Chapter Text
Evan Rosier was shit at Potions. He always had been, and likely would remain so.
That’s not to say he wasn’t intelligent. He was. Evan had done his father proud in one area at least. He, with the exception of Regulus Black, was consistently top of his class.
Evan blamed it on the art of it all. Something about the technical aspect of how to correctly crush beetles under the flat of a blade just never quite clicked in his brain. He was used to following instructions, even great at it. Between his Professors, his father, and his friends, Evan had had loads of practice. But, potions needed something more. They needed some instinctual knowledge of how to function around magic ingredients, how to sense the changes in a brew, how to feel what you were doing in a way a book can’t transfer to a mind.
When he signed up for the Advanced Potions class at the end of fifth year, Barty told him he’d gone mad, and Evan was inclined to believe him, but he couldn’t help it. His excuse was that half his mates were in the class, and it wasn’t untrue. Regulus, Dorcas, and even Pandora (the Ravenclaws in his year were scheduled during the same block) had all gotten in. And Barty– well, he was the best of them all, practically a prodigy of the subject, which is one of the reasons that Barty knew Evan was struggling to get by in Potions as it was.
The truth was similar enough to his excuse, and it happened to be the same reason he signed up for the regular Transfiguration class despite never getting below an O from McGonagall: Bartemius Crouch Jr.
Barty was the one that happened to be walking with him at that very moment, heading down into the dungeons he'd been in thousands of times to a class he was in no way qualified to take because…
Honestly, Evan wasn't quite sure that it was just his incessant need to be around Barty. He was already around him so often that it wasn't as if Evan really needed the extra time, but he did want it, and there was- another reason. A reason, not that he signed up for, but one he refused to quit because of. That reason was the chesnut haired, 5'7, genius walking on Barty's other side, her shoulders casually brushing with Barty's own as they walked in step, closer that he dared walk to Barty.
"Slughorn's gotten so mad with his assignments he probably needs a carriage load of betony by now." Barty shrilled.
Emmaline's answering chortle was likely lost in the noise of the crowded hallway, but it echoed loudly in Evan's ears.
It was a potions joke. One Evan didn’t completely understand. He was used to these kinds of things between Barty, Pandora, and Reg, but Emmaline was a newer development for their little group. She and Pandora had been friends for a while, but Evan and Barty had never exchanged more that two or three words with the Ravenclaw before they were in the same Potions class this year. It had been one week of classes and what- they were friends now? At least that's what Barty seemed to think. Dorcas and Pandora were always late, and Regulus had been disappearing consistently all term, so that meant Evan was stuck walking with the two of them as they rattled on about the importance of hemlock, and rose oil, and a thousand other ingredients that flew around like dead leaves in Evan's brain.
He managed to make it to the classroom without saying a single word, Barty and Emmaline were unbothered by his placidity, finally separating from each other as Emmaline moved to sit at her and Pandora's station. Evan dropped his bag at his feet and sat down, immediately pulling out his textbook. He was planning on looking over tips for properly preparing Shrivelfig. That was the ingredient that had ruined his last shrinking potion, earning Slytherin a five point deficit for stinking up the classroom.
Barty was rambling on to him about the paper that was due in a few days, and Evan found himself unable to concentrate on odious paragraphs of knife angles when the melody of Barty Crouch's voice was beating against his skull over and over and over again. So he stared straight down at the diagrams in front of him, fixated on only Barty.
"-when I'll be sleeping, but Cas hasn't started either and it's only 8 inches to write, so I'm sure we can work something out by Thursday. I know you've already started, but you'll come with Reg and I to work on it in the library after he gets out of quidditch tonight, right?"
Evan tried to stumble out an affirmative, but was spared any sort of mess up by Regulus appearing from behind them and moving towards Dorcas' table. "I'm already done with it, so it'll just be the two of you this time."
Barty was incensed. "There's no way, mate! I haven't seen you study all weekend.”
Regulus shrugged at him. "You're not with me all the time."
Evan managed to choke a few words out. "You could say that again." His voice sounded hoarse.
Barty elbowed him in the ribs and whined, "You’re right, he’s never around anymore.” He chuckled a bit, “Bet he's got a girl. They probably study in her common room.”
“You caught me, Bartemius. I’ve been having a torrid affair without your knowledge for weeks now.” He was looking Barty dead in the eye, voice level.
