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The Halloween party was at its peak. The music blended into the background, and the center of the living room—cleared by pushing aside the couch—was packed with dancing bodies in constant motion.
Evan sat with his friends and vaguely familiar faces from school in an uneven circle on the floor in another corner of the living room. Some he couldn't recognize through their elaborate makeup, but that hardly mattered now.
Seven Minutes in Heaven.
Evan wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten roped into this. He had no desire to dance, and he'd lost a bet with Regulus when Barty failed to spin on his head on the dance floor. And now here he was. The game struck Evan as both stupid and inexplicably popular. What was the appeal of locking two random people in a room so they could kiss? That could be arranged without all this ceremony if there was a strong desire.
He caught himself staring at Barty, who sat across the circle. Evan ran his tongue over his teeth, turning away to examine the bottle in the center. Fine. Strong desire might be enough for him, but something else was missing—something that would make him grab Barty by the collar and drag him into a private space without hesitation.
It wasn't that Barty Crouch Jr. was difficult about physical intimacy. Quite the opposite. And Evan had opportunities—more than one—for Barty to spend the night with him that way. The problem was that Evan Rosier was possessive to his core, and he knew that if he crossed the line of friendship beyond normal boundaries even once, he wouldn't be able to stand calmly beside Barty while others pursued him. Not that he managed it easily now. Evan had been hopelessly in love with Barty Crouch Jr. for years, but he never took more than what Barty freely gave. Barty was tactile—he liked sleeping in Evan's bed and cuddling, he enjoyed playfully biting Evan's hands, shoulders, and sometimes face. He craved physical contact, ensuring there was always at least shoulder contact when they stood side by side, and Evan allowed it all. Evan accepted everything and buried it deep inside, unwilling to confront the tangle of emotions he felt at the mere thought of Barty.
This ridiculous game, Evan thought as he watched the bottle spin, might give him a chance to be locked away with Barty and the freedom to completely unravel himself. It would hurt to the bone, destroying his carefully maintained façade for a brief moment, but it would be his own personal "heaven."
Still, the game remained stupid, and Evan couldn't understand the excitement surrounding it. He had simply found his own reason to be invested now.
Laughter erupted around them as the first pair rose and headed to the first-floor closet where winter clothes were stored. A timer sounded on someone's phone. Evan had no idea who those two were, but judging by the reactions, something interesting was afoot. He silently sipped his drink, half-listening to the conversation between Regulus and a guy with whom he'd once shared a biology project. After seven minutes, the pair returned, red-faced—more from anger than anything else. Someone whispered in Evan's ear that the two had only recently broken up.
The game continued. By this point, Barty had already visited "heaven" a couple of times, and each time, Evan took longer swigs of alcohol, catching his cousin Pandora's knowing glances. Between the drinks and noise, Evan almost forgot he was also participating as the circle shifted to avoid repeats. So when the bottle finally pointed at him, he looked up in surprise. On the opposite end, it wasn't Barty.
Of course it wasn't fucking Barty, Evan thought bitterly. This wasn't some romantic movie where fate conveniently brought the protagonists together.
He stood up, not entirely steady but maintaining his balance. Rosier felt the gazes of others, and most intensely, Barty's. Something in Crouch's expression was unreadable, and when Evan glanced back briefly, Barty frowned slightly and turned away with a quiet sound. His posture revealed clear dissatisfaction.
Evan's partner turned out to be a girl from his class. They'd never spoken, though Evan had heard from Marlene that he was the girl's crush. That was the extent of his knowledge. When they were locked in the closet, Evan retreated deeper into the space and tiredly sat on the floor. The girl—Arabella, he believed her name was—remained still by the door, and Evan could feel her expectant gaze.
"Are you... are you not going to...?" she asked after an awkward pause.
It seemed, Evan realized as he pulled his knees up, that he'd only heard about her interest this year, so it was recent news. Great. Romantic complications were the last thing he needed when he had plenty of his own.
"Sorry, I like dicks," he stated bluntly, looking directly at her through the darkness. Better to be straightforward.
Tension filled the space between them, and neither moved. Evan added nothing more, and Arabella sighed, dejectedly settling onto the ottoman near the door.
"Let's skip the tears. I have a bit of a headache," Evan muttered quietly, knowing perfectly well she could hear him. Her feelings weren't his concern right now. Why should they be?
