AN: For the amazing Paula who inspired this.
Part One
I. Barty
Barty sits on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower, a lit cigarette dangling lazily between his lips. This is the only place where can be himself, where he doesn't have to worry about preserving his family's good name, where he can be more than just an extension of his father.
"That's a bad habit, you know," comes a bored drawl behind him.
Barty laughs, letting the remains of the cigarette drop to the ground before tucking another between his lips and lighting it. "Regulus Black, concerned about someone else?" he calls, pale eyes rolling.
Regulus sits beside him. Barty tenses as he always does. He is a nobody, and Regulus is a somebody, and Barty can't help but to feel lesser around him.
"Hardly," Regulus says coolly. "Just observing."
"Yeah, well, we all have our addictions," Barty mutters darkly.
"Not me."
Barty turns to the younger boy, brows raised. "Really? I thought all Slytherins are addicted to power and shit like that."
"For a Ravenclaw, you're remarkably stupid," Regulus says.
Barty shrugs, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Whatever you say."
OoOoO
The Astronomy Tower becomes their special place. Neither will admit it. Really, there's no need to voice it.
Both are hiding from something, Barty thinks. And if something is enough to make Regulus Black, the Slytherin prince, want to run away, Barty thinks it must be big.
"You smoke too much," Regulus notes.
"You don't smoke enough," Barty shoots back.
Lips twisting into what might be a smile, Regulus shifts his gaze to the full moon above them. "Maybe I need a bad habit to distract me," he muses.
Barty senses a hint of an invitation in the words, but he doesn't reply. He just crushes the cigarette against the sole of his trainers and lets the heavy silence hang between them.
II. Regulus
When they're alone together, Regulus watches Barty when he isn't looking. He watches the way his chest pushes out whenever he takes a drag, watches the way the cigarette dances between his lips. There's something beautiful in addiction, he decides.
"Want one?"
Regulus shakes his head, quickly turning his attention away.
"The way you were eying mine, I thought maybe you wanted one."
Inwardly, Regulus curses himself for being so obvious. Aloud, he says, "No thanks." and pretends that a stray pebble beneath his thumb is the most fascinating thing.
OoOoO
When Barty lets the night's last cigarette fall to the ground, Regulus kisses him. Bitter tobacco and cool menthol linger on Barty's breath, mixing with the taste of the Ravenclaw. Regulus thinks it's the most glorious thing to ever grace his tongue.
Barty pulls back, confusion warring yearning on his features. "What the hell was that?" he gasps, touching his fingertips to the corners of his lips.
Regulus shrugs, an arrogant smirk in place. "Just wanted to try it," he says.
And he knows that's exactly how an addiction begins.
III. Barty
Barty finds himself thinking of Regulus more and more. Before, it had only been at night when he'd spend the hours wondering what Regulus is hiding from.
Now, Regulus is forever tangled in his mind. He steals glances at the Slytherin. He hides away, face obscured by a book, trying to remember exactly how their lips felt against each other.
It's like the constant need for nicotine. Each heartbeat echoes the word addict, addict over and over again.
This, Barty thinks, can't be healthy.
OoOoO
Their meetings atop the Tower seem to grow less frequent. Sometimes Regulus doesn't show up for days.
Addict. Addict.
Barty tries to ignore it; smoking cigarette after cigarette, hoping one bad habit will overpower the other.
IV. Regulus
Regulus has never smoked. He's never tasted wine. Gambling has always seemed a bit ridiculous to him.
For years, he's lived a life free from the monster that claws at the brain and heart, demanding another taste of freedom.
But now he knows he isn't immune to it. Now he knows that some habits can slip into his mind and leave him shaking, needing more.
He tries to quit Barty. He keeps his distance, refusing to steal glances, refusing to think of their nighttime meetings.
But the taste of Barty still lingers on his tongue, and he can't stay away.
OoOoO
"Need you," Regulus whispers between bruising kisses, pinning Barty to the wall.
And Barty kisses him back just as desperately, and Regulus smiles against his wanting lips.
He presses harder, hands roaming Barty's body, memorizing every inch of him. "Need you," he whispers again, his body crushing the cigarettes in Barty's shirt pocket.
Part Two
I. Barty
Barty lounges in his flat, looking over his father's latest letter. Opening at the Ministry. Opportunity. What it to have his son follow in his footsteps.
