Archive of Our Own

Evan Rosier has never been a huge fan of the holiday season.

It has nothing to do with Christmas itself. Sure, Evan doesn’t really get the point of the holiday, but he doesn’t see anything wrong or dumb about celebrating it. It makes people happy, it seems, so he assumes it’s an alright tradition. It’s just that well…

He’s a Rosier.

The Rosiers aren’t the type to celebrate the holidays, not really. The first of December never brought any cheer or love–his house always lacked the certain holiday spirit everyone else seemed to be so familiar with. The holiday season has always consisted of an empty house, bare walls, and itchy shirt collars when Evan had to inevitably dress up to attend the Black family’s yearly Christmas ball with his family.

The ball was never all that bad if he’s honest. It usually only took two hours before the adults were too pissed to keep a reign on their children, so Evan, Pandora, Regulus, and Sirius could sneak off to run around deserted halls–pulling down the picture-esque decorations as they went.
The older he got, though, the more his dislike for the season grew. The ball became harder to attend every year–starting not long before Sirius left. As they got older, the expectations placed upon them became harder to ignore and the roles they had to fill became impossible to avoid.
Evan doesn’t remember the year he, Pandora, and Regulus suddenly weren’t kids anymore and were instead simply heirs–or in Pandora's case, a future wife and political pawn. There was no more sneaking off nor running around; they had a role to play and specific rules to follow, there was no changing that.

Well, there was. Sirius demonstrated that by running away, as did Regulus who followed suit around two years after. Evan and Pandora couldn’t run away, though. Their situations, though similar, were different. Evan is still heir, still expected to marry a woman and have kids. Pandora is still expected to be married off to strengthen ties with other pure-blood families. The Rosier twins are still stuck in a home devoid of love and warmth.

So, yes, maybe it’s a little hard to stop the bitterness from flooding him every time he walks the halls of his school and sees all the decorations up–decorations that seem to multiply by the day. It’s difficult to not feel jealousy and envy over the students he hears talk about their upcoming holiday plans with their friends and family; it’s difficult to not feel a sense of longing when witnessing friends and couples be so blatantly happy together over the season, finding joy in the cheer surrounding them and others.

Maybe Evan doesn’t hate the holidays. Maybe he just hates that he doesn’t know how to enjoy them.

Pandora is waiting for them when Evan and Regulus make their way out of the dungeons.

“Good morning, my loves!” Pandora greets them, meeting them halfway and swooping in to press quick kisses against both of their cheeks. Regulus mutters a quiet greeting of his own, a small smile flitting briefly across his lips before vanishing again as he eyes their surroundings.

“Morning, Pans,” Evan responds as he reaches out to gently squeeze her arm. “Eating with us today?”

Pandora hums in response and nods her head, quiet tinkling filling the space between them as her movement jostles the bells hanging from her ears and braids. “Sybil is driving me a bit insane,” she explains, rolling her eyes a bit as she turns to start walking towards the Great Hall. “If I have to sit with her during breakfast, I’ll either strangle her or myself.”

Evan snorts, shaking his head fondly as he and Regulus move to walk with her. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.” Regulus hums his agreement from beside Evan.

“So, no Barty today?” Pandora asks, eyeing Evan in question.

Evan shakes his head. “Not sure where he is, at the moment. He wasn’t in the room when we woke up.”

Evan tries not to frown, he really does, but Barty’s absence this morning had left a hole in his morning routine and a pit in his stomach. He’s so used to waking the boy up and dragging him out of bed to get ready with him. Regulus is usually fully awake and dressed for the day by the time Evan wakes up, so it’s usually Barty he brushes his teeth with and checks Evan’s braids to make sure they’re still looking neat. It’s Barty who does his hair in their loo while Evan sits on the counter, filling their morning with banter and laughter. It’s Barty who always needs help with his tie and it’s Evan who helps him with it.

This morning, Evan woke up to Regulus quietly reading in his bed and no Barty. Evan brushed his teeth alone, asked Regulus to look at his braids, and finished getting ready way faster than normal. It left him feeling a bit hollow and disappointed–like his whole day was thrown off by the change in routine.

He doesn’t say any of that, of course. He’d rather throw up his own organs than deal with the embarrassment of admitting any of that out loud to his sister and Regulus.

It’s not like he needs to say it anyway. Pandora nods her head knowingly and reaches over to loop her arm through his, squeezing it in a clear effort to comfort him. He appreciates it, though he doesn’t really think it’s necessary.

“Quit pouting,” Regulus huffs, squinting his eyes at Evan. “I’m sure he’ll be at the table when we get there.”

“I’m not–” Evan begins to indignantly squawk.

“You are,” Regulus cuts in. He rolls his eyes, though he seems more amused than annoyed. “You have been all morning. It’s exhausting to witness, you know. You two are way too codependent.”

Evan huffs in offense, frowning at his friend. “We are not codependent.”

“You are,” Regulus and Pandora reply, voices overlapping as they speak at the same time.

“He’s my friend,” Evan grumbles, stubbornly looking away from them. “Sue me for worrying when he’s not where he should be.”

Regulus snorts. “Right, but you don’t worry like this about me when you wake up and I’m not in the dorm.”

“I just assume you spent the night with Potter,” Evan shrugs. He’s completely sincere when he says it, not trying to tease Regulus at all–though it is amusing to watch his pale face turn red at his words.

“That’s exactly my point, though,” Regulus sighs, running a hand down his face in blatant exasperation. “When I’m not there, you immediately fill in the blanks. You assume I slept somewhere else and that I’ll be at breakfast.”

“Right well,” Evan opens his mouth, cutting himself off and closing it before opening it again. “Barty doesn’t sleep anywhere else.”

“That’s not true, is it though? It’s Barty, he sleeps with people all the time,” Pandora muses, not unkindly.

“Yes, I’m aware he sleeps with people,” Evan snaps. Oh, he’s very aware. It’s been a well-known fact since fourth year that, though Evan wishes to, he can’t ignore. Every time he’s reminded, a vicious wave of something fills his gut. He doesn’t like it–doesn’t like speaking about it or thinking about it. He doesn’t necessarily like talking about any of his friend’s sex lives, mainly because he can’t relate, but talking about Barty’s specifically is his least favorite thing to do. “He doesn’t sleep anywhere else, though,” Evan continues after a moment, frowning. “He always sleeps in the dorm.”