The seven minutes dragged interminably. Evan was beginning to doze off when a knock came at the door. They didn't enter immediately, presumably to avoid interrupting anything. Rosier allowed himself a smile at the absurdity. The girl immediately sprang up—her character costume makeup slightly smudged, he noticed as she opened the door. So she had cried after all, silently enough that he hadn't heard. Arabella rushed out and headed toward the exit rather than returning to the circle. Perhaps Evan should have felt remorseful. He knew he was being cruel. But he only watched with detached amusement as two girls, likely Arabella's friends, shot him condemning looks. He unhurriedly rose and returned to the hall, hearing Marlene's heavy sigh and Regulus's quiet, satisfied chuckle. And then there was Barty's gaze. He raised an eyebrow slightly when Evan met his eyes, and when he spotted Arabella returning, visibly upset, a smile spread across Crouch's face. Their wordless exchange ended there, and the game continued.
What Evan clearly remembered was how some couples departed for the bedrooms he'd designated for overnight guests after their "heaven" ended. His mother wouldn't be home for a week; he'd have time to restore order. He recalled Regulus's blush when he emerged from the closet with Potter, and how they also quietly slipped away shortly after. He'd have to question Regulus about that later. The circle gradually shrank, but Evan remained seated. And so did Barty.
So when the bottle finally pointed at the two of them, Evan was almost certain it was an alcohol-induced hallucination, that he'd fallen asleep long ago.
For a moment, neither moved. Then they rose simultaneously. As he passed, Evan felt Pandora's light touch on his arm—she who knew perfectly well how he felt. It didn't make things easier, but he acknowledged her with a nod.
They were locked in the closet.
Evan felt the world spinning slightly as he settled onto the same ottoman where Arabella had sat earlier, not trusting his legs to support his weight.
Barty appeared more sober than Evan had realized as they'd walked in—perhaps too sober—and Rosier couldn't remember what, if anything, Barty had been drinking all night.
Crouch approached Evan, touching his neck with a warm palm and squeezing gently. The contact sent shivers down Evan's spine as he looked up at Barty through the darkness. Evan didn't need light to know how Barty looked or what expression he wore. If he squinted, Rosier could make out the white makeup that transformed Barty into a skeleton—Dorcas's excellent handiwork.
"Planning to listen to me cry like you did with her?" Barty asked teasingly, tilting his head slightly as his other hand threaded through the hair at the nape of Evan's neck, tugging lightly to make Evan lift his chin further. Rosier complied. He always did.
Evan didn't answer, closing his eyes to collect himself. Here was his chance. He just needed to take it.
Rosier's hands reached out, and his legs parted slightly so Barty could step closer, while Evan's palms came to rest on Barty's waist and hip. Barty offered no resistance, as if this were completely natural. As if it were perfectly normal when, as Evan finally opened his eyes, Barty leaned down and playfully bit his nose, then his lower lip, before kissing Evan fully on the mouth, pushing his tongue past Evan's lips and leaving no space between them.
Evan gasped, his head spinning more intensely while Barty almost painfully squeezed his neck. Evan tilted his head back further and responded to the kiss with equal fervor. It seemed more like Barty Crouch Jr. wanted to devour him. Perhaps he was quite drunk after all, and Evan simply hadn't noticed.
Their teeth clashed, quiet hisses and moans punctuating the darkness, each sound swallowed by the other. Barty explored Evan's mouth thoroughly, the hand at his neck moving to grip his chin, opening Evan's mouth wider. Evan, of course, allowed this. He rose instinctively from the ottoman, needing to be closer. His hand slid from Barty's waist to the belt loop of his jeans, and with unexpected force, Evan pulled Barty against him, making him giggle against Evan's lips.
It was exquisite agony. Evan's heart hammered frantically, every point where their bodies connected felt electrified, aching with desire beneath his skin. But Evan craved this—wanted to shatter in Barty's hands, to experience what it meant to be his, if only for a moment. This would become his personal heaven.
There was no space between them, as if their bodies sought to merge into one, as if that's how they were always meant to be. As Barty ran his tongue over Evan's gums—the cool metal of his tongue piercing sending shivers through Evan—Rosier found himself believing those ancient myths where humans were originally creatures with two heads, two pairs of arms and legs, before the gods, fearing their power, split them into separate beings doomed to forever seek their other half. Barty was the half from which he'd been cruelly separated. Because now, Evan felt more than complete.
He pulled harder on the belt loop of Barty's jeans, relishing the friction of their thighs as his leg pushed between Barty's, causing Barty to press more firmly against Evan's jaw. Crouch maneuvered them toward the wall where no clothes hung, pressing Evan against it. He broke away from Evan's mouth, and Rosier licked his wet lips while Barty roughly bit along his jawline where his fingers had been moments before. His hand returned to Evan's neck, positioning him as desired. The other hand, Evan clearly felt beneath his T-shirt, short nails scratching his lower back.
