The day after the Slytherin victory celebration, the castle was unusually quiet. The usual chatter of excited students was replaced by a heavy silence that hung over the corridors, as if everyone was nursing their hangovers from the night before.

Barty Crouch Jr. had barely slept, tossing and turning in his bed, the events of the night replaying in his mind over and over again. The music, the laughter, the cheers—none of it seemed important now. What stuck with him, what gnawed at him, was Evan.

He had been distant, so distant, and Barty couldn't shake the memory of the way Evan had seemed so... lost. The way Evan had sat in that corner, barely participating in the celebration, his smile absent and his eyes hollow. The teasing, the flirtations from the other students, it all seemed to bounce off him like water off a stone. It was as if Evan wasn't even there.

Barty had noticed it, of course. He'd been too drunk to understand it then, but now, with the fog of alcohol fading, he realized just how deeply something was wrong. And it was more than just the sadness in Evan's eyes. It was everything—the way he had seemed to withdraw from everything and everyone, the quietness that had settled around him like a cloak he couldn't shake off.

Barty sat on the edge of his bed, running his fingers through his hair, trying to piece it all together. The realization hit him like a brick wall: he was in love with Evan Rosier.

He had always cared for Evan, but it was different now. He didn't know when it happened, but somewhere between their late-night talks and drunken escapades, somewhere between watching him from across the room and feeling his heart beat faster when Evan smiled, Barty had fallen for him. He had known something was different, but he had buried it under layers of denial, pretending it wasn't there. But now, with the clarity of the morning light, Barty couldn't ignore it any longer. He loved Evan.

And it felt like it was too late.

He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling up inside him. Evan was... Evan was slipping through his fingers, and Barty didn't know how to stop it. The alcohol from last night hadn't helped, and neither had the jokes, the laughter, or the distractions. The truth was undeniable: Evan was struggling, and Barty hadn't been there. He had let his own feelings stay buried, had let Evan drift further into his own silence, and now he couldn't undo the damage.

Barty took a deep breath, his chest tightening with guilt. What did he expect? he thought bitterly. That Evan would just wait around for me to figure this out?

He stood up, pacing the dormitory, unable to shake the growing feeling of loss in his chest. The thought of Evan, so sad and withdrawn, made his stomach twist. Barty's usual confidence had faded, replaced by something raw, something he wasn't used to feeling. The fear that Evan was too far gone, that he might never let anyone in again, was overwhelming.

But there was something else, something deeper. A part of Barty, despite everything, still wanted to fix it. He didn't want to let Evan slip away. He didn't know how to be what Evan needed, but he couldn't live with the idea of losing him forever.

By mid-afternoon, Barty found himself walking toward the Slytherin common room, his mind a swirling mess of thoughts. He wasn't sure what he was planning to do—he only knew that he had to see Evan. He needed to know how he was, needed to do something, anything, to help him.

As he entered the common room, his eyes immediately found Evan sitting near the fireplace, a book in his hands but his gaze far from the pages. It was the same look from last night—the look of someone completely removed from everything around him.

Barty swallowed, walking over to him slowly, unsure of how to approach him.

"Evan," he said softly, and Evan's head snapped up in surprise.

"Barty," Evan said, his voice flat but polite. He quickly tried to hide the book, his shoulders tense.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Barty stood there, unsure of what to say next. He opened his mouth, but the words didn't come out. All he could think about was how Evan was sitting there, so closed off, and how he didn't know how to reach him.

"I... I'm sorry," Barty finally said, his voice thick with regret. "About last night. I shouldn't have—"

"No, it's fine," Evan interrupted, offering a weak smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I just needed some space."

Barty clenched his jaw. Space. That was what Evan needed? Or was it something else? Something deeper, something that Barty wasn't sure he could fix.

"I know," Barty said quietly, sitting down beside him. "But it's more than that, isn't it?"

Evan shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Barty's gaze. "I don't want to talk about it."

Barty's heart broke at those words. The walls that Evan had put up were thicker than ever, and for a moment, it felt like everything was slipping through his fingers again. But he couldn't give up. Not now.

"You don't have to tell me what's going on," Barty said, his voice soft, "but I want you to know that I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere."

Evan finally looked at him then, his eyes meeting Barty's with an intensity that made Barty's breath catch. There was pain in those eyes, so much pain that Barty could barely stand to look at it.

"I don't need anyone," Evan muttered, looking away quickly, like he was ashamed of what he'd just said.

Barty reached out without thinking, grabbing Evan's wrist and pulling him back to face him. "Evan, please. Don't push me away."

Evan winced at the touch, but Barty didn't let go. He needed Evan to hear him, needed him to understand.

"You don't have to push me away," Barty continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I may not know what's going on, but I can't just watch you suffer. I care about you. I care about you more than I ever thought I would."

For the first time in what felt like ages, Evan's expression shifted. His eyes softened, the wall that had been built between them cracking ever so slightly. Barty felt a small sense of relief—just a crack, but it was something.

But Evan didn't say anything. Instead, he simply closed his eyes, his face a mask of exhaustion and sadness.

Barty stayed by his side, not knowing what would happen next, but knowing one thing for certain: he wasn't going to let Evan slip away without at least trying.