Neither Regulus nor Pandora says anything for a moment because they know it’s true. Barty always sleeps in the dorm. The unspoken acknowledgment that Barty always wakes up to be with Evan sits between them, heavy in their minds as their thoughts wander. Barty has gotten ready with Evan in the mornings every day since first year when they became best friends and dormmates. From the moment they were both sorted into Slytherin and Barty practically threw himself into the spot next to Evan, they’ve been each other’s best friend–each other’s priority.

“A hat stall!” all five feet of dark messy hair, pale soft skin, and sharp brown eyes says, plopping himself in the spot beside Evan. “Two minutes! The hat stalled for two bloody minutes!”

“The hat stalled on my sister too,” Evan finds himself responding, blushing as he looks down at his plate of food.

“I know!” the boy exclaims excitedly, practically bouncing in his seat. “Yours stalled longer, though. Did it tell you what other house it was trying to decide between?”

“Probably Ravenclaw like Pandora,” Regulus pipes up across from Evan. Evan kicks him, earning a scowl. Evan retaliates with a glare.

The boy hums, ignorant to the sudden intense stare-off going down beside him. “Well, I’m glad it went with Slytherin.” The boy shoves his hand out into Evan’s space, grin wide and crooked. “I’m Barty.”

“I know,” Evan responds before he can swallow the words, face flushing even warmer as he stares at Barty with wide eyes. “I mean I–”

“Know who my father is?” Barty asks, his grin twisting into a grimace as he drops his hand. “I’m sure you do. Lucky for you, you get to know me too.”

“Oh, do I?” Evan asks, arching an eyebrow at him in amusement. This boy…

“Yup,” Barty responds with confidence, leaning so close to Evan that their noses nearly touch. “We’re going to be best friends, Rosier.”

“Evan,” Evan corrects, eyes flitting down to watch Barty’s lips curve into a wider smile.

“Evan,” Barty nods, leaning away with a wink before reaching out to pile food on his plate.

Evan snaps back to the present as Regulus gently knocks his shoulder into Evan’s, face soft as he looks at him. “Like I said, mate, he’ll be at breakfast.”

“Right,” Evan sighs, closing his eyes for a moment as Pandora pulls him along.

Except, when they reach the Great Hall, Barty isn’t at the Slytherin table–or any of the other tables. Evan tries to not let that worry him.

“Good morning,” Dorcas greets, barely looking up from the Daily Prophet in her hands as Evan and Regulus slide in across from her–Pandora taking the spot beside her. “You’re earlier than usual today. Didn’t know Barty could wake up this early.”

“He can’t,” Regulus responds dryly, already filling his plate with food.

At this, Dorcas looks up, her eyebrows furrowed as she notices the distinct lack of Barty Crouch Jr. next to Evan. “Oh, where is he?”

“We’re not sure,” Pandora sighs, leaning her head against Dorcas’ shoulder.

“Wait, you don’t know?” Dorcas asks, sounding completely baffled as she turns to stare straight at Evan. “You don’t know where Barty is?”

“He wasn’t in the dorm when we woke up,” Evan grumbles, staring down at his empty plate.

Dorcas frown deepens on her face, tilting her head a bit. “Well then…”

They lapse into silence after that, unsure what to say without Barty’s constant stream of chatter. Evan stares at his plate a while longer until Regulus makes a displeased noise and swipes the plate out from under him. He looks up to see Regulus filling his plate for him, grumbling as he goes. Despite it all, Evan finds himself smiling fondly at his friend.

Students begin to trickle in slowly, claiming spots at tables and filling the air with warmth and chatter as the castle slowly wakes up. Every time someone new walks in, Evan finds himself whipping his head around to see who it is.

So far, no Barty.

This time, when Evan whips his head around, it’s James Potter he sees, flanked by Remus Lupin, a dead-on-his-feet Peter Pettigrew, and an even deader-on-his-feet Sirius Black. His face lights up as his eyes land on the Slytherin table and he takes only a moment to say something to Remus before he’s bounding over in their direction.

He comes to a stop beside Regulus, donning a gross, mushy look on his face as he does so. He leans down to press a kiss against Regulus’ head and then to his cheek, his smile wide and blinding.

“Morning, love,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to Regulus’ cheek. “You’re here before me today.”

Regulus fails to hide his smile, practically beaming up at his boyfriend like he’s hung the sun, moon, and stars with just seven words. “Morning, James.”

James makes quick work of sliding into the spot next to Regulus and Regulus leans into him immediately, melting against him like habit. “Morning Pandora, Dorcas,” smiling at the girls across the table, who chime back with greetings of their own. He turns to look at Evan. “Morning–”

James stops himself, his smile faltering as his eyes seem to take in the empty spot next to Evan. He stares for a moment–two, three–before shaking his head and plastering the smile back on his face. “Morning, Evan. Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without Barty.”

Evan grimaces a bit, even though James’ words aren’t unkind. He and Barty are typically glued at the hip a bit. They always have been.

Regulus snorts, turning his head to grin at Evan triumphantly. “Codependent.”

“Oh, don’t you start,” Evan grumbles, pushing his food around with his fork miserably.

“I wouldn’t say you’re codependent,” James says thoughtfully, stealing a piece of bacon from Regulus’ plate. “You’re just…close. Nothing wrong with that.”

Evan flashes his own triumphant grin at Regulus. “Thank you, Potter.”

Regulus scowls and plucks the piece of bacon right out of James’ hand, resulting in an indignant squawk from the older boy. “Stop being nice to my friends. You know damn well Evan and Barty are codependent.”

James shrugs, his smile sheepish now. “I can’t really judge, Reg. Sirius and I practically share everything, including a brain. My mum didn’t raise me to be a hypocrite.”

Dorcas snorts across from them despite the fact she’s been buried in her Daily Prophet since James sat down.

