Chapter Text
“There was laughter too, and something akin to happiness that hurt as it pushed at the inside of his chest.” – Prince’s Gambit, 347
The lab looked different when they returned.
Barty had pushed all the desks against the walls, except for one in the centre of the room. The Horcruxes were displayed in a neat row: The locket Regulus stole from the cave, the cup he retrieved from his cousin’s vault, the diadem they found at Hogwarts, the diary he took from Malfoy’s library, and the ring Pandora and Barty recovered from the Gaunt shack.
The cup, once gold, was blackened, dented and slightly melted in places. The locket lay open, both sides of the inside were covered in holes and acid burns.
They all gathered around the table.
“Today,” Barty began, “I have concluded my experiments. Is there another way to destroy these things? Maybe. But time is of the essence, and frankly, I’m starting to be bored as well as annoyed, and you know how I despise boredom. I found two ways to destroy them and that should be enough.”
Regulus tried not to sigh out loud. Barty worked hard on this. He deserved to make a little, dramatic speech about it. Regulus pulled a face at his own thoughts. Has he gotten soft? If so, James was to blame. He needed to start threatening people again before his reputation was ruined by a single, brown-eyed man.
“Here’s the run-down: Any kind of acids, poisons, corrosive substances had no effect. It just slid right off. Non-magical fire? Nothing. I tried to burn this shit at temperatures that would immediately melt flesh off bones. I threw the cup into Ev’s forge, nothing happened.”
“But I made a bloody cool dagger in that fire while the cup was in there,” Evan said, pointing at Regulus. “I actually think it picked up some of the dark magic. I’ve been doing some experiments, and it has interesting corrosive and poisoning effects when it’s in contact with human skin.”
Regulus made a mental note of this. He must see that dagger and its effects. – A blade forged in a fire corrupted by a Horcrux? The possibilities regarding its abilities were endless.
James raised his hand. “Uhm, sorry to interrupt. How exactly do you know how it affects human skin?”
“I tested it, obviously.”
“On…?”
“Human skin. Are you slower than usual? Reg, did you hit his head against a wall again?”
“On the floor, yes, but this is just his normal range of ability.” And unfortunately, Regulus wanted to kiss him again.
James shot him his version of a dirty look, which translated as dirty in a very different way. Was he really attracted to a man who couldn’t even glare properly? Then, Regulus remembered that he had watched him kill two people in a fit of rage and was instantly less disappointed in his taste in men.
“Oi, this is my bloody moment, can you two be stupid and horny another day?” Barty asked and shook his head. “Where was I? Ah yes, fire. Dismantling also does not work; I tried to just pick the locket apart or smash it – not a chance. So, here is what did work: The basilisk fang we stole from that bloke with the limp had enough venom for me to extract. Then I used it to stab the locket a bunch of times with a bit of venom still in there.”
Regulus stepped closer and picked up the locket. It once belonged to Salazar Slytherin. It was the first Horcrux Regulus had found. Voldemort had used his house elf, Kreacher, to hide it in a cave, surrounded by inferi-infested waters and only accessible by drinking a potion inflicting illusions and pain akin to a cruciatus curse. Regulus didn’t remember much from that day. It had been after Sirius’s death. Time had been non-existent, and he had been so sleep-deprived that most things never reached his brain, let alone stayed in his memory. He remembered the burning pain. He remembered the water. He remembered being dragged under the surface, his lungs burning, screaming for air, and bony corpses pushing and pulling him down, down, down.
He woke up in the bunker, wet, cold, with the locket next to him, surrounded by his worried and pale friends. He didn’t want to remember more of it.
Now, the locket was just that – an old, silver trinket, destroyed and pierced, burned by acid-like poison.
“How did it react to being destroyed?” Regulus asked thoughtfully. “Did something happen? Did you see the part of his soul or something like that?”
There was a pause, and when Regulus looked up, he saw Barty staring at the locket, and Evan staring at Barty.
“It tried to stop us from destroying it, yes. …The, uhm, the part of the soul inside can manifest itself, speak, create illusions… that sort of stuff.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. The cunt’s dead.”
Regulus just nodded and quickly pointed at the Hufflepuff cup. It clearly was neither stabbed nor drenched in basilisk poison.
“Right. It’s what I was just doing. We have just enough basilisk venom to maybe coat two daggers with it. Regarding the fang, I’m not sure if it can lose its venomous quality but I basically cleaned it out to get that poison. Anyway, I wasn’t ready to give up on the fire. Non-magical fire did nothing, magical fire is influenced by the Horcrux but has no real effect on it either. Bombs? Nothing, which was very disappointing. Finally, I cast Fiendfyre in my boom room.”
This time, it was Lupin who reacted as if he had never been around these people before.
“You did what? Fiendfyre is dark magic and extremely hard to control.”
“For you,” Barty added with a smirk. “Though I have to admit it is still in the boom room as I have not been able to extinguish it yet.”
Remus let out a deep, noisy breath.
“Well, we still need it to destroy these. And then I’ll just make the room disappear and the curse will disappear, too. I think.”
