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Regulus Black sat on the cold dungeon floor, leaning against the stone wall, his eyes fixed on the window overlooking the bottom of the Black Lake, where the dark water moved so slowly it seemed still, as if hiding more than it revealed. There was something in that heavy silence that perfectly matched what he felt inside, something quiet, but far from calm.
He didn't know exactly when his thoughts drifted away from the Black Lake and rested on him.
On Barty Crouch Jr.
What existed between them was no longer new, no longer that initial shock or the confusion that came with something too wrong to ignore; it had been long enough for it to have become… constant, present in the smallest details, in the way Regulus thought before speaking or in the almost automatic way he noticed his absence anywhere, as if the world became slightly misaligned when Barty wasn't around.
He ran his hand over his wrist, distracted, stopping exactly where he knew he would remember the touch, as if his body held it better than his memory. There was something strange about whatever it was he had with Barty, because it wasn't just desire, nor just curiosity, but a silent, almost unsettling familiarity, as if, in some way difficult to explain, he had become accustomed to someone who should never have made sense.
Outside, the lake remained still, dark, too deep to be read, and Regulus exhaled slowly, letting his head rest against the stone as he closed his eyes for a moment too short to truly rest, because as soon as he stopped, everything came back with greater clarity: the voice too low, the manner too attentive, the constant feeling of being seen in its entirety and yet not retreating.
Regulus opened his eyes again, observing the dark surface as if it could answer something, as if, somewhere in that absolute blackness, there was a truth waiting for him.
But all there was silence.
Deep.
Complete.
"You always come here when you're overthinking."
The voice came from behind him, too soft for someone like Barty.
Regulus didn't turn around.
"And you always show up when you weren't called."
A low laugh, footsteps approaching.
"Maybe I like things that don't want me..."
Now he was too close for it to still be dismissed as coincidence or habit, close enough that his presence ceased to be merely perceived and began to be felt, occupying space, displacing the air, making everything around slightly unstable in a way that Regulus already knew better than he cared to admit.
Regulus felt that silent, almost electric unease, as if the environment itself reacted to Barty Crouch Jr.'s presence, as if the air around him was never completely safe, never totally neutral, always carrying something about to happen, something that couldn't be undone afterward.
"Or maybe I just know when someone is lying to themselves."
The silence that followed wasn't empty; it was dense, heavy, as if it occupied space between them, as if it demanded an answer Regulus didn't want to give, and, for a moment, even the lake beyond the window seemed less distant, as if it too was watching, as if that still darkness had some silent awareness of what was happening there.
"Go away, Bartemius."
The words came out low, controlled, but without real force, without the firmness necessary to become a true order. He knew this even before he finished speaking because there was never enough force when it was Barty, there was never a distance that could be sustained for long.
"I won't." He answered, simply, directly, as if the answer had already been decided long before the question existed.
And then, lower, closer:
"You don't really want this, do you?"
Regulus turned and finally faced Barty.
And there he was, his eyes gleaming with something difficult to name, something that wasn't sanity, nor goodness, nor exactly evil, but something deeper, more unstable, more dangerous than any of those things in isolation, as if everything coexisted at the same time without ever resolving itself.
Something… familiar. The same darkness that Regulus knew inhabited his interior.
"You think you understand everything," Regulus said.
Barty tilted his head, observing him as if dismantling each layer of him.
"Not everything. Only you."
The world seemed smaller when he spoke like that, as if the dungeon walls drew closer without actually moving, as if the air became denser, harder to traverse, and every possible exit ceased to be a concrete option, becoming merely a distant idea, almost irrelevant in his presence.
"This isn't…" Regulus began, but the words failed him before they could fully form, stuck somewhere between what he should say and what, deep down, he already knew he couldn't deny.
Because he knew.
He knew from the beginning, even when he still pretended not to understand, even when he tried to reduce everything to something fleeting, controllable, disposable, he knew there was always this silent, persistent awareness that it would never be simple, never be safe, never be something that could exist without consequences.
