The Moment's Crisis

Thursday afternoon. The worst time of the week, the tiredness of almost four weekdays sitting heavy on your shoulders and still one more to go. Half past one, and the Hogwarts grounds were burning in the June heat, blinking unsheltered into the bright sharp sunlight. What little shade there was was littered with students, lethargic and inert in varying states of never-indecent undress, saying little and thinking less.

Under a large willow near the lake lay Evan Rosier, seventeen, sixth-year Slytherin and not exactly sociable. He had been there since the beginning of lunch and had no intention of moving, still, warm, eyes closed against the glaring light and conscious only of the feel of the hot summer air on his face and the sound of his own breathing. The vague troubles he had brought with him had melted in the sunlight; his brain felt like it had been filled with dark and comfortable heat. Common room politics seemed a world away.

Until he felt a shadow prostrate itself across him.

'You're in my light,' he informed the visitor in a heat-slurred murmur. The soft and sprawling sounds of his words seemed to dissolve into the comfortable fug of filtered daylight and muted rustlings in which he lay, through which a derisive snort cut sharply in response.

'Oh, I do apologise. I should have remembered how concerned you are with maintaining your healthy, glowing complexion.' A slow smile of recognition had begun spread across Evan's face from the first word. But not even Rodolphus Lestrange's familiar lively, mocking sharpness, usually so infectious in its animation, could rouse Evan from his blissfully mindless torpor. Although he did at least open his eyes.

'Fuck off, Rodolphus.' The tall seventh-year grinned down at him. Through a sun-blinded haze Evan saw him in glimpses of focus, the crooked profile of a nose broken in childhood, a lopsided twist of a smile, the spill of gold into the hazel of his left eye.

'Said with such conviction.' Evan only smiled, the imperturbable smile of the contented unthinking. As Rodolphus settled himself against the tree next to him, Evan let his eyes fall shut again, relaxing into a new kind of comfort drawn from his newfound company, sinking back down to a muted level of consciousness, attuning himself only to the rises and falls of his friend's expressive voice.

'You've just missed fireworks,' the older Slytherin informed him, in between trying to arrange 6'3" of lanky teenager comfortably against a tree trunk. Once satisfied, Rodolphus looked down at the closed eyes and sun-flushed skin of the boy lying next to him. How strange, he thought, smiling slightly. He wouldn't have believed it possible, but the heat actually had brought a blush to Evan's normally anaemic cheeks. It suited him. 'Severus and Lucius have come to blows again,' he finished, eyes narrowing into a squint as he looked up and out over the glitters of light on the lake.

'Over what?' floated up half-heartedly from grass level. Rodolphus sighed.

'Do they need a reason any more? Lucius is permanently, albeit understandably, fractious and Severus has taken it upon himself to play martyr.' He paused, shifting to stretch out his legs. 'However much sympathy I may have for their situation,' he continued, 'they're both frankly insufferable right now. To the rest of us as well as each other.' Evan mumbled something that sounded like an agreement. Rodolphus looked sharply down at him. The reflections from the lake had burnt bright spots into his gaze, and for a minute Evan's face looked as though it was covered in luminous bruises. Underneath them, however, Rodolphus could see that the dreamy, faraway smile was still playing about his lips, and, considering he had just been informed of a vicious argument between two of his closest friends, Evan Rosier looked disconcertingly unconcerned.

'To be honest,' Rodolphus remarked conversationally, still looking carefully down at his friend, 'I think you were well off out of it.' Evan made a noise that sounded something like 'mmm', his expression remaining unchanged. 'Lucky, really, that you picked today to catch up on your sunbathing.' No response. The older boy sighed. This called for drastic measures.

'Evan,' Rodolphus said slowly, 'don't panic, but I think there might be a moth on - '

It had the desired effect. Evan Rosier sat up as though he'd been bitten, entire body rigid with tension, sun-fogged brain at once alert with panic, looking down frantically at his arms and legs. Evan hated moths, hated the way they made candlelight flicker when you were on your own at night, hated the way they moved, so suddenly and unpredictably, just when you thought them still and safe to look away from, hated them being within three feet of him...

'Where - ' He broke off, seeing Rodolphus fighting to suppress his laughter. Evan glared at him, muscles relaxing, panicked adrenaline dissipating. 'That's not funny,' he snapped. Rodolphus shook his head, shoulders shaking slightly, unable to speak. 'In fact, I'd even go so far as to say that was just plain mean.' Rodolphus nodded, still mute. How, wondered Evan, was it possible for such simple gestures to look so insincere? But his anger was fading as quickly as it had come. Rodolphus Lestrange was one of those people who it was difficult to stay mad with, even when you didn't really mean it. 'I was comfortable,' he said plaintively. Rodolphus met his eyes, the wicked grin beginning to fade from his lips.

