I might have done something... I'm not finished... this is only one scene of the fic I'm working on and it's an exclusive sneak peek bc it's not published
TW: vivid description of a wound with blood and bones- you get it
Words: a little more than 4,000
“What the- BARTY! Get away from here, run, just fucking run!”, Evan screams in complete terror. He himself stands still, shocked. Not a single muscle in his body moves. He wants to run, he really tries to get his body to move, but there he stands, frozen, looking at a full-grown lion.
Evan, you must get away from here! Now! Just fucking move! He screams internally. Get. The fuck. Away.
He still can’t move. Not even when the panic starts taking over the last bit of his body. Not when the lion starts slowly moving towards him, obviously in hunting-mode. He cannot move until he sees Barty, who followed Evans scream instead of doing what he was told – running away.
“Evan! Do not. Move! Not yet! You will bloody run away when I tell you to, do you understand?! I’m responsible for you for as long as I am on my bloody shift and God help me when I will tear you apart if you try to get yourself killed by fucking moving now!” Barty seems calm, as if he had his shit together, he really does, but his voice and choice of words tell Evan the exact truth about Barty’s inside. He is in a state of panic that is far beyond terror.
“O-Okay, Bee. I got you, but whatever you do, don’t get that beast to chase you!” Evan looks at Barty, as if he tries to calm him in some way. He knows what Barty’s plan is, but he will most definitely not let that happen! “And what else am I supposed to do?! In case you for-fucking-got, I don’t have a weapon to shoot that beast! Your bow you have left hat home, dickhead, so tell me what else should I do?!”, Barty shouts back.
They look at each other, and for a moment it’s just them. They see only each other. They don’t have to talk to know what’s going on in the other’s head and heart, and Barty sees nothing but love. Evan often communicated that he loves Barty. He did that when he thought or hoped Barty wouldn’t hear him, but he always did. He did hear every single one of Evan’s ‘I love you’ s and ‘maybe one day you will love me back’s. And Barty just never got himself to say it back. To tell Evan he loves him too.
Well, Crouch, now would be the perfect timing to tell him you lov-
His inner voice couldn’t end that sentence when suddenly there was a roar. They both snapped out of their thoughts and Evan couldn't even take a breath before he was buried under that lion, screaming in pain as the beast dips its claws into his stomach. For a moment Barty was frozen. His head spinning, ears ringing, and his heart pounding heavily against his ribcage, It’s only a moment though. He looks around him, searching the grass for some sort of weapon. His sight becomes a blur, his hands are shaking, and he doesn’t know where he finds it but just as the screams stop, Barty holds in his trembling hands what looks like half a tree. He doesn’t spend much of a thought about what he is going to do with that, he just starts running towards Evan and slams that huge, heavy stick down onto the lions back, too scared to hurt Evan if he aims on that beast’s head and misses. The huge cat growls deeply once again as it lets go the man underneath her and bites Evan where shoulder and neck connect with each other. It looks back at Barty who still is trying to somehow make that beast leave by pocking it with the stick. He finally finds a spot to really hurt it, pocking there hard enough to think he might stab it with his stick. After what felt like hours, he manages to make it run away, deeper into the woods. But Barty is not relieved yet. He doesn’t let that feeling happens. Neither does the view; Evan is laying on his back, unconscious, bleeding – there is so much blood. Blood is everywhere and it makes Barty panic. He- They need help. He has to get help, but he doesn't know how! They aren't allowed weapons or phones in case some prisoner gets access to this. He has nothing to defend them or get help! He can’t just go and leave Evan to get help, but neither can he stay and not get help.
“Fuck fuck fuck, bloody hell!”, Barty whispers, dropping on his knees next to Evan. “Shit, Evan come on, open those eyes. Stay awake. Don’t give in to the darkness, please!”, he begs. But Evan doesn’t magically open his eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”, Barty whimpers as he scoops Evan’s lifeless body into his arms and starts running to where he thinks the exit is. He runs, runs as fast as he can. The thoughts make him wanna go even faster.
