Harry assures him he's perfectly capable of cooking dinner for his friends, kicking him out to meet with Sirius, to fend off his endless questions and rising suspicion.

Sirius is unbearably chatty that day, talking about this and that until Regulus feels like his ears are about to pop with the truly unpleasant sound of his brother's voice.

The last time he dreaded listening to him to this rate was when Sirius was sixteen, and at a screaming match with Mother about his endless detentions.

When Sirius opens his mouth, ready to launch into another story about James fucking Potter, like what James fucking Potter did that day is the most important thing they could talk about.

Turns out it is.

"Lily and James are thinking about adopting."

"What?" he exclaims, and reaches across the table to grab Sirius by the collar. "Why?"

Sirius gives him an odd look and Regulsus forces himself to lean back and tries to act casually.

"Why are you so bothered?" Sirius inquires with narrowed eyes, restring his elbows on the table.

Regulus sniffs, "I just think it's not fair to Harry."

Sirius raises his eyebrows. "Since when do you call him Harry?"

Regulus kicks him under the table, his unease reaching a new peak as Sirius stares at him like he actually wants an answer. "What else do I call him? Your godson?"

He shrugs, lookşing abruptly disinterested. "He won't come here for a very long time. They could help raise a child in that period."

"No," he grabs Sİrius' sleeve. Sirius lets out a genuıinelty shocked laugh and yanks his arm back. "What? Do you want him to die?"

He clears his throat, "He looked so miserable," he recites the words he prepared earlier to use in case this subject came up. "Wouldn't be too bad if he came now, would it? Don't you miss him?"

Sirius frowns, looking at him like he's seeing Regulus for the first time. "I thought you'd be jealous."

It really is that annoying when someone says that, he thinks testily but keeps his smile on. No wonder Barty flipped.

"No," he says with a finality in his tone, widening his smile until his eyes close and Sirius disappears from the view.

"If you say so," he says, but it only helps to aggravate him. "Well. Not really. It was selfish to wish him here."

Alarm bells start ringing in his head, his stomach churning. "But you did want him right?" Regulus asks with a nervous laugh.

"Not really," Sirius says slowly, looking him in the eye like he wants to make sure he understands it. "He needs-"

"Evan and Barty are waiting for me," he cuts him off. If he lets Sirius finish his words they'll only come back to bite him in the backside.

"Oh, can I come too?" Sirius asks, batting his eyelashes at him.

"No, this is our alone time," Regulus lies, his heart beating wildly in his chest. "We're celebrating Evan buying his market."

"Did he finally?"

"Yeah, and the house over the market too," Regulus says proudly.

"Isn't that too big for one person?"

"He's with his girlfriend," Regulus replies, suddenly in awe that Evan seems to have all of his shit together while he and Barty get into meaningless fights with each other and everyone else in their lives.

"He really got his shit together," Sirius says, and Regulus gives him a tight lipped smile, getting up.

"Yes and I will not make him wait tonight so you can tell me one more story about Potter, brother," he declares, enjoying the look of mild annoyance and surprise on Sirius' face. "I'll see you soon, yeah?" he mumbles distractedly, his stomach twisting in anticipation. He's been having nightmares about Barty facing Harry that he's running on two hours of sleep and he can't deal with his brother one moment longer.

"Sure," Sirius says, suddenly timid and accepting but there's not enough brain cells left in Regulus' brain to spare a thought to this sudden change.

Barty is not there when he arrives, only ten minutes late.

"He ditched me, didn't he?" he says, indignation rousing in him.

"He didn't," Harry says quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "He was just here."

"Is he in the bathroom?" He cranes his neck to see the hallway but no one is there.

Evan shakes his head, curled into one corner of the sofa like he wants to disappear, hugging the pillow Regulus used last night as a shield. "He left, actually."

"Why?" he asks, swallowing around the tightness in his throat when his voice comes out scratchy. He doesn't think he can handle fighting with Barty any longer and he'll stop trying to make amends with him when he clearly doesn't want to make an effort, or even respond to his attempts.

