Barty Crouch, Jr. is not Oedipus Rex. (culling) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-09-14 16:10:00 |
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As frantic as he felt he should have been, Barty saw no reason not to keep his head, for the time being; any overemotional outbursts while setting up the wards around the alley would have meant ruination for himself and Regulus, and they could not have that. Both of them had escaped from Hogwarts with their lives -- something that they were lucky to have done, of which Barty was acutely aware, between Evan and Georgina's deaths in July, and Antonin's present condition -- and that was worth enough not to risk endangering either of them. It was also worth enough not to risk endangering Antonin's safety, hence meeting in this rather filthy locale (as with most filthy things, it filled Barty with the desire to clean it, all of it, from the grime on the walls to the cigarette butts on the ground that his coworkers obviously could not have been bothered to dispose of properly). But as much as Barty despised filth, he would suffer through it; Antonin was comatose, and his condition was not yet stable, and he still could have died, and Barty would not dishonour the sacrifice of someone who had taken him into his home, cared about him enough to intervene, and approved of him as a match for his daughter.
After grabbing lunch from the cafeteria -- always a dubious prospect, but Barty would not fall behind on self-maintenance or Antonin would be Very Upset when he awoke -- Barty set right to work, making sure that all of the wards were sound. He made sure that no one passing by the alley would see him and Regulus talking, or hear them, and that no one could enter the alley besides him and Regulus, from the hospital or from the sides. Then, the only thing was to wait for Regulus. He would not be late; Barty knew that he wouldn't.
Despite Regulus's desire to hole himself away and pretend the world wasn't crashing around him once again, he was making a concentrated effort to act normal, to distract himself with the problems everyone else was suffering. It was absolutely wretched to hear about Antonin Dolohov, especially know that Regulus know what a wonderful paternal figure the man was being for Barty (and Barty needed a positive father figure to make up for the failures of his actual father), and any thoughts to remain unbendingly within the house were abandoned at his best friend's distress call.
Although he had remained unsuspected lately as far as the public eye went, he was not personally connected with the Dolohovs in any sort of way that would leave absolutely no suspicion in his visiting, so he did not object in the least to meeting Barty in the alley. Not the most dignified meeting place, but dignity would simply have to wait. When he had properly Apparated to the designated spot at the designated time, Regulus caught sight of a tall, skinny blonde figure that could only be Barty.
"Hello," Regulus said quietly, stiffly as he approached.
Barty perked up immediately when he heard the quiet, exceedingly proper voice that he knew so well. He had considered leaning on the wall -- given his ankle, he likely should have -- but the desire to clean it was far too strong for him to go past mere, vague considerations. Once Regulus appeared, though, such considerations went straight away. Quite losing himself once more in the massive, swirling jumble of emotions -- with occasional periods of being able to pick out one or two more strongly than the others -- Barty turned in the direction of his best friend's voice and broke out in a pitiful, relieved smile when he saw that Regulus was there in one piece. Of course, he had not expected Regulus to lie about something as important as being alive and well, but Barty was still reassured by the fact that, now, he could see it for himself.
He was so reassured, in fact, that relief presently became the emotion that he felt most strongly and, without even fully considering his actions, he swept down on Regulus and grabbed him around the shoulders in a tight embrace. "I'm so glad you're alright," he said breathlessly, meaning every word of it.
Physical touch was not a thing Regulus typically permitted, but after the initial, uncontrollable flinch had passed, he for once deigned to return the gesture, feeling his own wave of relief that at least Barty seemed to be safe, the other boy's source of agony resting in the terrible state of another person, rather than himself. He wasn't sure what he would do if he had lost his best friend -- he was so tired of losing people, and there would not be any of that. Not anymore.
"I am glad to see you are, as well…I was not expecting such…unfortunate things to happen." Pulling away and taking a step back again, Regulus furrowed his eyebrows deeply. "I apologise for delaying in my response this morning," he added, dodging the reason and focusing on the result. "I had not checked my journal until early this afternoon when I responded…"
A second wave of relief hit Barty when Regulus returned the embrace; he knew that Regulus was not much for physical affection and, truth be told, he was not generally a proponent of it either -- but these were special circumstances. Barty had already lost two good friends to this war; he could not bear to lose his best friend, and he was not entirely sure which situation would have been worse: having to watch Regulus die, as he had watched Evan and Georgina be murdered, or having to lose Regulus and not knowing whether or not the other boy was dead. So help him, he would never have to learn about either. He and Regulus may not have initially done as well as Death Eaters as they had thought they would, but they were not failures and they would live to see the day when the Dark Lord had won the war.
