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The castle was bored.
Not quiet.
Never quiet.
Hogwarts between lessons was a living thing — staircases groaning awake, portraits arguing with students, doors slamming somewhere three corridors over, Peeves screaming profanity from the rafters like a demonic parrot.
But bored.
That specific kind of restless boredom that made people stupid.
Which was exactly why James Potter was currently trying to convince Fabian and Gideon Prewett to help him “borrow” a suit of armour and place it inside Slughorn’s office.
“It’s symbolic,” James insisted as they wandered the third-floor corridor in a sprawling mess of black robes and noise. “A statement on institutional decay.”
“It’s a suit of armour wearing lingerie,” Lily Evans said.
“Art often challenges people, Evans.”
“You drew a cock on the helmet.”
“Symbolism.”
Remus snorted quietly beside her.
Peter nearly walked into a torch bracket because he was laughing too hard.
Sirius Black, meanwhile, looked moments away from dying of boredom entirely.
He had his hands shoved in his pockets, tie loose, sleeves rolled carelessly to his elbows, dark hair falling into his eyes as he drifted backwards down the corridor.
“You’re all deeply uncultured,” he announced dramatically. “James is a visionary.”
“James once tried to microwave soup without soup,” Mary Macdonald replied.
“That was one time.”
“You exploded the bowl.”
“I was experimenting.”
Frank Longbottom sighed. “Can you experiment quieter?”
“No,” said James immediately.
“No,” echoed Sirius.
“Absolutely not,” said Fabian.
“Violently no,” Gideon added.
Alice laughed under her breath, leaning lightly against Frank’s shoulder as they walked.
Marlene was halfway through explaining, in graphic detail, why she thought the Ravenclaw beater looked like a Victorian orphan when she abruptly stopped talking.
Everyone else nearly crashed into her.
“Ow— what the fuck?” Peter complained.
But Marlene wasn’t listening.
She was staring down the corridor.
Everyone followed her gaze.
And froze.
“Oh my fucking God,” Fabian whispered.
Because halfway down the hall, shoved against the stone wall beside a window alcove, was Regulus Black.
And Regulus Black was being absolutely devoured.
The taller boy had one hand gripping Regulus’s waist hard enough to wrinkle his uniform shirt, the other hooked high around his thigh, dragging him flush against his body while Regulus clung to the front of his flannel like he was trying to climb him.
The kissing was obscene.
Not soft.
Not hesitant.
Messy.
Open-mouthed and biting and filthy enough that James physically recoiled.
The taller boy groaned directly into Regulus’s mouth as Regulus bit at his lower lip.
“Fuckin’ hell,” the stranger muttered approvingly against the kiss. “There y’go, sweetheart— fuck, that’s pretty—”
Regulus made a pleased little sound and kissed him harder.
The stranger laughed into it.
Actually laughed.
Like this was the greatest experience of his life.
Sirius stopped dead.
The entire corridor stopped dead.
Because the stranger looked exactly like Barty Crouch Jr.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same height.
Same sharp grin.
Same stupidly long limbs.
Same messy brown hair.
Except this one had violent red streaks hacked through his hair instead of green.
And he was dressed like somebody had raided a muggle charity shop while heavily intoxicated.
Layers of flannel.
Ripped jeans under his robes.
A faded joke shirt that said I BRAKE FOR HOT MOMS.
Chains hanging off his belt.
Piercings fucking everywhere.
One brow.
Two lips.
Several earrings.
A nose ring.
And he looked catastrophically high.
The Gryffindors collectively screamed.
Regulus jerked violently.
The taller boy blinked slowly at them without letting go of Regulus once.
Then he squinted.
“…Why’s there so many of you?”
“BARTY?!” James shouted.
“That is NOT Barty!” Mary yelled immediately.
“It LOOKS like Barty!”
“It looks like Barty got hit by a bus!”
Regulus groaned loudly and thunked his head back against the wall.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.”
The stranger blinked again.
Then grinned.
“Ohhhhhh,” he said slowly. “You’re the brother.”
Sirius looked moments away from spiritual collapse.
“The WHAT.”
The stranger stuck a hand out lazily without releasing Regulus with the other.
“Hornkus Binglefuck.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
“…Your name is Hornkus Binglefuck?” Remus said carefully.
“Unfortunately.”
“That cannot be real.”
“My mum was whimsical.”
James looked physically ill.
“REGULUS,” Sirius barked. “WHAT IS THAT.”
Regulus looked deeply unimpressed by the question.
“My boyfriend.”
The corridor exploded.
“YOUR WHAT?”
“YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND?”
“WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE BARTY?”
“WHY IS HE HOLDING YOU LIKE THAT?”
“WHY IS HE HIGH?”
Hornkus looked offended.
“I’m not high.”
Everyone stared at him.
His pupils were the size of fucking dinner plates.
Evan Rosier’s voice drifted casually from around the corner.
“He’s absolutely high.”
The Slytherins appeared like a plague.
Barty first.
Then Evan.
Then Dorcas.
Then Pandora.
And the second Barty saw Hornkus, he stopped walking so abruptly Pandora nearly walked into him.
“What the fuck,” Gideon whispered.
Because it genuinely looked like someone had duplicated Barty in a laboratory and made tiny cosmetic adjustments.
