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Barty doesn’t think anything of it at first. Dorcas always tells him how obsessive, possessive and impulsive he is, and though she never means it as a compliment, Barty always takes it as one. It’s just the way he is.
So Barty doesn’t think anything of it when he impulsively climbs into Evan’s bed, possessively wraps an arm around him and obsessively asks, “You love me, right?”
Evan laughs, short and tired, but he still answers. “Yes, Barty.”
“Say it.”
Evan hums. “I love you.”
And on any other night when Barty has done this - because he definitely has before - he would leave, satisfied enough with that. But Barty can’t stop thinking about Hanna Runcorn and the way she had stopped Barty outside of the Charms classroom earlier that day and cornered him, practically demanding to know if Evan was single.
“What do you think of Hanna Runcorn?”
“Who?”
Barty feels a pinch of satisfaction. “Hanna Runcorn. She sits behind us in Transfiguration.”
“Right, yeah.” Evan sighs, turning over under Barty’s arm until they’re facing each other. “I don’t know her all that well. We exchanged notes once. She seems nice enough.”
Evan’s answer is too nice for Barty - too mild, too indifferent. He wants a reaction out of Evan, the kind that will assure Barty that Hanna Runcorn doesn’t ever stand a chance.
“I think she’s awful.”
Evan laughs again. It’s brighter this time and louder. Barty feels the rush of Evan’s minty breath against his face. “Have you ever actually spoken to her?”
“Yes,” Barty replies, a little petulant. He had, and it had, indeed, been quite awful.
“More than once?” Evan asks. There’s a smile growing on his lips. “For more than just a few minutes?”
Barty smiles in return, only because he can’t help it. “No.”
Evan shakes his head, his smile widening and oh, Barty helplessly thinks, he’s so beautiful. So, so beautiful with his tousled blonde hair and perfect sloped nose and wonderful bow-shaped lips. Barty loves every bit of Evan; the small tattoo just below his collarbone that Barty loves to trace; the piercing in his eyebrow that Barty gave him, as well as the few scattered about his ears; the way he laughs; the way he smiles; the way he talks.
“Is that all?” Evan asks, immediately bringing Barty’s mind back to the dorm, and no, it isn’t.
Evan’s not wearing a shirt, so when Barty fidgets, it’s his fingers sliding along Evan’s spine. “Are you dating anyone?”
Evan’s eyes are closed again. His face is squished against the pillow and his words are quiet and soft. “I think you would know if I am.”
“Just answer the question.” Barty tries not to be demanding, but he can’t help it. The way his heart is beating inside of his ears makes it difficult to focus. “Evan,” he says insistently when Evan doesn’t answer fast enough.
“No, I’m not.” Evan sighs, just barely shifting closer. He’s so warm, and Barty moves closer until the tips of their noses touch.
“Would you date Hanna Runcorn?”
Evan’s lips twitch, the corners of his mouth coming up before falling again. “No.” He sighs again, and that time, he turns over and moves away from Barty, so far that it leaves Barty cold. “If you’re trying to discourage me from dating her, you can just say that, Barty. I’m not interested. She’s all yours.”
Barty doesn’t know how to explain. He didn’t think anything of it at first - climbing into Evan’s bed and asking him about Hanna Runcorn. He didn’t think anything of it, and now that he is thinking of it, he doesn’t know how to explain.
Don’t date Hanna Runcorn. Don’t date anyone. You’re mine.
Despite being obsessive, possessive and impulsive toward all of his friends, Barty has never had those kinds of thoughts about Dorcas or Regulus.
He didn’t think anything of it at first, and now that he is, he’s realizing that he very well may be in love - obsessive, possessive, impulsive love - with his best friend.
“Evan?” Barty tightens the hold he has on Evan, moving closer until his chest is pressed against Evan’s back. Evan doesn’t protest, only humming sleepily in response. “Can I stay here tonight?”
“Fine,” Evan huffs.
“You love me, right?” Barty asks, and Evan doesn’t answer for a long, torturous moment. “Ev -“
“Yes, Barty.” Evan takes Barty’s hand, resting gently on Evan’s stomach, and interlocks their fingers. “I love you.”
---
obsessive
Since Barty’s revelation, he’s hardly left Evan’s side. Despite already spending most of their time together, it’s not enough for Barty anymore. He needs every second of Evan’s time, and he’s more than willing to give his own in return.