Regulus rubbed his eyebrow. He has always known that there was a 40 % chance he’d die because of Barty’s or Pandora’s experiments one day.
“Anyway,” Barty continued, “We have Fiendfyre and the rest of the basilisk tooth to destroy these. Also, I’m quite sure that the killing curse should work on Voldemort and the snake.”
“Quite?” Regulus asked.
“83%. It does not work on these Horcruxes, as the piece of soul is contained in the object and the object needs to be fully destroyed. Since we theorize that the snake is a Horcrux and it’s a living thing, the killing curse should be enough to thoroughly kill it and destroy the Horcrux. Which I assume is easier to manage than the Fiendfyre.”
Regulus looked at the Horcruxes.
Could it be? Were they at the end of this chapter? Were they about to destroy five Horcruxes at once, leaving Voldemort weakened and vulnerable to their attack? Had they been working towards this for more than six months now?
It felt oddly rushed.
One day, he was getting the diary from Malfoy’s library and suddenly, without any significant help from him, they were ready to take on Voldemort himself. He thought he’d feel satisfaction when this day finally came – excitement even. He didn’t. It wasn’t his accomplishment. No, to him, this was just one step in his plan. He hasn’t reached the end yet.
For the others, this was a huge achievement. They were about to do the impossible and end the war. Pandora, Evan and Barty could return to a normal life - far away, where the aurors couldn’t imprison them for taking the marks.
“We should throw all of these into the fire,” Regulus said. “The venom is too rare; we need to keep it for the fight.”
“Yes, that’s what we figured, too,” Barty said, “You can put the rest of the venom into phials with the rest of your poison collection. I don’t know if you’ll get close enough to Voldemort to use a blade on him, but for the snake it will be useful.”
Barty picked up the Gaunt family ring and handed it to Evan. “I already destroyed two. You should take this one. Pandora, I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’ll be able to keep the diadem afterwards,” he said while picking up the Ravenclaw artefact and placing it in her hands. The diary, he gave to Regulus.
No one spoke a word until they stood in the corridor, in front of a room filled with Fiendfyre. Regulus could feel the dark magic seeping out beneath the door. The fire was contained within, its power ate through the walls in the desperate need to make itself known.
The Horcruxes had a similar aura. The dark magic within sought to corrupt. In the vicinity of the fire, the diary in Regulus’s hands began to vibrate. It knew the end was near. It tried to latch onto a weak mind to save itself.
It found none.
Barty opened the door. Roaring heat swept out. The flames were held at bay, building and breaking against an invisible door like ocean water.
Regulus thought back to the first Horcrux. The water around him. It had no natural waves, only those created by his desperate thrashing and the movements of the corpses who tried to pull him below, further and further, until he'd become one of them.
Regulus’s nails dug into the leather of the book.
Evan stepped forward. He looked at Barty, then at the Gaunt ring.
“Well, good riddance.” He threw it into the roaring flames.
The fire moved with it, lapped it up, and drowned it within. Pandora gave the diadem to the fire waves, gently, almost reluctantly, letting it be carried away like a message in a bottle.
James stood next to Regulus, watching the scene intently. He had spent years fighting Voldemort and the Death Eaters – far longer and for far better reasons than Regulus. He had lost his friends, family and youth to this war. And was it worth it? How much did it truly accomplish?
Collateral Damage.
Maybe it truly was nothing more than that. James deserved more. He deserved to feel like it all meant something, all led to the destruction of the enemy.
Regulus held out the book in front of him. James’s confused eyes darted between it and Regulus. He just nodded, looking at him intently, until James gingerly picked up the diary and stepped toward the room. The flames reflected in his glasses and lit up his face like a spotlight.
He dug his fingertips into the black leather, drew back his hand, and, much like the talented Quidditch player Regulus had known in his youth, threw it into the fire.
***
Barty
They sat at a large, round table covered in paper in the middle of the lab. Pandora had her blond hair pinned up and was leaning over the paper with a ruler and a pencil, sketching the second floor of the Riddle mansion, as Barty, Evan and Regulus remembered it.
“There was another door over here,” Regulus said, making a mark on the paper. Evan sat on the other end of the plan, sketching out the perimeter, as he had seen it from the Gaunt shack a few weeks ago.
“This is where you received the dark mark?” Lupin asked.
Barty pointed at the large drawing room on the first floor. “In there, yes. Then we had dinner over here in the dining room. Through this door, the servants would come from the kitchen to wait on the family in better days."
“What was it like?” Lupin asked.
“The dinner? Edible.”
“The marking. Was it like a ceremony? Were you all together? Did you have to kill someone?”
Stained chandeliers. Walls of robed and masked men. Black. Bone-white. Red. Blood on the floor. A black snake winding itself on pale skin as if it were alive.
“Have you ever been to a little girl’s birthday party? All glitter and unicorns and shit? We threw confetti and got a cute little tattoo. What did you think?”
“You don’t receive the dark mark without proving your loyalty first,” Regulus said without looking up from his side of the plan.
James cleared his throat and shook his head at Lupin.
Evan sighed. “No matter where we come from, they will see us. I highly doubt that we can apparate straight into the manor. That’s never been the case when we were brought there. Or was it for you, Reg?”