Evan, holding his ribs with his left arm, turned around in his chair and raised an eyebrow. “Well it would explain why you’ve been less of a prat than usual, my dear Reggie.”
Barty grinned so wide it had to hurt, and Regulus just walked away, face flat. Evan turned back to his book with a small smile.
“So you will stay with me as I try to write the essay, right?” Evan didn’t bother to reply, and Barty didn’t bother to pause. “I’ll look over yours of course, but I’ll never get a thing done if I’m there alone, and I’d better start tonight because McGonagall's course load is already destroying me, and I barely got through last year's class with her. Which is sad because I even had you writing half of- Oh bloody hell…I forgot my quill again. I must’ve left it in the common room. Evs, you got an-?
He shut up as soon as he turned over to look straight at Evan, who was already holding out an extra quill to Barty and pretending to still be deeply invested in the shrivelfig passage.
Barty grabbed for the quill, his calluses brushing against Evan's knuckles. Evan liked to pretend that the touch was lingering, that it was soft and intentional and thought out, but that wasn’t how Barty touched. It was absent minded, quick but no less wonderful to Evan. Barty loved to touch. He didn’t think about it as anything particularly odd to be affectionate. He wasn’t so…aware of his body. Evan was very aware of touch, of bodies, of Barty.
“Thanks.” Barty was quiet after that, blissfully removing Evan’s mind from the constant struggle between reading and wanting to give Barty his unadulterated attention.
~~~~~
Slughorn's lecture was one of the worst yet. Evan took notes. He was neat. He was thorough. He did the kinds of things that would have got him through any other classes with little to no trouble. However, by the time the practical part of the class started, and of course todays potion was individual, so he didn’t have Barty’s skill on his side, Evan was absolutely hopeless.
He finished the two hours (double potions was a nightmare) with a less than wonderful draught, but his furious work and obvious observation of Barty helped it not be so awful as to draw attention to him. Barty had also adjusted the heat on his cauldron four times with his wand under the table, likely saving his ass. Evan would thank Barty later, but it was the kind of behavior that was becoming a trend for them.
Emmaline, thank Merlin, did not leave with Barty and Evan today, instead walking with Pandora and Xenophilius to the Ravenclaw common room. Dorcas and Regulus, however, did.
The four of them walked out past the greenhouses to a small grove of birch trees behind the castle. It had become a special place for the group of Slytherin’s in fourth year when they would sneak out to smoke muggle cigarettes. They used to buy them from Remus Lupin, who was in the same year and house as Dorcas’ girlfriend, Marlene. They quit smoking after Remus stopped selling, but they never quit coming out here together.
It was a warm September day, cloudless for the first time since the term began, and, as Evan sat down, bag at his feet and back to one of the trees, he found himself tipping his head up towards the sun and sighing in satisfaction.
“You’d think he was some sort of vampire the way he craves any sort of light.” Dorcas muttered, not quiet in the slightest.
“He is pale as a sickly house elf.” Barty replied, sitting down next to Evan, and immediately pulling out an apple to snack on.
“As if you can talk, you’re barely darker than he is.” Dorcas retorted.
Regulus sat across from the two, a muggle book open between his thumb. And Dorcas lay down between the three of them, head on their backpack and dark curls thrown over their shoulder.
“Sorry we can’t all have loads of melanin, Cas, but I’ll have you know that vampirism is a honest struggle, and I think we should support Evan if that’s what he requires from us.”
“Fuck off, Crouch, I’m not that pale.” Evan grabbed Barty’s apple and took a bite.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no one brings any garlic back to our dorm, Evs.” Barty smirked at him, “Can’t have our favorite little bloodsucker worrying for his health.”
“If you so much as mention a crucifix, I’ll make you my first victim.”
Dorcas sat up, one hand over their eyes, the other one holding them upright in the grass. “We could take a little trip to Romania over break, maybe get back in touch with your roots?”
Evan kicked their ankle, not too gently. They grunted in pain, but remained far too self-satisfied for Evan’s taste. He lifted his chin in indignation. “At least I’ll outlive you lot if I’m a vampire.”
“Not necessarily.” Regulus said without looking up. He seemed to be reading, but continued on as if he could sense the raised eyebrows coming from the other three. “Amarillo Lestoat only lived to 201, but Armando Dippet is well over 300 by now, and he’s a wizard. One of us could easily outlive you, Rosier.”