“But you hate the library!”
Barty doesn’t hate the library anymore - not if that’s where Evan’s going to be spending his entire evening. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“Don’t you have something else to do?” Evan asks. He’s walking swiftly through the corridor, textbooks tucked under his arm. He’s been insisting that Barty stop following him around, though he’s never looked so pleased in his life, cheeks flushed and smiling.
“Of course not.” And, yes, Barty has plenty of other things to do and get done, but they just didn’t matter.
“Fine,” Evan relents, pushing the doors to the library open and leading them inside. His voice drops to a whisper when he speaks next. “But no fidgeting. And you have to whisper. And I’m not letting you copy!”
“Anything you say, love.”
They sit together at a table near the window. Evan gives Barty the window seat - a nice gesture, but a futile one, as Barty plans on spending the entire time looking at Evan instead. Evan opens his textbook, grabs his parchment and quill, and starts to study. If he notices Barty staring at him, he doesn’t say, which is impressive in itself because Barty is staring - so hard, in fact, that he doesn’t even see Regulus and Dorcas sit down across from them.
“Did you finish the Arithmancy homework?”
Barty jumps at the sound of Dorcas’ voice, eyes flittering over to where her and Regulus sit. He hastily answers, “No.”
“I was asking Evan,” Dorcas says, huffing. “And what are you doing here? You hate the library.”
“I love the library,” he says. I love Evan, he thinks.
“No, you don’t,” Regulus states, rather matter-of-fact, not even lifting his eyes from his book.
“Yes, I do!”
“Barty!” Evan shushes him by putting a hand over Barty’s mouth. “We’re whispering. Remember?”
Barty doesn’t answer right away, only because he knows Evan will move his hand when he does, and Barty quite enjoys the feeling of him. So when Barty nods and Evan starts to pull away, Barty grabs Evan’s hand and tucks in between his own, to which Evan laughs.
“Not going to be getting much studying done with one hand, am I?”
Barty agrees. It’s awfully inconvenient, but he can’t bring himself to let go. Evan smiles, shakes his head, and resumes studying. Dorcas and Regulus join in.
They're there for hours. Barty watches Evan write, entranced by the way his written words are elegant yet messy. Barty watches Evan talk quietly to Dorcas and Regulus, asking questions, answering questions or civilly debating. Barty watches Evan read, paying close attention to the way his eyebrows occasionally knit together in confusion or the way his eyes dart across the page. Barty watches Evan for hours, holding his hand, playing with his long fingers, and letting his mind run wild.
Look at you. You’re so beautiful. Look at me. Talk to me. Pay attention to me. You’re so beautiful. Why won’t you look at me? Are you done studying? Can we leave? You’re so beautiful. I love you.
When Evan finally decides that he's done enough studying, he says goodbye to Dorcas and Regulus, packs up his books (still with one hand) and leaves the library. Barty follows, of course, squeezing Evan’s hand and tugging them closer as they walk through the corridor.
“Barty.” Evan’s laughing, trying to pull his hand away.
“What?” Barty grins, not relenting.
“You can’t hold my hand all the way back to the common room. People will think…” Evan doesn’t continue, his words fading out into nothing.
“People will think what?” Barty asks eagerly. That we’re dating? That you love me? That I love you?
Evan laughs again, one eyebrow shooting up. “That you’re obsessed with me.”
I am. “I am.”
Evan scoffs. He tries, like he has been all day, to be annoyed, but Barty notices the way Evan squeezes his hand back, the way Evan bumps their shoulders together, the way he smiles at the ground.
The corridor is quiet. The sun shines softly through the windows. The clicking of their shoes against the stone floor is comforting. For a moment, it feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Barty’s face warms at the idea.
They walk for a while, fingers intertwined, and Barty thinks about that night, how he’ll sleep next to Evan, listen to his breaths and enjoy his warmth. Barty thinks about tomorrow and how he can make it possible that they don’t spend even one minute apart. The only problem that arises is quidditch.
“You’re coming to watch my quidditch practice tomorrow, right?”
“I always do, Barty,” Evan says, sounding a little confused.
“I just -“ Barty huffs, and then the words just tumble out. “I just want you to be where I am. I want to be where you are. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, it makes sense.” Evan squeezes Barty’s hand again. A light flush of pink decorates his cheeks. “That’s what I want, too.”
