ issues aren't interfering with that, there's no reason to get involved.”
His heart beat staccato in his chest. The Dark Lord, The Dark Lord, of course his first priority. What was an old classmate in comparison to that? “I dont-” started Barty. There was a mess of emotions behind his dazed brain. Evan smiled grimly. “I know you don’t,” By the time Barty had formulated his thoughts, Evan had already walked out.
Dear Barty,
He's been blasted off the family tree. So much for Saturnalia, then. Good riddance, I say. It's not like anyone here will miss him.......................I presume you have a reason for asking. I've enclosed the grimoire inside. I'm sure I don't have to tell you but be careful. You wouldn't want to wake up a limb or two less, would you?
Yours,
Regulus Arcturus Black
Dear Regulus,
Wouldn't you like to see me missing a vital limb. (Un)fortunately, I still have all my bodily parts firmly attached. You could have a go at counting them later if you're that concerned. Don't say you're going all Hufflepuff on me now.
I noticed how you didn't reply to my several detailed questions asking about the state of your health. I can pop in to a quick Floo chat to gouge it instead if you prefer. Your choice…….Things aren't that better here. Mother's on some sabbatical to the Midlands and Winky and I are having a great old time surviving on last week’s bread. I haven't seen him in a week. I guess I'd echo your words, good riddance right?
On the back of the grimoire, coded
R: I know you don't mean it any more than I do. You were right. I do miss him. Do you still mean what you said? Will we remember?
B: Oh Black. We always do, don't we?
"You know I’m,” stressed Barty “not like that.” He was lying on Regulus's lap, shirtless and half asleep. Regulus stirred in the warm light. “What?” he murmured, voice soft.
“I’m not,” said Barty, paying significant attention to the spaces where their limbs intertwined. In the half light of dawn, Regulus was soft and intricately fragile. There was this unsinkable and shameful urge in Barty to see how far he could break the brittle soul of him. “You're not what,” murmured Regulus, yawning. The slight dip of his collarbone was marked with a dozen darkening bruises. Barty fell slightly incredulous to take credit of them but a look at his own wrist revealed bite marks that had drawn blood–he didn't need to know.
“I'm not a,” He hesitated, unwilling to put the word into the jagged edges of them. Fortunately, Regulus put two and two together quickly. “I'm not, either,” he said, rushing. His cheeks had pinkened and it would've been endearing if it was not simply wrong to acknowledge.
“Good,” muttered Barty, in the heavy silence. “So we both know it's only a way to work off stress,” “Anger,” claimed Regulus with a downward look at the bite marks. Barty flushed. “Either, both, it's not-”
“Got it,” said Regulus, heaving. Barty pretended something in his stomach hadn't just died and left a rotten stench everywhere else. He burrowed deeper into the blanket, surprised by the sudden shock of air. “Reg?” he murmured, looking to see him extricating himself from the mess of the bed. “Going to my own bed. Don't want them thinking–”
He left the end of the sentence open ended. “Good idea,” Barty said, throat heavy. When he turned his head, he thought it was the worst idea he'd ever had.
Barty woke up with a snottled gasp. For a moment he could hear nothing but the snores of his roommates. He settled back to sleep, cursing whatever thing had woken him up. As soon as his eyes closed though, a sound rushed through his ears. It was somewhat between a rustle and a gasp. Now wide awake and intent on investigating, he climbed off his bed and quietly swept his hangings aside. At a glance the room was completely dark, the only illuminance the slight glow of water against the enchanted glass walls. On a second look, however, the bed to his right had a slight shimmer to it that waved like a curtain every two seconds. Now properly roused, Barty made his way in the slow steady dark towards the bed.
No sooner than he swept the hangings aside, though, was he met with a faceful of pillow. “What the fuck,” he said, or atleast tried to say before the physical assault turned alarming. A hand on his arm dragged him over the bed and he flinched when the blinding light inside assaulted his eyeballs.
“What are you doing,” hissed Black. Barty extended his arms to cover Black’s attempts to lure him to blindness. “What the fuck are you doing,” he hissed back, now massively pissy. Surprisingly, Black went silent. The seconds were stretching as Barty noted with some amount of malice that his eyes were red rimmed and obviously glazed, which meant Black !! had been sobbing like a first year for hours. Having expected to be bursting with glee from this knowledge, Barty was surprised to note that the feeling rising in his stomach was nothing close to happiness.
He and Black had never particularly been friends, or enemies, just tolerating roommates. Of course the occasional fight had broken out, Barty had a penchant of fighting with anything that could talk back and his roommates were no exception to that – but there had been no actual enmity or love. Now, however, he noted with dismay the emotion curdling in his stomach.