Pandora hums, a wide smile brightening her face as she shakes her head. “I’m not sure we should compare Evan and Barty with you and Sirius, James.”

She gives Evan a knowing look which earns her a kick. Pandora kicks him back, though. Hard. He does a poor job of concealing his wince.

James frowns as he looks between the two twins, his confusion clear on his face. “Why not? They’re best friends; Sirius and I are best friends. I thought it was a fair comparison.”

Regulus pats his arm gently, huffing a soft laugh into his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You’re not wrong but you’re also not right. Don’t think about it too hard, James.” At this, Evan kicks Regulus, hard and pointed. “Oi!”

“All of you should learn how to shut up,” Evan grumbles, burying his head in his hands, defeated.

“We don’t even have to say anything. You’re very obvious, babe,” Dorcas laughs. “Potter is just extremely oblivious.”

“Sometimes you guys are so mean, you know that?” James grumbles, audibly pouting.

“You’re dating Regulus,” Dorcas points out, her tone light. “You chose mean.”

“Yeah,” comes James’ overly soft reply, tone warm and gooey, “yeah I did.”

Evan dramatically gags into his palms, burying himself deeper into the warmth of his own skin. He’s quite content to make a home there if he’s honest. Well, he was, until he’s jostled as someone suddenly plops into the spot beside him.

“Why are you hiding in your hands?” an all too familiar voice whispers in his ear, warm breath tickling his neck and causing his skin to break out into gooseflesh.

Evan snaps up, swiveling his head around to come face-to-face with Barty Crouch Jr. He’s relieved–of course he is. The relief is crashing over him like a wave as his eyes scan the boy in front of him. He looks alright–sleep rumpled and tired, his tie noticeably undone and messily thrown over his shoulders, sure, but he’s alright.

Once he has determined Barty is unharmed, Evan scowls and kicks Barty, leaning away to glare at him.

“Oi! What was that for?” Barty whines, reaching down to rub at his shin.

For worrying me, Evan doesn’t say. “Where have you been, Barty?” Evan hisses instead, ignoring Barty’s question.

Barty winces, his face riddled with guilt and what Evan thinks may be an apology. “You’re not going to believe me.”

Evan just hums, raising an eyebrow as he waits for Barty to continue. They stare each other down for a moment, their friends silent around them as they wait for the answer as well.

Finally, Barty sighs, slouching his shoulders. “The library.”

Evan just stares at him for a moment, waiting for his best friend to flash a smile at him or break out into laughter. After a minute of quiet, Evan nods and turns back to his food. “You’re right; I don’t believe you.”

Barty quickly leans into his space, tugging on the sleeve of his robe to regain his attention. “Evs I’m serious,” Barty insists, sighing again.

“Since when do you go to the library?” Evan retorts, keeping his gaze stubbornly on his food.

Dorcas and Regulus–who, along with Pandora and James, are currently looking anywhere but at them as they listen to their conversation–both snort.

“Since I was told I’m dangerously close to failing potions,” Barty huffs, clearly annoyed at having to admit this with an audience.

This gets Evan’s full attention. He’s unable to stop himself from turning back to Barty, his eyebrows raised to his hairline. “You’re failing potions?”

“Nearly,” Barty clarifies weakly, averting eye contact. “I’d rather like to avoid the future lecture from my dad, so I tried to study.”

Evan cracks a small smile. “You fell asleep, didn’t you?”

“I fell asleep,” Barty confirms, equal parts sheepish and resigned.

Evan chuckles, feeling the tension finally leave his body at the confirmation that Barty didn’t sleep over with someone after all. “I can help you study, you know.”

“Really?” Barty asks, looking so hopeful Evan can feel his heart flip in his chest.

“Of course, idiot,” Evan rolls his eyes, bumping Barty’s shoulder with his own. “Just come with me to study with Reg, Lily, and Remus.”

“Lily is really good with potions,” James pipes up from where he’s curled around Regulus. “She could also help you, if you need.”

“She’s the only reason he even passed potions,” Regulus snorts, smiling into James’ hair.

“I–” James stops, sighing, resigned. “I want to argue but you’re right.”

“Always am,” Regulus agrees, and James, of course, hums in agreement. Evan and Barty share a quick eye roll, miming gagging as Regulus flips them off.

“You’re all ridi–” Dorcas starts, quickly trailing off as she looks up at Evan and Barty.

“What?” Evan asks, exchanging a look with Barty as Dorcas continues to just stare at them with wide eyes.

“Dorcas? Are you alright?” Pandora asks, looking at the girl beside her with furrowed brows, concern lacing her tone.

“Pans, look at them,” Dorcas urges, inclining her head at Evan and Barty.

Pandora blinks at her before slowly turning to look at them. When she does, though, her eyes widen too. Slowly, ever so slowly, a wide smile spreads across her face–the whites of her teeth a stark contrast against her dark skin. She looks thrilled.

“Oh! Oh, well isn’t that something!” Pandora crows, her smile somehow widening further around her words.

The glee in her tone gets Regulus and James to unwind enough to look over at Evan and Barty. James' eyes widen almost comically as Regulus just stares at them, tilting his head a bit.

“Huh,” is all he says, continuing to just peer at them in silence.

“Oh! Is that why…?” James turns to Pandora, his eyebrows raised into his mess of brown hair. “That’s why the comparison was wrong?”

Pandora just nods, bells tinkling.

“What are you all on about?” Barty asks, eyes bouncing between the faces of their friends around them.

Evan makes eye contact with his sister, letting his face ask the same question. Pandora just smiles wider and nods her head upwards, eyes crinkling now with silent laughter.

Evan blinks at her for a few moments before he gives in, dread settling in his stomach as he lifts his head, chin tilting up and eyes searching and–

Oh.

…

Oh.

Oh no.

“Oh,” Evan breathes, softly, quietly, unable to tear his eyes away.

“Evs?” Barty asks, concern evident in his voice. Evan’s mouth is too dry to respond, though. He just keeps staring. “Evan, what is it?”

Don’t look up. Oh, please don’t look up.

Don’t look up don’t look up don’t look up.

Barty, of course, looks up.

“Oh,” he says, his voice completely blank. “Is that…is that mistletoe?”