---
posessive
When Gryffindor throws their first party of the year, it’s Halloween. A fair amount of Slytherins are invited, the reason certainly being because of Dorcas and Regulus’ budding romances with members of the rival House. It’s for this same reason that Dorcas pulls Barty and Evan aside just before they all duck through the portrait hole that leads to the Gryffindor common room.
“Don’t do anything to embarrass us, and don’t do anything crazy,” she says firmly, holding Evan’s arm but looking directly at Barty. “I just started seeing Marlene. Reggie just started seeing James. We don’t need to give anyone any reason to dislike Slytherin more than they already do.” Dorcas sighs, releasing Evan’s arm and falling against the stone wall behind her. “I’d like all of us to be invited to more parties in the future.”
“You really like her, don’t you?” Evan asks. His voice is gentle and careful - a tone he only uses for his friends. It makes Barty’s heart flutter.
“I do, yeah,” Dorcas admits, and then she stands up straight, pushes her long braids away from her face and enters the portrait hole. Evan shifts on his feet for a minute or two, but Barty can’t wait any longer. He follows Dorcas, taking Evan’s hand and tugging him through as well. Regulus and Dorcas are long gone, leaving Barty and Evan to themselves.
The Gryffindor common room is busy. The space is packed with people, bumping into each other, dancing, smoking, drinking. Music that Barty’s never heard before - muggle music, he thinks - is playing from somewhere, echoing and bouncing off the walls, though not quite loud enough to drown out the chatter. Lights are strung across the ceiling, flames jumping from lantern to lantern. The air is thick and hot and it smells like sweat and sweets and…and Barty feels dizzy for a moment.
Slytherin parties are a little quieter, a lot more exclusive, and much darker. There’s something duplicitous about Slytherin parties, something intense, even. Barty enjoys those parties, of course, but the Gryffindor party is just…pure celebration…pure fun.
“Drink?” Barty asks Evan, who leans in to try and hear him over the lively chatter. “Drink?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Evan says into Barty’s ear.
Barty leads Evan to a less crowded corner - one he knows he’ll be able to find again. “I’ll be back!” Barty says, and then he spins around and delves into the crowd. He bobs his head to the strange music, slipping past dancing bodies until he reaches the refreshments.
“Crouch, hey!” James Potter greets him with a wide smile. Barty knows James would shake his hand (he’s just that kind of guy) if his arms weren’t already full with Regulus.
“Potter!” Barty nods. Regulus is scowling, apparently not happy to be interrupted, and Barty smiles, more than happy to do just that. “Reggie.”
“Piss off, Bartemius!” Regulus says, pushing his face deeper into James’ chest before leading them away. James only has enough time to give Barty an apologetic look over his shoulder, to which Barty just gives him a thumbs up.
That’s when Dorcas and Marlene come over, arms tangled together, both of them giggling something wild.
“Hey!” Marlene says, holding her fist out. “Crouch!”
Barty knocks his fist against hers, first on the top and then on the bottom, just like she taught him. “McKinnon! Taking good care of our girl, are you?”
Marlene smiles, her face instantly reddening, though she doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed by it. She looks at Dorcas. “Well? What’s the verdict, then?”
Dorcas rolls her eyes but fails to keep the smile off of her lips. “Yeah, alright. She’s taking good care of me.”
“Yay!” Marlene wraps her arms around Dorcas, shaking her lightly and kissing her cheek. When Dorcas turns her face to meet Marlene’s lips, Barty laughs, focusing on gathering beverages. Dorcas and Marlene quickly stumble away, lips still locked.
There’s are two options; one drink is red, bubbling and hot while the other is purple, glittery and cold. Barty fills two solos cups, one red and one purple and takes them back to Evan, offering both. Evan picks the purple one, just as Barty thought he would, and Barty gives him a satisfied smile.
“Merlin, it’s hot in here,” Evan says, pulling at the front of his shirt. He looks around. “And I feel underdressed.”
Only about half the party-attendees are dressed up for Halloween, and Barty doesn’t know what any of them are dressed up as.
“You look lovely,” Barty says, and Evan rolls his eyes. He always thinks Barty is joking or teasing him, but Barty won’t let him believe that any longer. “No, really, Ev,” he insists. “You always look lovely.”
“Stop it, you flirt,” Evan says back, elbowing him lightly and then nodding out to the crowd. “Surely, there’s someone else you can bother with that. Look -“ He points across the room at a blonde Hufflepuff. “Didn’t you shag her? Go talk to her!”