Regulus shook his head. “Voldemort once told me that he put an anti-apparition spell on the perimeter of his headquarters, which only he could defy. He put the same on the cave where he hid the locket.”
“He will know we are coming,” Pandora said. “He likely felt that we destroyed the Horcruxes, and even with the best invisibility potions and the cloak, he will know when we enter his domain. There is no value in planning an ambush.”
“What if we send in two teams?” James suggested. “One to keep the Death Eaters busy, and one to look for him.”
“A distraction,” Regulus summarised, tapping his pen against his cheek. “It is a normal manor, not a magical or sentient place like ours, so it is possible that he isn’t able to feel everything that is going on.”
James and Lupin looked at him in bewilderment.
“Did you just suggest this place is sentient?” Lupin asked and then slowly let his eyes wander along the walls with badly concealed horror on his face.
“It is made from our magic. It isn’t a real building, not a real structure. It only exists because and as long as we do. If someone were to enter, we'd know how many and where they were at all times.”
“Okay. …Just the other day I was wondering if I could feel even more paranoid than I do. Thank you for clearing that up.”
“This isn’t about you,” Evan said. “Do you have something productive to say?”
“I support James’s plan.”
“So, no?”
“We cannot split up,” Regulus said. “It’s questionable whether Lupin will be in any condition to fight as the full moon is near, which leaves the five of us. Even though Voldemort will know that we are coming, we can still use invisibility and Evan’s speed to our advantage against the Death Eaters. We need to get past them to get to Voldemort – literally cut off the head of the snake. Nothing else matters.”
“Nothing?” Pandora asked. “Might I suggest this little thing called surviving?”
Regulus shrugged.
Barty looked at the floorplan sketches, counted the entries they knew about (and the ones they guessed existed), and pulled a couple of coins from his pockets.
“What if we bomb the place?” he suggested and placed the coins along the doors and into the hallways. “Boom. Boom. Boom. Ka-boom. Minimise the threat before we even enter the manor.”
It wasn’t new for Barty to suggest mass-destruction weapons for a mission. Usually, it was met with immediate pushback from the group, but now even Regulus regarded the coins like he genuinely considered them.
James leaned forward and pushed a couple of the coins away from the front of the manor. “Not everywhere. If we use the bombs on one side, they will confuse, distract and eliminate the death eaters, giving us the chance of an advantage when we attack from the other side. In the back, you only know of the backdoor leading to the kitchen – the paths are too small. You want to go in from the front. The windows are preferable.”
“What kind of bombs are we talking about?” Lupin asked. “In the back you can use deadly ones. But if you want to enter here, you could use smoke, light or – always a classic – dung bombs to give yourself a way in.”
Barty never thought he would receive bomb-advice from Gryffindor Order members – let alone advice that included dung bombs. Worst of all, their plans weren’t stupid. If the Death Eaters behaved like normal wizards would during explosions, it might even work.
Barty looked to Regulus to gauge how acceptable he found this plan. He quickly realised that he hadn’t followed their conversation to the end. There was not a single thought inside that head as he was staring at James with unbridled lust.
“Don’t look so surprised,” James smirked at Barty. “We are the Marauders. Pranksters extraordinaire. If there is something we know, it’s how to successfully dung-bomb a corridor.”
Another look at Regulus. Still lust. Ew.
If James suggested one more slightly useful strategy, Regulus might begin to strip right here and blow him under the table.
“But I agree, we need more people. We should contact Lily and Mary. They will help us. Maybe some Aurors or Order members. What about Dorcas?”
This, luckily, snapped Regulus out of his adoration.
“Not a chance. The moment you call the Aurors, they will arrest us. If they’re not completely stupid, they might wait until we did all the dirty work, but I wouldn’t hold my breath for that.”
“What about the Order? They’re not Aurors. Their only goal is to fight Death Eaters and Voldemort.”
“No. The more people we are, the more moving variables are on the plan, and the less predictable the group becomes. Especially if they’re people I don’t know.”
James frowned at him. “What do you think they’ll do? Suddenly open friendly fire?”
“That or be too loud, too hasty, too dumb. Since a lot of them are Gryffindors, I’d put my money on too reckless. That kind of behaviour will only lead to casualties and chaos.”
“I promised Dorcas that we would tell her when we start our attack. She might join us,” Pandora said.
Regulus nodded.
“So, what, Dorcas can join but no one else?” James asked. “Splitting into one large group to fight the Death Eaters, and one smaller group to advance to Voldemort directly is the best strategy. We need more people for the first one.”
“Splitting up is never the best strategy,” Evan said. “Last time we did that shit, I kinda, sorta died.”
Barty’s heart clenched at his words.
Everything was fine. Evan was here. Alive. Everything was fine. Evan was fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.
Barty mustn’t let himself become distracted.
But it was true. During their last big group mission, one of them died – even if just briefly. Now, they faced a far more dangerous opponent.