If you keep that bloody pace, he will fucking die! Faster, Barty! Run bloody faster!
Barty can feel Evan’s blood running down his arms, hot and sticky. It’s soaking his clothes; Evan’s clothes are already dripping. Barty tries, he really does try to be faster. He wants to be faster! He gives every last bit of strength there is left in his burning muscles. But he can’t push away the thought it might be too late already.
You have waited too long! If you'd have had your pity feelings under control for fuck’s sake! No make up for it, live with the fact you bloody killed him! That is your fault, and yours only. Never forget that. It’s you who has his blood on their hands, Crouch! The voices shout. And they are right. Barty must admit, they are right. He was too slow. He is too slow. And now Evan has to pay for his indiscipline.
Barty dares to look down to Evan for a second. He didn’t dare before, and he wishes he hadn’t looked when he sees the clump of flesh hanging from Evans right shoulder. He feels like throwing up, but he will not let this moment of weakness cost Evans life. Or maybe it's already too late. Barty can’t make out any signs of life. He cannot hear or feel Evan’s heart beating, he can’t see or feel Evan breathing, but he hopes he does. He hopes, and runs, and cries, and panics, and he does everything he can humanly possibly do to be at the exit faster.
“Mister Crouch? What the- What happened?!”, the guy at the massive steel gate shouts as soon as Barty and Evan reach it. “No questions, Snape, open that fucking door and get the hospital staff here right now!”, Barty demands. His panic is obvious, he doesn’t even try to hide it and that may be one aspect that makes the gate keeper, Snape, to do what he is told immediately instead of arguing with the warder as he usually does.
“Cell 8, send the hospital staff here immediately!”, the black-haired man breathes into his phone while pressing some buttons to open the gate. “No, I don’t know, but Rosier’s bleeding like a bloody slaughtered pig, so if they need more than five minutes to get here, we will need a fucking undertaker!”, he barked. Even Snape’s eyes couldn’t hide the panic he feels when looking at the young man in Barty’s arms.
As soon as the gate was opening just the slightest bit, Barty heads through the slit into a hallway. At the other end of it, he could already see the nurses running towards them. He hears something like an “Oh bloody hell” and an “Are you sure he’s not already dead?!”. But his inside turns from afraid to absolutely horrified when some guy says “We don’t have enough blood bags! Not if he has B and even if he had A he would for sure need every single bag that is left.” Barty knows Evan’s blood type, it’s B. So he can only get blood of the types zero, B and AB and 0.
“His type is B”, he peeped. “How do you-”, asks some nurse who’s name Barty doesn’t know. “That doesn’t quite matter at the moment, I believe! Get him to the hospital and find someone to donate him blood or something!”, the warder demanded as he lies Evan on the bed. It only takes seconds, five at max, for the sheets to be soaked in blood.
They all inhale sharply at the sight of Evan’s shoulder; the wound is bad. Very bad. Beneath all the blood you can spot what looks like his bones. You could also just flap over the piece of flesh that wobbles loosely around at his shoulder to take a closer look at Evan’s shoulder joint. Or at least what is left of which.
Barty believed even a surgeon couldn’t recognise what this puzzle of bone splinters is if he didn’t see the full picture.
“What the hell happened in there?!”, whispers the man, who without a second thought starts pushing the bed towards the part of the gigantic building Barty knows work the surgeons. “Get the Blacks and their team into room 4, now!”, he demands only a moment after they start running. There is no second to waste with chatting or waiting; Evan is dying and Barty can’t do anything about it.
As they are rushing to the only place Evan can now possibly get help one of the nurses, whose name Barty knows is Dorcas presses numbers on her mobile. “Doctor Black, get your brother and your team, room 4! One of the prisoners has a puzzle for you to complete in the next half an hour before he’s dead!”, she shouts breathlessly and doesn’t wait for an answer before she hangs up the. “Someone, open the door!”, another person says. Barty sprints towards the upcoming door and almost bangs it open for his boyfr- for Evan to be pushed through it after Dorcas who opens another door.