Under different circumstances, Evan would laugh at how dumb of a question that really is.

Evan doesn’t laugh. “Yes, appears so.”

“Right,” Barty agrees. “Why?”

Evan’s eyes snap to Barty’s face, violently ripping away from the plant hanging above their heads. “Why?”

Barty furrows his eyebrows at him. “Yeah? Why? Where did it even come from?”

Evan just stares at him, completely dumbfounded.

“You…don’t…know?” Regulus asks slowly, sounding just as astounded as Evan feels.

“Don’t know what?” Barty asks, confused. Confused, confused, confused.

“Oh, wow,” Dorcas mutters across from them, a quiet hysterical chuckle slipping past her lips.

“Evs? What am I missing?” Barty asks, sounding more desperate as Evan just continues to stare at him.

“Rumor has it…” Pandora starts, her tone still gleeful yet clearly more cautious now. Don’t say it, Evan silently pleads, squeezing his shaking hands into fists. Please don’t say it.

“The rumor is that Hogwarts has a…unique habit of summoning mistletoe to hang between the heads of people with unspoken affection,” Pandora finally says, bells jingling around her. “Specifically during the last week before hols break.”

“Unspoken affection?” Barty asks quietly, eyebrows furrowed as he stares at Pandora.

“Unspoken affection, hidden feelings, unresolved tension. However you want to phrase it,” Pandora confirms.

“Oh,” Barty says quietly, sitting still for a moment as he seemingly lets the words set in. Suddenly, his eyes snap to Evan’s, so many emotions swimming around in his dark irises that Evan can’t distinguish nor even attempt to make sense of. “Oh.”

The room feels too loud. It’s suddenly way too hot, the air around him completely stifling as he struggles to take in a breath. He feels pinned in place by Barty’s stare, unable to move as painfully familiar dark eyes bore into his blue ones. He feels exposed, naked, seen.

He needs out. He needs the last five minutes to be erased. He needs to go back and shove Pandora’s words back into her mouth. He needs to get away from the eyes of his friends. He needs Barty to stop looking at him like that. He needs to hide.

He needs, needs, needs.

“Evan?” Regulus asks, breaking the silence that could’ve been going on for seconds or minutes. Evan doesn’t know how long he and Barty have been staring at each other; he doesn’t care.

He needs, needs, needs.

Whoever said brown eyes are boring has clearly never been on the receiving end of Barty Crouch Jr.’s stare. His eyes are brown–dark, dark brown. Most people when describing someone’s brown eyes would compare them to chocolate, caramel, the earth, even cinnamon. Maybe they’d describe the way they light up when the sun hits them or talk about the golden flecks that swim around in the pools of amber.

None of that accurately captures the effect of Barty’s eyes. Barty’s eyes are deep; they’re dark as obsidian. They may as well be black, pupils indistinguishable from his irises.

Barty’s eyes are voids. They hold so much emotion and thought in them, but they’re also black holes. If Evan was foolish enough, he’d insist Barty’s eyes were designed with the intent of sucking him in, holding him where Barty wants him. His eyes don’t shine in the sun; they don’t have gold flecks that sparkle like the light; his eyes aren’t chocolate or caramel or cinnamon.

They’re space. They’re full of the stars and moon and nebulas and all that space shit Regulus has always gone on and on about.

Barty Crouch Jr.’s eyes are captivating and capable of holding Evan Rosier without trying.

And oh are they holding him right now. He can’t move, can’t look away, can’t breathe. He’s drowning in the dark.

The dark that holds him so, so gently.

So, so tightly.

Evan can’t think properly when Barty looks at him like that–like he’s worth looking at. Like he’s not disappointed that there’s nothing there but Evan when he sees him.

Evan can’t think. So maybe that’s why he scrambles back from the table, nearly falling out of his seat as he rushes to get away. Away from the concern of his friends and the chatter of the students around him and the stare of the boy he adores more than life.

Away, away, away.

Evan runs away.

When Evan was little, he had a habit of hiding in small spaces. Every time he got overwhelmed or upset, he’d run away in search of the best hiding spot–a place where he could curl up into himself; somewhere he could get as small as possible until he calmed down. Until the storm passed or his parents stopped yelling or his dad grew bored of hurting him.

He’d find a wardrobe, the underside of a bed in a random guest room, the space under the staircase, a shelf-less cabinet, any concealed space in his house, and he’d crawl in. He’d squeeze his knees up to his chest, bury his head down into them, and wrap his arms around his body until the shaking eventually stopped.

He’d sit there and breathe. He’d listen to the sounds of his family, maids, and house elves searching for him. He’d count down in his head from the highest number he could think of to keep his mind distracted and busy. He’d think about what it’d be like to take his sister and just leave it all behind. He’d entertain the idea of running away, of being disowned, of leaving his parents without an heir.

Hiding gave him a lot of time to himself–a lot of time to be with his thoughts and feelings, and a lot of time to figure them out and understand them. He was eleven and hiding under a bed when he determined he didn’t have a crush on Cercie Greengrass like his parents expected him to. He was twelve and squished between boxes down in the basement when he came to the conclusion he’s never felt any sort of feelings for girls and that he doesn’t want to. He was twelve and curled up under the stairs when he realized he may have those types of feelings for boys–that he may have even had a crush on Sirius Black back before any of them had any real idea of what it meant to be a Rosier or a Black. He was thirteen and stashed away in a classroom cupboard when he knew he needed to break up with Cercie.

He was fourteen and in a wardrobe when he admitted to himself that he wasn’t interested in sex. He had no desire for it, no need for it. He didn’t get that specific type of feeling Regulus and Barty had told him about. He didn’t understand why Barty was interested in shagging people, what he could possibly find enjoyable about it, nor did he understand the certain fantasies Regulus had once admitted he had for a certain dark-skinned boy with messy brown hair, crooked glasses, and sunshine in his smile. If anything, he was averse to it all. He didn’t mind his friends talking about it–though he did make a point to cover his ears and childishly shout la la la I can’t hear you whenever Pandora tried talking to him about whatever boy or girl she was currently seeing. The idea of him even trying to do any of that made him ill. He understood holding someone's hand and kissing them and the appeal of going on dates and all that romantic stuff that Pandora and Dorcas were obsessed with, but anything involving the removal of pants made Evan’s stomach churn with unease and disgust.