Barty did shag her, but that was all in the past, wasn’t it?
“I -“ Barty doesn't have a chance to protest, as Evan is already pointing to another person - a brunette Ravenclaw.
“Or him! You shagged him, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but -“
Barty doesn’t have time to respond, to explain, to tell Evan that he doesn’t care about those people before a girl is saddling up next to them. She has long legs and long hair and sultry eyes and - it’s fucking Hanna Runcorn.
“Who are we shagging?” she asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She hardly acknowledges Barty - which, fair enough, he thinks. They didn’t exactly leave off on the best note.
“We don’t know yet,” Evan says. “Trying to pick someone for Barty. He’s in a flirty mood, it seems.”
“Isn’t he always?”
Fuck you, Barty thinks viciously.
“That’s true, I suppose,” Evan says, and now Barty has to defend himself.
“I’m not! I just - I just -“ He groans, perhaps a little dramatically. “It doesn’t mean anything. I mean, it means something, but it’s just different with different people and - I just like people.”
“Oh, we know,” Hanna teases, and Barty has to look away to mutter something uncouth under his breath. He stays away from the conversation for a while, not listening, trying to calm down, trying to convince himself that Hanna’s not a horrible witch who’s personally out to get him - though it certainly feels that way when she runs a seductive hand down Evan’s arm. And Evan’s laughing. What could Hanna Runcorn possibly say that is so funny?
“I want to dance,” Barty says, loud enough for both Evan and Hanna to hear.
Evan glances over his shoulder at Barty. “No one’s stopping you.”
“With you,” Barty clarifies, unable to stop himself from shooting a glare at Hanna. “Alone.”
“Yeah, alright,” Evan agrees. “Just a minute.”
Evan and Hanna continue to talk. Barty doesn’t even hear the words. All he can focus on is how close Hanna is to Evan, how she’s looking at him, how she’s smiling at him. Barty feels stiff and hot, just like he always does when he’s angry. The jealousy comes naturally to him, though it’s never felt so intense before.
Don’t touch him, Barty thinks, don’t even look at him. He’s mine.
When Hanna steps even closer to Evan, putting her hand on his arm yet again, Barty can’t take anymore. He sets down his drink, presses his chest against Evan’s back and wraps his arms around him, strong, firm and possessive.
Evan freezes at first, seemingly unsure, and then Barty rests his chin against Evan’s shoulder, and Evan relaxes into the embrace. He even holds onto the arm Barty has around his chest, casual and comfortable. Hanna notices all of it, of course, but she doesn’t back down. In fact, she only tries harder.
“I could use a refill.” Hanna pouts and holds her cup out to Barty. “Barty? Do you mind?”
Barty refuses to let go of Evan. “Get your own bloody refill,” he says, and Evan chuckles, shaking Barty off and taking Hanna’s cup.
“I’ll get it for you.”
“Such a gentleman,” Hanna sings, fluttering her eyelashes at Evan as he walks away. The moment he’s out of earshot, her and Barty turn on each other, both of their eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“I told you that he wasn’t single!”
“Yes.” Hanna is angry now, red-faced and pointing with her finger. “Yes, you did tell me he wasn’t single. Imagine my surprise, then, when I find out that isn’t true!”
Barty didn’t mean to lie, but the thought of Hanna Runcorn having her long legs wrapped around Evan made Barty feel sick. So, he lied. He told her that Evan wasn’t single, and then he promptly walked off before she could ask for anymore details.
Hanna adds, “Not to mention, you threatened to kill me if I ever went after him!”
Alright, well, Barty did that, too, yes.
“Back off, Runcorn!” is all Barty says, catching a glimpse of Evan heading their way out of the corner of his eye. When Evan reaches them and gives Hanna her drink, Barty doesn’t hesitate to grab Evan’s hand and tug him away. “We’re dancing.”
Barty takes Evan into the crowd, away from Hanna Runcorn, and it finally feels like he can breathe again.
“You really don’t like her,” Evan says, amused, swaying along to the music with Barty.
“She’s interested in you,” Barty says, as if it’s explanation enough. Still, Evan seems to understand.
“Is that what this is all about? Is that why you’re acting like this?”
