Sequel to the tenth chapter of Seirios Aster's fic, Little Lion Man, titled People are Strange. Go read it. Mmyes.
Gravity
"Something always brings me back to you … It never takes too long … No matter what I say or do, I still feel you here – 'till the moment I'm gone …" ~ Gravity by Sara Bareilles
Barty was assured in the mutual destruction of his house mate, as well as his own, reputation. The problem was Reg … It had been quite a few days since the new rumors had started, and Barty's intent had been pretty much nullified; sure, it had lessened the attention that Regulus and he were receiving, but it hadn't completely eliminated it. Which had been his original goal.
It wasn't helping that apparently anyone who associated with Regulus was tagged as a social pariah; Barty didn't really have that problem because he didn't really have friends outside of Regulus. And his acquaintances were just a little more distant than usual – not much of a shocker there really. However, this also meant that socially, it didn't really affect Barty much, except for the once in a while annoyance of people pointing and whispering in his general direction.
Regulus, on the other hand … Not that he was a social butterfly like his brother, but he did get along with most people, and he liked being around people, and generally they enjoyed his presence as well. Usually that made for a decent relationship that someone could comfortably deem "friendship" – and the youngest son of the house of Black had a few of those "friendships", even outside of his own house. Surely a noteworthy feat with the trained prejudices students from each house held for the other three.
All that said, coupled with the fact that he was painfully loyal to his friends, as previously mentioned, to an absolute fault, and add all of that to Reg's perpetual emotional delicacy, and … Well, Barty was relatively confident that the brunet was having a hard time of this whole development. Which was, of course, entirely Barty's fault – even discounting the fact that he didn't know what was going to happen when he'd gone and transfigured that seventh year, the simple fact that he had these feelings, which is why this whole mess started in the first place …
It was the third night in a row that Bartemius Crouch Jr. had been unable to sleep due to his intense guilt – for about a million things. He had walked in on Regulus Black upset enough that he had been crying; which he had to admit wasn't an extremely rare occurrence, but it hadn't been the fact that he had been crying so much as the fact as the type of crying … That broken, upset, scared-as-hell helpless crying that he almost never heard from his friend. In fact he was pretty sure he'd only ever heard it once the entire time he'd known Reg.
And he'd done nothing.
Barty had seen what looked like a distraught Regulus Black rush through the Common Room on Wednesday afternoon, and for a moment, he'd managed to sit there and not react at all to his rushing through to the other side … However, his resolve had broken in a spectacularly record speed, and he had followed him almost immediately afterward, closing his book and heading for the stairs just after everyone went back to what they were doing. He'd gotten to the door of the dormitory, heard what he knew to be his best friend, and pressed his back against the wall outside if the door.
Barty wanted to know what happened; he did. And he wanted to comfort his friend most definitely … But he knew that if he went in there … First of all, he'd find out what happened, and as per usual he'd probably want to destroy someone's life – depending on how major the offense was, which may have been pretty bad considering recent events, he wouldn't be able to help doing something about it. And secondly … He was still trying to stay as far away from Reg as he could unless it was absolutely necessary that he be around him, because he was still hoping that people would drop their idiot musings about Reg if they weren't seen together.
So, after standing there and debating for what felt like a very long time, Barty eventually let out a slow breath, stood up straight, and started back downstairs. Just in time to see that asshole and his friends come into the common room and everyone stop and stare at the seventh year. After an awkward pause, he went to walk past Barty, who was standing on the stairs, and just as he got to the blonde, someone in the common room said directly to him,
"Oi – shouldn't you be heading up the other set of stairs?" Then another pause, in which the seventh year stopped in his tracks for just a moment, before the entire common room burst into quiet, snickering laughter. For the most part; some people didn't care and started whole heartedly laughing out loud. Barty tried to school his expression into the most neutral one he could manage, but he couldn't help the small smirk that managed to show up on his face – he was pretty sure it went unnoticed however, because he was just brushed past and the three of them went upstairs.
"Why don't you go with them Crouch? Might make for an interesting time."
"Because he's not into him anymore, idiot. Leastwise not if he's got a cunt."
Hearing that exchange, though it was difficult to pick up through all of the other sounds in the common room, most of which were still the remnants of scoffs and laughter, Barty felt his hands curl at his sides, very annoyed at the suggestion. It wasn't like he was into everything that had a dick just because he was gay – just like not every straight guy was interested in anything with a pussy. You know what, that was probably not the best example ever, since a lot of guys in fact were interested in everything that had tits and two holes between their legs.
