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The young man’s face was absolutely magnetic. The soft lightning of the room brought out his cheekbones and coloured his pale skin a warm yellow, and his lips extended in a mad grin were just as captivating, at least in Evan’s mind, even if his smile didn’t quite agree with the blackened tears running from his eyes. Barty was gazing at him so intensely in this moment, with this inscrutable look of his, smeared makeup around his eyes, chapped lips still split in a dark smile.
Beautiful, Evan found himself thinking, although it was probably the alcohol talking.
Surely that was it.
This was how it all started.
Almost a year had passed since he, Barty and Regulus graduated from Hogwarts. After seven years sharing a dorm, the boys had been excited to live by their own, at first. As it turned out, they were all disowned, completely broke, and emotionally dependent, living in dodgy flats across London, and therefore still spent most of their time together, either out in the city or at Pandora’s.
Her and Dorcas did a little better with themselves, but not to point of owning the luxurious “pure blood” mansions they’d all grown up in : after all, they were still well-know blood traitors.
There was a reason Pandora’s flat had become the former Slytherins’ headquarters. It was a nice duplex in Primrose hill, big enough for the five of them to spend comfortable evenings laughing and drinking in front of the fire place. Also, it was Pandora. The whole place looked halfway between Hauru’s bedroom from Howl’s moving castle, and the room of teenage girl in the sixties. It actually felt like Pandora’s magic : intuitive, kind, luminous.
That night, like most Saturday nights, had begun with red wine and light gossip, and had ended with everyone going home except for Barty and Evan, who were way too drunk to use the floo network, and were now laughing together in their own language, at three A.M, about to pass out on the floor of their friend’s living room.
And, like most night they spent drinking heavily, the dark haired boy had ended up in tears. The both of them excelled at drunk trauma dumping. They were never as honest with anyone as they were with each other.
Evan knew every feeling in Barty’s heart, and Barty knew every detail of Evan’s childhood, and it has been this way for years.
Now Barty was laughing as he shed shimmering tears, a strange mix of pain and humour in his voice, like always when he got pissed enough to talk about his father. If Bartemius Crouch Sr. could even be qualified as such.
A few fragile jokes later, his tears had dried, but his stare still felt sad and it made every part of Evan ache.
“I hate my name.” Barty confessed for the hundredth time since they were eleven. “Merlin, I hate it so much.”
“I know.”
“Like Bartemius and Crouch weren’t bad enough on their own, he just had to put them together. But you know what, it’s not even the worst part. The “junior” is the worst part.”
“hey, you are Not him”
“well it sure does feel like it” the other boy replied bitterly.
“I swear to Morgan, I’d do anything not write down crouch Jr every time I have to sign something”
“Come on…”
“Anything. I’m serious”
“I know you are.”
“Ev’, you were always the smart one, can’t you thing of something ?”
And maybe it was the late hour, or the alcohol, or that fucking Barty Crouch stare, but in that moment, Evan suddenly had an idea.
“We could get married.”
“What ?”
Barty didn’t even seem that shocked, more curious.
“Think about it. If you took my name, you’d bury your father’s for ever. Also, it would really piss him off.”
There was a moment of silence, both of them trying to figure out at what point the line between ideas and humour had suddenly become so blurry.
They were looking at each other again, ignoring the spinning feeling in their heads, and the little voice whispering that it was a bad idea.
The smile slowly faded on Barty’s face as he fell quiet, his gaze becoming even more intense, Evan didn’t think it was even possible, but at this point he couldn’t really hear his thoughts anyways.
“We should do it.” Barty declared abruptly.
“You’re wasted, let’s just go to sleep and-
“Evan.”
God, that look again.
“It was a joke…”
“It’s not now. Let’s do it.”
“Bart’, this is a really fucking bad idea”
“It’s yours, it can’t be that bad,” Barty teased, he was grinning now.
Evan’s head was too much of a mess to think properly, he was losing himself in the other boy’s eyes again.
He could never refuse Barty anything. This had been the source of most of his trouble for the past eight years.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Just like that. After all, what was the worst that could happen ?
***
Judging by the bright sunlight flooding into the room, it was well passed noon when Barty woke up in his bed the next morning. The first thing he felt was his head throbbing. He’d had his fare share of hangovers, but this one was particularly bad, he thought, realising he couldn’t remember last night’s events.
However, he could smell a familiar scent on the pillows. A mix of seaside and sunshine, vanilla and cologne. How the fuck had he gotten home, and if Evan had slept here, where the fuck was he now ?
Except, he felt to queasy it was too early for that kind of question. Whatever stupid drunk thing he’d done last night, he’d deal with later, Barty decided before burying his face in the pillow that still carried his best friend reassuring scent, immediately falling back into a dreamless sleep.