“I’m sorry,” Barty says, apologizing because he feels like he has to. “I just - I don’t like it when she touches you. I don’t like it when she looks at you. I hate it, actually. Does that make sense?”
The flames jump around above them and the music plays and people chatter and it’s all so busy. Despite this, Evan looks at Barty as if nothing and no one else is there. Evan moves closer and wraps his arms around Barty’s neck. He nods, his hands sinking into Barty’s hair.
“Yes. Yes, it makes sense.”
---
impulsive
Barty and Evan are by the Great Lake, lounging together on the grass. Evan's reading a book, and Barty's watching him read it.
"Will you read to me?" Barty asks. He misses Evan's voice. It's been too long - oh, twenty minutes or so - since he's heard it, and he misses it.
Evan laughs. "You'll think it's boring."
"I won't," Barty insists, even though One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi does sound horrendously dull. "I might."
Evan laughs again - a glorious, harmonious sound. It makes Barty feel unsettled in the best way possible. "Are you bored, then?" Evan closes the book and sets it aside. "Want to go in?"
"No," Barty says, and he can't help the wistful tone that takes over his voice. "I want to hear your voice."
"And what would you like me to say?" Evan smiles, closing his eyes and tipping his head back to bask in the sun.
That you love me. That you want me. That you're mine. That I'm yours. Barty's thoughts quickly derail as he looks at Evan. You're so beautiful. I love you. I want you. You're mine. I'm yours.
Barty has every intention to wait; to wait for Evan to come to him; to wait for Evan to decide if this is what he wants. It’s not worth ruining their friendship. Barty needs Evan to be sure. He needs Evan to decide. He needs Evan to make the first move and yet...
Evan’s shining. His head is back, exposing his long neck and protruding Adam’s apple. His tousled blonde hair flutters in the slight wind. His pale skin is glowing. Barty is close enough to see his eyelashes, long and curly, as well slight fuzz of hair growing above his upper lip. His lips. They’re parted, just barely, and so very inviting.
The sudden thought to kiss Evan isn't unfamiliar, but it’s the first time the urge gets the best of him. Barty takes Evan’s jaw into his hand and pulls until their noses are pressed against each other. Barty starts to tilt his head, in the effort to get a better angle, but Evan’s already kissing him.
Evan’s lips are soft and wet and all-consuming. He’s eagerly taking everything Barty is giving him. It’s apparently not enough because Evan pushes into Barty, and Barty hardly has the time to tame is rapidly beating heart before Evan’s crawling into his lap.
Someone whistles from across the lawn.
Before Barty can enjoy any of it at all, Evan leans away, and neither of them hesitate to give the finger to whoever whistled. They then laugh, both of them breathless. When Barty looks at Evan, his entire chest is overcome with warmth, with happiness, with love. He imagines that feeling is also in his eyes because Evan blushes, shakes his head, and moves out of Barty’s lap.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says.
Barty follows him, scooting closer, taking Evan’s hand and bringing it to his mouth. “Like what?”
“Like…” Evan, bright and beautiful, lets out a breath. He says, almost sadly, “Like you love me.”
“I do,” Barty says, quick and quiet, before his brain can catch up to him.
“You know how I mean, Barty,” Evan says sternly, moving away from Barty when he surges forward.
“I know, yes, and I do.” Barty puts his arm around Evan and nuzzles into his neck. “I’m obsessively -“ He smells Evan, breaths him in. It’s somehow too much and never enough. “Possessively -“ Barty’s arm tightens around Evan’s waist, tugging him as close as can be. “Impulsively -“ Barty kisses the soft skin just below Evan’s ear, because he simply can’t help it. “In love with you.”
Evan laughs, putting his hand on Barty’s chest and pushing him away, just far enough to look into his eyes. “That’s quite the declaration.”
“You’re not put off? Dorcas always says -“
Evan kisses Barty, slow and warm and affectionate. It would bring Barty to his knees if he weren’t already sitting down. They touch each other slowly, with gentle hands and soft lips and unbridled intimacy. It’s everything.
I love you. I love you. I love you, Barty thinks. When Evan pulls away, Barty says it aloud. “I love you.”
“I know.” Evan smiles and kisses Barty’s cheek. “I love you, too. And no, I’m not put off. I love the way you are. I love the way you love.”
---
Dorcas still tells Barty how obsessive, possessive and impulsive he is, and Barty still takes it as a compliment. It’s the way he is. It’s the way he loves.