“I agree with Evan,” Regulus said. “We will secure the ground floor together. Go upstairs together. Find Voldemort together. He won’t be alone. The path to him will not be void of obstacles. We need everyone to get to him. Evan, Pandora, Dorcas, Barty, You and me – we have bombs, poisons, a magic-stealing dagger, and possibly two deathly hallows. If we can’t win against him, nothing and no one can.”
James looked at the floor plans, chewing on his bottom lip, and mentally mapping out different strategies, as his eyes flitted over the paper.
“What about Lily and Mary? We have to ask them. Two more talented and intelligent witches will increase our chances. They are dependable and trustworthy.”
“And auror-adjacent. They are probably as self-righteous as you were when you first came here. They will argue about politics before going anywhere with us. We can’t trust them – and we can’t have untrustworthy people with us for this.”
“You can trust them. They’re our friends. They want the war to end and Voldemort to die more than anything.”
“A lot of people want that. Do I have to invite them all?”
“No, but-“James exhaled in frustration. “Their support will increase our chances to survive this. …And they deserve to be part of it. Think about how much they lost. We were a large group of friends when we joined the Order, and now only the two of them are left – not to mention Dumbledore just died.”
“Yes and now you want us to trust them in battle when we ask them to fight on the side of Dumbledore’s killer.”
James flinched at his words. He pressed his lips together and averted his gaze. Regulus stared him down with cool, grey eyes.
James knew that Regulus killed Dumbledore, of course. He was probably there. Was that guilt on James’s face? Would he have rather kept Dumbledore alive and seen Regulus in Azkaban or dead?
“They don’t know who killed him, but they might have a guess,” Regulus said.
James closed his eyes for a moment. He cleared his throat and fully turned to Regulus, as if the decision was only his to make.
“We need them. We can trust them. Moony and I will convince them that you are the good guys now. We cannot leave them out of this. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Rightness doesn’t matter to me,” Regulus countered, but his body was fully turned to James, hands unclenched and features soft. Rightness didn’t matter to him, but Merlin, James did.
“Look at it from a pragmatical point. You said yourself that Lily was very talented. She graduated top of our year. She defied countless Death Eaters and faced Voldemort himself. You need her on your team. Mary is smart, quick, and resilient. She specialises in distraction and support – anything to do with shields and quick reflexes. Both of them have nothing to lose and their rage might be at an all-time high after Dumbledore’s death. If they’re willing, it would be completely illogical to not use them to your advantage.”
And with that, he had him. Regulus grumbled, mumbled and cursed some more for good measure, but – with the support of the rest of them – agreed.
Pandora and Lupin left the table to talk with Dorcas and contact Lily Evans and Mary MacDonald.
***
They spent the day strategising and planning. In the evening, they sat together in the TV room, and it was finally just them again: Regulus, Pandora, Evan and Barty. Potter and Lupin had left them alone after dinner.
Barty sat in the corner of one of the couches with his legs over Evan's lap. He lit a cigarette for himself. Regulus and Pandora disliked it when he smoked inside, but so close to a battle, not even they wanted to argue. If there was a time to be indulgent, it was now, they supposed.
“Tomorrow, Lily and Mary will either show up or not,” Regulus said. “And decide to help us or not. We’ll explain the plan. Then we should sleep again, attack at night. “
“I checked the Invisibility potions supply,” Pandora said. “Everything is in order.”
Barty blew out the smoke. “So that’s it then. This time tomorrow we’re going to attack the darkest wizard of all time. Fun.”
“Look at the bright side, thanks to James’s insistence, there is now a good chance we will be arrested by his Order friends before butting ourselves in mortal danger.”
Barty laughed and pointed his cigarette at Regulus. “Says the one who folded as soon as James put his little teddy bear eyes on him.”
“I didn’t fold.”
“No, no, he’s right,” Evan said. “He didn’t fold, but he was so close to spreading his legs and arching his back.”
Regulus shook his head.
“You are so far gone from him, it’s not even funny anymore.”
“No, it’s still very funny,” Barty disagreed. “I have never seen you this desperate for cock.”
“Nice self-own.” Regulus sat up properly and reached for his drink. “I’m not desperate for anything. I think getting him under me would be quite enjoyable. But the missions are the important thing. He is capable, so he deserves a bit of trust when he has a strategy, which he can support with factual arguments. That has nothing to do with our usual…” He made a face. “Relationship – in the pure sense of who he is in relation to me.”
“Which is what? Future husband? Object of desire? Man of your dreams? Wank fodder?”
Regulus pulled the glass straw out of his drink, tapped it on the rim, and then threw it at Barty’s head, who ducked away.
“The friend of my brother, you moron.”
“You do know that we saw you kiss, right?” Evan asked.
“So? It’s none of your business. Take care of your own relationship. I won’t defend myself for being attracted to a capable, handsome man, while the two of you are each dating that.” He made a broad gesture in their direction.
Barty grinned and sat up to wrap his arms around Evan’s head. “How dare you insult my sweet blood sucker? My darling mosquito?” He pressed a kiss to the side of Evan’s head.
Evan looked at Regulus. “I see your point.”
Regulus nodded in self-satisfaction. “I think I’ll go to bed. Don’t stay up too long. I find Gryffindors far more irritating without proper sleep.”