'I know,' he replied. 'But you weren't much of a conversationalist.' Evan looked away, a concession, a silent apology that Rodolphus readily accepted. There was a moment of silence as he watched Evan blinking into the sunlight, unsteady from having sat up so quickly. He looked at him sitting there, body loose and disorganised and looking surprised, unsure of what to do with itself. He looked at the bits of grass in his rumpled dark red hair, and at the cloudy liquid blue of his eyes, focusing and refocusing. And he looked at the flush of heat across the bridge of his Roman nose and remarked,

'You know, you should venture outside more often. It seems to suit you.' Evan looked up into Rodolphus' sharp, observant gaze.

'Thanks,' he said, faintly surprised. Rodolphus didn't give him time to dwell on it, though, seeming keen to pick up the thread of his earlier aborted attempt at conversation.

'I'm assuming you saw it coming, then.' Evan started. That was unexpectedly blunt, he thought.

'I had an idea, yes,' he replied. Eyes still fixed on Rodolphus, he waited. It was almost a challenge, this silence. His friend had looked away, looked out across the lake and Evan felt almost as though he was watching him through glass, so close yet separated, and for a second everything faded, all sense of time, all sense of place, all sense of self, everything but the unreadable profile of the boy sat next to him. His eyes looked oddly greenish, and there was sunlight reflected in them. His hair was a mess. It was always a mess. He never brushed it, just washed it and left it to dry. It didn't help that the last person to cut it had been Lucius. Evan smiled at the memory, the look of abject panic that had crossed Rodolphus' face as the first almost-whispered 'oops' drifted over his shoulder, the sound of Severus' stifled laughter, and suddenly became aware of himself again, and it hit him, there and then, the realisation that this intensity of feeling hanging mute in the air between them didn't separate them, but linked them. He smiled again, not happily, but contentedly, and realised that he knew, with the help of no Sight, what Rodolphus would say.

'I had a bugger of an Arithmancy lesson this morning,' the older Slytherin remarked, still looking out over the lake.

'Yeah?'

'Mmm.' Rodolphus finally met Evan's eyes again, smiling slightly. 'Just wait until next year,' he said, as though imparting some great and universal wisdom. Evan couldn't help but smile. 'For four years,' he continued, 'they kid you into thinking Arithmancy makes sense, and then just before your final exams, you realise it's actually illogical, incomprehensible...' he broke off mid-flow, frowning, irritated, for the word he wanted.

'Bollocks?' suggested Evan, still smiling. Rodolphus nodded appreciatively.

'Not what I was going for, but it'll do.' He sighed, pushing his brown hair out of his eyes with long, dirt-smudged fingers. It left a streak of dust across the bridge of his nose and through his eyebrow. Evan was going to tell him, but decided against it, out of revenge for the non-existent moth. Besides, Rodolphus' hair had already fallen back into his eyes, and seeing as his hands were marked with the patchy covering of dirt that you always seem to manage to pick up just by sitting outside on grass, Evan suspected there would be a few more streaks before long. Rodolphus, oblivious to this, merely smiled sunnily at Evan as he went on:

'Having said that, you being the Arithmantic genius that you are, you'll probably sail through next year with no problems at all and decide I'm beyond thick for having made such a fuss.' Evan made a noise of dissent at once dismissive and indignant.

'You're not even approaching thick, let alone beyond it.' Rodolphus feigned embarrassment.

'Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Rosier.' Evan rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself.

'And Sev's better at Arithmancy than me,' he continued. Rodolphus waved his hand dismissively.

'Severus doesn't count,' he said decidedly. 'He's an anomaly when it comes to Arithmancy and Potions. A freak of nature. Decidedly unnatural. A biological sport - ' he broke off, lopsided grin twisting his lips at the sight of Evan's raised eyebrows. 'And besides,' he added, 'he's not that much better.' Evan couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head in a final attempt at modesty. As Rodolphus met his eyes that feeling shared seemed absolute and eternal, that composite of genuine laughter, sincere flattery and deeply felt appreciation thereof, and the unconditional comfort drawn from the presence of someone you know so well, and who knows you equally, all mixed together into a nameless whole.

'So,' Rodolphus said, looking hopeful, 'will those compliments be enough to get you to help me with my Arithmancy homework tonight?' Evan smiled.

'You don't have to compliment me to get me to help you,' he pointed out. Rodolphus smiled.

'I never said that was why I complimented you. I just wondered if it might be an added bonus.' Evan blushed slightly. He didn't know what to say to that. Rodolphus looked away for a moment, then back. Confusingly, he smiled suddenly. Evan cocked his head to one side, momentary discomfort vanishing, replaced by good-natured curiosity.

'What?' he asked, bemused.

'You've got a leaf in your hair,' replied Rodolphus, still smiling. Instinctively, Evan's hand moved to find it, but Rodolphus shook his head. 'C'mere,' he instructed, reaching out his hand. Obediently, Evan leant forward. Rodolphus' long, dirt-smudged fingers closed around the fragment of leaf and rested against Evan's warm, sun-flushed forehead. For a second, Evan thought he could hear Rodolphus' heartbeat and feel his breath, quickened, disturbing the hot, still air between them, as though all other sensation had melted under the glaring summer sun except this, sharp and crystalline in the half-shade. He was looking at the ragged, chewed skin around Rodolphus' bitten thumbnail and willing himself not to look past it. He told himself to move, but he could have stayed there forever. He realised he was holding his breath.

