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James was like baby bear. That one in the muggle story. Goldydocks, or something.
He waited around a minute for his toast to cool down in the morning and five for his dinner to in the evening, contrasting to his friend, Regulus' brother, who would dive straight in and burn his tongue like he hadn't eaten in weeks.
Barty, unfortunately, knew all of this, reason being that he'd had a crush on the man for the better part of three years. It had started in Barty's second year, and James' third, when they'd landed detention together. They'd spoken for about two hours, about the similarities between their two best friends, the Black brothers, about what Barty should expect in the following year's curriculum, and so on.
It was all so easy. They just... talked. And he was going to tell Regulus that he had developed a maybe sort-of crush on his friend's brother's friend, also known as the enemy, he really was, but the second he mentioned that he'd shared a detention with the older Gryffindor, Reg had simply began reading about how infuriating his brother and his friends were.
That was the problem. Regulus. And the most frustrating part was that he never understood that James was, not just an extension of Sirius, but his own person. And what a person he was.
Now, three years later, Barty was devising a plan to express his interest to James but not others, especially not the Black brothers.
Step 1: Send him an owl, asking James to meet him in their transfiguration classroom (the one they shared because, while students couldn't skip a year, they could take higher classes to keep them entertained and out of trouble, which is exactly what Barty decided to do, and his secret admiree had absolutely nothing to do with it. Nothing at all).
Step 2: He hadn't actually gotten that far yet. He knew he was going to say something. Fully formed words and sentences perhaps, but the odds were low. He'd never been great at talking to birds, so why would that change just cause the bird was a bloke? Not that James is a bird, just because he was a girl when the crush developed. Well, no, he wasn't. He thought he was. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe-- See, this is why he'd wanted to do the whole thing in a letter but when he'd caved and asked Pandora for her advice, she'd said that was a terrible idea, and that he should do it in person. So he was. He wasn't sure why he'd decided to speak up. Potter had a girlfriend, and he was probably straight.
He sent his black-banded owl to the window of female Gryffindor dorm 85 a couple of days after talking to Pandora, who, on the terms of being Pandora Florence Rosier, already knew.
Pandora was good at reading body language. Which meant she was also good at writing her own. Morphing what she showed the world, separating it from her actual emotions. Even her brother, Evan Rosier, had no clue what she was thinking or feeling half the time. They were planning to talk to her about it: him; Regulus; Dorcas and Evan, get her to open up and that.
But for now?
For now, Barty was planning to spend the next few hours stressing and contemplating his life choices.
A couple of hours after Pom-Pom, the owl (shut up, he named her when he was three) had returned from her trip, Barty was pacing. Pacing. He felt ridiculous, especially when Regulus walked in, giving him a raised eyebrow, but thankfully, a silent one, before settling into Barty's bed next to Evan.
Being the only biological male in the friend group was an odd phenomenon. It would make sense to all hang out in the girls' dorms. Where everyone else was. The dorm that Dorcas, Pandora, Regulus and Evan shared. But, apparently they really liked to annoy-slash-confuse Barty's roommates, who always took it out on him when they left.
The night went on. Dorcas joined them, gave Barty the third weird look he'd received that night and sat down, no doubt trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with him. Barty was beginning to wonder that himself. His legs were aching, but he paced and paced and paced. Then he looked at the clock.
He paused.
"Shit."
He looked at what he was wearing.
"Shit!"
The three were staring at him now, but he ignored them, rifling through his drawers to find what he'd already hand-picked. He grabbed a pair of black socks, baggy black vans trousers, a plain white top, and a dark grey zip up hoodie with some muggle band on it. He began getting changed, admittedly forgetting about his three friends' gazes on him. They groaned simultaneously as he tugged his school trousers off, turning around.
"Go to the bathroom, Merlin!"
"Barty, no one wants to see your saggy balls," Dorcas said, her calm voice contrasting Regulus' screech.
"Well, I'm going to meet someone who wants to see them now so," he stuck his tongue out at the backs of their heads.
That was not true. Probably not true. Hopefully not true. Maybe hopefully true? Barty didn't know or have time to dwell on it.
