#rabastan;

[bxrtemiuscrouchjr]

The festivities had been going on for almost 12 hours now, and between the open bar and a general dislike of the majority of the wedding guests in attendance, Bartemius Crouch Jr. was plastered. Amycus, who had been keeping him company for the past hour, was now nowhere to be found, and in the interest of avoiding yet another conversation with Lucius Malfoy, Barty desperately searched the crowd until he found the face he was looking for.

The blond was a mess of limbs as he practically fell onto Rabastan, steadying himself with a quick hand on the shorter boy’s shoulder. “’Bastan,” he slurred, the wine in his glass sloshing precariously, some spilling over onto the hardwood floor of the chapel’s reception room. Leaning down to level himself with the sitting brunet, his lips brushed against the his ear as he whispered, “Rabastan, let’s get out of here.”

[bxrtemiuscrouchjr]

The sunlight filtered in far too brightly through the sheer curtains, and Barty’s head was already beginning to throb as he blinked his eyes awake. With a groan, the blond ran his fingers through his curls as he sat up, and let out a quiet curse as he took in the state of the bedroom around him. It was not his own- neither the one from his childhood house nor the spare bedroom he had moved into only days ago- and the bed he was in was not empty, either. He felt the familiar feeling of disgust settle over himself as his eyes traced almost longingly along the man’s sleeping figure before he forced himself to avert his gaze and instead focus on leaving undetected. Moving slowly so as not to disturb the stranger, Bartemius slipped out from beneath the covers and rushed to gather his clothes, almost tripping over himself as he pulled up his trousers. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he hurriedly buttoned his shirt, and to his terror saw that there would be no hiding the love marks that were already beginning to bloom, leaving a trail just beneath his jaw that continued well down his neck and abdomen. Praying that his new flatmate would not be awake to see him in this state, he grabbed his wand from the bedside table and disapparated with a resounding Crack! Fate, it appeared, was not on Barty’s side as he stumbled through the doorway and into the kitchen, as he collided with the boy in question, sending the teacup in his hand down to the floor to shatter. “Oh for Merlin’s sake,” He fumbled for his wand once more before giving it a quick wave to repair the damage that had been done and another to clean the spilt liquid, “I can make you another if you want. Sorry.” He bit his swollen lip nervously, refusing to meet Rabastan’s eye as he bent over to pick up the fixed teacup and handed it to him, “Good morning, by the way.”

[bxrtemiuscrouchjr]

The brisk October breeze bit into Barty, chilling him to the bone despite his long robes that whipped around him as he and his three fellow death eaters made their way silently through the grass. It had been far too easy to incapacitate the single auror tasked with securing the Longbottom house, so easy in fact, that it had set the blond rather on edge, his paranoid self insisting that there had to be more, that surely it could not be that simple. However, as they approached the front door of the family’s home, there were no signs of any more security than that which they had already disabled hours ago in preparation for their attack. He stole a nervous glance over at the hooded figure to his right, his eyes searching for Rabastan’s beneath his mask but being unable to find them. The boy longed to reach out and take the other’s hand, to speak his name, to seek some kind of solace in the older man as he began to shake with the usual nerves that always preceded murder, but he knew a single word could give away the whole game, and he would not be the one to return to the Dark Lord as the reason for failure. “I’ll guard the perimeter,” Bellatrix hissed, her voice barely audible above the whooshing of the wind, and Barty nodded in confirmation before falling in line behind Rodolphus, who pointed his wand and unlocked the front door with an inaudible Alohomora. It was just past midnight, and the family must had already retired to the bedroom, leaving the entryway dark and empty as the three of them filed into the house, wands at the ready. Barty saw the steps first, and indicated that the others should follow him as he took the first shaky step towards the bedroom. One thing, however, was not according to plan. Hearing the faintest whisper, Barty halted halfway down the hallway before aiming his wand at the door directly beside him, bursting it open to reveal Alice and Frank Longbottom hunched over their son’s crib, cooing at him adoringly for the split second before they turned around in terror.

[bxrtemiuscrouchjr]

“Rabastan,” The name fell from the blond’s lips even before he was fully coherent, and his hands clutched at the empty sheets beside him as he searched sleepily for the older boy. It barely registered in his mind that the wine-red silk sheets were not his own, his mind too foggy with the familiar dull ache that came before a day spent in bed, hungover. He could not remember much of the night before, apart from flashes of skin on skin, of desperate kisses exchanged between the two wizards as they made their way from the front door to, finally, the brunet’s bed, but not much beyond that. Bartemius knew that under different circumstances, he would be a mess worrying over the unknown, but the slight buzz of the alcohol still running through his veins staved off any breakdown that might come later. Instead, his attention was focused solely on pulling the other towards him and getting more sleep.

