Chapter 1: one.
Chapter Text
Barty isn’t sure of what he’s doing in university.
Not in this university, specifically; Hogwarts has always been a decent one, even if not half as prestigious as his father would’ve wanted it to be, were he still in the picture. No, Barty is talking about university as a whole. Academic life.
It’s not a matter of lacking ambition, or failing classes. Quite the opposite, really. He can get very competitive, and he’s doing a degree his father would’ve fucking hated, which is always a bonus. Barty also enjoys it. Sort of. Some of his classes are very interesting. Others not so much, but he supposes that’s always been part of being a student.
Grades have never been an issue, either. They weren’t even back when Barty was actively trying to do badly. He’s smart and has a really good memory and doesn’t have to make that much of an effort to score high. Barty can get by if he simply pays attention during lectures and listens in seminars. He participates sometimes, too, when everyone else in the room is half asleep, or has very clearly not done any of the readings.
His professors don’t seem to appreciate this, but Barty couldn’t give less of a fuck. It’s not his fault most of them are incompetent, and the rest doesn’t like being proved wrong. He could teach most of their classes a lot better than they do without breaking a sweat. In fact, he’d bet anything that the absence rate would be considerably lower.
Maybe the university should start paying him, instead of the other way around. Because maybe, that way, he wouldn’t feel like he’s wasting his time.
Barty was always meant to get a degree. His future had been meticulously planned even before he was born. He got the best tutors, a (mostly) unnecessary classical training, and graduated with honours both at primary and secondary school. The logical step after that was going to uni, because that’s what his asshole of a father wanted, and everyone at home knew that not listening to Bartemius Crouch was not an option.
That was before the divorce, though. Before his mum, Aster, finally put her foot down and packed her things and gave her (now ex-) husband an ultimatum. Before all the trials and the threats, and Barty almost getting into a physical fight with his father’s lawyer.
And yet, here he still is. In university. In his third year, even. Trying to get a motherfucking degree.
Barty has no idea of why, really. Like, yeah, he isn’t studying law or politics or whatever other boring and shitty career his father wanted him to pursue. Electrical engineering might not be as fancy, or as much of a money-maker, but at least he got to choose it. At least he doesn’t feel like killing everyone else in the room and then himself whenever he’s in class anymore.
But it’s just. It’s all fucking bullshit. Barty can’t put his finger on it, which makes him want to crawl out of his bloody skin sometimes, but there’s something wrong. With his life, with uni, with himself as a whole. Or maybe it’s not necessarily wrong. Maybe it just isn’t working. Not like it should.
He can’t explain it, not with words at least, which is a new one, because Barty isn’t someone who lacks them, or who shuts up often. But, well, he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling most of the time, or even if he’s feeling something in the first place. As someone who has spent almost his whole life pretending he didn’t have any emotions since it was his only chance at survival, he guesses it’s not that surprising.
It still fucking sucks.
Because he can’t find a single reason to explain why he’s here, sitting in class, toying with his lighter while Professor Slughorn gives one of his little speeches, scolding them for doing worse than he expected in the last exam. He’s bored, and would rather be anywhere else, but at the same time, when the alarm went off less than two hours ago, he didn’t even consider skipping.
Probably because Barty knew it was likely going to be grade day, which means that Slughorn should be about to give them their revised exams as soon as he finally gets tired of listening to his own voice.
And, you see, Barty doesn’t care that much about marks. That was his father, really, and his mum only wants him to be happy and have fun in uni, so she isn’t that worried about Barty failing, or being at risk of repeating the year. Not like he’s ever given her any motives for concern when it comes to this.
If Bartemius Crouch cares about something, then it automatically results in Barty not giving a fuck. That’s how it’s always worked, and that’s how it always will. Even now that it’s been months since he last saw his father. Even now, when he isn’t looming over him, a heavy, dark shadow always breathing down his neck, waiting for him to fuck up.
As if Barty has ever done something apart from fucking up, anyway.
Despite his indifference, he can’t help but perk up a little when Slughorn finally pulls out the exam sheets out of his leather bag. He waves them around, gesticulating wildly as he expresses his disappointment for the umpteenth time. Barty isn’t listening to any of the shit he’s spouting. It has nothing to do with him, after all.
Something that can only be described as excitement pools at his stomach when Slughorn shuts his mouth in a tight line, beginning to make his way towards his students, stopping at every desk as he gives out the exams. Barty even leans slightly over his table, waiting with bated breath and his leg bouncing under the table. It’s been driving him mad since the semester started, how slow the annoying old man can be when he wants to.
And really, Barty couldn’t care less about if he’s scored more than his previous 93 or not—because, come on, everyone in the room is aware that his mark isn’t going to be lower than 90. Again, that was his father. And as it’s been established, Barty despises everything that has to do with him.
Except.
Except, two rows in the back, there’s someone glaring so intensely at the back of Barty’s head he can feel it like a fucking brand on his skin. It sends a thrill down his spine, and Barty has to bite his tongue so hard he tastes blood to keep himself from barking out a laugh.
Because Barty can’t find it in himself to worry much about university, or classes, or his grades. He doesn’t lose sleep over it, because it doesn’t pose a challenge, and what’s the point, really, if he doesn’t even have to try?
Barty Crouch Jr. isn’t the caring type. He’s spent years making sure of it.
But Lily Evans is.
***
The first time Barty came across Lily Evans, it was a Wednesday, it was fucking pissing it down outside, and Barty was running late for his 12PM seminar, because his motorbike had decided to break down at the worst fucking moment.
After a few texts to Regulus bitching about the whole situation, while simultaneously trying to convince him to ditch his own classes and go out with Barty to get drunk—because the day was already ruined anyway—, Regulus had decided to call his brother. Which could’ve been easily seen as an act of kindness, considering Sirius is a mechanic, and he always makes sure to give his friends the best discounts. But Sirius and Barty are not friends. In fact, they fucking hate each other’s guts.
To this day, Barty has no idea of how that conversation went, or what the hell Regulus said to convince Sirius to actually show up with his tools and a scowl that would’ve made the bravest of men cower in fear. But, whatever it was, it fucking worked.
He doesn’t like to speak about those 35 minutes of his life. Barty will say, though, that despite how many times Sirius threatened to stab him in the neck with the screwdriver, he did a pretty decent job. His bike hasn’t given him any issues since then, at least. Which is a relief, because he doesn’t have the money to get it repaired, or buy a new one. There’s a reason why he still hasn’t paid Sirius for his services, even though it’s been almost two years, and why he has him saved in his phone as ignore.
Unfortunately, having his bike fixed so quickly meant he made it to uni just in time for his last seminar of the day. And yeah, Barty could’ve skipped it regardless, but he had already made his way there, and it seemed like a waste to just. Go back home. Not to mention, he hadn’t dealt with stupid fucking Sirius for nothing. Even if it had been against his will, and Regulus’ fault, because he was a stuck-up little bitch who refused to drink anything other than ridiculously expensive French wine before 3PM.
Barty walked inside that classroom with a still lit cigarette hanging from his lips, ripped jeans stained with blood, and a sneer twisting his features. He was also nearly twenty minutes late.
The professor—McGonagall—was in the middle of revising their last exam. She liked to go through every question during seminars, making sure everyone understood where they had fucked up and why. Barty has always thought it to be smart, and a nice teaching method, but since he wasn’t fond of the woman, he rarely paid attention.
She was in the middle of a sentence, but she left it hanging in favour of turning to look at Barty, eyes stern and lips pressed into a thin line. Barty considered cracking a very bad, very inappropriate joke, but in the end, he chose to offer her a smile and a tiny shrug as his only explanation.
“You’re late,” McGonagall said, voice even but incredibly cold.
“I know,” he replied, gaze meeting the Professor’s head on.
“I don’t tolerate impunctuality,” she went on, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I know,” Barty repeated again. His lips twitched with amusement, the glint in his eyes probably giving him away.
McGonagall arched an eyebrow, a question hidden behind the gesture. What the hell are you doing here, then?
She stared at him for a beat, before letting out a soft sigh and pushing her glasses up her nose. “Name?” she asked as he reached out to grab the tiny stack of sheets on her desk.
Barty winced almost imperceptibly before answering, expression souring. “Crouch. Barty Crouch.”
“Well, Mr. Crouch,” McGonagall huffed out, barely bothering to hide her disdain. “Next time you’re running this late, I’d rather you don’t show up, instead of so rudely interrupting my class. The only thing I despise more than tardiness is bad manners.”
“Duly noted, ma’am,” Barty said, saluting mockingly at her. Her eye right seemed to twitch at this, and her forehead filled with wrinkles. More than she already had, that is. “I can still leave, you know, I’d hate to ruin such an educational moment, and I’m afraid my presence might’ve made your students lose their—”
“Mr. Crouch,” McGonagall called him again, raising her tone slightly and faint tremble in her words. He smirked around his cigarette, taking a tiny drag. “I don’t want to hear another word. You’ve already been enough of a disruption today.”
“Terribly sorry, Professor—” he began, not even sounding remotely apologetic.
“And for goodness’ sake, get rid of that cigarette. I thought it went without saying, but smoking isn’t allowed in class.”
“C’mon, Professor, I only have a couple of drags left, and tobacco is so expensive these days. It’d be such a waste.” He sighed heavily for good measure, giving a little shake of his head. “Can’t you show some mercy to a nicotine-addicted broke student?”