“Crouch,” snapped Black, eminently regaining his mobility. Barty was more than a little surprised to note that he still held himself straight as a rod and with that haughty expression to boot like there weren't obvious tear tracks running down his cheeks. Between the surprise though was more than a little admiration. He smashed that in the pit of his heart and tried not to pay mind to it.
“Are you going to say anything or just sit here with your jaw open like a commoner?”
“A commoner?” sneered Barty, ears perked up like a dog in need of a fight. “We might not be as high as the oh so mighty Blacks, but my blood is as pure as yours,” He leaned forward, teeth bared. “Want to cut and compare?”
Black’s eyebrow twitched “You're disgusting,” he said, but Barty had already regained his easy grin. “Will you go back, if I ask?”
“Absolutely not…Unless you want to take me on my offer,”
Black seemed like he stopped himself from coming after Barty with his fists intact. Barty was glad. Fights in daylight were all well and good, but something about a punch to the face in the covert dark was enough to rattle him a bit. He cleared his throat. He sat in easy silence for a moment, growing hazy, and had almost forgotten what he was going to say before Regulus nudged him.
“Ow! Fuck! You have pointy elbows,”
Black rolled his eyes and made a gesture that said, get on with it. “Now that we're past the formalities,” Barty waved his hand to indicate the mess of the bed, “Could you atleast tell me the reason you're blubbering like a girl at 2 past midnight?”
To his surprise, Black seemed almost considering. “Why do you want to know?”
“A wizard’s curiosity, if you will,” He flashed a wicked sort of smile, the jagged ends of his teeth visible.
It had the needed effect. Either Black was sleep dazed and not understanding the kind of secret he was spilling, or had a massive grudge against his family, because he immediately launched into a detailing of the presumed events.
“You know my cousin?”
“Narcissa?”
“The older one,”
“You mean the auror? Bellatrix?”
Barty was more than a little surprised. Bellatrix was seen as the black sheep of the family, more often than not, after having choosing a career in the auror office this year in what was rumoured to be a great split in the Black family. He made a gesture that said go on and tried not to look too interested in case Black knew what a gem he was dropping.
“You remember that tub of memories Slughorn found in his office last year?”
“Vaguely,”
Regulus' voice had dwindled to a whisper. He said something soft that Barty strained to hear. “What?” he murmured, aching with a need to know.
“Swear it,” Regulus said, louder. “What?”
“Swear it,” his intent gaze bore into Barty's eyes. Despite himself, he trembled and then said quickly, “I swear,”
Regulus went back to normal like nothing had happened. “They were Bellatrix's. She's been obliviating herself this entire time,” His eyes found Barty again. He realized that the wandlight had decreased to a slight shimmer only and he had not even noticed. In the abject darkness, Regulus' fingers seemed to be slowly closing the distance between them.
“Isn't it funny?” he murmured in a horrible voice. “They used to do that on Sirius for punishment. Take away his memories. He'd forget what he had for dinner, what she'd punished him for. What she'd punished him with. She called it a reward, losing them. I'm sure they did that to Bella, too.” he laughed bitterly. “And now she's turned her wand on herself. She finds comfort in it,”
“Is it obedience?” said Barty, hardly recognizing his voice. He was thinking of the mental effect so many obliviations could have on a brain, the loss of self. How did such a thing happen? Rather, how many of them did the brain need to overpower the synapses?
Regulus appeared to not have heard the question or the curiosity in Barty's eyes. He went on. “She’s going insane, they say. She killed an auror.” Barty gasped.
“She's on the run?”
“Pardoned,” said Regulus with a sardonic twist of his smile that said he didn't believe it for a second. “Insane,” he said again, for emphasis and collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles. Barty was beyond the point of caring. “How is it done?” he said, skirting the edges of Regulus' imminent psychosis. Again, “How is it done? How many obliviations does it take?" He was a second closer to shaking the life out of Regulus when he replied.
“Shush,” crooned Regulus from his perch on the bed. And then in a fluid twist of his arm, his delicate finger pressed to Barty’s top lip. “Shush.” In the awkward angle, Barty met his eyes and swallowed once. And then quick as that, he was gone again, departing to the edge of his bed. Barty debated his chances, realized that there was no way he was getting a straight answer now, climbed out of the bed into the ragged darkness of the dorm. In the rush of air, he suddenly felt cold all over. Missing the warmth of Blacks' plush bed he trooped over to his own bed.