“I’m sorry, Crouch, hospital staff only. Hygiene and stuff” Dorcas looks apologetically at the warder. “Oh come on! I’ll scrub my hands and change into hospital clothes but - fuck - let me see him!” Barty doesn’t even care about his reputation as the always restrained, calm elite warder with neither mercy nor sympathy for any of the prisoners but Evan isn’t just any other prisoner. And Barty couldn’t give less of a fuck about his reputation right now. All he wants is Evan, alive and healthy!
“You can’t and you know that! I’m sorry but that’s the rules and I do not intend to break them!”, she scuffs. “Dorcas, please! I- I need to be with him!”, he tries again but Dorcas remains resistant to his begging. “No, Barty! But he’ll be fine, okay? The Blacks are the best of the best, everything will be alright”, says Dorcas as she puts her hands on Barty’s shoulders. “I know what they are capable of but that is bad! That is really bad, for fuck’s sake! He can’t go back in there, Dorcas!” Barty can’t hold it back anymore; the fear of losing Evan overwhelms the young man. “Hey, it’s going to be alright! Calm down, Barty, Regulus and Sirius got this, okay?” The woman lays her hands on his shoulders once again, trying to calm the hyperventilating mess of a warder down. He even reacts to her; he starts breathing controlled now. He is breathing himself away from a panic attack, but calm is not the word you can use for his mental state.
“Okay now, do you can tell me what happened? Why can’t he go back to his cell?” Dorcas obviously tries to get Barty’s attention away from the fact that his boyfriend-? Lover? Best friend? Whatever they are - that Evan faces death at this very moment and Barty cannot help him. Well, it’s not the best topic to distract Barty, because he seems to relive every, brutal second of what happened to Evan, but he still tells Dorcas as much as he can recall.
“I- I was just walking through the forest around his hut- doing the standard checking-thing in case they found something to escape with or anything that doesn’t belong in a cell and- and then- Evan just shouted I should get- get away and I- I didn’t because why would I- he is my prisoner and my responsibility-” And the love of your life “- so I just run to where the shout came from and there- there- fuck- there was this- this lion! There was a huge bloody lion and I- I didn't know what to do and I was so shocked, and I did nothing, and this lion just attacked Evan, and- and bit him, and would have torn him apart, but we don’t have guns or shit and it took too long for me to get some stick and I tried to punch it to go away and it- it did and Evan was awake, he screamed so- so loud and he was in so much pain- I'm so scared, Dorcas, I’m so scared” Dorcas thinks Barty didn’t breathe just once while telling her what happened so the last sentences were nothing more than a whisper.
Never ever in the years she knows this man for by now has she seen him in such a bad mental condition. Not even when his father’s sister’s family, including herself were murdered brutally. Not even when his mother was diagnosed with the fibromyalgia syndrome. Not even when his uncle in law beat him up when he was only 13. Never.
“What? How- There can’t be a lion! I mean- how?!”, the young woman asks in disbelief. “I don’t know, Dorcas, I really don’t. But it was there and-” Barty is interrupted by Snape. “Fuck, Crouch! Was- There is- There is a lion! I- I just closed the gate and- Fuck it’s huge!”, the black-haired man screams through the corridor. “Is that... what happened?”, he asks breathlessly. Barty can only nod, starring into nothing.
“Who’s calling Dumbledore?”, says Snape after a moment of silence. Barty shrugs. “I can do that. He is my prisoner anyway”, sighs Barty, his careless mask sitting perfectly again. And as the steps he goes away turn into a steady pacing around the area in front of the door through which Evan disappeared what feels like hours to Barty, the young man waits for Dumbledore to pick up.