Being with Barty Crouch Jr. wasn't a small mistake, nor a momentary deviation that could be corrected later; it was a whole, weighty, conscious choice, the kind of decision that doesn't undo itself with time, only deepens, pulling everything along, like a fall too slow to be avoided and too fast to be stopped.
"Say you don't want me anymore, Regulus. Say I'll leave you alone."
The voice came low, almost too calm for what he was asking, and for a moment Regulus really tried. He tried to pull back that cold logic, that carefully constructed distance that had always kept him safe, tried to cling to the version of himself that still believed in control, in simple choices, in clear boundaries that wouldn't crumble at the slightest touch.
"We can't be together, Bartemius," he finally said, the sentence coming out slower than it should, as if each word needed to pass through something denser before it truly existed. "This… doesn't work. It will never work."
For a second, the silence seemed to accept it.
But then Barty smiled. Not a wide or light smile, but something smaller, almost intimate, as if he already knew exactly where that attempt would fail even before Regulus finished speaking.
"Then why don't you tell me to leave?"
The question came simply, directly, without apparent weight, and yet it was enough to undo what little firmness remained.
The lake seemed darker now, deeper, as if it had drawn closer without truly moving, as if it were waiting patiently for something it already knew would happen. Regulus felt it in his chest, that inevitable pull, that unsettling certainty that he was being drawn towards something he couldn't stop.
And, worse than that…
That he didn't want it to stop.
"You're going to destroy yourself, Bartemius," he said, but now the phrase sounded different, less like an accusation and more like a poorly worded plea, as if he were trying to save something he no longer knew how to name.
Barty shrugged, as if that wasn't exactly a problem.
"Maybe."
Then, Barty said more quietly, closer:
"But not alone."
That should have sounded like a threat, something to be avoided, rejected, stopped before going too far, but it didn't, not at that moment, not in that way.
It sounded like a promise.
The touch came without warning, cold fingers encircling Regulus's wrist with a controlled, precise firmness, as if each movement had been thought out before it even happened, yet still light enough not to push him away, not to break that unstable balance that existed between them.
Controlled.
Intentional.
Dangerous.
Regulus didn't pull his hand back.
Because lying to himself no longer worked as before, not when everything seemed too clear, too intense, impossible to reduce to something simple or disposable, and there, with Barty so close, with that look that seemed to pierce through any defense he still tried to maintain…
Nothing seemed false, nor avoidable.
"Bartemius, please…" Regulus said, but the sentence itself lost its force before he finished, because even he no longer knew if it was a request, an order, or just a belated attempt to recover something that had already been given.
Barty leaned in slightly, further closing the distance, his voice now almost inaudible, as if it didn't really need to be heard to be understood:
"Do you want me to stop?"
Silence answered before Regulus could.
He knew the answer, the choice, the exact point where it ceased to be a doubt and became a decision. And he hated it, hated the clarity, hated how, near him, everything seemed more intense, more real, harder to deny.
As if the right world were distant, dry, empty…
And that, that wrong, unstable, condemned thing, was the only thing that still made sense.
"This is going to end badly…" he whispered, more to himself than to Barty.
Barty smiled again, but this time there was something softer there, almost peaceful.
"I know, Reg."
There was no fear, only acceptance, only desire.
The touch on his wrist tightened, pulling Regulus a step forward, closing the space between them completely, erasing any remaining distance. For a second Regulus hesitated, feeling the weight of everything that this meant.
But then he stopped resisting.
Because perhaps the world said it was wrong, that it shouldn't exist, that it wouldn't last, but there, in that instant suspended between what should be avoided and what was already happening, none of that seemed to matter enough to interrupt.
Barty was the first to lean in.
Regulus didn't back down.
The kiss was inevitable, like everything that had brought them there, deep in a silent way, laden with everything that hadn't been said, everything that couldn't be explained later, as if in that single moment there was more truth than any right choice could ever allow.
And, for a brief and absolute instant, it was complete.
When they parted, the lake was still there, dark and still as always, keeping the silence as if nothing had changed, but between them, something had already been crossed, something that couldn't be undone, only carried.
Because some things aren't meant to last.
Only to happen.
And leave marks too deep to disappear.
THE END