A few people snorted under their breaths, the noise serving to amuse Barty even furhter. McGonagall, however, didn’t seem to find any entertainment in the situation, considering her jaw clenched and her gaze hardened.
“I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, Mr. Crouch, because, surprisingly, you’ve never given me any trouble, and when you do come to my lectures you’re usually quiet. But I won’t hesitate to ban you from my class if I have to, are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Barty said with a firm nod, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.
He pinched the tip of his cigarette, slightly relishing in the burn, and waited until it was completely out. He didn’t take it out of his mouth, though, because he couldn’t help but want to push the older woman a little, see what she might do.
“Now, if you could please find a seat and keep quiet for the rest of my class, I’d really appreciate it. I feel like you especially will benefit from today’s lesson,” McGonagall remarked, throwing him a glance over the rim of her glasses.
“Do you, really?” Barty wondered with a snort. “I don’t know, Professor, I think I did pretty well in last week’s exam.”
“Somehow I doubt it,” McGonagall said dryly, and Barty felt his smirk spread even wider. She grabbed the sheets that were left on her desk, flipping through them with practised ease. “But okay, let’s see. Miss Evans here was just reading her answer to the fourth question, since she got an almost perfect score. As soon as I find your test, you can—”
McGonagall closed her mouth so abruptly it seemed to startle everyone in the room. Barty even saw a couple of people in the first row jumping a little in their seats, blinking rapidly as they stared at their professor. He simply watched McGonagall attentively while she looked at the sheet she had in her hands. Her eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing into her hairline, and Barty didn’t need to check to know that she had probably found his exam.
“I can… what?” he probed, barely-disguised elation dripping from his words.
“You…” McGonagall began again before going silent once again.
“Yeah? Is there a problem, Professor?”
“No, Mr. Crouch, it’s just—” She stopped, raised her head to glance briefly at Barty and then went back to the exam sheet, her eyes seemingly widening further. “Perfect. You—you got a perfect score.”
Barty couldn’t help it; he let out a cackle, his cigarette nearly slipping from his parted lips as he doubled over slightly, his hand coming to rest on his thighs. McGonagall didn’t even scold him for it, or attempted to kick him out; she was way too busy gaping at Barty’s test, blinking at it repeatedly as if his mark would change if she stared at it long enough.
He supposed he couldn’t blame her for hoping.
“What?” someone exclaimed, upset and disbelieving, and it was unexpected enough that it got Barty to stop laughing.
It was a feminine, soft, almost melodic voice, but that single word had been uttered in such contempt, coming out in what bordered on a scoff, that Barty couldn’t do anything apart from looking towards his classmates, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Who could be so incredibly inconvenienced by Barty’s achievements to the point they were unable to stay quiet about it?
A handful of students also turned around, as surprised by the interruption as Barty himself felt, but he paid them no mind, eyes glinting with mirth when they finally located the owner of such an outraged exclamation.
It was a girl, long red wavy hair falling over her shoulders, perfectly brushed and kept away from her face with a white ribbon. The bridge of her nose and part of her cheeks were covered in freckles, and her lips were twisted into a scowl. Barty didn’t shy away from her scornful gaze, meeting those intense green eyes with an arched eyebrow and a lazy smirk. He wasn’t about to be intimidated by someone wearing a pink cardigan.
She had to be that ‘Miss Evans’ McGonagall had been talking about. The one with the almost perfect score. Almost being the key word there.
“Professor McGonagall said I got a perfect score!” Barty yelled back to her, cupping both hands around his mouth for good measure.
Evans gritted her teeth, the furrow between her eyebrows worsening. “I heard it the first time.”
Barty sighed in feigned relief, his fingers coming to clutch at his chest. “And here I was, thinking you’ve got hearing problems.”
“Honestly, that’d be a more logical explanation,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Evans, was it?” Barty asked with a tilt of his head. The girl didn’t give him a response, but her lack of it was more than enough. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m sensing some jealousy.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, letting out a loud scoff. “Please. As if.”
“It’s okay, Evans, there’ll be other chances. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with being second best—”
“Never said there is.”
“Really? Because you sound real upset.”
“I’m not. In fact, I couldn’t care less.”
“I don’t know who you’re trying to convince, but—”
“I just have a hard time believing you got the highest score on the first exam of the semester, especially in a class that’s known for being challenging,” she said slowly, the accusation clear in her tone.
Barty kissed his teeth. “I’m not sure I like what you’re trying to imply here, Evans.”
“I’m not implying anything, I’m just saying that—” she protested, somehow looking mildly offended, as if she were the one being attacked. If nothing else, Barty had to admire her audacity.
Not to mention, she was making his morning so much more interesting.
“That I fucking cheated,” Barty finished for her, giving her a grin that bordered on maniacal.
Evans bit the inside of her cheek, and she visibly hesitated. It wasn’t like Barty needed the confirmation when it was so obvious, but seeing it so plainly almost made him burst out laughing again.
What a jealous piece of shit.
“I never said that,” it was what Evans ended up murmuring, head held high.
“Language,” McGonagall mumbled quietly, almost as an afterthought. Neither of them paid her any mind. He didn’t even think Evans heard her.
“But you’re thinking it.” Barty shrugged. “And you know what? I respect it. Sometimes the truth is too hard to deal with.”
Evans let out a mix between a laugh and a huff, raising both her eyebrows. She looked Barty up and down, the derision in her expression only growing as her gaze travelled lower. By the time her eyes made it back up, settling on Barty’s face, he was basically buzzing, itching with the need for a good fight.
He had never thought he’d be able to find it in a prissy ginger girl during his first year of university, but life did have a tendency to surprise him. Although, usually, it was as a way to try and screw him over.
“And what’s the truth, Crouch?” she snarled, his last name being basically spat out.
“That I did better than you in the exam.”
“Barely. I got a 94—”
“Last time I checked, that’s not a 100. Which is what I got—”
“Because you fucking cheated—”
Barty laughed delightedly, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “I knew it! Jesus, Evans you’re such a sore loser.”
“I’m not, this was never a competition in the first place—”
“Really? Because you’re treating it like it was—”
“Yeah, because I refuse to be surpassed by someone like you!” she yelled, so incredibly furious she rose from her seat, both of her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
She was quite short, Barty could tell even from a distance, and somehow that knowledge made the whole situation even more hilarious. How could someone who looked so prim and proper, who most definitely was every teacher’s pet, have such a filthy mouth?. Barty knew Evans’ type like the palm of his hand, and this wasn’t it at all.
“Someone like me?” he repeated, one of his hands coming to clutch at his chest in mock offence. “Whatever do you mean?”
Evans pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “You don’t want me answering that question.”
“I asked, Evans. You started this, so don’t be a pussy about it now.”
“Mr. Crouch,” McGonagall tried firmly. She had finally recovered from the shock Barty’s mark had sent her into, but he didn’t even spare her a glance, too busy holding Evan’s fiery gaze.
“I just wanted to save you the embarrassment,” she retorted casually, a muscle spasming on the side of her jaw. “But I can be very mean if you really want me to.”
Barty’s smile turned sharper, bordering on cruel, and he bared his teeth at her, a bit surprised when Evans returned the gesture.
Where the fuck did this girl come from?
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, princess,” he threw back, relishing in the way in which all the smugness disappeared from her expression, those lips covered in gloss curling in disgust.
“You’re such a nasty asshole—”
“Silence!” McGonagall shouted, making Barty—and at least half the class—jump a little. He took a step back, unconsciously, and his hand twitched at his sides while he turned to blink at the professor. “That’s enough!”
Barty had never seen her this mad. Most of the students respected her, or straight-up liked her, so apart from a couple of scoldings, McGonagall had never raised her voice during lessons. Barty could be quite disruptive when he wanted to, but he did find most of her classes interesting enough to keep quiet and listen. He didn’t always take notes, because he didn’t have much use for them, but he did follow whatever was being said.
McGonagall had a reputation for being strict, for making tricky exams that forced her students to think, but not for having a temper.
Barty didn’t know if he should feel proud, or concerned.
“This is completely unacceptable,” she went on, quieter, but still seething. “Never in all my years teaching at this university have I seen such an outrageous display. This is a classroom and we are all adults. Any issues you two may have are not to be resolved here.”
Everyone in the room seemed to stiffen, as if they were the ones getting told off. Barty had to bite his lower lip to keep his mouth from curling upwards.
Evans had stopped focusing on him in favour of staring at McGonagall, her face blank and neutral. The only thing that gave away how she was feeling was the tension on her frame, the tiny furrow between her eyebrows.
Barty didn’t look away from her, not even for a second.
“Mr. Crouch, doing well in an exam doesn’t give you the right to do as you please,” McGonagall said pointedly, and Barty could feel her eyes drilling into the side of his face until he finally conceded and returned her gaze. “I chose to give you the benefit of the doubt and you’ve already made me regret it.”
He considered repressing the urge to roll his eyes, but in the end, and realising he didn’t care much about what Professor McGonagall thought about him, he went for it.
Boo fucking hoo, he thought, watching as the woman’s face hardened.
“And you, Miss Evans,” she added, shifting her attention to Evans, who seemed to straighten up automatically. Barty didn’t bother to hide his snort. “I really would’ve never expected this from you. You’re one of the most brilliant students I’ve had in all my career, and I can’t believe you’d sunk this low. I’m incredibly disappointed in you.”