Hornkus lit up immediately.
“BARTYYYYY.”
Barty looked furious on sight.
“Hornkus.”
“Still obsessed with me?”
“I would rather eat glass.”
Hornkus beamed smugly.
“That’s basically foreplay.”
Barty gagged violently.
Dorcas burst into hysterical laughter.
Regulus looked exhausted already.
Pandora pointed accusingly at Hornkus.
“YOU,” she announced dramatically, “escaped containment again.”
Hornkus pointed at himself.
“I yearn to be free.”
“You were not supposed to survive the cloning process.”
“I’m built different.”
“You were built WRONG.”
Hornkus grinned lazily.
“That’s what makes me special, baby.”
Pandora looked moments away from throwing herself out the nearest window.
Meanwhile Evan had wandered over without interest whatsoever and was currently rifling through Hornkus’s pockets.
Hornkus barely noticed.
“Oi,” he said absently, still staring smugly at Barty. “Don’t steal my weed.”
Evan pulled out three joints.
“You have terrible observational skills.”
“That’s why I’m pretty.”
“You look like mildew.”
“Reg likes it.”
“I tolerate it,” Regulus corrected.
Hornkus immediately leaned down and kissed the side of his head.
“You love me.”
“I think you’re fascinating in the way a disease is fascinating.”
“Awww.”
Sirius still looked haunted.
James pointed at Hornkus like he was identifying a dangerous animal.
“Explain.”
Regulus sighed.
“Originally, I started dating him because he looked exactly like Barty.”
Barty looked deeply offended.
“I don’t look like THAT.”
“You literally do,” Dorcas cackled.
“It’s terrifying,” Mary admitted.
Hornkus looked smug.
“Reg saw me and immediately wanted me carnally.”
“I saw you and thought it would annoy Barty.”
“And now you want me carnally.”
Regulus shrugged.
“You grew on me.”
Hornkus looked genuinely emotional.
“Baby…”
“You’re like mould.”
“Awwww.”
Barty looked like he wanted to commit homicide.
“It’s not even funny anymore,” he snapped.
“Yes it is,” Dorcas replied instantly.
“It’s objectively hilarious,” Pandora agreed.
“It stopped being funny when he started COPYING me.”
Hornkus gasped dramatically.
“You think I copy you?”
“You dyed your hair!”
“You dyed YOURS first!”
“You started wearing eyeliner!”
“You wear rings now!”
“That’s because Regulus likes my hands!”
Regulus nodded thoughtfully.
“He does have nice hands.”
Barty made a strangled noise of outrage.
Hornkus immediately lit up with malicious delight.
“Oh my God,” he breathed. “He’s mad.”
“SHUT UP.”
“He’s soooo mad.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“I genuinely do.”
Hornkus turned to the Gryffindors helpfully.
“He’s jealous because I pull Reg better than he does.”
The corridor went dead silent.
Even Regulus paused.
Then slowly turned toward Hornkus.
“…What the fuck does that mean.”
Hornkus grinned lazily.
“Means you like me better.”
Barty looked ready to start biting people.
Dorcas was bent over laughing now.
Pandora had tears in her eyes.
Evan was still stealing weed.
Sirius looked one minor inconvenience away from murder.
James finally managed, weakly:
“Regulus.”
Regulus looked over.
“…Yes?”
“Why is your boyfriend named Hornkus Binglefuck.”
Hornkus answered before Regulus could.
“Because God feared my potential.”
“That is the worst sentence I’ve ever heard.”
“Thanks.”
Marlene narrowed her eyes suddenly.
“Wait.”
Everyone looked at her.
She pointed slowly at Hornkus.
“You buy from Aria Parkinson.”
Hornkus gasped dramatically.
“My supplier confidentiality—”
“OH MY GOD YOU DO.”
“Snitch.”
“Aria’s best mate Briar is fit.”
“That’s fair actually.”
“Thank you.”
Hornkus nodded wisely.
“She bites people though.”
Marlene looked delighted.
“Even better.”
Lily pinched the bridge of her nose.
“This entire corridor feels diseased.”
“Aw,” Hornkus said sadly. “That’s mean.”
Then immediately brightened again and tugged Regulus closer by the hips.
Regulus stumbled into him with an annoyed sound.
Hornkus kissed him again instantly.
Right in front of everybody.
Slow.
Messy.
Smirking into it when Regulus bit his lip.
“Fuck,” Hornkus muttered approvingly. “There he is.”
Sirius made a noise like a dying animal.
James covered Peter’s eyes.
“I CAN STILL SEE THROUGH YOUR FINGERS.”
“DON’T LOOK.”
Dorcas was outright howling.
Barty looked moments from spontaneous combustion.
And Regulus Black — calm, elegant, terrifying Regulus Black — just stood there letting Hornkus Binglefuck hold him by the waist in the middle of the corridor while his deranged boyfriend grinned around bitten lips and looked smug enough to ascend.
“Still not gay,” Hornkus announced confidently to the room.
There was a long silence.
Then Remus said flatly:
“You are literally making out with a man.”
Hornkus nodded thoughtfully.
“Yeah, but it’s Regulus.”
As if that explained everything.
Apparently to Hornkus Binglefuck—
it absolutely did.