When Regulus pulled back, Barty let him go willingly, though he kept his hands on Regulus's shoulders for a brief moment longer, just to completely reassure himself that his best friend was fine. "Nor was I, Regulus," Barty sighed earnestly. "I thought that I was being realistic -- I assumed, of course, that the DMLE and the vigilantes would show themselves, and that there would be injuries, but... I hardly thought... not to this extent, and... well, certainly not to Antonin. I mean... with his health problems, I should have thought that something could happen, but... but he is more than proficient and he can take care of himself. And I just... never expected this."
On the note about Regulus's response, Barty gave his best friend a small, weary smile and a pat on the shoulder. "It is no real trouble, Regulus. I only had my journal at all because I owled Olga for it last night -- Olga being Anzhelina's governess, by the way. ...I do not think that she was particularly pleased, being woken up at such an hour, but I assumed that Mister Lestrange was going to have us check in with him, and I wished to inform our fellows of what has befallen Antonin. And, as for calling on you, specifically..." Barty gave a small shrug. "You are my best friend; you know how I worry. And I could not bear to lose you and Antonin simultaneously."
"I could not bear to lose you either, Barty," Regulus responded with a little shake of the head. "Too many of our own have died already, and I refuse to allow my best friend to be among them, nor will I allow it of myself. Battles are never particularly simple or straight-forward, but this was rather more of a disaster than it was meant to be considering we were generally proving that we could get into Hogwarts if we so desired. We must... take it as yet another wake-up call that we must never underestimate or became too satisfied with what he have accomplished rather than what we still must learn." His voice was quieter than usual; huffing out a little breath, he shook his head again. "Have you received further word on Mr Dolohov's condition? How is Anzhelina?"
"Indeed, and I am glad that I do not need to twist your arm about such things." Barty gave Regulus a half-hearted smile, but, despite the levity -- needing to twist someone's arm to make them not die? Perhaps it was more dry and ironic than uproariously funny, but it was still something, and it was probably the best that they were going to get from Barty until Antonin was all well once more. "We will simply need to work harder, Regulus. I do not mean to say that I intend to begin working myself into the ground again -- I hardly mean that; Antonin will be incredibly displeased if I have done so when he awakes again -- but... too many of our own have made sacrifices that we have not properly honoured. Evan, Georgina, your uncle, your father and Corbina's, Antonin, regardless of whether or not he lives... Severus's dueling practises have been a good start, but I daresay that I did not give those the credence they deserved. ...This is no longer simply about the two of us and our reasons for joining, Regulus; it never was, and I hate that it has taken so long for me to see this."
Barty paused, lest he give Regulus another unrequested burst of philosophising, as he had done over the journals on Friday afternoon. ...Yes, Antonin's condition. Talking about Antonin's condition was straightforward enough. Attempting not to feel as though he were dully reciting, Barty explained: "He has improved since last night, somewhat, but they cannot attempt to heal all of the damage too quickly, as the extent of it and his preexisting health problems make it too easy for something to go horridly wrong. They think that he should stabilise soon, but they are loathe to make any promises about anything until then. And Anzhelina... she is about as well as can be expected, which is to say 'not well at all.' I do not think that she wants to discuss things, and so I have not forced her... I tried bringing her food, but Olga had already beaten me there, which is for the best, I think. The cafeteria food is somewhat questionable."
"Oddly enough, I'm rather agreeable to the idea of living," Regulus said as a small, slightly strained smile pulled onto his face. It was a short-lived twitch of the mouth, however, and within second it had flattened to a pursed line once again as their conversation once again took that turn to reality. The reminder of their losses was always a sobering one, but it was a necessary constant, something to keep fresh so as to remember what they must be fighting for. "I should hope you would not work yourself too hard, so I am relieved to hear this. We will honour their memories, and we will learn from our mistakes and the mistakes of others."
Looking up at the building as if he would somehow be able to see through the brick all of the building and into whatever ward Antonin was being kept in, Regulus continued, "I do hope he recovers swiftly. I can imagine the anxiety you and Anzhelina must be feeling. If either of you need absolutely anything at all, do not hesitate to ask."
"I had rather hoped that you would be," Barty said with a mild, offhand smirk. "Oddly enough, I rather prefer my best friend alive, and I'm glad that he extends me the same courtesy." It felt so strange to be having a moment of levity with Regulus while Antonin was only a few stories above them, in a coma and potentially headed for something worse (coming out of the coma too soon and to excruciating pain, losing functionality of different body parts that would have impaired him more than his ill health already did, dying -- no, no, Barty was not going to think about the potential death of his unofficial mentor); but what else were they to do? Being miserable would not change anything -- it certainly had not changed that Evan and Georgina had been murdered, or that Barty had failed so completely and utterly in that debacle at dueling practise -- and it certainly would not make Antonin rouse any sooner; if maintaining a light mood about things would help him and Regulus to be better Death Eaters, then Barty was quite in favour of it.
