#. 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐉𝐑. ︙ thread.

[bcrtiesjr]

he fell silent, listening—though he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to. barty had been raised in a pure-blood family where manners were paramount. of course, he could set an entire alleyway on fire, but he would never use the salad fork for the main course. principles mattered. and in this case, listening seemed like the right thing to do. “ sounds riveting, ” he said, the sarcasm so blatant it barely warranted the effort. then, as if to clarify: “ why spend your life studying magic only to end up with a muggle career? ” the question was genuine, almost thoughtless. and perhaps, he didn’t really want an answer. he exhaled, unimpressed by the display of sympathy, gaze dropping to the pile of ash and the people scrambling to put things back in order. pathetic, really. “ or maybe he’ll take this as a sign to get a respectable job—though i maintain he might as well go work in the muggle world if his grand ambition is selling newspapers. ” his eyes flicked back to meet hers as she introduced herself, and his lips curved into a smile. “ barty. a pleasure. ” his tone softened—just a fraction. “ so, hookum—were you actually heading somewhere, or just loitering? ” he tilted his head, voice slipping back into that familiar, taunting lilt. “ choose wisely. ”

Daisy was proud of working at the Prophet despite some of its very obvious problems (Rita Skeeter being the biggest one). She had always dreamed of being a journalist, and she still saw power in it, especially now. Daisy was determined to tell the truth about what was happening around them and to use her position to fight for muggleborns that were afraid. She owed it to Jasper and to his family.

"I'm a journalist," Daisy replied, trying not to sound like it was obvious, because it certainly wasn't. There were many positions at the Prophet that werent' writing staff, and all of them were equally important. "I can't say that I am. I hope that the poor owner of the stand will be able to rebuild," Daisy retorted. She raised her eyebrow. "That's a rather intense feeling, but I suppose it's valid considering everything." There was something very off-putting about the man standing in front of her, but she refused to let it show. "Sorry. I'm Daisy. Daisy Hookum."

[bcrtiesjr]

avada kedavra. the curse slips from his lips in little more than a whisper, his wand trained on the lifeless body of a nameless man. necessary? not in the slightest. but after giving up the information he needed, the fool had actually tried to fight back. and barty was not the forgiving type. his gaze flickers once more over the man’s rigid features before he turns—only to be met with a familiar face. " marangoz, " the greeting is warmer than expected, as if they’d simply crossed paths in a bookshop by chance. but he knew the order would make their way here eventually—just as the death eaters had planned. barty, in essence, was the bait. " you ought to leave. they’ll be here soon, and i rather suspect you’ll end up sharing his fate— " a mere tilt of his head towards his latest handiwork is enough to make his point. " are there more of you coming, or have they truly sent you on a suicide mission all on your own? " he muses, and though his attention is fixed on the witch, his gaze continues scanning the area, ever watchful for the first signs of trouble.

ft. 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐙 ( @pcnsieves )

[bcrtiesjr]

his day at the ministry was usually bad. somehow, he managed not to despise his work routine, but when someone sent him on a mission, a bad day always turned worse. especially when night fell, and he found himself once again behind the mask, fighting for the other side. basically, a double life that was starting to consume him. he should quit. that thought crossed his mind sometimes, but it never went any further than that, never specifying which part of his life needed to end. “ honestly, black, ” he says, stepping into the office in question. “ this better be the bloody equivalent of a magical atomic bomb, because i don’t want to waste my time. ” he doesn’t bother to greet him, simply fixing his gaze on him. “ if it’s another ruddy cursed locket, i’m gonna lose it. ” he rolls his eyes in a gesture of mockery. exaggerating, of course. they had never sent him there for something irrelevant— there were always dangers lurking when it came to handling mysterious artefacts. “ sometimes i wonder if all you ever did at hogwarts was skive off… ” a soft huff escapes his nose as he crosses his arms over his chest, expectant.

ft. 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 ( @thefallenstarfm )