“Goodnight,” he said once he had settled down. There was no answer. “Don't accidentally obliviate yourself,” he tried instead. Curiously, his mouth produced no sound. He tried again. “Bye,” pronounced a sound but not “Bellatrix obliviated herself,”
“Did you seriously just curse me? Is this an unbreakable vow?” There was no answer.
“I'm going to kill you in your sleep,”
“Nice try,” murmured Black. “Goodnight,”
Barty snuggled deeper. Before he could think of a cutting reply he was already fast asleep.
R: Heard about your mother. Are you alright?
R: Is he angry again?
R: I know a witch if you need a place to stay.
B: Don't need to make a blood traitor out of me yet, Black
R: What did you get in for?
B: He discovered the grimoire. Sorry
B: I'll replace it
B: Are you still upset ?
B: Don't leave a guy hanging
B: Need to take me up on the floo offer?
R: Don't
B: What was it this time? A cut to the jaw? A shorn head of hair.
B: Don't tell me it's the shorn head of hair.
B: If you don't know any good hair growth potions we're done !
R: She told me to lie down and take it.
B: Did you?
R: I'm sorry. She didn't mean it. She never does.
You're not thinking of defecting, are you?” Barty said with a scornful laugh. With the lack of a response, his snigger petered out. He slowly turned sideways, eyes trained on Regulus’s pallid face.
“You're not serious,” he said, words warped with disbelief, but Regulus wasn't looking at him. He looked, in that moment, like that one time in second year when Mr. Binns had floated through his body and he had turned an ethereal ghostlike shade, too uncomfortable to his resemblance to a corpse. Not that Barty had ever seen a corpse then. He had now, to be certain.
“Regulus,” he said, but it came out sounding more like a prayer than a simple name. Regulus, Regulus, Regulus. Finally Regulus' eyes lifted, meeting Barty’s gaze head-on. He looked empty and devoid of his usual caustically soft, soft self. A knife twisted in Barty's stomach. “They'll kill you,” murmured Barty, because there was nothing else to say. A look at the door proved that the silencing charms were still in place. “He'll kill you,”
“And I suppose you'll tell him, won't you?” Regulus sniped finally, words jagged in the space between them. Barty had a hard time making sense of them. A few months ago, Evan had been the one reminding him that his priority was the Dark Lord, once and foremost. Regulus and his secrets had been on his mind for months, distracting him from missions and responsibilities, but he could utter none of this out loud now that Regulus was finally in front of him, confessing his indiscretions. ‘Of course not,’ something in him roared but he could almost picture the look of pride on the Lord’s face when he would turn Regulus in. A spot in his inner circle, a pat on the back he had never gotten from his father, a wish for him to be taught the olde magic he was deprived of. But yet. But yet.
Maybe Regulus saw some of that on his face because he stiffly stepped away, eyes flaring but still concentrated. Then
“I just wish-” stuttered out Barty, after a long pause of breath where he evaluated the thin line of Regulus' frame. “You wish what?”
In his peripheral view, Regulus was slowly trembling, and somewhere in Barty’s self there was this aching need to do something about it. “I just wish you'd told me” he said finally.
Regulus barked out a derisive laugh. The spite in his eyes emphasized the dark pool of eyebags beneath them and the way the shadows of his face had deepened. “Told you?” he said. “You who sleeps in the Lord’s bed? You who keens against his every wish? I always thought my brother was a dog for that fool Dumbledore, but you're no better than that, are you? All you need is a master and you're leashed effectively.”
The room spinned. “What was I supposed to do?” roared Barty. “Pretend things are all going to be better soon, like you? Die hiding in an alleyway just because you're scared? Remind me why you joined the Dark Lord, again. It wasn't because of some loyalty to him, that's for certain. You joined because your mother told you to and you'd do anything your mother told you to do even lie down and die? Oh but you already did that, didn't you? So who's the dog now, Black?"
When the fist hit, he was already high off of it. He sniffed the sour sting of the blood back and laughed. Regulus did not advance again. “Fuck you, Crouch” his face was drained off all colour and his eyes watered furiously like he was the one being hit. Before Barty could offer a whiskey or two, he'd disappeared through the empty door and the memory of his skin against Barty’s split lip was all that remained.
The common room was dark when Barty walked in. His breaths were still rushed and hasty and sweat stuck his hair to his forehead in clumps. In his dazed state, he did not realize someone was speaking to him until the third sentence in.
“What?”
“Really observant, aren't you?” said Black, directly in front of his face. Barty could have slapped himself for not watching where he was going. The closeness of Black’s coiled frame, partnered with the swoop of his dark hair was almost too much temptation for him to handle.