Barty could see the way Evans gulped and her jaw clenched, unable to believe that the same girl who had been running her mouth and accusing him of cheating because of her pride was now behaving like a kicked puppy. He couldn’t decide if he found it pathetic or just sad.
“I’m very sorry, Professor,” she mumbled, hands grasping the edge of her skirt and clenching around the fabric. “I don’t know why I reacted like that, I didn’t mean to.”
McGonagall kept her stern mask up for a total of 13 seconds before she let it drop with a sigh, eyes softening the slightest bit as she regarded Lily with what could only be described as fondness.
Barty took a look around the room, more than a little perplexed. Did everyone else also buy that ridiculous display of feigned regret?
“I’m gonna let it slide just this time,” McGonagall said, and despite the coolness in her tone, there was no denying the blatant favouritism. Barty wasn’t sure if this was really the first time she was letting Evans’ behaviour go unpunished, but he doubted it was gonna be the last. “But I expect better of you from now on. I hold great respect for you, Miss Evans, and I’m convinced you’re bound to achieve big things. Don’t prove me wrong.”
Evans pressed her lips in a very thin line, until you could barely appreciate the shiny layer of gloss, and nodded once, determined and with no hesitance.
Jesus Christ, had these people always been this intense?
McGonagall returned the action, holding eye contact for a few more seconds before turning to face Barty. That softness around the edges that Evans had managed to make appear out of fucking nothing completely disappeared, replaced by something that Barty was way too used to seeing to be bothered by it.
Displeasure.
“As for you, Mr. Crouch—” she began with narrowed eyes.
Barty clicked his tongue and raised a hand, not really expecting McGonagall to shut up but absurdly delighted when she, in fact, did. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted with a playful smile. “You said I got a perfect score, which means there’s nothing this class can do for me. So I think I’m gonna take my leave, Professor, and then you all can enjoy the rest of the lesson in peace, yeah?”
McGonagall seemed so taken aback that when she opened her mouth, not a single sound came out of it.
Maybe it was his fault. He had to start participating more in class, acting up a little. He was setting up unrealistic expectations, between his usual silence and his amazing grades. He couldn’t let them believe he was a decent student, otherwise they were gonna end up as disappointed as McGonagall was probably feeling.
Not like that was anything new for him.
“But you—” the Professor attempted when her vocal chords finally decided to work again, some of her anger slowly but surely returning to her expression.
“Don’t even worry, you can keep my exam,” Barty cut her off, already walking backwards and making his way to the door. He had probably around twenty seconds before the woman came back to her senses. “I’m sure it’ll be of great help for your little revision. Better than Evans’ answers, that’s for sure.”
He stole a glance at the girl, pleased to discover the furious blush on her cheeks, the scowl twisting her pretty face, the murderous intent shining in her eyes. “Fuck off,” she spat, voice trembling with hatred.
Barty smirked wide, his hand reaching behind him and curling around the handle of the door, while the other slided inside his jeans’ pocket, grabbing his lighter.
“Better luck next time, princess,” he retorted with a teasing wink while he opened the door.
He slipped outside of the room before Evans had the chance to respond.
***
When Slughorn stops right next to his desk, Barty tilts his head up just to find the old man slightly frowning at him. He has his exam sheet in his hand, and he’s clutching at it so harshly it’s wrinkling around his fingers.
Barty knows what that frustrated expression means, and he can only arch an eyebrow at his professor, waiting patiently for him to give him his test back.
It takes Slughorn a few more seconds of glaring, but in the end, he lets go, dropping the exam on Barty’s desk and allowing him to see the bright red ‘95’ written in the corner.
“Congratulations, Mr. Crouch,” Slughorn declares, insincere and with no sort of inflection in his voice.
Barty feigns a smile, uncaring of how obviously forced it looks, and the gesture becomes a little bit more genuine when it drags an annoyed huff out of the other man before he finally moves onto his next student.
He doesn’t really gloat over the mark, because it isn’t surprising, and he knows when he’s done well on an exam and when he’s fucked up. No, Barty simply goes straight to the question that robbed him of getting 100, reads the tiny paragraph Slughorn wrote on the margin explaining his reasoning to deduct the points, and Barty saves the information inside his brain.
It’s not like this mistake is gonna make him lose any sleep, but he refuses to step over the same stone—at least when it comes to exams, or assignments. Besides, there’s always a certain satisfaction that comes with getting the best possible grade when the professor of the subject doesn’t like him in the slightest and is just searching for an excuse to fail him.
He leans back into his seat, watching as Slughorn stops next to every single desk, offering a few words as he gives everyone their tests. Barty can’t help the way his leg keeps bouncing up and down, fingers turning his lighter on and off rhythmically, while he pretends he doesn’t see the side glances some of his classmates are giving him.
Barty briefly considers setting the exam on fire, but then he remembers he needs it for a bit longer, so he continues watching. Waiting.
It takes more than it should, because Slughorn has clear favouritism for some students and he fucking adores engaging in conversation with them, always making sure they know their greatness is a reflection of his own achievements. Barty has got to give it to him, though; Slughorn does know how to incentivize his students. Promises of assured jobs as soon as they’ve graduated or of getting them in contact with some of his richest, most successful friends will push anyone to study hard.
No wonder Barty’s mere existence pisses him off so fucking bad. He’s never promised him shit, he has no expectations for him and he’s never invited him to his exclusive club, even though he meets all the requirements, considering he has better grades than most of his more talented students. Barty has no reason to do well, no reason to come to Slughorn’s lessons, no reason to behave like he does.
And yet, here he is. Best of his class, even without making an actual effort.
Or, well, maybe not exactly the best. The top spot keeps moving, keeps shifting, and Barty can never remain in it for more than a couple of weeks.
He’s been forced to share it, you see. With a certain—
“Miss Evans!” Slughorn exclaims from somewhere behind him. Barty doesn’t turn around, but a smirk starts pulling at his lips. “Congratulations! You never disappoint, but you’ve done especially well in this exam. I’m very pleased with you.”
“Thank you, Professor,” she replies softly, meekly, always unnervingly polite. Barty rolls his eyes so hard he feels a little sting.
“Keep up the good work, Miss Evans. You’ve got a brilliant future ahead of you,” Slughorn goes on with a satisfied chuckle. “I’ll see you this weekend, I hope? For the meeting?”
“I’ll be there,” Evans agrees easily, because of course she fucking does. Barty doesn’t think he’s ever heard her say ‘no’ to anyone. Apart from him, that is.
“And bring Mr. Potter with you, will you? He’s such a charming young man. It’s really a shame I don’t get to teach him.”
Barty’s expression twists, and he feigns a gag that’s definitely more dramatic than necessary, but that represents quite well how he feels about this whole situation.
It seems to drag the snorts of a couple of his classmates, and also possibly the glare of one ginger girl. Again, he doesn’t even attempt to find out if he’s right or not, but the hatred is intense enough for him to feel it, burning the back of his head.
He waits a few more seconds, until it’s obvious Slughorn has moved onto the next student, and then he grabs his exam sheet and raises it high enough so it can be seen clearly over his shoulder. After a moment, he tilts his head back, lazy grin already in place, his eyes finding deep green ones with ease.
Evans looks intently at the mark on Barty’s test, her expression giving nothing away. But then she arches an eyebrow, right before she takes her own exam and puts it right in front of her, turning it around so Barty can see the bright red ‘98’ on the top right corner.
There’s a beat, and then Evans takes a peek from behind the sheet, the corners of her mouth curled upwards in a victorious smirk.
Barty can only let out a laugh under his breath, something ugly and greedy scratching inside his gut. He glances briefly at his own ‘95’, refusing to allow his expression to twist, before he bows his head slightly, admitting defeat.
Well fucking played.
***
He’s staring. Barty knows he’s bloody staring. He isn’t trying to be subtle about it, barely blinking as he takes in the sight just a few metres away from him.
Evans is sitting on her usual picnic table, her laptop and a textbook right in front of her lunch. Barty can’t tell what’s inside of the container, but he’d bet anything is something disgusting and healthy, like a salad, or plain pasta.
Potter is sitting right beside her, muscled arm wrapped around her shoulder and his usual idiotic smile plastered on his face. He keeps peeking at her screen from time to time, whispering things into her ear and making her laugh.
There’s a few of their friends too, keeping them company and also seeking help from Lily, who at this point may as well start her own study club, considering how many people ask for her notes, or advice on exams.
Barty recognises a couple of dudes from the rugby team, because they never go anywhere without their team jumpers, and they’re always hanging around Potter. They’re all so fucking obnoxious Barty has to hold himself back from decking them in the face whenever he sees them in the hallways.
None of them piss him off as bad as Potter himself, though.
There’s also Lupin, sitting at Evans’ other side, but unlike her stupid boyfriend, he’s allowing her a modicum of personal space. His chin is resting on the palm of his hand as he listens intently to whatever Evans is saying, gaze soft and mouth turned upwards. And those two girls who never seem to leave Evans’ side are there, too, sitting with their backs turned to Barty, and who seem way too touchy with each other for their relationship to be completely platonic. Barty can’t, for the life of him, remember their names, but he’s certain they both begin with an ‘m’. Or maybe it’s their surnames.
Whatever. It’s not like he gives a fuck.