[bcrtiesjr]

and how the hell am i supposed to do that? — he thinks, as the mission is explained to them in detail. his face remains neutral, lips pressed into a thin, straight line. his mind tries to gather the most important pieces of the instructions, and he nods a couple of times to indicate he’s paying attention. or at least trying to. " easy peasy, " he murmurs, just loud enough to be heard. he needed to sound convincing, especially since he sometimes thought the dark lord could peer into his mind. he had to isolate his thoughts, keep them locked away in an invisible box just to get through the day. once he was left alone with bellatrix, barty rested his elbows on the table, fixing his gaze on her. she was intimidating. it took a great deal of effort to maintain the calm expression on his face. " it makes sense they’d pair us up for this—but i’ve no idea how we’re supposed to find that artifact in the department of mysteries, " he says, letting out a soft sigh. had voldemort never set foot in the ministry? not once in his life? lucky bastard. " maybe we should go at night. you know, it might be easier." he doesn’t feel the need to push the idea any further. " but it’s up to you, you’re the boss today. "

ft. 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐗 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 ( @silverbred )

[bcrtiesjr]

his brow furrowed ever so slightly at the greeting—stale, mechanical, like an old phonograph playing the same dull tune over and over again. he said nothing at first, but impersonal treatment had always irked him. barty liked attention. and when snape finally turned to face him, barty couldn’t resist gracing him with a slow, sarcastic smile. " his cause, " he echoed, pale eyes narrowing. " if you're denying me entry in the name of ‘ his cause ’ then this place is hardly neutral, is it? " he leaned casually against the counter, feigning indifference. " sure, alright, alright. it’s not as if i’m short on galleons. " he turned the small vial over in his hands once it was passed to him, idly inspecting it before flicking his gaze back up to the shopkeeper. " how charming—you almost sound concerned for me, " he drawled, the teasing lilt of his voice paired with a knowing smirk. " don’t be ridiculous, sev. there’s always someone pulling the strings. doesn’t matter which side you’re on—or if there even is a side. " he gave a lazy shrug, as if the whole notion was beneath his interest. " got any more of these, by the way? i’ve a feeling i’ll be needing a few extra. "

Severus heard the bell chime as Barty entered the shop. He didn’t look up from the lists of orders and such, welcoming the other into the shop. ”Hello! Welcome to Hexes and Jinxs; if you need any assistance, please let me know. Potions are to the right and behind the counter, while ingredients are in the aisles.” He spoke as he continued to work. Severus was not one to miss much, but as Barty spoke up to ask about veritaserum, he sighed.

“Look, Crouch; I would let you use my lab if you aren’t using it for… His cause. I pride my shop on neutrality. Regardless, I have a fresh batch of veritaserum on the shelf to your right. This is a business, after all, Crouch. My shop is for customers to buy things, so my help is beside the point.” He rolled his eyes. People demanded so much. It annoyed him so much. So, he moved from behind the counter and handed Barty the veritaserum. He paused only for a second before letting go and walking back to the counter. He didn’t say anything else; he simply looked at Barty. “Be careful, Barty. Don’t do something stupid. He does not have to rule you, nor does he have to hold any power. Neither side needs more losses.”

[bcrtiesjr]

he knew better than to let himself get carried away—not tonight, at least. with so many people from opposing sides crammed into the same space, it was the perfect recipe for chaos. not that he intended to be the one stirring the pot. for once, he simply needed a distraction. " are you drunk enough to hold a conversation with me without attempting murder? or should i come back later? " his tone was all teasing lilt, the smirk tugging at his lips making his intentions abundantly clear. " i'm bored out of my mind, and apparently, everyone else is having the time of their lives with this nonsense, " he declared, words looser than usual, courtesy of the drinks already in his system.

ft. 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐙 ( @pcnsieves ) 📍ST. MUNGO'S HOSPITAL

[bcrtiesjr]

the celebration couldn’t have mattered less to him. as always, he was there to make an appearance on behalf of the ministry. he was aware that something had been planned for the evening, but his mind was elsewhere. because when regulus was in the same room as him, barty couldn’t bring himself to think of anything—or anyone—else. leaning casually against the wall, his left arm resting against it, he held a glass of liquor in his right hand. “ third—maybe fourth—firewhisky, and i reckon you’re starting to look vaguely attractive, ” he quipped, a half-smirk curling his lips. “ one more, and i might just snog you senseless. ” at the very least, he had the good manners to keep his voice low—just enough for the other wizard to hear. for now.

ft. 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 (@impcrios ) 📍 ST. MUNGO