“I’m not a sodding vampire, Black!”
Barty burst into laughter, Dorcas joining him, and laying back down on their bookbag. Regulus did not look up, but smiled down at his book regardless. He had smiled more in the past week than Evan had seen him smile in years, and that was rare after a full summer spent in his parents’ house.
Despite his angry outburst, Evan smiled too, putting his arm out of Barty’s reach as he tried to snatch his apple back.
~~~~~
They didn’t go inside until Reg, Barty, and Evan were nearly late for Advanced Charms with the Hufflepuffs. Dorcas had Muggle Studies, which was an easy O with them having grown up in Muggle school until age 11 and having a Muggle father.
Regulus begged off to ‘grab something from the common room,’ and Barty and Evan meandered over to their classroom as slowly as humanly possible, discussing their beliefs on Regulus’ imaginary new girlfriend.
“I bet she’s older than him for sure, he’s got to have both daddy and mummy issues by this point.” Barty said. His tone was all seriousness, but his smile hadn’t dimmed the whole walk from the birch grove.
Evan pretended to think it through. “Well, if she’s a seventh year, I’m going to have to assume she would be Head Girl, and probably on the quidditch team too.”
“Oh, absolutely!” Barty stopped in his tracks, pivoting ninety degrees and grabbing Evan’s wrist to jerk him back. “He would fall in love with an overachiever, our Reggie.”
It honestly didn’t sound far off to Evan. Reg had a mischievous streak that was completely unmanageable, but he also kept great grades, constantly practiced quidditch, and he happened to be the most well read person Evan had ever met. Regulus probably could have been a prefect if he wanted to. The only thing that didn’t add up was that Evan had never seen Regulus so much as show interest in a girl in the six years they had roomed together.
Evan looked back at Barty, whose green eyes were staring up at him, mischievous and absolutely, heart-shatteringly gorgeous.
Evan shrugged. “Well he can’t be dating Lily Evans because I’m pretty sure she and James Potter are dating, so Head Girl is out.”
“Ok…” Barty hummed to himself and began walking again. Evan jolted at the sudden movement, and jogged for a few strides to catch up. Barty continued, “So it’s gotta be a seventh year quidditch player then. He’s addicted to flying– wouldn’t work if he dated someone that didn’t also love it.”
Evan honestly wasn’t sure if they were still joking, but he was good at overinvesting himself in his friends’ love lives, so he didn’t really care. “Oh, I can make a list…”
“You do love your lists more than anything, my dear Evan.”
Evan blushed a bit, but didn’t bother to argue with him. In fact, he was rendered completely incapable of speech because at that moment Barty threw his arm around Evan’s shoulder, continuing to saunter towards the classroom.
He didn’t talk much for the rest of the walk, which didn’t matter, Barty was perfectly capable of making due with very little participation from others in any given conversation. Evan was content to be there, Barty’s arm around him and voice enveloping him, for as long as he could.
He did, however, step out from under Barty’s embrace upon hearing a familiar voice ring out.
“Oy Rosy, late again?”
The familiar voice was connected to the familiar body of Alastor Moody, a seventh year Hufflepuff that should not have been anywhere near the charms hall right now.
“What do you want, Alastor?” Evan bit out.
Barty looked at him, clearly confused by his quick escape from Barty’s arms, but Evan didn’t meet his eyes. He looked at Alastor instead. His red-brown hair had grown longer and more unkempt over the summer, now reaching below his shoulders. His brown eyes darted between him and Barty before narrowing in on Evan suspiciously.
“I’m minding my own business here, Evan .” Alastor practically spat the name. “I just dropped off my girlfriend for her charms class, which I happen to know started ten minutes ago.”
Barty, used to Alastor’s hostility, pushed Evan towards the classroom, and looked back at Moody with a sneer. “If you know her schedule so well, I’m sure you know where your own class is, so why don’t you go sod off, huh?”
Evan kept his head down, walking in as Barty followed him. He didn’t hear Alastor’s reply, but Barty’s inhale likely meant it was a jab at himself.
Barty was well aware that Moody hated Evan by this point, but Evan obviously couldn’t tell him why.
It didn’t matter. Alastor didn’t matter. He would be alright because Barty was sitting down with Evan in the back of the class. Barty, with his concerned pout, and his hand on Evan’s forearm, and his legs pressed up against Evan's under the desk. That was all that Evan could want for anyway.