“Dumbledore’s office, Minerva McGonagall, how can I help you?”, his personal assistant picks up after around ten tuuuts. “Hey, Maggie, here’s Barty. Is Dumbledore in his office? There was an incident with one of my prisoners”, he introduces the topic to the elderly lady. “He’s gonna be back in a few moments. That man’s talking to his Loverboy” The woman laughs quietly; it’s even getting Barty to smile a little. “Anything I can help you with, Barty?” He shakes his head, though she can’t see him and says: “No, that’s a Dumbledore problem I fear, but I can tell you either way as long as he’s busy” Minerva chuckles again. “Sure, what happened and who is the incident?” Barty takes a deep breath. “Number 8, Evan Rosier. He was attacked by a lion when we were- when he was out getting some firewood and stuff. There is a bloody lion wandering around in his cell and it almost killed him. He’s with the Blacks, in surgery, but he lost too much blood. We don’t seem to have enough blood bags for him”, Barty summarises the situation with a shaky voice. “A lion? Barty, are you kidding me because that’s not funny at all!”, the woman huffs in disbelieve. “I swear I tell you nothing but the truth, Maggie” Barty swallows. “His right shoulder is nothing but some sort of puzzle, the bone splattered into a hundred pieces and the blood loss makes it quite probable that he will die.”
McGonagall stands up and rushes to the office door, phone still in her hand. Barty can hear something like “Albus, I don’t care what you two are doing but this is an emergency and I will come in now!” she opens the wooden door as Dumbledore says: “Let’s talk at home, Minerva yells something about an emergency through the door. Bye!” He lies his phone down and looks at Minerva with eyes practically the shape of question marks.
“Crouch is at the phone; we have a problem in cell 8”, she introduces. “In or with?”, Dumbledore jokes. “Both, I guess” With that Minerva hands over the phone. “Barty, how can I possibly help you when you have a problem with your prisoner?”, he groans. “Because my prisoner was attacked by a lion in your cell in your prison and might die within the next few hours” Barty practically growls out those words. Dumbledore remains silent for a few moments, so Barty continues talking. “And I doubt that you want the world to know what happens behind the walls of your prison, obviously not taking your responsibilities seriously?” Dumbledore huffs. “Are you threatening me, Barty?”, he asks calmly, with a voice sharp as a sou chef’s knife. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare threatening you, Mister Dumbledore”, mocks the young warder. Dumbledore hums. “And you expect me to do what? If your prisoner has had an accident when you were responsible for his safety, I can’t help you” He speaks slowly, provoking Barty knowingly. “It is in fact not my responsibility to watch out for lions or any other kind of predator, because the only animals that are supposed to be in that cell are some fish, and some Bambis, and birds, and insects. It is also not my responsibility to arrange the apposition of blood bags, type B, to secure the prisoners’ lives if anything happens”, Barty states as calmly as Dumbledore. The old man sighs. Minerva on the other hand, despite the fact that this situation needs to be taken seriously, silently laughs about how Barty puts his Big Boss in his place.
“Then go on and tell me how I could possibly help you there, boy”, says Dumbledore. Barty smiles to himself. “We need blood, type B. You need to get to know where that bloody lion came from and get rid of it. And maybe you’d also like to inform his sister, Pandora Lovegood, that her brother might not make it and give her the opportunity to- to say her goodbyes” Barty had to swallow in order to get the lump, that formed as he said the last sentence, out of his throat. “I think I can arrange your last two requests, but I do need to tell you that even for me it is not possible to get blood bags from the banks in time.” Dumbledore talks slowly. Too slow in Barty’s opinion. “Fuck, shit”, he breathes. “And if staff members have type B? Would it be possible to have them donating some of their blood?” Barty continues his pacing faster than before, waiting for an answer what feels like minutes but after only a few seconds Dumbledore answers: “I cannot force them to but I will let them all know that type B is needed and that those who are willing to donate may find themselves in the hospital wing immediately.” Barty lets out a shaky breath. “Okay, that has to be enough” He sighs, not bothering to thank Dumbledore before hanging up and walking back to Dorcas and Snape. Just as he arrives, he can hear Dumbledore’s voice echo through the building. “Because of a soon-to-be deadly incident, the prisoner of cell 8 needs blood transfer. Everyone who is willing to donate blood and knows is type B, please find yourself in room B578 in the hospital wing. Everyone who is willing to donate and does not know what blood type they have, please find yourself in room B577. Immediately!” Then the soundboxes give off a scratchy noise which end the announcement.