“You’re staring,” Regulus informs him all of a sudden, as if Barty needs the reminder, or something.
He tilts his head to the right, just enough to give Regulus a very pointed look, but the other boy doesn’t look up from the thick book he has opened on the table. Barty wonders if it’s for class, or for fun, but knowing Regulus, it might be a little bit of both.
“I’m aware,” he replies dryly after a beat. His gaze returns to Evans’ table, where she’s smiling blandly at whatever story one of Potter’s mates seems to be telling.
“Well, could you stop?” Regulus inquires, arching an eyebrow. His hand reaches out for his half-eaten sandwich, but after his fingers graze the bread, he makes a face and retreats. “It’s giving me the creeps.”
“And why do you care? It’s not like I’m staring at you—”
“You’re being so obvious about it it’s actually embarrassing, and I don’t want anyone to—”
“—and you’ve barely said a word to me since we sat down, so I don’t think you have the right to—”
“—associate me with you when you’re being such a fucking weirdo—”
“—judge me. Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re a bloody plant, and gave me some conversation—”
“You know what? Fine.” Regulus slams his book close, and exhales loudly through his nose. Barty catches the name Dostoevsky before Regulus puts the novel inside his bag, turning his body slightly to the left so he can face Barty more comfortably. “Happy now?”
“Very,” he responds with an amused huff.
“Good. Now lower your voice and stop looking at Evans’ table.”
“Aw, Reg, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous,” Barty teases him, batting his lashes for good measure.
Regulus gives him his most deadpan stare. “But you do know better.”
“Do I? Because this is all pointing to you wanting me to give you some attention—”
“I never want you to give me attention,” Regulus hisses, eyes narrowed. “My life would be so much easier if you left me alone.”
“But it’d also be incredibly boring,” Barty retorts with half a smirk.
“I don’t know about that. I’m part of one of the richest families in England—”
“Used to be,” Barty corrects him.
“I had very shitty parents—” Regulus goes on, ignoring him completely.
“Me too, babe, you ain’t special.”
“Your mum is nice, though—”
“Yeah, okay, and that erases all the years my father spent kicking the shit out of me, or…?”
Regulus sighs long and deep, and there’s so much exasperation in that tiny sound it almost drags a laugh out of Barty.
“I didn’t say that,” Regulus tells him. “I was just saying that—”
“That you’ve had it worse because only one of my parents turned out to be a fucking psycho?”
“Stop putting words in my mouth!”
“I’m not! You were clearly implying—”
“I wasn’t implying shit! I’m just trying to make a point but you seem physically incapable of shutting up.”
“Fine, then,” Barty concedes with a scoff, watching his best friend expectantly. “What’s your point?”
Regulus squirms a little in his seat, gaze suddenly avoiding Barty’s. “That my life was exciting before I met you,” he murmurs, pouting slightly.
Barty blinks at him. “That’s not an exciting life, Reg. That’s a sad one.”
“Same thing,” Regulus answers with a shrug.
“Are you even aware of how concerning that is?”
“Oh, save it, Barty. As if you’re not a lot worse than me. At least I actively try to act like a normal person sometimes.”
“You have at least one mental breakdown in the car a day.”
“Yeah. Like a normal person,” Regulus insists, and Barty finds himself frowning slightly. Does Regulus genuinely believe this is ordinary behaviour? Really?
“It’s not even your car,” Barty reminds him with both eyebrows arched.
That seems to make Regulus pause, who chews on the inside of his cheek while he tilts his head, considering for a few seconds. “Like a normal poor person,” he concedes with a tiny nod, and Barty snorts so loud he feels the stare of some of the people sitting in the table right next to theirs.
“Reg, c’mon, you’re not actually poor. I’m not even sure you know what being poor means.”
“Yes, I am! I used to be rich and then I got disinherited, that’s literally the definition of poor.”
“Well, yeah, if it weren’t for the fact that your brother took you in and he has a pretty decent job.”
Regulus wrinkles his nose. “He’s literally a mechanic.”
“Yeah, but a good one,” Barty reminds him, even if it pains him. The only reason he’s complimenting Sirius Black is because the man himself isn’t present and no one would believe Regulus if he dared to tell. “Like, that shop is basically his, dude.”
“Don’t call me dude,” Regulus huffs, mouth curling. “And no, it isn’t. He has a boss, who actually owns that shop, and whose family has owned said shop for generations—”
“That’s why I said basically!”
“Just because Aberforth is fond of him, it doesn’t mean he’s—”
“Goddammit, Regulus, I get it!” Barty ends up snapping, a nearly-hysterical laugh following his words. “My god, you’re pissy today.”
Regulus makes a double take, leaning back on his seat and blinking aggressively at Barty, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline. “Excuse me? I’m pissy?”
Barty shrugs lazily, accompanying the gesture with a vague move of his hand, and it makes Regulus scoff with an impressive amount of indignation.
“You’re the one who’s fucking pissy,” he retorts in a grumble, crossing his arms. “I know you find some sort of sick entertainment in annoying the hell out of me, but it feels like you actually want to make me angry today.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re my best friend, my ride or die, best fuck buddy I’ve ever had—”
“You’re deflecting,” Regulus cuts him off, raising his voice slightly just so he can speak over him. “And doing a terrible job at it, by the way.”
“—the absolute love of my life, in a completely platonic way, but also not really—”
“Barty, if you don’t shut up right now I swear I’m gonna start screaming.”
That kind of does the trick, because Barty can’t never be sure about how much truth Regulus’ threats hold. He’s a posh little brat who’d rather bite his own arm off than act or look other than perfectly poised, always being careful to never step out of line when he’s in public and constantly terrified of someone seeing him show a single emotion apart from. Indifference.
But he’s also heavily traumatised and a bit of a weirdo and he’ll do the most insane shit sometimes just to get away with things or simply because he doesn’t know how to cope with having a normal, relatively healthy life.
Not like Barty can judge.
“Thank you,” Regulus sighs, punctuated by a roll of his eyes, after it’s clear enough Barty won’t try his luck. “Seriously, what’s up with you today? I didn’t even think I’d see you around campus, you were so set on skipping class when I called you this morning…”
“Yeah, but then I remembered Slughorn was gonna give us our exams back today.” Barty shrugs, reaching inside his battered backpack for the burrito he had bought for lunch.
“Oh?” Regulus drawls, the corners of his mouth twitching. “That explains it. I’m assuming Evans won this round.”
Barty scowls as his fingers finally curl around tin foil, not surprised to discover it freezing cold. Well, food’s food anyway, and it’s from the nice place next to the Economics building, so Barty isn’t gonna complain.
“Barely,” he grumbles under his breath, taking the burrito out and peeling the tin foil off. “She got 3 points more than me. That hardly counts.”
“Except that it does. It’s still winning.”
“Whatever. I’m still ahead this semester.”
“I don’t know, Barty. If I remember correctly, you’re only first because of a single exam and that one assignment you both had last month. She’s catching up to you, and fast.”
Barty takes a harsh bite of his burrito, gaze avoiding Regulus’ amused one. “Whose side are you on, huh?”
“Evans’, obviously,” Regulus replies without missing a beat.
“Fuck off. You don’t even like her.”
“That’s not true. I don’t know her.”
“Which, for you, is the exact same thing.”
Barty doesn’t have to look at Regulus to know that he’s rolling his eyes. Again.
“Okay, but I love to see you lose,” Regulus states, and Barty side eyes him just to catch him playing distractedly with his food. “The choice is easy.”
“You’re such an asshole,” Barty huffs, but there’s no heat in his words. “She’s a stuck-up little bitch who thinks she’s better and smarter than everyone else—”
“You also think you’re smarter than everyone else.”
“Well, Reg, it’s just a fact.”
“Your grade today doesn’t say the same thing.”
“It was only a 3-point difference!”
“And?” Regulus finally grabs his sandwich and takes another bite, chewing slowly, his expression careful. Barty feels ridiculously relieved. “Most of the times you’ve won it’s also been a difference of a few points.”
“Not always. Remember when—”
“Oh, here we fucking go—”
“Shut up,” Barty snarks in between bites. “She just pisses me off, okay? It’s not even about marks, not really. Like, I know I’m good at school, and shit, I’ve always been. I don’t even have to make that much of an effort, you know?”
“Yes, Barty, I do know. You don’t need to rub it in.”
“Please. As if your marks aren’t also amazing.”
“But unlike others, I do have to sit down and study.”
“I sit down and study! I study so hard!”
Regulus snorts under his breath, a soft and irritated sound. “You come to the library exclusively to bother me and get me to ditch whatever work I’m trying to get done.”
Barty gasps in mock offence, one of his hands coming to clutch at his shirt.
“I thought you enjoyed our little study dates!” he exclaims, faking a pout. It earns him a punch on the shoulder that doesn’t exactly hurt, but it was still the intention, which, rude.
“Maybe if you actually studied with me,” Regulus mumbles, pointedly ignoring the show Barty is making of massaging the affected zone.
“Aw, so you just wanna spend some quality time with me, Reg, is that—”
“Can you just get to your fucking point?”
Barty snickers while shaking his head with no little amount of fondness. He considers teasing Regulus further, but he fears his friend might be reaching his limit. And sure, usually that’s when things become genuinely entertaining, but considering neither of them seem to be in the best mood, he feels like it’d be counterproductive.