Evan was breathless. He deliberately pressed his thigh harder between Barty's legs, provoking him and earning a quiet growl. The fingers of his hand that had been hooked in Barty's jeans slipped beneath the waistband, pulling back the elastic of his underwear and releasing it with a snap, then repeating the teasing gesture. His other hand moved to the back of Crouch's head, forcefully gripping the hair there.
"Bat..." Evan murmured, feeling Barty's tongue trace the shell of his ear. Barty repeated the motion, this time drawing a soft moan from Evan's lips.
The reality of it all seemed absurd. So perfectly, beautifully absurd that Evan wanted to immerse himself completely in it. The alcohol in his system was the least significant factor driving him now, for better or worse—he hadn't decided yet.
"Tell me no, Evs," Evan heard Barty's hoarse voice through the thundering of his own heartbeat as Barty's lips pressed beneath his chin. "Because everything about you is screaming yes. Heaven ends in minutes. We don't have enough time, and I don't want to rush this here."
Evan's fingers dug into Barty's side beneath his underwear. He pulled Crouch by the hair, lifting his head and again connecting their lips in a chaotic kiss. Barty's fingers on Evan's neck pressed against his pulse, through which he could certainly feel the frantic rhythm of Rosier's blood. His head was spinning. Barty's hand, which until now had been on Evan's lower back, deftly unbuttoned his pants and through the fabric of his boxers firmly gripped him, causing Evan to gasp into Barty's mouth from the mixture of desire and sweet pain.
"I could never say no to you, Bat," Evan whispered against his lips, pressing soft kisses between each word that seemed too innocent compared to what had come before.
This made Barty laugh quietly again, his hand on Evan's crotch making deliberate movements through the thin layer of fabric, causing Evan to moan softly and press into the friction. Not to be outdone, Evan shifted his leg, which was still wedged between Barty's, creating delicious pressure that made Barty push against him. Evan bit Barty's cheek, then licked and kissed his way down to Barty's neck, mentally apologizing to Dorcas for ruining her meticulous makeup work as he tasted face paint on his tongue.
"You're driving me crazy," Barty said quietly, fingers pressing firmly against Evan's neck, but not pulling him away.
Mutual, thought Evan with a smile as his lips pressed against Barty's Adam's apple, deliberately applying pressure with his tongue, feeling it move as Barty swallowed hard.
They spent their remaining time continuing to kiss. Evan's hands were everywhere—tracing Barty's spine as he kissed his collarbones, tugging Barty's hair when he bit Evan's neck with particular force, squeezing Barty's thigh as he watched, breathless, while Barty kissed Evan's fingers, playfully biting the tips.
When they heard the knock at the door, they locked eyes. Both had their hands beneath the other's clothes, their arousal evident, their breathing ragged. Evan felt too intoxicated to concern himself with anything beyond Barty. Not that he would have in any other state.
"You're a fucking mess," Barty said with a laugh that required no illumination to detect. Evan's lips were undoubtedly smeared with white face paint, which he'd effectively removed from Barty's face with his own.
They remained motionless for another moment after straightening each other's clothes.
"My room?" Evan suggested quietly as they approached the door.
Barty turned to Evan with his trademark smile—Rosier could see the hint of fangs, or perhaps he was hallucinating. He wanted to trace them with his tongue again. It was an abyss into which, having fallen once, he'd never wish to climb out. He'd known it would be like this. But now the prospect of escape seemed empty.
"As you wish, Rosie," Barty responded easily.
Before opening the door, he pressed against Evan in a brief kiss, after which they exited. From the way people looked at them, Evan realized he'd underestimated their disheveled appearance. Let them stare.
Evan again slipped his fingers into the belt loops of Barty's jeans and gently pulled him toward the stairs. Barty laughed, following and casually waving to someone in the crowd.
The door to Evan's room closed behind them, and then Evan pressed Barty against it, kissing him just as deeply, with even greater desperation, his hand finding the switch for the subdued lighting. Barty's hot mouth and the contrasting cold metal of his tongue piercing sent fresh waves of shivers across Rosier's skin, and he pressed closer.
"That girl hates me now. She was still in the game," Barty said quietly, with unmistakable satisfaction, when Evan broke the kiss.
"Sorry? Who?" Evan's thoughts were consumed entirely by Barty, his vision filled only with Barty, and the overwhelming desire to take him apart piece by piece.