He was also fourteen when he, for the first time, admitted to himself that he had feelings for his best friend.

That particular discovery he had shoved down into the farthest corner of his brain, forcing it into a box labeled Problem For Future Self, and then deciding to never look at it again.

That worked about as well as you’d expect.

The point is, that Evan likes to hide. He has always hid. It’s what he does.

Pandora, on the other hand, has a certain knack for seeking. She finds things faster than anyone else–Regulus’ overdue library book he’d misplaced, Barty’s wand every time he sets it down somewhere and it rolls away, Dorcas’ reading glasses she always forgets she even has.

Unfortunately, this special talent for finding hidden or lost things includes Evan as well. She’s always found him. He suspects she purposely gives him some time to himself before she searches him out, but in the end, she always appears.

He’ll be under a bed and suddenly her face will be peering under the piece of furniture, squinting at him with a wide smile as her blonde braids brush against the ground. He’ll be curled up in a wardrobe and she’ll suddenly open the door and climb right in next to him. He’ll be hidden under the stairs as she starts to climb the steps, only to freeze, backtrack, and crouch down to peek at him through the wooden slabs.

Evan hides and Pandora seeks. That’s how it’s always worked. So Evan isn’t at all surprised when his sister finds him in an empty classroom, curled up under a desk with his head between his knees.

“Found you!” Pandora announces softly, crouching down next to him to poke at him. “You’ve been hiding for over an hour, you know.”

Evan grumbles at her without lifting his head, content to stay pressed against his own skin even though his breathing evened out a while ago and his tailbone started aching even longer before.

She’s silent for a moment before humming and shuffling around, the sound of the bells in her braids filling the once-quiet space. Evan wishes he had it in him to be annoyed over it, but really the sound of her and her bells is comforting. Relaxing, even.

“James is worried about you,” Pandora finally says, catching Evan completely off guard.

Evan tentatively lifts his head up, peering at her through squinted eyes. She’s on the floor now too, squished up under the desk in front of his own. It’s funny, for such a small person, she looks like she barely fits there. Maybe it’s because to him Pandora has always been big. Everything about her is big–her personality, her laugh, her eyes, her smile, her love. She’s bright and loud and unapologetically herself. She’s full of curiosity, endless knowledge, unconditional support, and boundless love.

Pandora was always the person he thought of as his soulmate. Regulus is the brother he didn’t have the privilege to be born with, Dorcas is his metaphorical partner in crime, Barty is…everything, but Pandora is his other half. She always has been and always will be.

He’s endlessly thankful she’s his twin. He couldn’t have asked for a better sister.

“Potter is?” Evan finally asks, his voice coming out a lot rougher than he expected it to.

“Oh yeah,” Pandora nods seriously, flashing him a small smile. “I don’t think he’s seen you be anything other than calm before. Regulus had to keep him from running after you.”

“I’ll never understand how Potter wormed his way in,” Evan chuckles weakly, smiling despite himself. He really does adore James against all odds. He makes Regulus happy and he’s just so good–it’s a little unfair how difficult it is to dislike him.

“Spoke to us once and latched on like vines,” Pandora agrees, laughing as she taps the vines she currently has drawn on her left arm. The white ink moves around her skin, winding and wrapping around her arm, stretching up past her elbows. He doesn’t remember when she first started drawing on her skin; he just remembers how much he’s always loved her drawings.

“He really grows on people,” Evan nods. They lapse into silence as they look at each other, the light streaming through the windows glinting off Pandora’s eyes and the bells in her hair. He waits to see if she’ll break the silence.

She doesn’t.

She just watches him thoughtfully, eyes scanning his face, waiting.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Evan has never liked waiting. “What did Barty do?”

Pandora smiles, clearly pleased that he spoke first. “Do?”

Evan huffs, averting his eyes. “Yeah. After I…”

“After you ran away?” Pandora asks, the humor evident in her voice.

“Yes,” Evan grumbles begrudgingly. “After I ran away.”

Pandora hums, shifting her legs around so they stick out in the space between them. “He stared off after you for a while. It seemed like he was lost in thought honestly, but who knows what goes on in that head of his.”

A startled laugh slips past his lips, nodding in agreement because yeah, Barty’s brain is a bit of a mystery. Even to him.

“He snapped out of it, though. Tried to run after you to go find you, but we convinced him to give you time.” Pandora chews on her lip as she traces the vines on her arms. “And to eat breakfast.”

Evan groans, head falling back down to rest against his knees. “I ruined breakfast.”

Pandora snorts. “You didn’t ruin anything. Don’t be silly.”

“No, I did. I made things weird and then ran away.” Evan pops his head up and widens his eyes in horror. “Oh Merlin, I ran away. Why did I do that?”

“You’ve never been very good with feelings,” Pandora reminds him gently. “Especially not when caught off guard,” Pandora holds up one of her fingers, “and when surrounded by people,” she finishes, holding up a second finger.

“I think you stole all the emotional maturity while in the womb,” Evan declares miserably, running his hands down his face.

“Maybe,” Pandora agrees. After a moment she reaches out and takes his hands from his face, lacing their fingers together and holding them in the space between them. “You’re going to hate what I’m about to say.”

“I’m sure I will,” Evan nods. He sighs and lets his shoulders slump, forcing himself to meet her eyes head-on. “Alright, hit me.”

Pandora smiles and gives his hands a quick squeeze. He squeezes back.

“You need to go talk to him.”

“You were right,” Evan sighs again, dropping his head forward. “I did hate that.”

“Told you so,” Pandora teases, jostling their hands around until he lifts his head again. “I’m serious Evan. You can’t keep shoving this to the side, love, especially not now.” She takes a breath tilting her head a bit as she looks at him. “You two have been tip-toeing around each other for years now, you know? Even before you acknowledged your feelings. You two were so frustrated with how emotionally stunted Regulus was when it came to James before they got together, but you guys are so much worse.”