"Load of rubbish," he mutters darkly, tossing the parchment into the fireplace and tapping his fingers restlessly against the arm of his chair.
It's the quiet moments like this when Regulus is away that drives him mad. He shifts uncomfortably, his skin crawling at just the thought of sitting still.
"Signs of withdrawal," he muses to himself before lighting a cigarette, though he knows nicotine isn't what his body is missing.
II. Regulus
"Still smoking too much, I see," Regulus teases, leaning against the doorway of the sitting room.
"We all have our bad habits," Barty says quietly.
Regulus grins, moving forward and capturing his lover's lips in a quick kiss. "Don't I know it," he laughs.
III. Barty
Regulus is growing distant again. Barty knows that it has something to do with the Dark Lord, that he should just accept it and fight the shakes and aches with a forced smile.
He can't.
He pulls Regulus onto the bed, kissing him, more teeth than tongue. "Need you," he murmurs into the kiss, just as Regulus had when they were sixteen.
But what he wants to say is "Need me. Forget about your duties. Let me be the only reason your heart keeps beating."
But he'll never say it aloud.
IV. Regulus
Regulus paces the length of the bedroom again, watching as Barty sleeps fitfully beneath the sheets. He never seems peaceful when Regulus isn't beside him.
He's killed a woman, someone he'd known. Regulus had been aware that being a Death Eater isn't a pretty life, but this is far too real. He's still young, and now he has innocent blood on his hands.
"Dammit!" he hisses. "Dammit! Dammit!"
"Regulus..."
He freezes, fearing he's woken Barty. He relaxes when he realizes it's only sleep talk.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Regulus sighs and climbs into bed beside his lover. Within seconds, Barty curls against him, and Regulus feels himself relax the second bare skin meets bare skin.
Part Three
I. Barty
"What do you want?"
Barty looks up, confused. "What?"
"In life. What do you want?" Regulus asks, his tone urgent like this strange question is life or death.
"You," Barty answers without a second of hesitation.
A pained expression flashes across Regulus' face, but it's gone a moment later. Regulus pushes a hand through his dark hair, swearing under his breath.
"Reg? What is it?" Barty asks, climbing to his feet and rushing forward, hands gripping his lover's shoulders. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Barty. Nothing at all. I've just been thinking."
Barty swallows dryly. In a relationship, those words are rarely followed by anything good.
But Regulus doesn't say anything else. He just falls into Barty's arms, face buried in Barty's chest.
"Need you," Regulus whispers.
Barty smiles.
II. Regulus
He's in too deep. This is the life his family had wanted for him. He'd made the choice blindly, only wanting to please his parents.
And now look at him.
He's stuck, knowing he needs to get out, knowing he needs to stop his master.
But it's a death sentence. Every scenario Regulus has pictured always ends in that eternal sleep. Once, it might have been an easy choice. Die like a hero, do something Sirius would do.
But death means no more Barty. Death means Barty would carry on without him, would suffer the loss until the end of his days.
Regulus pushes a hand through Barty's fair hair, eyes closing. They're both too far gone, he realizes. They're connected – mind, body, and soul – and there's no easy way out.
III. Barty
Barty clings to Regulus. He can taste finality in their kiss, and he doesn't want it to end. He can't let it end.
"Stay with me," he whispers desperately.
"I'm here," is the answer, and Barty can feel the avoidance in the words.
"That's not what I said."
Regulus silences him with a needy kiss, gripping Barty tight enough to leave little bruises in his wake.
"Need...you," Barty pants during the brief breaks where their lips part. "Need. You."
"Always."
Regulus' grip relaxes. Barty thinks that he's won, that Regulus will stay.
He kisses Regulus gently, listening to the lullaby of their rapidly beating hearts as he drifts off to sleep.
IV. Regulus
Barty is the last thing that flashes through his mind. Mistakes, regrets, hatred, anger, then Barty.
He's breaking the habit, forcing himself to give Barty up.
Regulus cries out. Water fills his lungs, but that's a pain Regulus can live with. Or die with.
But Barty. The guilt bites into Regulus' bones, squeezing his heart.
Barty will wake without him. Barty is probably tossing and turning beneath the sheets, arms outstretched and reaching for a man who's no longer there.
He's forcing Barty to break the habit too. But Barty is stronger. Barty will carry on and get over it, Regulus is sure of it.
Regulus' vision goes dark, but he can still see Barty when his eyes close.