They said their good nights. Pandora spread herself out on the couch and took over Regulus’s drink. The glass straw flew back into the drink, and a little cocktail umbrella appeared next to it.
“After we kill Voldemort,” she said, “I want to go to the beach.”
“What beach?” Evan asked.
“No matter. Spain would be nice, or France.”
“France? Isn’t experiencing one hell enough for the year?”
Pandora just rolled her eyes. “I think it would be nice. I think we should travel. I cannot see this bunker anymore. I want to see Rome and Athens, visit Brazil and Mexico, eat in Japan and watch the giant spiders in Australia.”
“Spiders?” Evan frowned.
“Whatever. I just want to go there. The world has so many interesting magical communities, artifacts and beasts. I can’t imagine staying in one community or country forever. Can you?”
“Absolutely,” Barty said, flicking ash off his cigarette. “I could even stay in this bunker forever. Though, now that you mention it, muggles got all those cool guns and bombs, I must see what other heinous shit they came up with. When you don’t have spells, you have to be more creative in your methods of destruction.”
Pandora nodded excitedly. “And then we can combine their inventions with our magic!”
“I thought you wanted to found a magical telly studio?” Evan reminded her. “Why can’t we stay in one place? Not to sound like a sentimental wimp but having a home for a change would be nice.”
Barty considered the bunker their home. It was theirs, big, changed according to their whims, and gave him enough opportunity to test his experiments and inventions. But he imagined it being their home – just him and Evan. They could pretend to be one of those annoying couples who always touch each other and talk about interior design with that condescending little laugh whenever they got visitors! They could install fun little traps. The voices of reason could not veto any of his ideas!
“We could keep a pet boggart in the attic,” he whispered with glee. “And get a house ghost. I’ve always wanted a house ghost. That’s it, Evan, we’re buying a haunted house.”
“With what money?” Pandora asked. “We’re all disowned.”
“Evan, we’re robbing a bank.”
Evan sighed and interlocked his fingers with Barty’s. “Before any of that, we have to survive tomorrow. Panda, if you happen to have had a nice vision of us all surviving and going to the beach, now would be a good moment to share it.”
She averted her eyes. “Still not how that works.”
Pandora had visions all the time. She rarely talked about them anymore. She used to share them the moment they happened. It was all in good fun. Many of those visions were about death one way or another, but since they all lived, they decided that the visions didn’t have much merit.
It was all fun and games until it wasn’t. If they had taken that one vision seriously…
“But you did see something about tomorrow.” Evan didn’t need to ask.
Smoke curled from Barty’s cigarette. Pandora watched it until it dissipated and spun the glass straw between her fingers.
“I see a lot of things. I don’t want to worry any of you. If we think we’ll die, we will die.”
“If we are meant to die, we die, regardless of whether you tell us.”
Barty’s hand cramped around the cigarette. Evan’s hand was ice cold against his own.
“Then there is no point in telling you anyway. My visions may be nonsense again.”
“Or they might save us if we avoid what you’re seeing,” Barty said quietly and flicked the cigarette before taking a deep drag.
Pandora clenched her jaw.
Barty shouldn’t have said it.
They all knew what he meant.
Some time ago, not a lot of time, no, but it seemed decades past, Pandora and Evan’s younger brother, Felix, were to accompany their family to a mission. It was before they took their marks. Barty’s attitude toward the whole “new world order” and cult thing was still carefree, and Evan had no personal stakes in the matter.
Before one could receive the Dark Mark, they had to prove themselves in missions and errands. The Rosiers learned of a Muggle-wizard wedding and, after asking the Dark lord for guidance, decided to attack the festivities and kill the couple. Barty and Regulus joined them willingly. Pandora had begun to rebel against her parents and wanted to stay home.
Felix was just a child, six years younger than the twins.
Yet, his parents thought, he should be there. It was good for a young boy’s character to watch his parents and siblings stand up for their rights and his future.
‘I had a vision of Felix dying. He should stay home with me,’ Pandora had said the night before.
‘You have visions all the time. They don’t mean anything,’ Evan had replied.
At the wedding, the wizard’s family defended themselves and their guests. Spells were thrown. Energy soared through the air, and in the end, the bride and groom were dead. But so was Felix.
A stray spell must have hit him. They didn’t notice until the battle was over, and Evan meant to grab his brother’s hand to apparate with their parents. Felix didn’t stand there anymore. Evan’s hand only touched air.
After this, Pandora turned her back on her family and their ambitions for good. Evan now had personal stakes and soon after stood in front of Voldemort to have his arm branded with his mark.
Pandora took a long sip from Regulus’s drink. She pushed it around in her mouth as if it would reveal the right words to her.
“Just… look out for each other,” she said finally and put the glass down. “Do not separate.”
Evan and Barty looked at each other. A silent understanding passed between them.
“And, Evan, you need to wear this.” Pandora sat up and pulled something out of her skirt pocket.
She switched to their couch and presented a shiny, black ring with golden symbols carved into the metal. Barty sat up to see it properly.
“You know that I have been working on sun-protection magic for you. It is not perfect yet, but you should use it.”