***
“I’m sorry, you WHAT ?”
A few blocks away, in a similar flat, the atmosphere seemed significantly heavier. Two young men were standing on either side of the kitchen counter, holding hot coffee mugs.
“We sort of got...married.”
“Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope. I don’t buy it. Say that again and look me in eyes this time.
Icy blue irises met steel grey ones, both men holding their gaze.
“Barty and I, we got married last night.”
1, 2, 3 seconds.
“oh fuck you didn’t blink. Why didn’t you blink. Evan what the fuck ?!”
“Reg I’m begging you, please stop shouting, I got one hell of a hangover.”
“Answer me you fucker, what do you mean you and Barty got married – oh my god it even sounds fucked up.”
Evan decided not to stop on the overuse of the word “fuck”, though it was unusual of Regulus.
“It’s not like a big deal, just-
“How is it not a big deal ?
“Reg, let me just…explain, okay ?
“Fine. Speak.”
“Okay. So, you know, last night, when you and Dorcas left and Panda went to bed, and we were too pissed to go anywhere so she told us to sleep on the couch.
Regulus nodded, and the other boy continued.
“Well, we didn’t go to sleep. We thought it’d be a shame to leave the bottle half empty, so we kind of played truth or dare and did shots and… you know how those night end. He started crying, and he talked about his father, then we laughed again, then he told me he hated his name.
“Barty hasn’t gone a day without saying he hates his name since he was ten. It’s not exactly a surprise.
“yeah, no, I know, except… He said he’d do anything not to carry his father’s name, and he asked me if I knew a way, and I said “we could get married”. It was a joke ! Evan added quickly under Regulus’ murderous gaze. “It was a joke… until it wasn’t, and the next thing I know, we were stumbling down the boulevard looking for… well for a church. Of sort.”
“Of course you were.” There was bleach in Regulus’ voice and his eyes are shooting daggers, but he looked more desperate than angry at this point. “Wait how did you even manage to convince anyone to marry drunk teenagers on the spot, muggles don’t allow that in the UK-
He was interrupted by the remorseful look that appeared on the other boy’s face.
“Evan, what did you do ?”
“I confounded a priest.” He spoke so low he’s not even sure his friend heard him.
“Are you insane ?!”
“I know, it was wrong !But hey, it was a dumb muggle church wedding, it doesn’t actually mean anything, you can stop yelling now.”
“Oh for Merlin’s sake what the fuck am I gonna do with you of course it means something !”
“I’m telling you it doesn-
“Do you seriously remember nothing from history of magic? The laws of 1982 for fraternity and unity between muggle states and the wizarding world? We literally studied for that exam together? Doesn’t this ring any bell to you?
“...I guess not?”
“For fuck’s sake, Evan !Since 1982, every form of marital union, religious ceremony, or civil partnership between wizards and/or muggles in the United Kingdom, regardless of their blood status, is officially registered and recognised in both the Muggle and the Wizarding worlds. Which means, that your union with Bartemius fucking Crouch Junior performed by a muggle officer under the influence of magic is both very illegal and yet very real.”
Regulus said this in one breath and Evan was now livid, incapable of responding.
“And you can’t get this annulled because you would have to admit you made use of magic on a Muggle, and therefore violated the Secret. You could go to fucking Azkaban!”
“What does this-
“It means you’re now married to your best friend you moron. Congratu-fucking-lations.
There was another moment of silence after Regulus’ speech, he waited for Evan to realise. But no matter how hard he tried, the latter couldn’t be as concerned as he felt he should be.
Where his mind was supposed to go “fuck, fuck, fuck, what did I do, I’ll never drink again, fuck”, he could only feel this quiet realisation : “I got married”.
A part of him knew it was weird, knew it was wrong, and yet Evan couldn’t bring himself to follow Regulus’ panic.
“Is it really this bad ?”
“Excuse me ?!”
The youngest Black was getting angry again, and after the night he had, Evan really wasn’t in the mood. But after, he was the one that came here looking for help in the first place. He had woken up midmorning in his best friend’s bed, and when the events of the night had immediately rushed in his brain, he couldn’t bring himself to trouble Barty’s sleep. He’d decided to slip away quietly, ignoring the plea from every inch of his body to stay and take the boy in his arm and fuck everything else. No, instead, he’d come to Regulus, smart, rational yet dramatic Regulus, surely he’d know what to do.
The problem was, the more he thought about his situation, the less it freaked him out. Shouldn’t it be the other way around ?
His only real concern was Barty’s reaction. Would he be mad ? Would he hate Evan ? Was he even awake ? Maybe this was the reason he left without a word : he could not face his best friend’s look. What if Barty never wanted anything to do with him ever again? Surely that would be unbearable.
“Evan, what the FUCK are you saying ?”