Evan starts to protest but stops as she jostles their hands around again, shaking her head and rustling the bells. “No, you are. You both choose to look the other way when at risk of having to confront the fact you’re head over heels for one another. It’s hard to watch, Evan.”

“He’s not ‘head over heels’ for me, Pans,” Evan says, rolling his eyes.

“No, he is. Somewhere in that brain of yours you know it. You’re aware the dynamic between you two has gone so far beyond ‘just friends,’ and that it’s been like that for years now.”

“Pans–”

“No, stop that!” Pandora interrupts. Evan slams his jaw shut immediately. If Pandora raises her voice at you, you listen. “I see the way he looks at you. Regulus and Dorcas see how he looks at you. I know damn well you do as well.”

Evan blinks at her before his face crumples, all his emotions hitting him at once.

All his yearning. Hope, frustration, love, fear.

“It’ll never work, Pans,” Evan whispers. His voice cracks on his words, all his devastation leaking into the crevices.

“That’s not true, love,” Pandora asserts, untangling her right hand to swipe her thumb at the stray tears rolling down his face.

“No, it is,” Evan insists even as his heart breaks at the acknowledgement. “We’re great as friends–perfect. Everything with him is so easy. Applying our dynamic to a relationship? It’d ruin everything. I know it would.”

“Why is that?” Pandora asks gently, so softly, the words whispered between them.

“I can’t…” Evan cuts himself off, choking back a sob threatening to climb up his throat. “I can’t give him everything he needs. You know that.”

They let the confession settle between them for a moment, sinking heavily to the floor under them. It weighs Evan down, pressing down on his shoulders, chest, and heart. He wants to take it back, but he doesn’t because it’s the truth.

Evan Rosier has no interest in shagging. None at all. He’ll never do it, never want to or be able to. Barty Crouch Jr. likes shagging. He’s made that very clear over the years. Evan could never ask him to settle for never experiencing that again. It wouldn’t be fair.

Pandora squeezes his left hand gently, leaving her right to rest against his cheek. “Have you told him?”

Evan shakes his head slowly, squeezing his eyes shut. “No. I haven’t found the right time to tell him.”

He hears Pandora hum. If she’s surprised by his answer, she doesn’t tell him. He’d told her not long after he figured it out. He’d waited a little longer to tell Dorcas and Regulus, but he managed it. Barty was the only one still in the dark about his aversion to sex.

It’s not like he’s worried Barty will react poorly when he tells him. He’s just…he knows Barty won’t get it and that’s never happened before with them. Barty always gets it when it comes to Evan. He always understands.

“Evan, look at me. Please?” Pandora urges gently, swiping her thumb back and forth against his cheek soothingly.

Hesitantly, Evan opens his eyes. Her stare is intense, something in her eyes set–knowing and steady.

“I think you should tell him,” Pandora states resolutely. “Tell him how you feel for him and tell him how you feel about sex. Explain it to him and set your boundaries.” She squeezes his hand again where she still has it clasped between them.

“What if he doesn’t understand?” Evan croaks, hating the way his voice cracks around the question.

Pandora just smiles, quickly wiping away another stray tear off his cheek. “I have a feeling he’ll surprise you.”

Evan stands outside the door to his room, fist frozen in the air, raised ready to knock. Barty is on the other side of the door. Evan knows it somehow. Realistically, it’s the middle of the day. Barty should be in class, but Evan knows him.

Evan drops his hand and leans his forehead against the wood, giving himself a moment to take in a few deep breaths. His heart is racing in his chest, practically begging to burst free and spill itself all over him and Barty, but he’s scared. How is he meant to be brave enough to talk about something he’s so used to hiding?

He’s never been the brave one, that’s always been Pandora. Evan has never been confrontational or good at talking about how he’s feeling. He’s never liked explaining things or being vulnerable. It’s always been Pandora who’s good at that–she’s always been there to do it all for him.

Giving himself one more breath, Evan straightens up, turns the doorknob, and pushes his way into the room.

He doesn’t know how to be brave for himself, but it’s about time that he learns.

Evan steps into the room, watching as both Regulus’ and Barty’s heads snap up to look at him from where they’re sitting on Barty’s bed. Evan swallows as he feels his pulse picking up speed again, but he holds still and lets the door close behind him.

The room is eerily quiet as they all look at each other, no one willing to be the first to open their mouth. Barty’s eyes are trained on his face; he’s staring so hard, that his eyes may as well be leaving marks behind as they roam Evan’s face. Regulus, however, is looking up.

Evan’s eyes crawl up and lock onto the mistletoe hanging in the air above them, reappearing now that he and Barty are in close proximity to each other. It’s a reminder of this morning and all the things being left unsaid between them.

“Hey,” Evan finally says, the word sneaking past his lips as more of a strangled gasp than an actual word, but both boys seem to understand him anyway.

“Oh thank gods,” Regulus mutters, jumping up from his spot on the bed. “Please tell me you’re here to talk to him.”

Evan smiles weakly. “That’s the goal.”

“Good,” Regulus nods, crossing the room to swipe his bag off his own bed. “I’m off to meet Remus and Lily. I’ll let them know you’ll be missing today, but that you’ll be back tomorrow.”

Barty remains silent as Evan nods, watching Regulus sweep out of the room as quickly as possible.

Letting out a slow breath, Evan turns back to Barty. He meets his stare nervously, already feeling weak in the knees as their eyes meet across the room.

“He looked as if you’ve been holding him hostage,” Evan muses. He chuckles and tries to act normal, but he’s sure even with the space between them Barty can hear how loudly his heart is beating.

Barty snorts and cracks a small smile. “You know how he gets when it comes to talking about…”

Barty trails off, looking unsure which is…strange. Evan has never seen Barty look nervous, let alone unsure. It’s oddly comforting knowing he isn’t alone in this.

“I think,” Evan starts shakily, tentatively moving to close the space between them, “we should talk.”

“Yeah. I, uh, kind of got that,” Barty responds, looking pointedly up at the mistletoe still hanging above them.