[bcrtiesjr]

he was tired. bloody tired. the mission had dragged on all night, and in just a few hours, he’d have to head back to the ministry and put on his usual facade. he didn’t even have the energy left to apparate to his workplace, so he’d grabbed avan’s arm to land straight at the coffin house. barty rubbed his hands over his face, as though that would somehow make the exhaustion disappear. instead, it only made his eyes redden further. " ever slept in one of these? " he asked suddenly, forcing his brain to follow some semblance of a conversation. though the topic wasn’t exactly making much sense. his fingers traced the wood of the coffin in front of him, his gaze following the same path as his touch. " i suppose it’s one of those things you’ve got to do. it’s odd to think you’ll never know what it feels like to be in here, yet this is where you’ll spend the rest of eternity. " yeah, not a great deal of sense in that, but at least it kept his mind from drifting off. " mind if i have a go? " his gaze shifted to the other wizard, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

ft. 𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑 ( @necrosier )

[bcrtiesjr]

he would have to be rather shameless—and a hypocrite—to call her mad when he himself had named his cat after a constellation. somehow, he wanted to believe those were entirely different things. knowing about constellations was one thing, dedicating oneself to them was another. still, he did nothing more than raise his eyebrows. he remained curious. particularly about what absurdities he’d have to deal with in the future. was it really that specific? he had never taken divination at hogwarts, and he had never regretted it. not yet, at least. there was something different in the air when their gazes lingered, holding for longer than barty had anticipated. he said nothing. just swallowed, silently, allowing himself a few seconds before responding. “ well— isn’t it a bit of a scam that every scorpio gets the same reading? ” he asked first, a faint crease forming between his brows. “ and i’d wager it could work for any other zodiac sign just as well. ” he added, and though his tone lacked any real bite, his eyes more than made up for it. “ asking me to talk about myself is rather broad, isn’t it?— i studied at hogwarts. slytherin. barty crouch’s only son. you can paint yourself a picture, i suppose. ” his gaze flickered away then, discomfort creeping in as he disclosed more about himself. he wasn’t used to it. far from it. he had always been a private person in that regard. “ be more specific, and we’ll discuss the price. ” he offered, locking eyes with her once more.

"Well, I cannae speak for Ms Blake, since I dinnae ken her at all, but I can certainly vouch for my sanity," Primrose answers pleasantly, a polite smile on her face to contradict the wizard's sarcastic one. It's hardly the first time that somebody's implied she's cracked for believing in astrology, and she highly doubts it'll be the last, but she remains steadfast in her convictions as always. To her mind, the art of divination can be no less valid than any other school of magic, otherwise why would they bother to teach it in schools?

It doesn't surprise her to learn that the man is a Scorpio. For starters, he's clearly not one to shy away from giving his honest opinion, but as she meets his eye, her spine prickles in a way she can't quite blame on the cold. There's a darkness there. Volatility. Some trouble that's dug its roots in deep. "Well, I could read ye what I wrote fae the paper, but I would personally take it wi a grain of salt - it's a more general prediction, see, tae be interpreted by any Scorpio that reads it. If ye wanted me tae read yer stars specifically, ye'd have tae tell me a lot more about yerself. And maybe pay me five galleons," she says with a soft laugh, not really expecting the stranger to take her up on the offer.

[bcrtiesjr]

barty crouch jr. never bothered to make plans with anyone... or perhaps only once in a blue moon.., but if he scheduled a date to go out, that day everything had to go wrong. it was an unspoken rule. even his father intercepted him before he could step through the ministry doors once his workday was over. as it usually happened, his body tensed at the encounter, and his mind went blank. yeah, yeah, i’m sorry. it won’t happen again. he remembered answering, but couldn’t recall to what. lately, those words came out automatically from his throat. in a bit of a rush, he managed to take a quick shower, select appropriate clothes, and grab a bottle of firewhisky. his hair was still damp when he apparated in front of nott manor. they had spoken about meeting at the labyrinth, but given the delay, barty doubted whether morcant was still there, waiting. after a moment's hesitation, he chose to proceed; at worst, he would have to knock on the front door, and it couldn’t be worse than he imagined. he allowed himself to follow the greenish paths, superficially similar, yet never the same. it didn’t take long for him to find the meeting spot, and an invisible smile appeared on his lips, unseen by the other wizard. " morc, " he murmured, making his presence known with a quiet whisper in the stillness. “ sorry i’m late, ” he muttered with a grimace. “ it was a bloody nightmare, they wouldn’t let me leave. ” he apologised, searching for a place to sit next to him. “ i brought a bottle of firewhisky so we don’t rock up completely sober—still got a bit of time. at least enough for a half. ” he said, his eyes scanning the liquor he held between his hands, and a new smile curved the corners of his lips. “ besides, you know what they say: good things come to those who wait, right? ” and in that moment, the familiar mocking tone slipped from his lips, as if it were second nature.