Frustrated at his housemates, frustrated at himself for leaving Reg alone, frustrated in general, he stalked out of the dormitory to seek solitude in the library. The potions paper he had gotten an extension on wasn't going to write itself …
That had been three nights ago. And tonight, just like all of those nights, Barty was having a horrible time attempting to sleep; he had gone to Madame Pomfrey once the day before to get something for the pain his headache was causing him. However, he had purposely avoided going to see her more than that, because and he wouldn't end up getting anything besides a bigger headache, because she wouldn't give him anything more for killing pain until she had owled home to his parents in order to tell them what was going on with their son. Something he had expressly asked her not to do, and he would not be rescinding that request any time soon.
"Nnnnngg …" he groaned quietly, turning onto his side and sluggishly covering his head with his pillow the cool underside of the case felt good against his throbbing temples; he knew it would only remain that way for a few seconds before it became the temperature of his skin, but for the moment he was alright. It wasn't Barty's fault he couldn't sleep – it was his brain's fault for not being able to wind down and stop thinking …
Well, actually, it probably is my fault, seeing as I wouldn't feel like a complete tit if I would be an actual friend instead of being concerned about what people think of you and your friend … the blond's hands came up and he let them fall onto the pillow, sort of hitting himself in the head by proxy because god he wished he could just stop thinking for five fucking seconds …
Hmmm. That was the sound of someone's alarm going off. Forcing one hazel eye open, he looked out from underneath the pillow that he still had over his head, and realized that the light had marginally brightened in the dungeons. That meant that it was morning. When had that happened? Barty sighed as he covered his head again, seriously considering skipping Transfiguration that morning in the vain hope that he would be exhausted enough to pass out cold for a few hours …
Unfortunately, as appealing as that plan sounded, he knew that it was sadly extremely unlikely that he was going to actually manage to fall into unconsciousness, so there was really little to no point in missing class. At least he could not pay attention and he'd still be able to answer questions if McGoogles decided to be cruel and call on the boy that looked as though he hadn't slept in half a week. Which he basically hadn't.
Curling up under the sheets, he half feigned sleep, half allowed his thoughts to wander, since they'd do that anyway, and waited for the sounds of his dorm mates to dissipate. His curtains were drawn around his bed, so he was pretty comfortable in his assurance that no one would bother with him while they all ambled about and collected themselves up before heading down to breakfast and then to class.
And of course, among those dorm mates, was one Regulus Black (yeah, like we were going to stop mentioning him), whom Barty, again could tell by how he stumbled around in the morning and eventually managed to stagger out of the door and into the common room. The blond was particularly occupied with making sure that Reg had made his way out of the dormitory before eventually, he succumbed to the inevitable and dragged himself up, nearly falling onto the floor before devising himself of his pajama shirt and searching for something clean in his trunk to wear along with his robes.
Stretching, arms pushed out to the sides and behind him, he turned slightly, unclenching his eyes and becoming slightly disoriented and momentarily dizzy. Blinking for a moment, he realized that there was a familiar form standing at the threshold to the dormitory, though it took a few moments for his vision to completely unblur. By then, whoever was standing there had fled the scene, but …
"Reg …?" Barty blinked; maybe he'd hallucinated that. It wasn't completely unlikely considering that state of his head, and he brushed it off a moment later, dragging a shirt over his head because he was too lazy to unbutton it. Picking up a tie, as that was customary dress, he tucked it under the collar and let the ends hang as he moved to take off his pajama pants and boxers, replacing them and pulling on his robes … Before sighing and collapsing face first on his bed, letting out a pathetic half whine half groan a moment later. He just wanted to sleeeeeeep …
Sweat.
Heat.
Panting.
A name; quiet on sleeping lips – the barest of whispers. The movement of the skin was slow and languid – barely there at all … Unlike the desperate fantasy that played out behind his closed eyes; the movements took his breath away, his heart raced – the noises in this dreamscape echoed and arched; writhed through the air around the bodies that mimicked the sounds. The sounds that danced only for the two of them, hidden in the black, a white-hot crouch against the sheets …
"Nnnng … R-Re—"
Muddied hazel-green eyes snapped open, and a sharp intake of breath heralded his waking. Laying where he was, the teenager panted, too-long bangs that his mother would have cut in a heartbeat had he been home matted against his cheeks and face … It was a long stretch of time, staring blankly at the blankets, before he realized where he was exactly. Suffocating faced-down on the green comforter that covered his bed.