Evan hesitated, staring at the ring. “We attack at night.”
“Still. What if they use a sunlight spell? Or the fight takes longer than we anticipate? I want you to stay out of the light but wear it just in case.”
Evan swallowed visibly.
“And you think it really…”
“Yes. To a certain degree for a certain amount of time. I would have preferred to test it more, but...” The reason remained unspoken, as it was obvious to them all. “Take it.”
Evan squeezed Barty’s hand in his and with the other, reached for the ring. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Pandora smiled and kissed the side of his head. “I should go to bed. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”
The boys nodded and wished her good night.
Evan sat in silence, staring at the ring in his palm.
“Put it on,” Barty said softly. “If this works, and you two keep working on it, you might be able to walk in the sun again soon.”
Evan gently moved the ring around in his palm. “Would you like that? In the bunker, it doesn’t matter, but if we do get out of here, of course you’d be out of the house some days, and I guess I could come with you then…”
Barty squeezed his hand. “Evan. I would move into a dark cave ten feet beneath the ground to be with you. Now, put it on.”
The corner of Evan’s mouth lifted to what could almost be called a smile. He freed his other hand from Barty’s grip to put on the ring.
He held out his hand, flipping it in the light, like a grand dame showing off her heirloom diamonds.
The smile faded slowly until his brows had tightened in a frown again.
“Hey, Ev,” Barty said and kicked his leg. “What’s with the face? Are you okay?”
Evan turned to him and tried himself on a smile again. It wasn’t very convincing. He took Barty’s hand again, interlacing their fingers.
“Come on, miss me with that shit,” Barty said with no bite in his voice, instead an encouraging smirk. “Don’t placate me. Tell me what’s going on in that overdriven head of yours?”
Evan sighed deeply, rubbing his thumb over Barty’s hand. “I’m just worried. …Ever since my transformation, my memory is clearer too, which is… the closer we got to destroying the Horcruxes and fighting Voldemort the more I had to think about Felix. …We are going to fight the darkest, most powerful wizard of our time – of all time, probably. I can’t lose Pandora, Reg or you too.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that. We don’t know what will happen. It is very, very likely that we will die. You know that as well as I do. The fact that we haven’t died yet was 90% luck – well, one of us did anyway…”
“You’re not dead.”
“I literally am. There’s no point in talking around it. I died. The three of you let me turn into a Vampire to bring me back. And… I get it. In some moments I’m even grateful that I’m still here.”
“Some moments?”
“Sitting here with you is quite enjoyable.”
Barty rearranged himself to lean into his side and kissed his shoulder.
“I don’t think I would do it.” Evan said suddenly.
“Do what?”
“Turn the three of you into Vampires to bring you back. I could. I could bite you before the battle, make sure you rise as an undead in case you died but… it wouldn’t be right. Sometimes, what is dead should stay dead. If you are convinced otherwise, it will consume you. There is no moving on if you decide for yourself that resurrection is an option – one that you’re willing to take, no matter how much you must sacrifice and how many people you must kill for it. I don’t want to end up like that. …People who go down that road, they become a shadow of their former self. Unrecognisable. …As much as I don’t want to lose you, or Panda and Reg, I don’t want to lose myself either, not again.”
Barty bit his lip.
It was true, Regulus had lost himself and become unrecognisable in his pursuit of resurrection. He had cared about nothing else – sleep, food, hygiene. He had locked himself into a makeshift bunker – which was really just a room – sleeping next to his brother’s corpse on the floor and reading until his fingers were bloodied from paper cuts. Even after they found him, expanded the bunker, turned it into a home and aided him, he wasn’t their Regulus anymore. He had no room in his life for anything but Sirius. He gave up a part of his magic every day to preserve him and took every risk for just the chance of getting closer to his goal. Barty would never admit it, but in truth, Regulus had not seemed human until James joined his cause.
He tried to imagine Evan like that: ashen skin, sunken eyes, living among death with one singular thing dominating him in such a way that all care, morality and principle were forgotten.
He did not want that for him.
“Do you wish we would have let you die instead of letting you turn?” Barty asked quietly.
Evan was silent for a moment, looking down at their hands and squeezing lightly.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted finally. “I’m coming to terms with it all. I cherish every minute I get to spend with you, Panda and Reg. But at the same time, I can’t help but compare it to how my life used to be, how I experienced things, how carefree I was. I could just kiss you and take you whenever I wanted without fearing I might accidentally crush you.”
“You wouldn’t. You’ve come a long way in handling your new abilities. You won’t hurt me. And if you did, I’d forgive you.”
Evan laughed humourlessly and shook his head. “That is not as comforting as you think it is.”
“I for one, am glad that you’re still here. Even though you were a nasty piece of shit for a few weeks.” Barty kissed his cheek. “I don’t want to live without you, Evan. I couldn’t let you die.”
Evan looked at him. He placed his hand against Barty’s cheek, carefully pushed his green-tipped hair out of his face, and smiled. “I know. If it comes down to it, I’m not sure that, in a moment of grief, I wouldn’t try to bring you back, too. …I love you too much to handle your loss.”
Barty’s body tensed.