As he spirals into a pit of outrage and resentment, at Barty for crowding him to a corner, he spots the pained look on Evan's face and follows the line of Evan's sight

He spins around to face Harry, his eyes wide open in alarm. "What is that?" he hisses.

"A watch," Harry says, with his hands on his hips like he answered this question multiple times already.

"Shit, shit, shit," he grabs his hair and tugs at it until the panic in his chest recedes a bit. "Where did he go?" he asks Evan.

"Don't know, he just stormed off the second he came into the living room," he leans in and whispers, looking horrified, fisting his hands on the pillow, "and they were making fun of Draco Malfoy, getting along like a house on fire, then he saw the watch and just lost it."

He pauses, panting like he'd been running. "He took off mumbling tick tock like when he first came."

He rubs his face, furious with himself for forgetting to mention it to Harry, and the guilty expression on Harry's face rubs the salt on his wound.

It would be so easy to blame Harry for all these things happening,but one thing he learned here is to take responsibility.

Still, he can't bring himself to say "It's not your fault," at that moment.

"I'll go find him," he tells them, not receiving an answer, but only mildly pitying looks.

Regulus realises he has no idea what Barty does when he's not with Evan or him. Does he go to the library? To a bar? Somehow, he doesn't think he goes back to his house when he signs off.

He checks Evan's market first, calling him continuously at the same time. He goes to kindergarten, Bellatrix' house, and also to the train station before he accepts he has no choice but to go to his house.

He hears his ringtone when he is a two streets down, people looking around to place where the sound is coming from with varying degrees of annoyance on their faces. Regulus fastens his steps, falling into a run when he decides he can't take the wait anymore.

He finds the phone in front of the wide open door and he grabs it from the floor before he barges in the house, welcome or not. He opens every door, every room causing a sense of anxiety in him.

But it's still easy to know which one of them is Barty's room because it's the only one without a mirror on the opposite wall to the door.

It was his own image reflected at him that made him nervous. He can only guess what that does to Barty.

He knows who's responsible.

Barty has told him before, that his father sleeps upstairs, his door locked and with the wardrobe guarding the door. But it's wide open when he reaches the top of the stairs.

It takes Regulus seconds, minutes, hours to get a grip but in the end he still can't find a reason for Crouch Sr to be sitting on his bed cross legged with multiple knives sticking out of his body, like they're nothing more than loose fabric.

Barty's father lips curl into a sneer and he taps his foot on the floor impatiently. "Are you daft, boy?" he snaps, causing Barty to wince, his shoulders tightening like he expects something after that sentence and it's what snaps Regulus out of his stupor.

He grabs Barty by the wrist, noting his wrist is thinner than usual and yanks him despite him resisting, dragging him away until Barty's door is safely shut behind them. He considers pushing the bed but contents himself with locking it.

"It doesn't work," Barty says.

Regulus frowns and pulls the handle down, looking at Barty in question when it stays locked.

Barty looks like he's on the verge of laughing and Regulus understands what he means.

"Of course it doesn't," he snaps, "what, do you think you're the only one who stabbed anyone here?"

He starts pacing back and forth, glancing at Barty lying down on his bed with an arm hiding his face every once in a while.

"You can come live with us."

The silence that follows is deafening and Regulus almost repeats himself thinking he didn't hear but he's saved from embarrassing himself.

"Honestly Reg," he says, sounding so tired, "I'd rather stay here with him than with you two."

"I cannot believe this," he laughs in disbelief, "this is beyond basic jealousy. It's self sabotage."

"Stop saying that."

Regulus doesn't miss that he doesn't rush to deny it this time. "You're jealous of Harry," he repeats, his voice louder and more confident.

Barty removes his arm and stares at him. "Enlighten me."

"You think I fancy him," he says, lowering his voice.