"… Fuck …" was all he managed to get out in a harsh, muffled whisper, not bothering to turn his head to the side. And just then, he had an overwhelming sense of déjà vu …
"FUCK." The exclamation would have been closer to a yell if it weren't for the fact that his face was pressed against the bed – honestly in retrospect he wouldn't be sure exactly how he had been breathing, but he didn't care.
After everything that had happened in the month or so that had passed since the last time he'd had that dream … After the rollercoaster ride of reputations and anxieties – of him and Reg both having their lives threatened, among other things, spending all that time in the infirmary … It all came back to this, didn't it? Even all that couldn't deter his fucking dick.
"Goddammit Reg," he muttered into the mattress, knowing that it was likely he had missed both Transfiguration and Charms that day. Oh yes; because this is all his fault … he mentally berated himself, still not bothering to turn his head to the side. It was actually becoming difficult to breathe, however, so he would need to do something about that soon. Or not – he could probably just lay there face down long enough to suffocate himself to death. Would probably solve most of the problems in the world – or at least all of the problems concerning him.
Slowly, Barty Crouch Jr rolled onto his back with a noise, now staring up at the top of the canopy that covered is bed. Oh Merlin; his legs were so stiff … He had fallen asleep with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, and his knees were flat, so they had been sticking out near straight in the air. Whining in the back of his throat, he bent his knees and rubbed at his calves, what there was of a muscle there burning unpleasantly.
Eyes closing, he rubbed at his forehead lightly, which had started that dull throb again; it wasn't as bad as it had been when he'd dragged himself out of bed that morning, but clearly he hadn't gotten enough sleep to completely get rid of this headache.
Sweat.
Heat.
Panting …
"Dammit," he cursed, eyes opening to get rid of the image that had suddenly reiterated itself in his mind's eye. Letting out a breath, he got up unsteadily, knowing that he couldn't lay in bed any more or else it was just going to get worse. However, walking proved to also be a chore, because of certain other … troubles … But that didn't matter to him at the moment; he just needed to stop laying down and letting his mind wander.
He just needed to get Reg out of his head; easier said than done. Got worse when he wasn't around the brunet for a while – he tended to get preoccupied with whether or not Regulus was mad at him, what he was doing, how he felt …
You know, extremely obsessive, lovesick-puppy thoughts. Yeah. He had those. A lot.
And then of course there was his body going through withdrawal, which didn't even make any sense because it wasn't like they ever came into any kind of physical contact when they were around each other any way …
These, and many other frustrating thoughts were heading through his mind as he skulked around the castle grounds, avoiding most classroom windows for fear that McGoogles or Flitwick would look out of them and see him, and say something about his absence that day in their class. He'd have to ask someone what the work was, but that wasn't even occurring to him at the moment; he was mostly trying not to think about anything at all. Which eventually found him sitting on the shore of the lake, staring at the water that was reflecting the overcast sky.
Same color as Reg's eyes … the thought occurred to him before he realized he'd had it, and it almost slipped away before he noticed it. But he did, and that made him put his elbows on his knees, digging his fingers into his stringy blond hair, so frustrated with himself that he couldn't even be frustrated right now. It had just settled into a sort of helpless depression.
He didn't know what to do; about anything. He'd managed, in about a month, to completely ruin not only his own life, but likely Regulus' as well, and now in order to fix it, he was avoiding the only friend he had in this entire bloody school because he thought that maybe possibly there was a chance that might fix things for him. Barty was entirely buggered – but he knew that already; he didn't have a strong presence to most other students, so there wasn't any reason why they would not believe the rumor about him – however, he was basically a nobody from a pureblood house that had little prestige, so it would blow over by next year, and people would go back to basically congenially ignoring him, more likely than not. Which suited the blond just fine.
Reg, though …
He was a lot more in the eye of the student body; he had friends, or at least he had had friends, until Barty had fucked everything up … He was also from the Moste Noble and Ancient House of Black. That made him one of the more well-known people in the school simply by proxy. However, because people knew him more than they did, they knew that he had a sort of reputation for chasing red-headed skirts. And by chasing that really meant not being able to do much in the department of thinking when there was an attractive red haired girl in his presence, even though he'd never actually gone out with anyone, male or female … There was a chance that this could blow over as well. A chance. And the blond just didn't want to fuck that up – he was trying to do what he thought was right.
Though at this point he was starting to think he was just being an idiot, and he had just managed to destroy the entire universe irreparably with his dick.
Yeah; he needed to sleep. Or something.
Clearly sense-making wasn't on his list of priorities.
The End …?
This chapter, for some reason, was SO hard to write … GAAHHHHH