“Well, in a way, it worked. If the...marriage, is real, like you say, it won’t actually change much to our lives, and Barty can get rid of his father’s name, like he’s dreamt of since he was eight.”
He could hear Reg mumble something about “having to deal with those idiots”, but when he looked at him, his friend’s eyes had regained their usual coolness, and his voice, a more composed tone.
“First of all, I have my doubt about the “it won’t change anything to our lives” part. Second, you DO realise the same method would have worked with literally anyone ? What did Barty have to marry you of all people ?”
“Do you know anyone but us who would be willing to marry Barty ?
“Touché. And third, at any point in this little enterprise did it occur to you to take your feelings into account ?”
“I don’t have feelings for Barty.”
Evan answered too fast, even he was aware of what it looked like.
“Good for you honey. I actually meant the feelings you might have for other people ? Won’t that be weird when you fall in love with someone and you’ll be married to him ?”
“We could always get a divorce.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t really my point”
“Listen, Reg, you’re being too dramatic. If anything, he’s technically Barty Rosier now, so it’s like we’re brothers !”
“Gross ! Come on, Evan, even you must hear how sick this sounds. And anyways, you’re the one that came in here for advice, don’t call me a drama queen now because you don’t like that I’m right”
Regulus was right. He knew he was.
“Sorry I bothered you, then.”
“you know that’s not what I meant.” Regulus said, rolling his eyes.
“whatever, I’ll just go home, get my head right, I’ll think more clearly once I take an aspirin.”
“you know you’ll need to talk to him, right ?
“Must I ?”
“Evan !”
“Yeah, okay… I’ll let you know what happens alright ?”
“You’d better.”
“Thanks, Reg.”
p>***
Once he got home, Evan did not take an aspirin. He sat on his bed, and began to think.
He thought about Reg, about this, about drunk decisions, about his friends, about his father, he thought about Hogwarts, about Slughorn, about the expired milk carton in the door of his fridge, he thought about stupid Romeo and wondered what’s actually in a name, he thought about Barty.
Barty’s laugh, Barty’s voice, Barty’s kind of crooked smile.
Barty talking shit, Barty in anger, Barty crying even though it’s rare.
Barty’s glittery tears last night.
Barty in first year with bruises on his arm, Barty in second year in his bed for the first time after a dementors infested nightmare, Barty in third year with his pierced ears, Barty in fourth year with his tongue stud, Barty in fifth year with green spikes in his hair, Barty in sixth year shagging a girl in the Slytherin common room, Barty in seventh year and the madness in his eyes.
Oh, Barty’s eyes.
Barty’s radioactive gaze, the looks he casts at Evan sometimes,
Barty starring at him like X ray trying to scan his fucking soul.
Barty’s freckles in the Summer, his cold breath in the Fall
Barty’s drunk confessions and the secrets they shared when they were high,
Barty lying, cheating, pretending,
Barty dancing after the party ended, like a creature from another planet.
Barty when he was sincere, too, when he talked to him and looked at him like Evan was half of his fucking soul.
He thought about Barty for a long time, sitting then lying on his rickety bed, half wrapped in the off-white sheet, until the room got dark in the late winter afternoon.
He knew Regulus was right and they needed to talk, no matter how unimportant he pretended this thing was, but Evan was scared. Barty was his best friend since they were eleven and made a blood pact in the darkness of the dungeons. He simply couldn’t risk losing him to a stupid drunken mistake. Because even if it was Barty that had pushed him, none of this would have mattered if not for him and his stupid ideas.
Caught in a half sleep now, something he’d said earlier came back to him.
“Barty Rosier”, he’d told Regulus.
Bartemius fucking Rosier.
That sounded good, that sounded delightful in Evan’s mind.
Yeah. Delightful.
That night, Evan never had to make his mind about talking to Barty, because the talk imposed itself to him in the form of an audible knock on his door.
Woken up from his semi sleep, the blonde haired boy went to open and came face to face with a well-known silhouette, pierced face and spiky hair, mad grin, and those eyes.
“Hey Rosie.”
***
“May I come in ?”
There was an unusual politeness in the man’s voice. Barty never asked, he just entered places like he owned them.
“Yeah, sure” Evan heard himself respond, but it seemed a distant echo, overcome by his heart’s deafening beat. Why did he even feel so nervous?
“I think we need to talk”
“No, please, I’m afraid of what you’ll say and I’d rather die than lose you” Evan thought.
“Yeah, sure”, he repeated instead.