ft. 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐓 ( @cvrsedmuses )

[bcrtiesjr]

he was no longer entirely sure they were speaking about the same thing, so he decided to drop the subject. either way, he had a handful of options for the other wizard—it all depended on how long he planned to stay. barty had the advantage of several useful connections, courtesy of his father, though he was well aware they doubled as spies. crouch sr. couldn’t go a second without keeping an eye on his only son. " and what exactly is it that you do? " he inquired first. not knowing the man at all, he had to determine whether he was worth helping—or at the very least, have some sort of justification prepared when his father inevitably asked. " alright, i suppose i could pull a few strings for a rather generous discount… perhaps even nothing at all— " he mused, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough. " but what do you have to offer me in return? " his chin came to rest lazily in the palm of his hand as he met the other wizard’s gaze, waiting. " there’s a place in mayfair. i’ve stayed there a few times. another in kensington, " he offered, pausing briefly before adding, " when do you need to leave? hopefully soon. or you might start picking up fleas. " his tone was dripping with amusement as he took another sip of firewhisky, then raised a hand to signal for another.

hakim still smiles at the offer , knowing it in his heart that it was most likely inspired by the spirits in their blood . ❝ i will certainly contemplate the offer , but i would hate being a burden . ❞ it's true , hakim had the monetary means to do much better than this inn , but he had been at a disservice since coming back here just from the lack of knowing where to look for housing . but barty's next question has hakim really thinking for a moment - was he really going to stay ? ❝ that is still up for debate , ❞ hakim admits after a short moment , fully aware that he was the kind of person who never stayed in one spot for long before moving on . this was far from any resemblance of home , ❝ i have some work to do , and i am sure it will take me several months , at least . ❞ and that was certainly stretching the truth . hakim's father was already urging hakim to come back home or at least , leave europe in its entirety . the stars here did not shine as bright ; a hallowing tale that there was something ominous on the horizon . but then hakim realizes that is not even the question barty had asked . ❝ oh , i have definitely been staying here for the past two days . it's the best solution at two in the morning and you have no where else to stay . ❞ the place certainly did not exude wealth or prestige , but it was not that bad . if someone like barty thought there was better options than this , people like him would not survive a day elsewhere . ❝ i do not have a particular budget , really . i just have no idea what the usual pay is here , i will admit . ❞

[bcrtiesjr]

regulus didn’t need to say a word for barty to understand everything. years of knowing him—of memorising every little detail, of learning his language—had made it effortless. from the moment he had stepped through the door of his office, barty had known something was wrong. he couldn’t read his mind, but he could recognise the shift in his gaze, the dimmed smile. the physical pull between them was still there, unshaken, but the other wizard seemed locked in a state of heightened alert. and for once, the heir to the crouch name was struggling to break down walls that, in the past, had melted under a glance or two. " lovely to see you too, kreacher, " he greeted the elf with a distinct note of irony, though his focus remained fixed on regulus’ face. his pupils dilated slightly at the new information. " bloody hell, reg— " he murmured, seizing the moment as the other wizard’s hands lifted to slide his own down to regulus’ waist, holding him in something akin to an embrace—though he didn’t pull him in. not quite. " no snogging, then? " the remark was solely meant to diffuse whatever tension lingered between them, though his lips pursed slightly. " i don’t think you should feel guilty for what you do or don’t feel, " he murmured, taking a moment to rest his forehead lightly against the other’s. " have they done the funeral yet? do you want me to come with you? " he pulled back just a fraction, just enough to catch the soft glint in regulus’ eyes—eyes he’d always thought were far too lovely for someone who carried so much weight on his shoulders. " would you rather talk about it, or would you prefer i just stay here with you, quietly? " his teeth grazed his lower lip as he waited for an answer.