“Bad dream?” Barty remembered what his dream was about, and shivered. To call it bad would be an understatement. The ritual again, with the overlapping voices and the sacrifices. For a second, the screams echoed in his mind. He shook his head to clear it.
“Just- Just needed some air,” his voice cracked slightly and he stifled a wince. Black did not seem to notice. He was half in thought, slightly leaning against the chair at his back.
He seemed like he was asking the question out of experience. The shadows under his eyes stood out on pale skin and he seemed absolutely knackered. With a start, Barty realized that he had been at the ritual too, a darkened cloak amongst many. If there was anything they had in common, it was this and if the nightmares were similarly shared, they were atleast in on a shared secret.
“Was it about,” he cleared his thought, “Erin?” The name was a placeholder, something another Death Eater would not recognize. Regulus though, Barty had seen his hidden muggle books and caught him sneaking out to sit behind the muggle studies class on quite an occasion. He would've caught the name of the muggle they'd all tortured to death between breaths. The nametag on the red overalls had fallen in sometime between the 12th and 15th round.
Regulus jerked to a stop. He shook his head rapidly. Unsafe then. The air between them grew awkward. He looked around for something to say. "Potions" he burst out as soon as Regulus said, "I feel like,"
They met eyes by the fireplace. He made a gesture that said go on.
“I just-” he scratched the back of his neck. Barty’s gaze attacked to the map of moles scattered on the expanse of bis back. He focused back towards Regulus' eyes with some difficulty. “Sometimes I feel like I'm going insane,” a bitter laugh.
A seastorm brewed in Barty's heart. “One time, you told me about insanity.” said Barty, hardly knowing where the words were coming from.
“And then I cursed you,”
“And then you cursed me,” said Barty, fondly. “But I got you back pretty good, didn't I?” His ears reddened. Before the anger towards third year’s ungainly rivalry could be revitalized, Barty picked up speed.
“So you told me about insanity and I researched. The biggest sign of insanity is that people start looking at you a different way?”
“Looking at me a different way?” said Regulus quizzically. He crossed his arms over his chest and Barty almost had a convolsion. “You're looking at me a different way. What am I supposed to think?”
“Dont….think” he wheezed. “That's my- Okay that's my job..Let me get to it. If people see you a different way it means they think you've changed. So, ask me,”
“Ask you?” The eyebrow raise again.
“Ask me. Ask me right now. Are you any insane as you were a second ago?”
“Am I insane?” despite the banter, the tone of Regulus voice sounded pathetically soft. He would believe whatever Barty said, then.
“No, you're not,” Barty murmured. On a whim, he stepped closer. Taking Regulus' hand in his, he pressed it firmly againt his chest and took a great breath.
“Oh,” said Regulus.
“You're not insane,” said Barty, in tune with his breaths. Another moment he'd ask where all that courage from coming from but right now, Regulus stood pliant like putty, breathing in synch with him “Ask me. Ask me and we'll remember. Together.”
“Together,” murmured Regulus, soft. He closed his eyes. Barty could have stayed in that moment forever, but it had to end, like all moments do. In a second, Regulus had pulled apart, cheeks darkening in the firelight.
“Tea?” he said, once there was nothing else to say. “Tea?” murmured Barty incredulously. “Tea,” said Regulus again, but there was a slight twist of his lips Barth took as a smile. He grinned.
The funeral was a somber affair. Barty had not gone. He saw it in the Daily Prophets, splashed over the headlines pronouncing “Black Heir Pronounced Formerly Dead,” “Funeral Service for Regulus Arcturus Black, Aged 18,”. There was a deep rattling sound that might have been his breath. For weeks Barty had hoped Regulus might contact him after their last week, but he had remained a ghost in the wind like all of last year. He had not worried more than normal. They had fights and quarrels. They'd get over it. Regulus would come back and they'd have rough sex in his spare bedroom and then they'd go back their separate ways like always. No need to complicate it. Barty ached.
It was just as well that the Dark Lord had announced it. Barth would have not accepted it from any other person. “I have felt a loss,” he had said, voice echoing in the very foundations of the manor. “One of my Death Eaters has been lost,”
Not him, Barty had begged, now even knowing what he was begging for. A voice in his heard said, Not him. Not him, Not him. Evan was dead, Pandora and Dorcas might as well have been dead. Who else was there to lose? Not him, please.