“The point is,” Barty says, taking another bite and speaking through all the chewing. He can barely suppress a laugh at the way Regulus wrinkles his nose almost immediately, “that I hate the whole ‘perfect student perfect daughter perfect girl’ thing she has going on. She acts like she’s above it all, always polite always kind, but it’s—it’s all a fucking act.”
“So?” Regulus questions with a blink. “I don’t see how this affects you in any way.”
“It doesn’t. It just annoys me. Why do I have to fight for the top spot with a prissy bitch—”
“I thought you didn’t care about grades?”
“And I don’t.”
“Well, you sound like you do—”
“I don’t,” Barty insists, a bit viciously. “I don’t. But there’s no fucking way Evans is that fucking perfect. And I can’t stand how everyone seems to worship her—”
“No one does that,” Regulus points, squinting his eyes at him. “They just think she’s nice. Which I’m sure it’s true—”
“Okay, now you’re just trying to piss me off.” Barty points an accusatory finger at him. “You fucking hate her as much as I do.”
“Like I’ve mentioned, I don’t even know her—”
“And like I said, same bloody thing for you! You’ve bad-mouthed her with me before—”
“I’m just being a supportive friend!” Regulus protests.
“Bullshit. Half of the stuff you say is an attack to me,” Barty reminds him with a scoff.
“But the other half is me being a supportive friend,” Regulus murmurs, his lower lip beginning to stand out.
Barty exhales loudly through his nose. “You wouldn’t know ‘supportive’ if it hit you in the face.”
“Real fucking bold coming from you.”
“Glad we both agree we’re shitty people and even shittier friends.”
Regulus sniffs, tearing his gaze away and grabbing his sandwich once more. He probably just wants a distraction, something to pretend he isn’t paying attention to Barty anymore, but well, if that’s what he needs to finish his fucking lunch, then he won’t complain about it. Not too much, at least.
They enjoy a few minutes of silence, with Barty finally finishing his burrito while watching Regulus attempt to do the same with his sandwich out of the corner of his eye. His friend’s mouth keeps twisting in distaste, and he chews so slowly it’s actually sort of fascinating, but he only has a couple of bites left now, and Barty is half tempted to start clapping once the last of it disappears.
“I just—” Regulus starts all of a sudden, shifting in his seat and expression barely hiding a grimace. “I don’t understand why she makes you so upset. I’m not trying to, like, mock you or—well, yes, I am, but there aren’t any bad intentions behind it—”
“Reg, babe,” Barty cuts him off with a chuckle, pushing him softly with his shoulder and laughing again at Regulus’ spluttering, “chill. I’m not actually mad at you. Or upset. I’m a cunt all of the time, you’re a cunt most of the time, everyone knows this. It’s fine. We’re fine. You know it turns me on when you’re all mean and bratty—”
“Stop fucking talking. I mean it,” Regulus hisses, jaw clenched. His gaze seems to have softened up a tad, though. “Why do I even bother…” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he gives a shake of his head.
“Because you’re nosy and can’t stand to stay out of my business.”
“I think you’re mistaking me with you.”
“Oh, really? Because you’re incredibly invested in my rivalry for someone who supposedly doesn’t want anything to do with—”
“One-sided rivalry,” Regulus corrects sharply, and Barty rolls his eyes so hard his head tilts back.
“Please, she’s as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.” Barty scoffs, but his lips are already fighting to spread into a grin. “Evans gets so fucking pissy whenever I do better than her. Her face goes as red as her hair.”
“See, you keep saying that, but I have a hard time believing it. It doesn’t sound like her at all.”
“And what would you know, huh?”
Regulus’ mouth opens and closes a couple of times, before he lets out a tiny scoff. “Nothing, I guess, but it’s just—not the impression I have.”
“Which is exactly what I’ve been trying to get at,” Barty remarks, leaning forward and eyes boring into Regulus’. “I know she’s a fucking bitch. I’ve seen it before. She’s mean and angry and a sore loser and would probably be down for murder if the situation demanded it.”
“Okay, I think that’s going a bit too far—”
“You should’ve seen her when she started going off at me two years ago. She was playing fucking dirty, giving me this scornful looks—”
“Don’t blame her,” Regulus mutters, finishing his lunch.
“And she did so in front of the whole class! In front of fucking McGonagall—”
“God, Barty, I know, you’ve told me this story a dozen times—”
“And yet you still don’t believe me.”
“Because I just can’t see it! So she got very mad this one time, congratulations. You do tend to have that effect on people—”
“It’s more than that,” Barty insists, resisting the urge of pulling at his hair. Apart from Evan—and also his father, but that’s a completely different story—no one has the ability of making him quite as crazy as Regulus. “It is. I know it wasn’t a one time thing, or her losing her composure because I pushed a little too hard. She’s just—she’s pretending to be this perfect little girl, acting like she could never do wrong, but she can’t fool me.”
Regulus stares at him, looking more than a little baffled, and a soft sight escapes his mouth when his lips part slightly.
“I think that you’re just reading way too much into it because you simply don’t like having someone like Evans giving you a run for your money,” Regulus states. “But if you say so.”
“Oh, I do say so,” Barty says, almost to himself. “In fact, I’m gonna prove it to you. I’m gonna prove it to everyone.”
“Oh, god,” Regulus mumbles, a clear plea in his voice. “Can’t you just leave the poor girl alone?”
“Nah. Things have been a bit too boring around here lately anyway.”
“And that means you have to… what? Annoy Evans until she snaps?”
“More like orchestrating her fall from grace, but, like, sure, that also works—”
“Jesus fucking Christ—”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Reg. You can remain blissfully ignorant if you want.”
“As if,” his friend grumbles, eyes glaring at some spot on their table. “You’re gonna get me involved somehow.”
Barty is unable to keep his smirk at bay. “You wound me, babe. I’d never dare to do that to you—”
“Save it and shut your trap before I shove one of my pens down your throat.”
“Kinky.” Barty wiggles his eyebrows, and the look Regulus turns to give him is nothing short of murderous.
“Barty,” he warns, his voice thin.
“Sorry, sorry,” he apologises, lying through his fucking teeth and giving him his less repentant smile.
Regulus shakes his head, a furrow between his eyebrows that has definitely come to stay. “Go back to your machiavellian schemes, or whatever, and leave me alone. You’re giving me a headache.”
“Don’t blame that shit on me. I bet you’ve only had that sandwich and one of your ridiculously sugary coffees, of course you have a headache,” Barty snarks, catching the way Regulus presses his lips on a tight line but doesn’t even attempt to deny it.
“Leave me alone,” Regulus repeats, childish and petulant, and well, there’s that. Barty doesn’t have the strength to push on this topic. He’ll just drag Regulus to that nice, and very cheap kebab place near the accommodation building and force him to have a proper dinner.
Barty returns his attention to Evans’ table, in which Potter and his entourage of rugby players seem to be getting up and ready to leave. They must have practice, or something, because they’re never in such a rush to go to class. Barty represses a derisive cackle at the way those idiots tease Potter when he waves at them with one hand, presumably telling them to not wait for him as he bids farewell to his girlfriend.
If their annoying lovey dovey displays end up with Barty being unable to keep the burrito inside his stomach, he swears he’s gonna strangle them both.
Potter leans forward, whispers something in Evans’ ear, and Barty watches a sweet smile bloom on her face. When Potter turns to face her properly, he’s grinning almost as wide, and Barty can feel himself scowling at the sight. God, can’t they be any more cliche?
And apparently, they can, because Evans tucks a stray strand of red hair behind her ear, eyes softly gazing up at her boyfriend, and she tilts her chin up as Potter begins to get up from the bench. Barty knows what’s coming even better than they do, because every single one of their interactions looks so painfully scripted he doesn’t understand how come no one else has noticed by now.
Except this time, Potter’s face seems to do something odd at the clear expectancy on Evans’ expression. Barty is too far to tell, and it’s not like he knows Potter well enough to be able to recognise every single one of his emotions, but there’s some sort of issue there. Something not quite right.
It barely lasts a second, but Potter hesitates, grin faltering momentarily before it comes back full force. He bends down, but instead of pecking Evans on the mouth, he changes course at the last moment and kisses her softly on the cheek.
Barty wouldn’t have read anything into it if it weren’t for the way in which he can see Evans freeze up, smile stuck on her face and wrinkles appearing between her eyebrows.
Potter murmurs something once he pulls away, and Evans replies with a nod, and then the idiot is finally off, waving the rest of the table goodbye with the most dumb smile Barty has ever seen.
He’s still watching Potter make his way out of the labyrinth of picnic tables, and about to slide closer to Regulus, insult already on the tip of his tongue, when Potter raises his head and seems to notice their presence.
Barty startles a little, but it doesn’t mean shit to him; he and Potter have never gotten along, and that’s why they do their best to stay out of each other’s ways. He’s pretty sure they’ve never exchanged more than a handful of sentences, all of them perfunctory and yet too passive-aggressive to be considered polite.
But Potter doesn’t look away, seemingly transfixed, which is beginning to weird Barty out. He’s considering whether to scream at the asshole to fuck off or simply raise his middle finger, when he realises he’s not the one being stared at.
He whips his head around just to discover Regulus looking back at Potter, an unreadable expression on his face. Barty’s eyes widen in disbelief, brows shooting up, and he returns his focus to Potter just in time to see him greet Regulus with a move of his head, smile playing on his lips as he finally continues walking, not taking too long to disappear from their line of sight.