This made Barty laugh. He slid both hands under Evan's T-shirt, easily removing it. His hands roamed over Rosier's torso, his gaze fixed intently on the process.
"Not important," Crouch murmured after a pause, his lips returning to Evan's collarbones.
Barty moved forward, pushing away from the door and steering them toward Evan's bed, his lips never leaving Evan's skin, refusing to waste a single second.
Evan climbed onto the bed and lay beneath Barty's weight as Barty continued to kiss and bite the now-accessible bare skin. Evan propped himself up on one elbow to watch Barty, his other hand firmly gripping Barty's hair. He moaned when Barty trailed kisses down to his chest. Rosier felt heat spreading across his neck and lower. That fucking mouth. Now, with Barty visible in the dim light, Evan's head cleared slightly compared to when they'd been in darkness. But Crouch didn't appear to share this shift in perspective.
Barty soon moved up to capture Evan's lips again. Supporting himself above Evan with one arm, he used his free hand to pull off Evan's already unbuttoned pants and then his boxers, before wrapping his fingers around Evan's cock and beginning to stroke. Evan gasped, pulling Barty's hair hard enough to hurt, savoring Barty's answering groan against his lips.
"I want you," Evan breathed against Barty's lips, biting them gently.
Barty's hand quickened its pace. Rosier suddenly realized he was the only one naked and reached for Barty's shirt, unbuttoning it while Barty drew him into another hungry kiss.
Barty helped Evan remove his shirt, and Rosier's gaze was met with an impressive collection of tattoos. Most held little significance, the majority done on drunken impulse. There was a certain charm in their randomness. Evan traced the patterns with his fingertips, examining them while Barty hovered above him, simply watching Evan, allowing them a brief respite from devouring each other. Evan had never closely studied those hidden beneath clothing; there were too many to take in at a glance. There was something intensely intimate about this moment. Evan paused in surprise, his fingers encountering one particular tattoo: a rose, positioned directly over Barty's heart. Rosier pressed his fingers against it, studying it intently and not daring to meet Barty's eyes. What the hell? Evan heard Barty's soft chuckle when he realized what had caught Evan's attention. Barty leaned down, kissing Evan's neck with unexpected gentleness, causing him to moan. He also resumed stroking Evan, momentarily distracting him from his discovery, but Evan still pulled Barty by the hair to meet his gaze.
"A rose," said Evan, indicating the tattoo with his free hand.
"A rose, Rosie," smiled Barty, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
"Why?" Evan asked after a pause, his voice barely audible. This tattoo didn't feel like just another meaningless addition.
"Do you want to talk about this right now?" said Barty, squeezing Evan firmly, as if reminding him of their current situation.
Rosier exhaled quietly, tightening his grip on Barty's hair. He needed to focus. Come on, Rosier, it's the only thing you do well.
"Have you been drinking today?" asked Evan, to which Barty smiled cheerfully.
"I'm not drunk," Crouch answered without hesitation.
Evan closed his eyes, nodding. So it wasn't just his imagination. Barty Crouch Jr. had been kissing him with the intensity of a last chance (and perhaps it was), while completely sober. Evan felt even more heat suffuse his body.
"I'm going to take a shower, drink some water to clear my head, and come back," he said, sliding out from under Barty. "You can shower too; you know where the guest bathroom is."
"Excuse me?" Barty blinked in surprise, collapsing onto the spot where Evan had just been lying.
"I changed my mind. No, that's not right—I still want you. But I want to be sober enough to clearly remember our conversation. And if there's more afterward, I want to remember that too. There's too much alcohol in my system right now," Evan shook his head, causing everything to spin anew.
Barty just laughed, and Rosier considered this the end of the dialogue as he disappeared into his bathroom.
He sat down beneath the shower spray, staring at the door leading back to his room. The room where Barty waited. Barty, with whom he had temporarily refused intimacy in favor of conversation. And why was Evan Rosier so certain they had something meaningful to discuss, that this wasn't just another of Barty's impulsive acts? Evan didn't know, but he wanted to believe. His vulnerable heart was prepared to shatter into fragments if it didn't end up safely in Barty's hands. Though, truthfully, it had probably been there all along, no matter how desperately Evan tried to retain possession of it. He had always been completely at Barty's mercy. And perhaps finally, after so many years of longing, his soul would find peace in reciprocity. He wanted this so intensely that the feeling nearly choked him, almost preventing him from breathing, as Evan turned the water to full strength in an attempt to calm himself.