However, instead of the warm body he had hoped to find, he heard only a yowl before his hand was clawed at rather brutally, and the blond yelped before pulling it back and bolting upright. The only sign of Ulysses was the bright orange streak of his tail as he retreated through the bedroom door that was slightly propped open, and with a groan, it began to register in the boy’s mind that he was alone in Rabastan’s bedroom, with the other nowhere to be found. He rolled out of bed, though he much would have preferred to remain beneath the covers, and paused only to rifle through the other’s drawers, withdrawing a pair of lounge pants and putting them on before making his way into the kitchen.

The older boy was already there, his back to Barty, and, not knowing what to do, the blond cleared his throat nervously as his hand moved to further rumple his already unkempt curls. Deciding to take the path of least resistance, he chose to not acknowledge the peculiarity of the situation before them, “Are you making breakfast?”

[bxrtemiuscrouchjr]

“Rabastan?” Barty had awoken mere moments ago to find the bed cold beside him, and the familiar fogginess of sleep had yet to fade as the blond stumbled around the apartment in a daze. The pair of them had made plans to go out later that evening, until what was supposed to be a quick nap turned into many hours spent sleeping in Rabastan’s bed. A quick glance at the clock revealed that it was only ten, still plenty of time to get ready and pub crawl as they had intended, if only he could locate his flatmate.

Deciding to check the bathroom, the boy didn’t even bother knocking as he burst through the door, “Bastan?” He’d never seen his flatmate jump higher in his life, and the white powder that had been previously neatly lined up in a clean line along the bathroom counter flew in response to the disturbance. Barty’s eyes widened as he began to truly register the scene before him, “Bastan what the fuck?”

[bxrtemiuscrouchjr]

He hadn’t even downed a whole fire whiskey when the other boy joined him in the living room, and he silently raised his half-empty glass towards him in acknowledgment before continuing his staring competition with the portrait of a particularly ugly warlock on the mantlepiece. “How’s he related to you, anyway?” He asked as he turned to face his flatmate. He hadn’t moved from his place on the couch since he’d arrived home earlier from meeting the girl he’d been seeing, and though he’d never admit it out loud, Rabastan’s presence was a welcome one. 

After a few minutes of silence passed between them once more, his glass was finally emptied, and as he got up he extended the offer of, “Firewhiskey?”

@lapinism

[bxrtemiuscrouchjr]

48 hours. It had been 48 hours since Barty had last slept, and slightly less than that since he and the boy beside him in the bed had stolen away from the Longbottoms’ house, leaving the two adults frothing at the mouth, staring blankly up at the ceiling from the floor and their infant son crying from his upstairs bedroom in their wake. They did not have much time to revel in their victory, however, no time to linger behind and wreak even more havoc upon the home. Barty remembered being restrained from inflicting physical damage by his older partner in crime, who had quickly rushed them through the threshold of the house and barely pausing to cast the Dark Mark above the home before disapparating the pair of them far away from the scene. The Ministry were already on their way- the home had been under watch by the Order, it had turned out, and Rodolphus had known it was only a matter of time before the three of them were caught in the act. He’d been the one to push his own brother towards the door and yell at him to flee. He had not intended for both Rabastan and Bartemius to leave him behind, but abandon him they did as they escaped to the small, secluded cottage in the middle of nowhere, France, with nothing but the clothes on their backs and a prayer that the protective charms around the property would hold.

The corn had cut like knives as they ran through the fields, each nervously checking over their shoulders until they reached the door, and after wrenching it open, both had taken up residence in the small twin bed by the window. Now, hours later, sleep still evaded Barty as he struggled to calm himself from the mounting panic that threatened to boil over within him at the thought of being caught. The pair of them had not exchanged words since they had first arrived, and it took almost everything Barty had in him to tentatively nudge Rabastan’s icy foot with his own and whisper, “Bastan? Are you awake?”

@lapinism

[bxrtemiuscrouchjr]

@lapinism

It was far too late in the night for anyone to be coming home, and yet there was the sound of a distinct crack at the door, causing Barty to stir under the covers. Rubbing his eyes, the boy sat up, “Bastan?” He barely made out the faint outline of the older boy’s figure in the dark, and frowned. “Where the fuck were you?”