“Regulus Arcturus Black.” His heart was still beating, was the thing. He'd tasted Regulus’ blood once, the tang of iron still sweet on his tongue. Who was tasting it now? The earth that had consumed his body? He had an empty grave. Wizards were searching for his body but in his heart of hearts Barty knew no one would ever find it.
Dead, Dead, Dead. “He was ambitious, Purely Slytherin” the empty eulogy glittered. “Kind,” he thought of Regulus' aimless kindnesses, the warnings he'd given his traitor brother, the look he'd bless a first year, all habits he had to grow out of. “Kind of crazy,” he'd known his way around a knife and demonstrated how to take a man's intestines out. He met eyes with the unmoving picture of Regulus, the only one he had.“Cruel, sometimes,” all his little grievances. He'd broken Barty's heart a few times and now he never would, again. Only one candle remained. ‘Brave,’ he wanted to say. So brave it got him killed. So brave he did it. So brave he sacrificed everything else for it. But Barty would not make Regulus a traitor here. Never.
“Loyal,” he said, finally. “Loyal to the very end.” The flame consumed the image. He fixed his gaze on the burning end one more time and then closed the door.
Regulus’s tongue slid deeper, tracing the edges of Barty's teeth. He hummed contentedly when it sweeped around his canines. Barty slid an arm around Regulus’ back, mapping the frail curve of his shoulders and the hollows of his collarbone. Regulus, eminently found the tip of the sharp canine in Barty’s mouth. He pressed the tip of his tongue solidly against the cutting edge of the canine and left it there. In a second, he hissed back, nursing a tiny cut and leaving a trail of tongue-blood in Barty's mouth. Barty blinked dazed, as if coming out of a haze. Making eye contact with Regulus, he licked the remainder of the blood off his teeth.
The blood bloomed metallic under his tongue. He grinned rapidly, looking like a maniac for everyone to see. “Are you scared of me?” said Barty, once Regulus had not immediately leaned in after. He felt both nervous and giddy at the same time, with a determined part insistent on saying please cut yourself again so I can suck off your blood, like a crazy person. Regulus probably did think he was crazy. A deep dampening pit had swallowed his stomach. He tried to say something but his tongue stuck to the bottom of his mouth. When he opened his mouth again, though, Regulus was there to meet him.
The second kiss was just as much of a war as the first. Regulus kissed like he had something to prove, like they would never have any other time except this. He smashed their mouths together insistently and their teeth banged together violently a couple times. When they had slowed down considerably, he licked into Barty's mouth and then in an extremely unpredictable gesture, bit down hard on Barty's tongue.
“Ow, Ow What the fuck Black,” said Barty, or tried to say anyway, before Regulus' tongue darted in his mouth again and he saw a splash of red painting the surface when it withdrawed. He met Barty's eyes as he swallowed. Barty blinked, hoped that he wasn't dreaming, blinked again.
“Thoughts?” he said, finally.
“Bitter,” answered Regulus, with a knowing curve of his smile. “Bitter?” sputtered Barty, jaw ajar. How can blood be bitter?”
Regulus’ resulting grin met his in the lamplight. They burst into raucous shared laughter.
In the corner of the staircase, a kid was sat, strangling a snake with his plump hands.
“Whoa,” said Barty. He had never seen a snake before, and especially not a dead one. “Can I see?”
The kid scowled at him. “It’s mine.”
“Please,” said Barty, politely baring his teeth. His mother said having manners and smiling was the only way children could make friends and Barty didn't have any friends yet.
“Maybe you could be my friend?”
“I don't need any friends. I have my brother,” said the other child. He had a shock of black hair, not unlike Barty but his eyes were an odd colour. Maybe Barty's politeness had worked on him because he paused for a second.
“Okay maybe I can make aseption,”
Barty didn't know what a seption was but he wasn't gonna ask. His first friend !!
“Okay,” he said, grinning widely. He advanced towards the boy, eyes wide in delight.
“Can I hold it?”
“Maybe if you swear not to break it,” Barty advanced his awaiting hands. “Swear,” he cried, grabbing the snake but it had no sooner gotten in his hands than a voice announced, “Barty Crouch Jr! Get away from there!” His father had swooped in to destroy his first friendship
“No,” said Barty, struggling and kicking. “It's my friend. He's gonna let me hold the snake. Father, please,” His father's mustache quivered. “I said no! That child’s not fit to associate with. Merlin knows what kind of dark spell he's put on you. Now you go straight to your mother, do you hear me,”
“Yes, Father,” said Barty sullenly. His father watched him while he turned the corner but he turned back to meet eyes with the kid when he went. He had not even asked his name.