Evan blushes but doesn’t back down, nodding. “Right so…”

He stops, unsure how to proceed. All of his thoughts are swirling together in his head, mashing into one another until they’re too incomprehensible to actually let out. He frowns, fidgeting where he stands and he does his best to pull himself together.

Slowly, Evan sits down on Barty’s bed, slipping his shoes off so he can sit crisscross next to him. He stares out at Regulus’ bedside table, pictures of Regulus and James littered on top of it. His eyes are drawn to the one Regulus has of the group of them, though. In it, Dorcas is lying in Pandora’s lap, smiling up at the camera as Pandora’s head is tilted back, laughing at something one of them had said. Regulus is there sitting on Pandora’s left, leaning his head against her shoulder as he’s reading. On Pandora’s right is Evan, Dorcas’ legs flung across his lap and face scrunched up in laughter. On his right in the picture is Barty. His smile is wide and bright, scrunching his eyes so tightly they look as if they’re closed.

Except, he’s not looking at the camera; he’s not smiling for the photo.

He’s staring at Evan.

Evan takes a deep breath in and then slowly lets it out, turning to look at Barty. Barty looks back, waiting with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

“Do you remember Cercie?”

Barty blinks in surprise. He clearly didn’t expect that to be the question Evan asked, but he just nods, not questioning him. “Yeah, Greengrass, right? She was your first girlfriend.”
Evan nods. “I never told you why I broke up with her.”

Barty nods again as a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I always assumed it’s because you’re gay.”

Evan smiles at that, huffing a soft laugh. “Well, yeah. That was definitely part of it.” He averts his eyes to look at Regulus’ photos again. “The breakup was actually a lot more mutual than I ever let on.”

“Oh?” Barty asks quietly. “You’re not about to tell me Greengrass is a lesbian, right? Because I swear that’ll break the hearts of half of the population of Hufflepuff boys.”

Evan lets out a startled laugh, darting his eyes to the side to shoot Barty a look before returning them to the pictures. “Wouldn’t be my business to tell if she was, but no.”

Barty snorts. “Alright.”

Evan chews on his lip for a moment as he tries to figure out how to put his thoughts into words. “We were thirteen, so everyone in our year suddenly started getting really obsessed with relationships and…” Evan takes a deep breath. “And sex. It was all anyone could talk about. It was like a switch had been flipped and it was the only topic anyone’s brains could focus on.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Barty nod slowly but he says nothing, waiting for Evan to continue.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I hated that. I shut it down every time you or Regulus brought it up, I avoided the topic and complained every time I had to overhear someone talking about it. I was definitely being driven a little crazy.” At this, Barty laughs, nodding along as he listens.

“Cerci didn’t feel the same way about it. She loved talking about it. She’d bring up things her friends told her, things she’d overheard. She’d go on and on about the gossip she knew–like who was shagging who, who wanted to shag who, stuff like that. I didn’t think much of it because everyone was talking about it, so I assumed that’s why she was telling me all that stuff. It wasn’t until she came to me and bluntly asked me to shag that I realized she’d been trying to drop hints.”

Barty lets out a startled noise, somewhere caught between a laugh and something strangled. Evan closes his eyes. “That was the first time I told her no. I told her I just wasn’t ready. She understood and let it drop. Until a week later when she brought it up again.” Evan sighs, opening his eyes again. “She kept asking and I kept telling her no. I kept saying I just wasn’t ready. I could tell she was frustrated but I didn’t know what else to tell her.”

“One day, I told her I wasn’t ready and instead of dropping it like she usually did, she demanded to know if I’d ever be ready, and I…” Evan trails off, worrying his lip between his teeth as he lets the memory play in his brain. He remembers how hurt she looked, how frustrated she was, and the way her hands shook at her sides as she waited for his answer. “I told her no. That I didn’t think I ever would be. We broke up not long after that, which was for the best. We were incompatible and she wanted something I couldn’t give her.”

Evan slowly turns back to Barty, moving his body so that he’s fully facing him now, forcing himself to make eye contact with him as he speaks his next words. “It wasn’t until the hols in fourth year when I admitted to myself that I’d never want to shag anyone. It wasn’t because Cercie was a girl and I’m gay. I don’t want to shag boys either.”

Barty stares at him, eyes wide as the words settle between them. Then, oh so softly: “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Evan huffs a soft laugh, sinking into himself. “Oh.”

“So, do you just not…” Barty trails off, eyes squinting as he thinks out how to word his question. “Have you ever felt the desire to shag someone?”

Evan shakes his head. “No, never. I’ve never felt the desire or the need. I’ve never looked at someone and wondered what it’d be like nor wanted to find out.”

Barty nods slowly. Evan can see the wheels turning behind his eyes and he processes this new information. “Alright. So you’re not interested in shagging,” Barty nods again, seemingly more so to himself this time. “Do you…have you ever had feelings for anyone?”

Evan tilts his head a bit, staring at Barty a little incredulously. He pointedly tilts his head to look up at the mistletoe and then looks back at Barty, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah, I still experience the…romance aspect of feelings. I want a relationship and to go on dates; I’m not averse to holding hands and kissing,” Evan admits, feeling his face heat up as he talks. “It’s just sex I’m not into.”

“Oh,” Barty breathes out, tension draining out of his shoulders that Evan hadn’t even noticed was there. “Alright. That’s– that’s good.”

Evan furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Good?”

Barty’s face heats up, pale skin flushing a bright red as his eyes start to dart around the room. “Yeah, good. I was a little worried you were working up to telling me you’re not interested in relationships or something like that.” Barty closes his mouth, eyes widening. “Which would’ve been okay! I just–”

Barty cuts himself off with a strangled, miserable groan, shoving his face in his hands. “What are you doing to me, Rosier? You know I hate talking about feelings and shit.”

Evan snorts, relaxing a bit as he looks at the mess of a human being sitting in front of him. His heart is so soft as he watches him, its beating evening out in his ribcage. Before he can talk himself out of it, he reaches out and gently pries Barty’s hands from his face, lacing their fingers together–like how Pandora did with him earlier in the classroom.

“Barty, look at me,” Evan urges, squeezing his hands insistently until brown eyes look up to meet his blue ones. He wishes he could just communicate everything through his eyes; it’d be so much easier if he could. Barty needs to hear it, though, and Evan needs to say it.