when regulus thinks back to their days in hogwarts he misses a part of it, the lack of having to make such big decisions, it was much easier to worry about what he'd be doing the next day, or even thinking about the next quidditch game. now he spends his time looking up at the constellation charmed ceiling and staring at the stars of family members that were now gone, including his father. they had never been close, he hadn't really needed his parents for much of anything having to raise himself with their expectations on the back of his neck that should have gone to his brother. it's hard to think that his brother was freed and while regulus can respect that, he also knows that he never will be, nor would he want that anyway. he believed what his parents believed, he even had the time away from them to think differently and he just didn't. what would happen when the blood lines faltered? where would they be? barty had been the light in the darkness at school, though he would never tell him this. wouldn't tell him a lot of things, actually. his forehead leaned against the others, briefly, he can feel barty's breath and he exhales, he reaches out to press a kiss to the side of the other's mouth, a gentle thing. regulus rolled his eyes at barty's next words, but he smiled. a nice and genuine one for once, instead of the smirk that found his lips often when talking to people. "beans and toast then?" he offers, the smirk making it's way back now. he had snapped his fingers and asked for kreacher who was excited to see the little heir, and he looked at barty as he always did, not disdain, but more oh it's you again, it was hard to sway kreacher on most people that wasn't regulus black. the gentle touch against his cheek almost breaks the facade. it was too much, but he didn't pull away. regulus wasn't someone that was lost for words, he always had the next sentence planned to say, everything about regulus was calculated and exact. "my father died." he eventually says, his hands still rested on the other's waist, he moves them up to fix all the creases in barty's clothes, trying to keep his hands busy. "i suppose i should feel guilty that i'm not sad about it, either." he knew that barty would understand the grief of fathers.

[bcrtiesjr]

" useful how? " he came to a halt, if only because he heard someone who, he presumed, was speaking to him. besides, the voice carried a certain familiarity. his gaze drifted from the other wizard’s face down to the tiny creature, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. " looks a bit... needy, that one, " he remarked, as if the very idea unsettled him. " why not get yourself something a bit more normal? a cat, maybe? " a smile tugged at his lips as he thought of his own pet. " they’re clean, independent... and let’s be honest, they’re miles better looking than— " he didn’t bother finishing the sentence; the point had been made. " what d’you even want it for, anyway? "

𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓 | 𝑳𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: 𝑴𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆 | 𝑹𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏

he was well aware that most people when they heard unsavoury news would find their frustrations at the bottom of a pint, he found himself in front of the window display, wondering if now was a better time than any to get a companion of some sort. "that one isn't too bad, right?" eying the baby niffler, "he's something and useful, i think those are redeeming qualities. you can be cute and good at something"

[bcrtiesjr]

although barty often found himself questioning many things around him, there were others he completely overlooked. xenophilius lovegood was one of them. he believed the quibbler made no sense, even without reading it. all it took was a glance at the other wizard’s outfit or listening to him for more than three seconds. a nuisance. he was already running late for an appointment and didn’t have time to stop, but something caught his attention. no, it wasn’t the money, of course. a chance to have a photo published in the next edition. it could be useful. though first, he needed to figure out what the hell this was all about, and as smart as barty was, the prospect of holding a coherent conversation with xenophilius felt like wading through quicksand. " lovegood, " he greeted, his expression unreadable, flat as he held the flyer. his eyes scanned the paper, and the furrow in his brow deepened as the list went on. " i was going to ask if you actually thought i looked like a sodding journalist for the quibbler—but it seems like you’re actually seeing me as a bloody unicorn. " his gaze shifted to the other wizard’s face, not entirely sure he wanted to hear a response. " you have been hitting the firewhisky, haven't you? you do know these things don’t exist, right?" he wasn’t sure if he wanted an answer to that either.

status ; closed ( @bcrtiesjr || location ; outside of the three broomsticks ||

there was already a bite to the air promising a chilly winter as xenophilius stood outside the three broomsticks fliers held in both hands. it was midday and so far people just disregarded the paper he'd tried to hand, it advertised galleons for pictures even offering a list of acceptable kinds ; moon frogs, heliopaths, crumple-horned snorkacks, and so on. he knew how he looked as well as knew how he was perceived, crazy. insult his mustard colored trousers, or his purple cloak, but never his intelligence. he wasn't daft, everyone else was for wanting to stay so closed minded to the world that was taught beyond hogwarts. he chewed on his bottom lip his brow creasing as he kept his eyes forward deep in thought, he nearly missed it when someone else was walking by, “ WAIT! take one of these. twenty-five galleons for each clear picture a publication in the next issue of the quibbler. ” xenophilius said a look that could be read as proud on his face as he shoved the brightly colored flier into the hands of the other.