Did he mishear?
Was it a trick of the imagination?
Or did Evan just say-
“I love you,” he said again.
“I love you, too.” The words rushed out of Barty’s mouth without any of the gravity he had always planned to add to his voice, but with all the impatience of a phrase that was held back for months.
He looked up into his eyes. Evan smiled again, a real smile this time.
“I want to kiss you now,” Evan whispered.
Barty understood. Evan was still hesitant to take charge, physically. So, Barty swung himself on top of him, straddling his lap, grabbed his face and kissed him deeply.
Evan dug his fingers into the couch. He allowed himself to respond to the kiss. Barty slid his hands into his hair. He pushed him further into the couch, moving against his rigid body.
A deep, soft sound rose from Evan’s throat and pushed against Barty’s lips.
He smirked and, seizing the moment, parted his lips to lick into Evan’s mouth, drawing another one of those sounds out of him.
Barty was so intimately familiar with the man, he knew every moan, sigh and catch of breath by heart and what they meant. As much as Evan had changed, he was still the man he knew inside and out. He still responded to all of Barty’s tricks in the same way as before.
He rubbed their jeans together, grinding down on Evan’s crotch and catching his breathy response in his mouth.
He ran his hands down the back of his neck and along his shoulders, grabbing his bicep with one hand, and feeling the tension in the muscle.
He remembered the feeling of Evan’s fingers digging into his flesh, bruising the white skin, then moving down to his ass, where he slapped him playfully, pulled his cheeks apart and used his artisan fingers to make him see stars.
Now, the couch got that treatment, as if a little pressure would fracture Barty’s hips – and if it did, Barty would probably get off on it.
He pinched Evan’s bicep, grabbed blindly for his arm and moved it so his hand was on his waist, where it fucking belonged.
Evan placed his other hand there on his own, and Barty put his heart back into the kiss.
Barty moved against him, chasing every bit of friction while Evan held him, but did not dare to assert enough control to direct his movements. They had taken it slow – cute kisses, hugs, cuddles, all soft and patient while Evan came to terms with his new strengths. Barty was pent up. He was shaking with need and desire. Evan could get him hot and heavy with his mere presence, and they haven’t touched properly, made out and let alone fucked in months.
How was a man with a hot, monogamous boyfriend supposed to survive in these conditions?
Barty dug his fingers into Evan’s shoulders. He dragged his hands over his shirt, reminding himself of every curve of muscle, the taut skin pulled over delicious abs. Evan was a well-built man. He spent most of his free time in a forge, for Merlin’s sake! - with hot flames lapping at his hands like demon tongues desperate for a taste, sweat running down his perfect body, dampening his hair and making his skin glisten in the firelight. Barty could almost taste the saltiness again.
How has he survived this long without all of this? Months of using his own hand and pretending it was Evan. He hadn’t dared to push him, make his desperation known, worried it might pressure Evan and turn him away. But now, with an imminent battle and a love declaration in the room, he felt like he might die if he didn’t touch his boyfriend.
Barty ran his hands down Evan’s muscled body, pulled on his shirt and slipped his fingers underneath to feel the cool skin. He used to be burning hot like his forge. Barty didn’t mind the change in body temperature. He could endure any change as long as he still had Evan in the end.
Evan’s tongue slipped into his mouth, and Barty moaned into the kiss. He pulled on the button of Evan’s jeans, revealing his white-green chequered pants and the obvious bulge of his hard cock.
Evan pulled back and grabbed Barty’s shoulders.
“Wait.”
Barty took his hands off him. As needy as he was, this would only be fun if Evan was as enthusiastic about it as him.
Evan was breathing heavily.
“You okay?”
He nodded sharply. “Just… wait a moment.”
Barty slowly placed his hands atop Evan’s.
“Ev, please, let me make you feel good. It’s been so long; you must be as pent-up as me.”
Evan laughed dryly. “Trust me, more than you.”
“Then what’s the problem? You’re hard. Let me help, hm?” He lifted Evan’s hand from his shoulder and guided it to his lips.
Evan’s eyelids fluttered. “I’m just worried. I don’t want to lose control.”
“What do you think will happen? That you fuck a new hole into me? That’s hot.”
“What if I lose control and go too hard, too fast or touch you with too much force?”
“Hot.”
“Barty. What if I bite you?”
Barty looked at his mouth, where his new, sharp fangs were hidden. His boyfriend being supernaturally strong and able to manhandle him was in itself a huge turn on. Yes, even the secret fantasy of Evan injuring him during it had made him come one night or another. But the biting thing? A new way for Evan to penetrate him? A new way for them to share each other’s bodies? A part of him to enter Evan’s body and become his? Becoming a source of life for his lover?
The thought alone made him hard.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” Evan said, confused. Then something shifted in his expression. “Are you turned on by that?” He said it with neither disgust nor alarm but interest.
Barty wrapped his arms around Evan’s shoulders and pressed their bodies together until Evan could feel his hardness.
“I want to be with you in every way, Evan. I’d take every risk. I wouldn’t hold anything against you. Even if you did lose control, I wouldn’t hold it against you. I’d still want to be with you, and I’d still love you.”