“What the fuck was that,” Barty mumbles, blinking fast, his eyes still fixed on the spot where Potter was just a few seconds ago.
“What?” Regulus asks, already sounding defensive while he reaches for his backpack and avoids Barty’s gaze.
“That,” Barty stresses, making a wide gesture with his hand, attention jumping from Regulus’ squirming figure and Evans’ table.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Regulus tries, and it’d be a decent attempt if it weren’t because of how nervous he sounds, the pink dusting his cheek.
“Regulus.” Barty grabs him by the wrist as soon as he realises Regulus is about to run away. “Potter just fucking acknowledged you.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Well, you saw wrong.”
“Are you trying to gaslight me right now?”
“No! But you’re acting fucking insane—”
“You are making me feel insane. Since when are you and Potter friends?”
“We’re not!” Regulus exclaims, getting more flustered by the minute and doing his best to get out of Barty’s grip. “We’re acquaintances at best—”
“So you do admit he just greeted you just now!” Barty points a finger at him accusingly, and Regulus splutters, cheeks burning.
“I didn’t say that—”
“Reg, we both know you can’t lie to me, so drop this whole act and tell me what the actual fuck just happened.”
Regulus frowns, pulling at his arm once again, but Barty grips tighter as he narrows his eyes at his friend, holding his ground. In the end, Regulus lets out a deep sigh and sits back down, mouth curled and the blush still on his face. Barty doesn’t drop his wrist until he’s completely sure that Regulus won’t try to leave again. Not without giving him an explanation first.
“Whatever it is that you’re thinking, it’s not that,” Regulus murmurs, fiddling with the handles of his backpack. “He’s just—we have a class together. That’s all.”
“The fuck?” Barty leans in, trying to get a better look at Regulus. “This is my first time hearing about this. Why is this my first time hearing about this?”
Regulus visibly cringes, his whole body curling into itself. “Because I knew you weren’t gonna take it well.”
“I mean, I would’ve told you how much it fucking sucks, considering we both hate Potter. But it’s not like you chose it, or anything.”
“Still. I didn’t wanna deal with the drama—”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Us sharing a class? Since the start of this semester.”
“You’ve been friends with Potter for almost five months now!?” Barty cries out, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Lower your fucking voice,” Regulus hisses, glancing around them frantically. “I told you, we’re not friends. We barely interacted during the first month! But we got paired up for a project and he—he isn’t as bad as we thought, okay?”
Barty watches Regulus for a few seconds, sort of hoping that he’s gonna burst into laughter and tell him he’s joking, call him an idiot for even daring to believe he and fucking James Potter would ever get along. But Regulus remains silent, with his head lowered and that damn flush still high on his cheeks.
It drags a loud groan out of Barty.
“I can’t believe you’re betraying me like this,” he moans, dropping his head on top of the table with a thud. “This is the worst day of my life.”
“Oh, don’t be so fucking dramatic,” Regulus huffs, irritated but still sounding quite flustered. “It’s not like we’re best friends or anything, we barely talk outside of class. It’s just—he’s so—”
“Reg, if you start waxing poetic about James bloody Potter I’ll be sick. I’m so serious right now.”
“That’s not what I was gonna do! Like, at all! God, you’re impossible.”
Barty doesn’t look up from where he’s basically resting his head, eyes shut tight, but he can hear Regulus grabbing his stuff once again, ready to make a escape for it, the fucking coward.
First he fraternises with the enemy and now this? Barty can’t believe this is his life.
“I’m gonna tell Dora about this,” Barty tells him, words muffled.
The shuffling stops. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.”
“Yes, I fucking would. Good luck dealing with her once she hears about this.”
“You are such a bitch!”
“Yeah, takes one to know one.”
“If you tell Dora about this I’m gonna tell Evan about what happened with his microscope.”
Barty snaps his head up, finding Regulus standing with the bench between his legs, backpack hanging from one shoulder and a determined expression on his face.
“You’re bluffing,” Barty says, not letting any doubt seep into his voice.
“Am I?” Regulus arches an eyebrow, cold steely eyes boring into Barty’s. “Shall we find out?”
“You’d never,” Barty insists, not giving up a single inch. Regulus is lying. He has to be lying. “You were also involved. He’d kill you too.”
“I’m willing to risk it,” Regulus sniffs, tilting his chin up.
Barty holds his gaze for a beat, hoping Regulus will crack, because the microscope incident was both their faults, and they both swore to never tell, especially not Evan. They both paid for a new one and managed to convince Evan that it was a terrible accident and then never spoke about it again. Pretended it didn’t even happen in the first place.
But Regulus holds on, not even blinking a single time, face blank and unmoving and shoulders set into a straight line. He doesn’t even twitch, and Barty can’t believe he’s about to lose against this weirdo.
Oh, this is playing fucking dirty. Regulus is going way too far, even for him and his little evil brain. The Potter thing must be more deep than Barty thinks.
“Fuck off,” Barty blurts out when it’s obvious that there’s no changing Regulus’ mind.
His friend visibly relaxes, letting out a soft exhale. “So?”
“Fine. I won’t snitch,” Barty grumbles, mouth curled downwards. “But I’m watching you, you hear me?”
“Sure, whatever,” Regulus sighs, moving away from the bench and starting to make his way out of the picnic tables. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
“Okay, I’ll text you.”
“Don’t get into any trouble!”
“No promises!”
Barty watches Regulus as he goes, watches as he shakes his head a little and walks with a perfectly straight back, head always high even when most of the time he’s always hoping to go unnoticed. Watches the little hand-made key-chain that Pandora gifted him hanging from the side of his battered backpack, which used to belong to his brother.
He’s smiling before he can’t stop it, the gesture dripping with fondness as he goes back to looking ahead, gaze helplessly settling on Evans’ table once more.
She’s looking at her laptop with a tiny frown, while her friends talk to each other around her, careless and none the wiser. Barty would bet the five quid he has in his back pocket that she’s not listening to a single word they’re saying.
He has no idea of what’s wrong with Evans, but he’s gonna find out. And when he does, he’ll make sure to drag her down from that fucking pedestal she’s been sitting in.
***
It doesn’t take Barty too long to put his plan into action.
Well, he probably shouldn’t refer to it as a ‘plan’; he hasn’t given it that much thought, or even prepared thoroughly. He’s invested in this, to a degree, but he really doesn’t believe it’ll be that difficult to break through Evans’ mask. So far, they’ve been staying away from each other, only interacting in the classes they share and just to compare exam and assignment’s marks. They haven’t said a single word to each other since that first argument when they first met, and Barty is confident in his abilities to annoy her to the point of no return.
He managed to make her snap easily two years ago, and he’s convinced he can do it again without really trying. It’s not like Barty was looking to upset her that one time, and yet, he did so with just a couple of ill-intended comments. If he pushes and presses and pinches for long enough, Evans will surely lose her fucking mind. He doesn’t understand how she hasn’t gone insane yet, considering all the pretending she does on the daily.
Although, he supposes he would know better than anyone.
The general idea is very simple: Barty is gonna go out of his way to annoy the shit out of her. Even though he and Evans barely see each other outside of class, Barty has watched her often enough to kind of know her schedule. He’s aware of what that might say about him, but he doesn’t have the time or the will to analyse that part of him. Barty has other things to worry about. Like making sure he gets to Evans’ usual table at the library before she does.
It’s hard. Almost impossible. In fact, it’s a near thing, because Barty has been sitting down for less than five minutes, some sweat collecting on his temples, and he’s only just opened a textbook—the first one he blindly grabbed from his backpack—when he feels a presence at his side.
He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep a smirk from appearing. Waking up at an indecent hour today and almost running over that old man on his way to campus is definitely paying off.
“Crouch?” A soft voice Barty knows way too well mumbles, surprise colouring her tone, and he schools his expression into something aloof before he raises his head to look at the newcomer.
“Mornin’, Evans,” he greets her, leaning against the back of his chair.
She blinks at him, eyes moving from the table, to the book, to Barty, and then back again to the table for a few seconds. She seems to be having a hard time processing the situation, and Barty bites down on his cheek even harder, to the point his whole mouth fills with blood.
“What are you doing here?” she manages to ask at some point.
Barty arches an eyebrow, gaze falling to his open textbook before returning to meet Evans’ green gaze. “Studying. Isn’t that what people do at a library?” he drawls.
Something changes in her expression. Shock leaves her features, being substituted by a hardness that sends a chill down Barty’s spine.
“You don’t,” she states, standing up a bit straighter. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen you set foot in here more than three times.”
“Aw, Evans, I’m flattered. I didn’t know you paid so much attention to me.” He bats his lashes at her, taking pleasure in the way it makes her jaw clench.
“I don’t,” she denies, squinting her eyes. “But it’s a rare sight.”
“Well, not anymore. I’ve decided to start applying myself. Put in the effort, you know.”
Evans wrinkles her nose. “Why?”
“Why not?” Barty retorts with a shrug.
“Because you don’t need it,” Evans replies flatly, voice a bit too dry to be considered polite, but still way too civil for Barty’s tastes. “Your grades are brilliant even though you barely listen during lectures, so why would you waste your time like this?”
Barty gasps in mock offence, hand coming to clutch at his chest, and Evans follows the movement with a very unimpressed face.