[bcrtiesjr]

bloody hell. bloody hell. bloody hell. the pain was excruciating. it burned. never had a spell gone so awry—not like this. certainly not during such a crucial mission. the curse had slipped from his lips, as it always did, his gaze fixed on the target, stirring the familiar rage that drove his actions. however, the spell never left his wand. quite the opposite— it recoiled. the pain that shot up his arm was unbearable, like an internal burn. and although he had let go immediately, the ache of the burn still lingered beneath his skin. his companion had finished the dirty work for him. and barty apparated straight to diagon alley. he held his wand with his left hand, the right still throbbing with an unpleasant twinge. he couldn't quite fathom what had gone wrong, but his wand was damaged. naturally, before rushing off to st. mungo's for a thorough check-up, he decided to get to the root of the issue first. “ my wand, ” he stated as he entered, showing no concern for pleasantries. “ something’s wrong with it. i’m not quite sure what, but— it’s broken. ” he explained, albeit tersely, as he approached the counter and handed the wand to the shopkeeper. “ i cast a spell and... i think it backfired. i believe it might even be cracked. can you see? ” he leaned in slightly to inspect the wood more closely. “ how long do you reckon it’ll take to fix it? i need to be back—soon. ” he finished, raising his eyes to lock with the shopkeeper’s, the unspoken tension hanging in the air.

WHO: gamon ollivander & barty crouch jr. @bcrtiesjr WHERE: ollivanders, diagon alley WHEN: midnight

It was a disquieting night for Gamon at Ollivanders. Rosie, one of his closest friends, had warned him in the morning about a danger appearing in his workplace. He thought about a robbery, maybe. He heard about some stores getting looted at night, with the crisis starting to show its face, some people were losing their marbles.

The little bell on the door warned him about a new presence entering the store. The man lifted his head from the wand catalogue he was updating—boring service, really, but unfortunately he had to do it— and lifted his brow when he saw who it was.

"Hello, welcome to Ollivanders. How can I help you?" Gamon asked, politely. Talk about awkward, your ex-boyfriend's friend showing up in your workplace. Of course, the chance of him actually being there to talk about Sev—Severus, he corrected himself— was small, considering Ollivanders was almost the only wand shop in Britain...

[bcrtiesjr]

was he getting a lecture? perhaps he’d grown so accustomed to his father’s that he barely even registered it. his responses in these situations had long become second nature, slipping past his lips in a blink. he wet his lower lip absently, making a valiant effort to stay focused on whatever it was she was saying. “ an asset, " he echoed, flatly. nothing he hadn’t been told before. “ literally no one in this alley even realised it was me—except you. i’m good at pretending. ” or so he liked to believe. “ a little chaos never hurt anyone. ” he sighed, raising a brow. “ merlin, i figured my father would be the first to scold me for this, not you. ” he folded his arms across his chest, regarding her with thinly veiled impatience. who did she think she was? the worst part was that he couldn’t exactly argue back—she wasn’t wrong, not entirely. but barty was far too proud to admit it. oh, god. he was one word away from drawing his wand. that familiar spark of impulsivity burned at the back of his throat, itching to be let loose. he forced himself to smother it, settling instead for a slow, sardonic smile. “ oh, darling. of course i want to piss you off. who do you take me for? ” petty, childish—whatever one might call it, the resentment lingered, old and stubborn. but control had never been his strong suit. not lately. “ anyway, did you actually have something important to say, or were you just here to make sure i know your opinion of me? ” he exhaled, lazy and unimpressed.

the way he rolled his eyes and spoke to her had vespera responding in kind, at least mentally. mentally, she was irritated with the man who still seemed to act like a boy. who couldn't seem to hold back his impulses and consider how he looked to those around him. but externally, she simply sent him a tight smile.

"this is not the time for fun," she spoke quietly, walking closer to him and whisking the copy of the prophet out of his hand. "people are growing restless. i suspect some are itching for a fight you seem to be practically begging for. but this is not the time for action. it's the time to observe, and plan. but you calling attention to yourself and openly begging for a fight simply shows your lack of restraint and inability to be an asset."

narrowing her gaze at his words and what they implied, the blonde's irritation showed for a second before her mask was up once more. "careful what you're implying barty, darling. i have quite the memory and an incredible ability to hold a grudge. you do not want to piss me off." she knew what he was hinting at, and his childish jealousy needed to learn to relax. her relationships with regulus, while at one point a formal agreement, has never been anything other then platonic in nature. and she was certain he knew that, which just showed how childish he was being.