'Where have you been?' The interruption was scandalous, obscene; it thrust itself immodestly between them and Rodolphus jerked his hand away from Evan as though it was on fire. Evan blinked uselessly; the world came back into focus and everything, he realised, felt nothing but normal. He didn't need to look up; he knew the voice. Instead he did what seconds ago he hadn't dared; he looked across at Rodolphus. And looked with a muted, dazed, disbelieving elation at the blush that darkened his cheeks, at the startling brightness of his eyes and the curve of the bottom lip trapped nervously under his teeth, and at the way his hair fell into his eyes (just because), and for the first time thought, maybe...

Rodolphus, though, was looking up at Bellatrix Black with a mixture of trepidation and bitter resentment. He opened his mouth.

'Why the hell now, Bellatrix?' The words echoed unsaid in his ears and he instead forced his lips into an apologetic smile.

'Sorry. I forgot, that's all.' It was a pale, awkward, clipped imitation of his usual calm self-confidence and lazy disrespect, and Evan knew Bellatrix would not take kindly to it. He looked away, tried to focus on the group of Gryffindors throwing he couldn't see what at each other nearer the shore. It didn't work. It was like a car crash, repellent, yet morbidly fascinating.

'What do you mean, you forgot?' Her voice burnt with all the power of the scorching early afternoon sunlight. Rodolphus attempted a smile.

'Like I said, I'm sorry. My head's, er-' he was faltering, Evan thought, not good. '-A bit of a mess at the moment,' he finished, somewhat lamely. He glanced across at Evan, then looked away almost before he had a chance to notice. 'Severus and Lucius were really going at each other, and by the time I got out of the common room the only thing I could think of was...' He broke off, as though he had confused himself. The only thing I could think of, he realised, was going to talk to Evan. And within seconds of sitting down here, he thought, I felt better.

Both Evan and Bellatrix were looking at him. He met Evan's turbulent blue gaze and smiled a smile that sent a shiver of satisfaction through him.

'Well?' The two boys looked up at Bellatrix simultaneously. Silhouetted there against the lake, dark hair radiant against the glittering water, each knew she should have looked impressive. But for once, Rodolphus wasn't impressed. And for once, Evan wasn't overawed. Because for once, Evan thought, for all Bellatrix was beautiful. For all Bellatrix was commanding. For all she was, most importantly, appropriate. It didn't matter, he thought, wonderfully, because that moment in time had been more important to Rodolphus than she would ever be.

'I thought I should go and warn Evan before he wandered in and got his head bitten off.' Casual, effortless, almost flippant. She would have no reason to suspect he was lying. It would calm the troubled waters, thought Evan, and everything would go back to normal. He was almost philosophical about it by now.

'How touching,' Bellatrix remarked, looking at Evan as though he was a Mudblood. He didn't care. He didn't particularly like her much, either. He didn't like the way she seemed to love Rodolphus despite everything that made him who he was, rather than because of it. She treated everything he did or said as though convinced he would grow out of it, that he would grow out of his friendships, that he would grow out of not bothering to brush his hair, that he would grow out of his refusal to take her, or Lucius', or anybody's melodrama seriously. Evan hoped he never would. She was talking to him now, but Evan didn't need to listen to know what she was saying. It didn't matter, anyway, they'd leave in a minute; he'd see them later in the common room, or maybe not until dinner, and he would sit alone for a minute, a minute of wasted life where nothing happens but the passing of time, before going in and lingering in front of the mirror and trying to work up the will to wash the dirt smudges from his forehead.

Rodolphus had got to his feet. Evan looked up at him, waiting for a goodbye.

'You still up for helping me with my Arithmancy homework?' Evan blinked, and the world re-focused.

'Of course,' he replied, meeting Rodolphus' eyes. That crooked grin lit up Rodolphus' face, and he nodded.

'Great,' he said, holding Evan's gaze intently. 'You have Ancient Runes last, right?' Evan nodded. 'I'll meet you outside the classroom. Wait for me.'

'Fine.' Out of the corner of his eye, over Rodolphus' shoulder, he could see Bellatrix looking out over the lake, ignoring the two boys. Perhaps Rodolphus knew that, perhaps he didn't. Regardless, he reached out a hand and touched Evan's hair, a slight, lingering touch of affection that made Evan's eyes glow deep liquid blue.

Then, in a second, Evan was watching him walking away hand in hand with Bellatrix, and he was aware again of the clusters of white shirts glowing glaringly bright under the sun, of the loose, dry feel of the grass he was destroying between his fingers, of the humming murmurs of conversation drifting in and out of earshot, and of the burn of the sun on his bare feet. He watched them walk away, watched him not look back, watched until he couldn't see them any more. And this is what it feels like, Evan thought, every time I come so close and it never happens. Every time I start to think, maybe...

Looking out into the glare of the lake, he spat on his fingers and rubbed his forehead clean.