He tugged the clothes on and shoved his platorms, running — as well as he could in those shoes, at least — to the transfiguration department.
He rushed in, breathless and a bit sweaty. Not exactly ideal, but beggars can't be choosers. And Barty? Well, in this particular situiation, Barty was a beggar.
The room was empty. He was alone. He looked up at the white muggle clock on the wall. Barty wasn't the best at reading them, but he knew it was seven-something. He'd told James to meet him at half past. Had that already been? Had James been here and left when he saw no one? Or, had he not come at all?
Crouch didn't know which was worse.
He sat on a desk, facing the door, for a few minutes, tapping his foot on the chair to the rhythm of a muggle song he had stuck in his head - guess something something, blah blah blah.
He heard the creek of a door.
His gaze snapped up to meet James. James Potter. With his red converse and pale jeans, his dark eyebrows drawn together in a look of confusion.
"Oh- um, hey, Barty."
"Hi." He could already feel the blush creeping up his face, and tried to push it down (to no avail). They stared at each other for a moment, before both trying to speak at the same time.
"I just wan--"
"Did you s--"
"Sorry, sorry. Er, you go first."
James looked ready to argue, but shrugged, "was this you?" He holds up the letter.
"...Yeah." He looked down at his feet.
"So... what did you want to tell me?" James moves closer, so they're only half a metre apart. Too close. Way too close.
"I..." Merlin, he was regretting this. James might be straight. The fuck was he thinking? He was straight. Extremely straight. He had a girlfriend for fuck's sake. Barty wasn't doing this to get with James. Just to get a weight off his chest. Pandora had told him to. She seemed sure it would help. He never planned on taking Pandora's advice again. But he was here now. He couldn't just say 'nothing' and walk off. Not now. Not with James. "I... like... you." He watched the other man's face very, very carefully. The way his mouth opened, just slightly as he took that information in. The way he moved it, trying to find words. Barty panicked. "Look, I know you're with Lily. I know that. But... I just... I needed to get it off my chest, that's all, I'm not trying to get a shag out of you, or--" shit. Why was he such an idiot? "Not that I would! I mean, I just-" he sighed. "I'm not trying to get with you," he chuckled, he'd never heard Potter this quiet before and it was making him nervous, "It'd be a terrible idea anyway, what with Regulus and Sirius hating each other and I- I'm sorry, I had no right to order you here and tell you this for my own selfish reasons and I-- ugh, fuck I'm rambling, sorry. I'll-- I'm- I'll go. Just. Sorry." He jumped down from the table, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. He must've been as red as a strawberry - these muggle things that Dorcas' grandfather sent her from time to time - by that point as he stumbled away. He was about to round the corner of the door and break into a run, but then he heard James say something.
"I'm not with Lily." James mumbled, almost dazed. Crouch didn't turn around, didn't dare to. "Barty! Barty, hey, come here, don't- shit."
Barty dared then. It took a lot of courage. Courage he did not have, but he turned around. James stared at him, dumbfounded. "I'm not with Lily," he repeated, louder this time, loud enough for Barty to hear.
"What?"
"I- We're not- She's dating Mar-- someone else. Um, we pretend to date. Because she's not out and wants to throw people off the trail, but we're not- I- she's gay. She's a lesbian. I..." He looked down at his feet and rubbed the back of his neck "I am too."
Barty processed this for a second. Then he hit a bump in the statement. "You're... a lesbian?"
"What? No, no, I-" he tugged at his shirt, a habit Barty had noticed in Regulus and Evan as well, which flooded him with guilt. He forgot James was trans sometimes. "I'm gay. Or... maybe bi. But I like blokes. I like..." he seems to have a word stuck in his throat, and Barty, not liking the tension in the room one bit, tried to make light of the situation.
"You like pasta? Um, burgers? Chinese food?"
James laughed, what a pretty sound, Barty thought. "Well. Yes, I do like all of those things but... I like... you um, more."
Barty froze. He wasn't expecting that. And if he wasn't expecting that, he definitely wasn't expecting his lips to be touching James Potter's a second later. Even less that Barty was the one who had initiated it.
He pulled away with a sheepish smile, looking at James' wide, obnoxious grin.