“I like you, Barty,” Evan declares, his voice thankfully sounding a lot steadier than he feels. “I like you, a lot, and I have for a long time. You’re my best friend and I’m so glad I met you. Our friendship means…everything to me, but,” Evan stops, lifting Barty’s right hand up to brush his lips across his knuckles. “But I want more. And I can’t keep pretending that I don’t. I want to wake up together every morning; I want to brush our teeth together and tease you about how long it takes to style your hair. I want you to keep checking the state of my braids and help me rebraid them when they inevitably start to get messy. I want to be the one who helps you with your tie every day for the rest of our lives–or at least until you finally learn how to do it yourself.”

At this, Barty barks a wet laugh, breathing shaky and eyes watery as he refuses to look away from Evan. He’s smiling as he stares at him and his hands are gripping Evan’s own tightly as if he’s hanging on for dear life.

“It’s scary to want,” Evan continues, pressing a firmer kiss against Barty’s knuckles this time before bringing their tangled hands back down to their laps. “I’m a Rosier. I’m an heir; I’m not supposed to want anything that doesn’t involve marrying a pure-blood woman and having children to continue the bloodline. But I want. I want you and a life with you. And it’s scary; you scare the shit out of me, Barty Crouch Jr.”

Barty laughs again. This time he leans forward to rest his forehead against Evan’s, his shaky exhale ghosting across Evan’s face.

“You scare me too, Evan Rosier,” Barty whispers, flicking his eyes up to look into Evan’s. “You always have.”

“Yeah?” Evan asks, fighting back a hysterical giggle threatening to worm its way out of his chest.

“Yeah,” Barty confirms. He leans closer until there’s nothing but a breath between their lips.

“Barty,” Evan breathes, quiet yet so, so loud in the limited space between them.

“Can I kiss you, Evs?” Barty asks, sounding just as breathless as Evan currently feels. “Please say I can.”

“I have to know, Barty,” Evan starts, squeezing Barty’s hands to make sure he’s still paying attention. “I need to know you understand what you’re getting into. It’s not going to be easy–figuring out how to get away from my family. I turn seventeen next week but we still have another year here.”

“I know,” Barty replies, sounding sure in his response. “We’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone in this; you won’t have to do it all on your own. I’ll be there with you, like always.”

“We’ll never have sex,” Evan reminds him, squeezing his hands again. “I’m serious when I say I’ll never want to. I won’t ever want to and I’ll never be willing to try. You’ll never get to have sex again, Barty.”

“I know,” Barty says again, squeezing Evan’s hands back this time. “That’s alright, Evs. I’ll be happy just being with you. I don’t need to shag you to be happy.”

“But you love sex,” Evan insists, furrowing his eyebrows at Barty’s words.

Barty huffs a soft laugh that fans across Evan’s face; his arms break out into gooseflesh, every nerve in his body so painfully aware of how close together they are. “I like getting off,” Barty corrects. “I don’t need another person to do that.”

“Oh,” Evan says, breath hitching as his face heats up and his brain grinds to a halt. Ah. “You– oh. Alright.”

“I promise you, Evs, I know exactly what I’m getting into. I’m excited too, if I’m honest. So, please. Can I kiss you, Evan Rosier?”

Evan’s agreement barely leaves his lips before Barty presses forward. Their lips brush hesitantly at first, gentle and curious as they lean together. Then Barty is pressing forward more insistently, moving his lips against Evan’s at an increasingly fervent pace.

Evan hears himself release an embarrassing whine as he sinks into the kiss. He quickly untangles their hands so he can bring his up to Barty’s hair, wrapping his fingers in the brown strands as he pulls himself even closer to Barty. Barty hums in approval against his lips as Evan tugs at his hair, pressing closer at Evan’s insistence. He brings his hands up Evan’s face, and gently cups the sides of his face, deepening the kiss as he tips Evan’s head back.

Evan doesn’t know how long they sit there in each other’s grasp–skin to skin, warm lips against warm lips. It could’ve been hours for all he cares. It still wouldn’t stop the whine of disapproval he lets out when Barty pulls away. He follows Barty on instinct, finding his lips again; Barty groans and leans back into it, returning the kiss with enough enthusiasm to make Evan dizzy.

He pulls away again, though, much to Evan’s dismay. Barty is visibly out of breath–his chest moving rapidly as he attempts to catch his breath. He stares at Evan with wide, fond eyes, scanning every inch of him as he breathes. His lips are red and swollen and his hair is messier than normal. Even like this, Evan can’t help but marvel over how beautiful the boy in front of him is.

I did that, Evan thinks as he stares at Barty. His own breath is uneven in his chest so he breathes with him, matching Barty’s pace as the boy’s breathing slows down to something more contained and steady.

They breathe. They breathe and breathe and breathe.

“Merlin,” Barty finally croaks, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Evan grins, pulling Barty back in so he can press another kiss to his lips. It’s quick and chaste, a simple, soft press of lips against lips, but it sends a thrill through him all the same. The fact he gets to kiss Barty at all makes him feel like he should dance. He wants to get up and run a lap around the castle; he wants to tell anyone who’ll listen that he gets to kiss Barty Crouch Jr.–and that he’s the last one who’ll ever get to. Barty is his and he is Barty’s and Evan has never before wanted to shout something from the rooftops until this moment.

He presses another kiss to Barty’s lips, then another and another. He keeps pressing them there, quick and fleeting, before moving to press them to his cheeks, chin, nose, eyelids, and finally his forehead–peppering every inch of his face in kisses. Simply because he can; because he’s allowed to and each kiss makes Barty’s smile widen more and more.

Barty laughs, so bright and so happy, it’s music to Evan’s ears. He doesn’t think he’s ever loved a sound more than he loves Barty’s laugh.

Barty brings his right hand back up to Evan’s face, pulling him in for another proper kiss. Evan melts against him, fingers finding their way back up into Barty’s soft hair, holding on with all the strength left in him.

Neither boy notices the mistletoe above them disappear, leaving the air to be filled with nothing but laughter and love instead.