“Studying is never a waste of time,” Barty protests, not even bothering to hide how insincere he’s being. “I thought you’d know that better than anyone. What would our dear Slughorn say?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, and this time, she sounds a little strained.
“Just that you clearly enjoy working hard, considering you practically live at the library.”
Evans huffs, both eyebrows shooting up. “And how would you know? We’ve just established you’re allergic to this place.”
“You come straight here every day after you finish classes, I’d say it’s kind of impossible to miss.”
“I guess I just like to earn my good marks. Feel like I truly deserve them.”
Barty smiles a little at her, more of a show of teeth than anything else. He enjoys how she doesn’t flinch at the gesture. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugs, careless, feigning an indifference she definitely doesn’t feel. Her green eyes are still boring into Barty with what can only be described as contempt, and her whole body is taut like a string, almost like it’s preparing itself to attack any second.
“Exactly what I said,” Evans responds, perfectly calm. “Some people just have it easier than others, is all.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Barty tells her, and he allows his smile to spread wider, even if he can feel his fingers twitching from where they’re holding onto the textbook. “You, for example. It must be real nice, having everyone eating from your palm just by batting your pretty eyelashes at them.”
Evans lets out a curt laugh, but it sounds more like a scoff than anything else. “I think you have a very wrong idea of me.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. And it’s incredibly rude that you’d make such assumptions about someone you’re not even friends with.”
“Well, we can fix that very easily!”
“Let me stop you right there, Crouch. I don’t want to be your friend,” Evans declares through gritted teeth. She’s a bit rougher around the edges now, as if a conversation with Barty is enough for her to pull out the knives, but making her lose her composure is proving to be more complicated than initially thought.
“You wound me, Evans, truly,” he sighs with a tiny shake of his head, his grin never faltering. “Am I not good enough? Do I not meet your perfect standards?”
“It has nothing to do with that and you know it.” She points an accusatory finger at him, and her hand seems to tremble when Barty focuses on it. “I simply don’t tend to get along with people who are purposefully mean, and lazy, and who make fun of me for no reason—”
“Those are some serious accusations, princess,” Barty cuts her off, tone solemn. He watches attentively as Evans’ mouth curls at the nickname, and suddenly victory feels so close he can almost taste it. “And also completely baseless. Didn’t your parents teach you that it’s wrong to judge a book by its cover?”
“Didn’t yours teach you some manners?”
Barty narrows his eyes. “I don’t listen to my parents much.”
“I can tell,” Evans throws back with a painfully fake smile.
“Funny that you’d give me shit about being polite, though, when you’ve been nothing but a bitch to me.”
Evans does a double take, lips parting in outrage but no sound coming out. She puts her hands on her hips, a scowl already twisting her pretty face, and when she leans down to glare at Barty, he gets a whiff off her perfume. It’s something cheap and vanilla-like, a scent that would usually make Barty turn his nose up. But Evans manages to pull it off, makes it feel charming instead of pathetic, and Barty gets all the madder for it.
“Excuse me? I’ve been incredibly civil to you, even though you don’t exactly deserve it—”
“I didn’t know you had to earn basic human decency—”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it—”
“—but then again I’ve always suspected your kindness to be a little selective—”
“And what would I gain from that?” she hisses, some red beginning to appear on her cheeks. “I’m not nice because I’m trying to get something in exchange—”
“Are you sure about that? Because it seems quite convenient to me, that you can have everyone worshipping the ground you walk on just with a couple of smiles and—”
“Oh my god, are you jealous? Is that what’s happening right now? Because I barely acknowledge you and don’t go out of my way to be nice to you?”
Barty laughs a bit more loudly than he should, considering where they are. He can feel some eyes on them, and Evans looks about two seconds away from shushing him, but he’s not too concerned about disturbing someone else’s study time. In fact, he couldn’t give less of a fuck.
“C’mon, princess, don’t be ridiculous. I thought it was obvious I dislike you as much as you dislike me,” Barty says, amusement in his tone.
“Stop it with that stupid nickname,” she mumbles, nose wrinkled. “And I’ve literally never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. Your attitude speaks volumes.”
“What attitude? This is, like, the second time we’ve ever spoken—”
“McGonagall’s class, two years ago. Does it ring any bells?”
Evans throws her hands up in the air. “That was one time! And I was just surprised, okay? I didn’t know it upset you so much, I’m so—”
“Don’t,” Barty interrupts her sharply, the mirth leaving his gaze. “Don’t fucking apologise when you don’t mean it. That shit doesn’t work on me, and I hate it.”
Evans blinks down at him and then leans back slightly, watching him carefully. Her face does something odd, and Barty swears he sees her eyes flash, but it’s gone in a heartbeat, and after that, Evans is back to looking perfectly composed.
There’s a pause, in which Evans remains quiet. Barty sort of appreciates it. He didn’t expect her to actually listen.
“And besides,” Barty goes on, forcing himself to relax, letting go of all that tension that had made his shoulders go stiff, “it didn’t upset me. I didn’t really care. I just don’t enjoy that whole nice act you’ve got going on.”
“What act?” she questions, brows furrowed in offence. “This isn’t an act. It’s not my fault you don’t have a single kind bone in your body and simply can’t understand that some people—”
“Please, princess, spare me the lecture, yeah?” Barty sighs, holding a hand up and enjoying how the gesture appears to worsen the blush taking over Evans’ face. Oh, she’s fucking fuming. “I already told you, this shit doesn’t work on me. You need to stop trying so hard.”
“I am not trying anything,” she snaps, tone raising a little and gaining her a handful of glares. Surprisingly, she doesn’t seem to notice. “I’m just doing my best to be polite, because that’s what I’ve been taught it’s right, but you keep making it so ridiculously hard for no reason—”
“I’ve no idea what you mean. I’m just sitting here, minding my own business. In fact, you were the one who approached me in the first place.”
“Because you’re at my table,” Evans snarls back, expression twisted and face so red Barty fears for a second it’ll catch on fire.
He can barely hide the glee lighting up his eyes. “Oh? Your table? Well, I do apologise. I didn’t know this was your property. In fact, I’ve never heard of students claiming tables in the library for themselves. I must be so out of the loop, damn.”
It seemed impossible, but Evans’ blush appears to darken, although this time, Barty isn’t sure if it’s out of anger. She looks away, hands curling into fists, and she rolls her lower lip in between her teeth. Barty follows the movement avidly, gaze fixating on her mouth before he drags it away almost by force.
He’s convinced that Evans must be about to break. This is the closest he’s ever seen her to losing her cool since he met her. She’s stern, sometimes, especially when it concerns her studies, but she’s never really mad, never says something wrong, or has a hair out of place. When she blushes, it’s always around her boyfriend, and it’s always this soft, pleased pink covering her cheeks that makes Barty want to retch at the sight of it.
It’s a bit dizzying, watching the effect he can have on her with just one conversation. Barty hasn’t given her his worst, yet, not even half of it really, but she’s already furious, features contorted into a seemingly permanent scowl. She’s bright red, and there’s fire in her green eyes, threatening to consume Barty whole. He’s sort of hoping it will. That’s what this is all about, after all. Having Evans break down, destroy that pesky little mask she wears, have her destroy everything in her wake, Barty himself included, so he can drag her down with him.
He isn’t above letting himself be ruined in the process, if the situation demands it. If it’s the only way to get Evans to show her true face. She probably needs a target, something that fills her with enough rage to let go. Something to focus on, help her forget what she thinks matters the most. Barty is happy to be that something.
“You did know,” she hisses through gritted teeth, holding onto dear life to what little’s left of her sanity. “Everyone knows. You’ve seen me sit here whenever you come into the library—”
“I thought you said I never set foot in here,” Barty reminds her, widening his eyes in feigned innocence. “And everyone? Really? That’s a bit self-centred of you, princess. I’m pretty sure most people don’t care that much about you.”
“I wasn’t trying to imply that! But there’s a reason why this table is always free—”
“It isn’t today, though.”
“Yeah, because you’re an entitled prick who lives to make my life miserable and who thinks he can do whatever the fuck he wants—”
Barty can’t keep his smile from growing at every insult Evans spits in his face, voice becoming louder at each word and brows furrowed in clear frustration. He can’t actually believe his plan is about to work on the first attempt.
But then, she cuts herself off. Evans closes her mouth sharply, pink lips pressing into a thin line as she takes a quick look around, all her anger leaving her expression swiftly, as if it’d never been there in the first place.
It gives Barty a bit of whiplash. Mostly, because he isn’t sure of what just happened, where is this shift coming from in the first place. He had been so close, and all of a sudden, it’s like victory is slipping through his fingers too fast for him to try and grab it.
He’s still trying to make sense of it, when he hears it. It’s barely a murmur, and probably wouldn’t be noticeable if they weren’t in a library, but it’s very much there. The whispering. Voices interlacing with each other, coming together just to part a few seconds later before merging once more.
It only takes Barty a quick sideways glance to realise they’re being stared at by a few of the neighbouring tables, the people sitting in them not being discreet enough with their gossipping.
Barty has a hard time keeping a curse from escaping his mouth. And an even harder time stopping himself from jumping on his feet and starting a fight with every single person who dared to ruin this for him.
He’s nosy sometimes too, okay? But he’s not that fucking obvious about it. Can’t these people mind their own business a bit more quietly?