“Barty, you are absolutely unbelievable” Dorcas smiles at him as she pets his shoulder and makes her way to the B-floor where the rooms B578 and B577 are. It makes Barty feel as grateful for having her as a friend as he never felt before. Snape nudges his shoulder. “Hey, I know we never got along, and don’t believe I’m doing this for you, but- I'll get up there too. You coming?”, asks the black-head. Barty huffs. “Don’t believe I’m thankful for you but thank you”, he says as the men walk up the stairs and towards the assigned rooms where, to Barty’s disbelief are already standing about ten of his colleagues.
“Barty? But what was the incident then? I was afraid we’d lose our favourite coworker of all!”, some red-head calls. “Oh, if it’s just the prisoner...”, another woman mutters and is about to leave as Barty’s voice cuts through the air. “If you would have donated your blood for me then why not for someone who is worth to me to argue Dumbledore?!” His voice is gravelly and sharp enough to cut paper. “Because I’m not going to save a life that took so many other lives!”, the woman laughs humourlessly. Barty takes another step towards her. “Who guarantees you I never took a life before? Who guarantees you that I would be worth a life?”, he hissed. The woman swallows almost unnoticeably. “The fact that you are working here, standing right under Dumbledore”, she insisted. Barty lets out a laugh. It’s humourless, flat, and most definitely not real. “Do you really believe Dumbledore never killed anyone? Do you really believe he is the pure good? That’s hilarious!” It’s not. But he has the attention of everyone in reach of his voice now. “That man waged a war with his arch nemesis making children his soldiers, teenager his spies. That man killed more than Rosier ever could”, he growled before he walks to the room to get his blood type tested. He meets Dorcas on his way.
She shakes his head. “I’m sorry”, she says. “What for? It’s not your fault”, he smiles at her weakly. Then he enters the room to get his blood tested himself; a nurse pokes a needle in his finger and lets Barty’s blood drip on fife different pieces of paper. She then adds blood from three different containers. He doesn’t know how the hell all of it works but after just two minutes that felt like hours he finally knows if he can save Evan’s life. If there is a life left to save.
“Oh!”, the nurse exclaims. “You’re type 0, you can donate to everyone! And everyone can donate to you if you ever are in need of a donation”, she explains. Barty cannot quite believe it; he is in fact able to safe his love’s life. It leaves him shocked. He is paralysed. After the realisation hit him, he starts smiling. Wider than he ever smiled in his whole twenty years of living before. “He’ll live?”, he whimpers. The nurse smiles at him. “Hurry now, Darling, you have blood to donate” She pushes Barty a little bit to get him to move, to get him out of his paralysis. “He’ll live!”, he cheered. But before he could move a blood-soaked Sirius Black storms in. He still wears his mask and the once sterilised surgery kit. He is panting, which is quite understandable considering the fact that he had to speed up two levels to get here.
“Blood! Now! We need blood!”, he screams. You can practically hear his heart pounding against his rips. “Type B or 0, please!”, he adds. His voice is shaking, his eyes are wide in terror. Dry sobs escape his lips as nobody moves. “Please, anyone!” His voice seems to echo through the walls. The nurse behind Barty is the first one to recover from the shock. “Mister Crouch has 0”, she breathes. Sirius sobs, hope returning to his eyes. He grabs Barty’s arm with his blood-covered hand and pulls him away, down the stairs in a speed that feels supernatural. The way to the surgery rooms will always be the longest for Barty.
I'd love if you'd give me feedback, I don't know if it's catchy and angsty enough and stuff... I'm new to writing fics and I'm German so pleaaaase point out language mistakes!