It took time to regain his composure. Evan washed his face, drank water, and lightly slapped his cheeks. None of this produced complete sobriety, but his mind had cleared considerably. Rosier pulled on pants he'd previously left in the bathroom and returned to the bedroom.
Barty remained on the bed, still half-dressed but having made himself somewhat presentable. He lazily flipped through the book Evan had left on the nightstand. This made Evan smile; the literature he read wasn't remotely similar to Barty's preferences.
Rosier sat on the bed beside Barty, already feeling his neck flush the moment Barty's eyes turned to him. The last time he'd felt this awkward around Barty was when he first realized he was in love. Those had been difficult months of avoidance followed by acceptance. But avoidance was no longer an option. Now he felt completely exposed before Barty, who was certainly intelligent enough to have figured everything out.
Barty sat up, turning to face Evan fully. Their knees touched, and the point of contact seemed to vibrate with energy. Rosier sighed quietly, trying to collect himself. This was your idea, idiot.
"You look like you're about to explode," Barty said with a smile, tilting his head toward Evan.
He's nervous too, Evan realized from the subtle twitch at the corners of Barty's lips. This observation calmed him slightly.
"Shut up," mumbled Evan, running a hand through his hair. "I'm trying to get it together; it takes time..."
"Come on," Barty shook his head, touching Evan's knee, stroking and squeezing it gently. "I think everything is obvious. Don't make this more dramatic than it is. Regulus already has bets on us. I promised him he'd win because I'd confess to you by the end of the party. Let's not make our friend lose his money, hm?"
"What?" Evan felt completely blindsided.
Barty laughed, leaning closer.
"I'm in love with you, Evan Rosier. Have been for ages. Reg got tired of my constant pining because he couldn't sort out his own feelings for Potter. He's not the only one who got fed up. I thought I was being painfully obvious and you were just silently rejecting me. Marlene said I was a complete idiot if I believed that. So they pushed me to confess, and they made bets about when I'd finally do it. Reg bet on tonight, and who am I to deny him his winnings?"
Barty shook his head, further disheveling his hair. He looked directly into Evan's eyes.
"So I'm telling you, Evs. I love you. And that word doesn't begin to describe what you make me feel. Reg says I'm like an addict. I think that's probably accurate," Barty smiled crookedly, touching the rose tattoo over his heart. "I planned to tell you after... what almost happened between us. I was afraid my suspicions were correct and after my confession, I wouldn't be able to have you again. So I wanted to be selfish. But you've always had sharp eyes. Didn't let me escape."
For Evan, the world seemed to spin more violently than it had under the influence of alcohol. He truly thought he might explode. What a fool he'd been. He'd never noticed, couldn't even entertain the possibility of reciprocation. It had seemed too good, too impossible—something he could never deserve, regardless of effort. Yet here sat Barty Crouch Jr., pouring out his heart about being in love. About being in love with him, with Evan Rosier. How could he have missed this? Barty never concealed his emotions; he displayed everything openly, unlike Evan. How could he have been so blind to something so obvious? Perhaps Evan had underestimated himself and what he deserved too severely, nearly missing this entirely. He silently blessed Regulus Black for influencing Barty. Evan would never have spoken first.
Evan reached for Barty's face and pulled him close, kissing him. It was gentler, slower than their previous exchanges. Evan softly caressed Barty's cheeks and neck, deepening the kiss when Barty responded with equal tenderness.
"I never dared hope to hear those words, even in my most desperate dreams," Evan said quietly, breaking away from Barty's lips. "I truly didn't notice, because I couldn't believe something like this was possible, Bat."
Evan swallowed hard, struggling to speak. They say it becomes easier once you finally say it aloud. But Evan felt as if his emotions were painfully constricting his insides, resisting verbalization. In all these years, he'd never spoken of them, and Rosier wasn't certain he knew how such words should be pronounced. They seemed distant, alien.
"I love you, Bat," Evan whispered, as if afraid the confession might escape or that Barty might be frightened by greater volume. "I've loved you for years. I can't pinpoint exactly when it began. But it's been consuming me since I acknowledged its existence. This feeling. It's too vast, but it's here, and it's real."
Barty exhaled audibly. His hand had long since moved from Evan's knee to his shoulder, gripping it almost painfully, as if preventing Evan from fleeing—something Evan might indeed have contemplated.
They sat in silence, gazing at each other, uncertain what to do with these emotions that now openly intertwined between them.
But this was a beginning. This was undeniably a beginning when, this time, Barty drew Evan into a kiss, lowering them both back onto the sheets.