Barty pushes himself into a sitting position and laughs after a pause. "I've never even seen the two of you together."

Regulus goes on like he hasn't heard him and gestures around the room. "You lay there, in the dark, imagining things we could be doing in the dark, in that house, all by ourselves."

He knows he's crossed a line when Barty's expression goes blank. "No one fucks in the dark, Regulus, try harder."

Regulus holds his breath and says it in one go. "I would."

Barty inhales, his fingers twitching next to him. "That's below the belt."

Regulus ignores the guilt, and forces the next words out. "But I would like it better with lights on," his eyes catch the full moon from the open window. "Or with some moonlight."

An amused expression replaces the grimace on Barty's face. "Some candles as well. Maybe add rose petals."

"No, that's dangerous," he says. "Inviting trouble."

Barty laughs despite himself but stops himself short when Regulus beams at him. He walks closer, sitting next to him, half sure Barty is not going to bite his head off.

"I'm sorry for not warning Harry beforehand," he says, looking him in the eye. His heart picks up the pace when Barty's eyelids flutter when he touches his wrist on a whim.

"Stop apologising," he shakes it off, looking embarrassed to be caught, "just do better."

Regulus wants that abashed boy back, so he holds his hand.

"What are you doing?" Barty sneers, trying to yank his hand back but Regulus doesn't let him, rubbing his thumb over the top until Barty stops resisting.

"Practicing?"

"Do you have to practice on me?"

Regulus blows his breath from his nose and raises one eyebrow in question. "Would you rather I picked someone else?"

"...No."

Regulus smiles and decides to go for it before he loses his courage and Barty withdraws to his shell.

He moves closer until their thighs press against each other, and Regulus lifts his free hand up to his face to cup his cheek, tilting Barty's head back, his eyes on his mouth parting in invitation.

He traces his thumb over the bottom lip and leans down to whisper in his ear. "How is this? Am I any good?"

Barty laughs breathlessly. "You won't get any complaints."

Regulus' lips turn up in a smile and he presses a quick kiss on his cheekbone before he puts some space between them to look him in the eyes, only to see Barty has shut his eyes tightly.

"Look at me."

"No," Barty growls.

Regulus lets his hand wander down, stopping on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under his palm. "But I love your eyes."

His body responds the same way when Barty's heartbeat fastens, and he opens his eyes, flashing with indignation as if he sensed Regulus could feel his reaction.

"You love them because they make you forget who I am."

"I'm not afraid of who you are," he says, resting his hand high on his thigh, almost on his crotch.

"It's because you're a bloody idiot, Regulus," he says, his voice suddenly tired, like he hates himself for not stopping Regulus, eyes falling closed again.

This is not how this will go, if Regulus has a say in it.

"Please look me in the eye," he pleads. He moves his hand to his fly when he doesn't get an answer, and Barty's jaw clenches.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"It feels too real that way," he confesses, his voice so small.

"Isn't that good?" Regulus wonders out loud, truly confused.

"I can't get used to it," he breaths out, his head falling back, giving Regulus space to kiss upwards from his neck to his jaw.

"You're going to, one way or another."

Barty whines when he starts kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheekbones, his eyelids, with a hand tangled in his hair.

"You're killing me," he whispers.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Regulus laughs when Barty's back arches and he hides his face in the crook of his neck.

Barty bites on the flesh where his shoulder and neck meets, and his eyes open a fraction to give him a small, half grin.

"Not right now."

Regulus presses, "Come on, please show me your eyes."

Barty's eyes open wide and he rolls them in a dramatic fashion. "Fuck's sake, you're insistent," he says but doesn't close them again other than blinking, and Regulus decides to reward him.

"You've gone better at this," Barty remarks into his ear.

"Practice makes perfect."

Barty twists the skin on the top of his hand, causing him to tighten his fingers in reflex. He doesn't know if it was Barty's intention but he enjoys it nevertheless.

Barty had always been one step ahead of him but Regulus knows he can keep up.