“Okay, hm, I’ll go first.” Barty took a deep breath, oddly shy. For the first time, he didn’t look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry. About last night. I was pissed but that’s not an excuse, and I hope you don’t regret anything because I don’t, not really, and even if I don’t remember it very well, I think it’s something I’ve wanted for a long time. What I’m trying to say is, I wish we weren’t drunk when it happened, but I’m not unhappy it happened, I’m just sorry if I made things weird between us or if you’re mad at me, I hope you’re not, but that’s okay if you are. But I really wish you weren’t.”
He spoke very quickly and in one breath, blushing lightly – adorable, kind of – and Evan doesn’t know what to say.
This is so out of the blue, of all the scenarios he could’ve imagined, this one must be the most unexpected.
Barty’s looking at him with a sort of anxious expectation, he know he must say something back now, he just doesn’t know what.
“Don’t apologise. I don’t think I really regret it either, which is weird, but I don’t, although I’m sorry about how it was handled. And I know that you say you have no regrets, but there’s one thing you must understand. There’s no going back, now, not without heavy consequences. But don’t worry, I promise it won’t change anything, we can even keep it between us and I’ll never tell a soul, and if you ever date someone I promise it won’t matter. This was a drunken mistake and it was my idea after all, of course I’m not mad at you, this doesn’t even have to be a big deal.”
After he was done talking, he dared a glance at Barty, who was now frowning like he was trying to solve a complex arithmancy problem.
“I know it doesn’t have to be, but I’m trying to tell you that it is kind of a big deal to me. And why would I date someone, I mean why would you bring this up after last night ?”
It was Evan’s turn to be confused.
“Okay, if you want to pretend like it never happened, we’ll do that” the other boy continued, with a tremor in his voice. He almost looked… hurt ?
“It does seem strange that it was your idea, I thought I was the… enterprising one, in this department.”
Now it sounded like forced humour. Even more unusual.
“What department ? You’ve done this before ?
“Well, yeah, that’s not exactly a secret…
“Wait, what the fuck ? Barty, what do you think happened last night ?”
“Didn’t we… you know...didn’t we sleep together ?”
Oh. My. God. Evan really expected anything but that. He couldn’t contain a sincere laugh at the absurdity of this quiproquo.
“What’s so funny about that?” asked an offended Barty vehemently.
“You… you really don’t remember anything ?”
“I remember the evening, I remember doing shots of Côte de Bourgogne in front of the fire place, and then, nothing until I woke up this morning with your smell on my fucking pillows.”
“You and your legendary blackouts…”
“Will you in fuck’s name tell me what happened ?”
Evan stopped laughing instantly. Oh no, now he actually had to tell the story himself, could it get more embarrassing than that.
But the young man executed himself, Barty’s eyes widening a little more at every new step of the tale. He talks about the sadness, the whole last name crisis, the church on the avenue, the insomniac priest, the Confundus charm, up until the talk with Regulus in the narrow kitchen.
“So…” Barty began when he finally talked again after what seemed like an eternity in silence, “I’m like your bride, of sort. Wicked.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be the groom ?
“Nope, always dreamt of being a bride. When I was little, I used to hide and dance in my mom’s party dresses and her vail.”
“of you course you did”
They both fell quiet for a minute, before Barty spoke timidly
“Well, as your bride, could I ask you a favour ?”
“Sure, Bart’”
Evan’s grin was shy, Barty’s grin widened as he made a step forward, then another, until he was standing right in front of the other boy, their noses practically touching.
He gently grabbed Evan’s face in his hands, and basically crashed their lips together, still smiling.
The blonde was surprised at first, pulling away and regretting it almost immediately.
“Barty what the-
“I tried to confess my undying feelings earlier, don’t say I didn’t warn you”
“fucker”, Evan laughed, seizing the boy’s waist, and kissed him again, firmly. And this time, neither of them pulled away.
***
“Hey, Bat” Evan asked later on between two passionate kisses, both of them dishevelled and red faced against the bedroom wall. “We’re still friends, right ?”
“Sure thing, Ev’” Barty answered before softly shoving him on the bed, joining their mouths once more.
-
“Still friends, right ?” Evan asked again a few months later when they made their relationship official.
“Sure thing, Ev’” Barty answered, pulling him into a hug?
-
“Still friends, right ?” Evan repeated the first time Barty told him he loved him, and he said it back without hesitating.
“Sure thing, Ev’” Barty beamed at him before kissing his forehead.
-
“Still friends, right ?” Barty grinned few years later, at the beach with their friends, after the – long overdue – unofficial wedding ceremony.
“Sure thing, darling” Evan whispered back, as Barty looked him in the eyes, that intense look that had made him fall for the man long ago, before he even realised it.
“Say it again.”
“Say what ?”
“Say my name” Barty asked, smiling with a vengeance now.
“Bartemius. Rosier”
They kissed, tenderly, Crouch Sr could go fuck himself, and the whole world for that matter.
Because in that moment, they were perfectly, incandescently, happy.