Barty leaned in to kiss him again.
“And what about the fact that you’d be sleeping with a corpse?”
“Always wanted to try that.”
Evan laughed against his lips, then wrapped his arms around him and kissed him again.
“Maybe we can take it slow?” He whispered. Barty had dropped his hands to Evan’s pants again. “Like we kissed. You are in control for now if your masochistic little perv brain can comprehend that.”
“Anything you want.”
Evan kissed him passionately with the same heat as he had before all this happened.
Barty’s brain was flooded with ideas and desires, trying not to let the little fantasies about enticing pain and hot blood to win him over. Not yet. He wanted to get Evan off, but with it reassure him that this was safe.
Barty grinned and pulled back from the kiss. Evan’s eyes followed him as Barty scooted back and slid from the couch, so he sat at Evan’s feet. He tugged on his jeans, then his pants and his hard cock sprang free.
Barty wrapped his hand around his length. It was warmer than the rest of him, pulsing with foreign blood. Evan’s sharp gaze was on him; lips parted in anticipation. Barty licked his lips and smirked up at his boyfriend.
He kissed Evan’s thigh, hot and open-mouthed, working his way up. He gently bit into the cool skin, sucked and kissed the marks he left. Evan dug his fingers into the couch again, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Barty gently squeezed Evan’s cock, kissing the spot where hip met thigh.
“Don’t be such a tease,” Evan whispered and bucked up his hips.
Barty smirked.
What was sex without a little begging?
He licked his lips again, darted his tongue out and flicked it against the tip of Evan’s cock. He moaned loudly.
Barty remembered Evan describing how intense everything had felt since his transformation.
Excitement rushed through Barty’s body along with the lust.
He let saliva drool on the head of his cock, using it as lube to slide his hand up and down his length. He moved in agonizingly slow strokes, watching his lover’s chest rise and fall with forceful, unnecessary breaths.
He pressed his tongue against the head, earning a deep groan. He licked his length down to the base and back up to the tip, where he wrapped his lips around him and sucked.
Evan cursed and moaned. A hand found its way into Barty’s hair, pushing down. He quickly stopped applying pressure on Barty’s head and instead played with his hair. Barty didn’t mind the pushing. Quite the contrary. He felt hazy at the thought of Evan taking him and using him for his pleasure.
They had never been careful with each other when it came to sex. Watching Evan practising restraint was almost funny.
Barty complied with the unuttered command and slid Evan’s cock further into his mouth. He moved his head up and down his cock, sucking around him and flicking his tongue against the tip when he was at the top again.
Evan moaned loudly above him, cursing and gasping.
“Fuck, Barty, just like that.”
He pulled on his hair, tugging on his scalp. The dull pain only encouraged him.
He swirled his tongue around the head. Drool ran down his length and over Barty’s hand. He took him down his throat again.
“Oh, Merlin, fuck, yes!”
Barty came back up when Evan let out a deep moan. He bucked up his hips and came inside his mouth. Somewhere between Evan’s noises, the tugging on his hair and the pulsing cock and warm cum in his mouth, Barty almost came inside his pants.
He swallowed obediently and gently sucked on the tip a few times more before letting Evan’s cock slip out.
Evan sank back into the couch. He wrapped his arms around his own head and groaned.
“Sorry.”
Barty frowned. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and climbed back onto Evan’s lap.
“That to the alleged stamina of Vampires, huh? Coming after three minutes like a damn fourteen-year-old.”
Barty grinned and forced Evan’s arms away so he could look at him. “I’ll take it as a compliment to my skills.”
Evan nodded weakly. “You have no idea. Every touch is so intense… a single stroke felt like you’ve been edging me for an hour.”
“Really?” He could hear the mischief in his own voice. “If that’s the case I see a lot of potential for some new… experiments.”
“It’s embarrassing. I don’t want to be some sort of two-pump-chump.”
“All I’m hearing is that we need to have a lot of sex to get you used to these feelings again.”
Barty leaned in to kiss him playfully. He moved against him, making the presence of his still hard cock known.
Evan put his hands on Barty’s thighs, hesitantly sliding one up to his hip. He kissed his lips, then his cheek, jaw and down to his neck. Barty liked being kissed there and loved getting hickeys sucked into his skin. Maybe he had a thing for seeing bruises on his skin, so what?
He felt Evan breathe in against his neck.
“Fuck, you smell good,” he muttered and kissed him again.
Barty ground down on him, chasing the friction Evan denied him by keeping his hand firmly on his hip.
“I’m getting hard again if you keep that up.”
Barty peeked down at Evan’s cock, which began to stiffen again. He chuckled. “Ah, that to the topic of vampiric stamina. If you recover this quickly and come that hard form now on, I must develop a cum or breeding kink.”
Evan laughed against his skin. He looked up at him out of green eyes, almost entirely void of worry. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Barty kissed him again. “Now, get your arse to my room, get the lube and then we’ll see how many times I can make you come tonight.”
Evan didn’t hesitate, stood up, with Barty’s legs around his hips, abandoned his trousers, and carried him through the bunker to their room.