At Regulus's offer, Barty gave his best friend a genuine smile and another light clap on the shoulder. "Thank you, Regulus. I will not forget this, should anything arise." Barty paused, giving Regulus's shoulder a light squeeze by way of making a point. "You truly are the best friend whom anyone could wish for, do you know that? And I do not know if I say this enough, but I'm glad that you are my best friend."
At the declaration, Regulus could feel the corner of his mouth pull up into something of a tiny, slanted smile of the non-strained variety. It was not so much that there was a severe lack of acknowledging, nor much doubt at all, as far as their status as friends went, but Regulus could never help but feel a unique contentment that came with being the 'best' in something -- in being noteworthy and important in the life of someone who was important to him, and Barty most certainly was. There were not many people that he truly felt close to -- he was friendly with his fellow Purebloods, but there were few that he felt he could genuinely trust all by the very much extraneous circumstances.
"You are my best friend, too, Barty, and at the risk of parrotting, I cannot imagine anyone who could ever measure up or that I could prefer more as my best friend, either," he said, feeling rather a big more sentimental (and as a natural result, more uncomfortable) as he gave an affirming nod. "How long do you have before you must resume working?"
Barty would have been perfectly content to simply take Regulus's compliment and ignore the better part of... well, everything -- and, between Antonin's coma, Father's utterly mystifying behaviour of late, and not having any idea what he should or should not have been doing for Anzhelina, Barty was quite certain that there was much worth ignoring in his life, at present. However, Regulus raised a very good point, and failing to maintain good appearances at work could have meant Very Bad things, if not now, then further down the road, and, either way, Barty had no desire to learn what said Very Bad things could have been. Sighing, he checked the pocket-watch that Mother had given him for his eighteenth birthday and answered, "Not very long. Perhaps ten minutes, at the absolute longest."
With a little huff and slanting of his mouth, Regulus nodded. Regulus recognised vaguely he oughtn't be so selfish as to wish to spend the same amount of time in the company of his best friend as he always had, especially when Barty was doing so in order to support himself and to further their cause and to help people and such -- but the wish was there all the same, and he did not feel so guilty or opt to recognise it so clearly that he did not consider himself within his rights to feel as such. It was only a prickling thought, and he brushed it away, but his life seemed almost unrecognisable from what it had been the year before, in far more ways than the simple fact that he would have otherwise been at Hogwarts during the attack rather than outside committing it. Whether it be his 'hobbies', his interactions with others, their interactions with him, the state of the world and his family, his constantly changing relationship with his estranged brother -- nothing seemed to be staying the same, and he wished something would just be consistent for once.
Ten minutes was not particularly long at all, especially as the upper range of the estimate. "How unfortunate. I suppose it is good for you and for your appearances as a dutiful member of society and for your patients -- as I imagine you are the most competent of your fellow trainees, by far -- that you have an occupation, but you are certainly missed."
Barty recognised the signs that Regulus was less than fond of the fact that work and the hospital still loomed over their time spent together -- not that it was particularly difficult to do so, having been Regulus's best friend since they had been eleven -- but there would be other times when Barty could, and would, make this up to the other boy. After all, as much as he enjoyed his job (despite the few things about it that he would have gladly changed; hypochondriacs, for example, and having to watch Antonin suffer comatose and not being qualified to help), it was, above all other things, a necessity. Spending time with Regulus was a privilege, and one that Barty never wished to sacrifice, regardless of what befell them.
Giving Regulus a small smile, "The next time I am due for a day off -- which, depending on how swiftly Antonin recovers, could theoretically be quite soon; I am certain that I could ask him to secure me one, if I were to claim exhaustion or something similar. ...I digress. Regardless of the specifics, I do not plan on spending my next day off hungover and panicking, and, as such, we should do something that day. I miss having an unlimited reserve of time to spend with you as well."
Once again, the corner of Regulus's mouth pulled up just slightly: the suggestion of a smile where a smile was often absent. "That is good news -- I still fail to see the appeal of intoxication, and I should find sobriety to be more amiable company than incoherence, and the comfort of health more so than the suffering of a hangover's ills, as I would not wish such suffering on you in the first place."
The little nudge of comfort eased the anxiety of change, pushing Regulus's own mental suffering so far from his mind that he no longer had to consciously think about not thinking about it. That comfort of predictability, of stability -- of the consistency of at least their friendship reared its head just as soon as he had dared let his mind question. It was becoming easier and easier to feel alone, to feel disconnected as more secrets proved necessary; easier as everyone moved on into adulthood, as the stakes rose higher and higher with the unfaltering expectations that one would rise and excel, overcome and flourish in this dawn of new responsibilities. And by whatever means necessary, that is what they would do, but if there was any rare soul that Regulus trusted to understand him, it was Barty Crouch Jr. They had entered this war together, and that was how they were going to pull through it to the end.