“Yeah?” Barty attempts, pressing a little, even though he fears he might’ve lost the battle already. “Go on, princess, tell me how you really feel.”
Evans blinks a couple of times, somehow disoriented, and then focuses on Barty again. Her expression is empty, almost as if she’s not really there with him anymore, and he can see how she withdraws, taking a step back and hiding her hands behind her back.
“I’m sorry,” she says, before Barty can even stop her. She’s immune to the sneer that twists Barty’s face. “I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have said any of that. It wasn’t fair, and I didn’t—I didn’t mean it.”
Barty lets out an incredulous laugh, void of amusement. “Liar,” he whispers, his smile an ugly, resentful thing.
Evans takes a deep breath, her nose giving a tiny twitch, but she remains impassive. She tilts her head to the side and stares down at Barty with something too close to pity for comfort. It makes his stomach ache and his teeth grind together harshly until he can feel a sting in his jaw.
“You’re free to assume what you want,” she murmurs with a shrug. “But I do genuinely apologise for this, and I hope the rest of your studying session is… productive.”
“Holy shit, Evans, this is actually giving me goosebumps.” Barty chuckles, but it sounds forced even to his own ears. “The way you just did that, like, turning off a switch—my god, I knew you were a bit of a freak but that’s some psycho level shit—”
“It was nice talking to you, Crouch,” Evans continues, raising her tone enough to be able to speak over him. There’s no inflexion in her words, and Barty is so fucking close to just. Start screaming. Grab this infuriating woman by the shoulders and shake her violently, hoping to get a real reaction out of her for once. “Unfortunately, I have a very busy evening ahead of me, and I’ve already wasted too much time over this.”
“Oh, you’re just gonna be a coward about this? Run away? Real classy, Evans. Exactly what I expected of you.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can continue this another day.”
Barty scoffs. “Sure. If you manage to fit me into that tight agenda of yours.”
“Hmm. Maybe next month.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Right back at you,” she retorts softly, as if they’re just exchanging mere small talk.
“What about your table, huh?” Barty taunts, making a wide gesture with his hand.
“What about it?”
“You gonna give it up? Just like that? After all the fuss you made about it?”
Evans furrows her eyebrows slightly, as if she can’t understand where Barty is coming from, or why he’s being so dramatic about a fucking table. Oh, it’s making him feel positively insane.
“Like you said, it’s not like it’s actually my property.” She offers a half-hearted shrug. “You can have it today, and I’ll just sit somewhere else.”
“You’re so full of shit,” Barty mutters, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Yeah, okay,” Evans replies in a sigh, already turning around and walking away from him. “Goodbye, Crouch.”
“Go to hell, Evans!” he snarks back, glaring at the girl’s back and the pale hand she raises to wave at him. Someone shushes him a second later, and he gives the table the noise came from the middle finger without sparing it a glance.
He narrows his eyes at his open textbook, fingers itching with the need to rip every single page off. Barty isn’t sure of how long he stays there, sitting at Evans’ stupid table and giving the book the dirtiest looks, but at some point, he decides he’s had enough and gets up. He grabs all his things carelessly, not concerned about how noisy he’s being, and then he leaves the stupid place, already taking his phone out and tapping on Evan’s number.
Knowing him, it’ll be his sister who actually answers the phone, but as long as he can get ahold of either of them—or even better, both of them—Barty will be satisfied.
It rings one, two, three, four times, before someone finally picks up. Barty is practically outside of the building by the time it happens.
“Hello, Barty,” Pandora drawls on the other side of the phone, voice deep and smooth and velvety soft. He’s always loved how she sounds; quiet but firm, the cadence of her words always having this sort of calming effect on Barty, like he’s high. “Evan will be here in a sec. He’s finishing something in the lab, you know how he gets.”
“It’s fine, I’m nearby. I’ll be there soon,” Barty mumbles, still mildly annoyed. Talking to Pandora helps, though. “And please, as if you’re not worse than him.”
“I know my limits,” she says. “And what do you mean you’re nearby? It’s nine in the morning. It was already surprising to see you calling at this hour, but the fact that you’re actually on campus—”
“I was at the library.”
Pandora makes a pause. There’s some ruffling at the other end of the line, and then, “ooooooh,” she lets out in understanding, a certain interest slipping into her tone. “Was it today? Your little thing with Evans?”
Barty grimaces at the wording, his mouth curling. “There’s no ‘thing’ with Evans.”
“You know what I mean. That plan you have going on. The one where you’re trying to make her fail—”
“I don’t want her to fail, per se. You know I don’t give a fuck about grades.”
Pandora hums, but doesn’t add anything else, letting a sudden silence settle in. And maybe it should feel uncomfortable, but Pandora has always managed to be a soothing presence for Barty, even at a distance. He figures it’s kind of ironic, considering how offputting Pandora is considered to be by almost everyone who knows her, but, well, what do those assholes know, anyway?
Barty is on his way to the chemistry building, because he knows the Rosier twins like the labs there better than the ones in the biology wing. Evan explained why to him a while ago, but his whole rant was so convoluted, filled with medical terms, and he got distracted through it so many times that Barty barely registered it, even though he was genuinely listening.
Whatever. He got the general gist of it. He knows where to go now, when he needs some time with the twins but the possibility of them picking up their phones while they’re working is almost nonexistent. Honestly, it’s kind of a miracle Pandora responded. Although, the possibility of getting ahold of her is higher when you’re trying to reach her brother, which is a whole other issue that Barty does his best not to think about too much.
Twins are weird, man. In a surprisingly hot way. But they’re also very complicated and Barty gave up trying to understand them a while ago.
“I just want her to break character for fucking once. It’s driving me mad, to see her act so perfect all the time and everyone around her just, eating all that shit up,” Barty goes on after a couple of minutes, gripping his phone a bit too harshly.
“Absolutely,” Pandora agrees easily, and really, why can’t Regulus give him the same energy? This is the kind of response he’s hoping for when he’s being obsessive about something that’s probably silly and definitely a waste of his time. “How did it go, then? Any luck?”
Barty grunts, irritated at the reminder of what just happened, especially because Pandora is smart enough to realise that the reason why he’s calling is because things didn’t go as planned.
“That bad, huh?” she sighs, somehow managing to sound dream-like. “It’s okay, B. It was your first attempt. Probably served more as a testing of the waters than an actual try, don’t you think?”
He lets out a little huff, a frown taking over his face. “I guess,” Barty agrees, albeit begrudgingly.
“Good. Don’t worry too much about it. It’s way too soon for you to be this discouraged.”
Barty knows Pandora’s right. She usually is, and she can always count on her to be the voice of reason when he needs it most, even if the rest of the time she’s as unhinged as her twin brother.
It’s just hard to believe her, or to allow her reassurance to dispel his terrible mood. Evans has such a talent to get under his skin and stay there, burrowed between tendons and clawing onto his bones.
“We can even brainstorm a little when you get here,” Pandora adds as an afterthought, probably because Barty takes a bit too long to respond.
He smiles a bit against his will, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards as the entrance of the chemistry building finally appears in his line of sight.
Barty could be a cunt and remind her that it’s always difficult to keep her attention when she’s in a lab, or her brother is in her near vicinity. Especially when it’s a matter that concerns a person that Pandora has no interest in, outside of the fact that it matters to Barty to a certain degree. Tease her about how she’s probably gonna stop listening by accident at some point in the conversation without a doubt, or that whatever idea she’ll propose to get Evans to crack will definitely border on medical malpractice.
But, instead, Barty only shakes his head with no little amount of fondness, and says, “sure. Sounds good, Dora.”
***
Barty’s next attempt to make Evans break happens less than a week later, and contrary to popular belief, he actually didn’t prepare for this one.
He’s been thinking about how and when to strike again, wondering about what place was the best one to try and corner Evans once more. The library is the easiest one, considering how much time she spends there, but Barty feels like she already knows how to keep herself in check after the last time. Like sure, Barty could bother her with something else other than stealing her table, interrupt her study session or check out all the books she might need for her assignments, but it’d take away the element of surprise.
Barty doesn’t like to admit it, but Evans is a pretty smart girl. He doubts she knows what he’s trying to achieve, but this is the first time he’s gone out of his way to approach her, to do his best to irritate her and ruin her peace. Even if Evans has no idea of what exactly is going on, or why Barty is doing any of this, she’s probably aware that something is happening. Which means that she’s probably starting to expect him.
Even if he changes tactics, Barty has already invaded her space in the library. He doesn’t think Evans is on high alert now, getting paranoid or convinced that Barty is gonna show up at some point. But now, if he does, she won’t be startled or confused by it, and she can defend herself better, holding onto her stupid mask for dear life.
Barty cringes a little, shaking his head as he makes his way towards the only pub on campus that’s still open at this hour. He’s taking this whole thing way too seriously, especially considering it’s been a failure so far, and he needs to stop before he gets in too deep. He isn’t supposed to care. If he cares, then he’s the one fucked.
He takes his phone out, checking his notifications just to find out that Regulus still hasn’t replied. They were supposed to meet at Barty’s accommodation and then get dinner together, which means they’re probably bound to end up at Sirius and Regulus’ flat, because Barty is kinda broke and refuses to ask his mum for money, and Regulus offering to pay always ends with them arguing—and more often than not, with them kicked out of whatever restaurant they’re eating at. Except Regulus hasn’t replied since he sent that text about him being late because he’s busy with some assignment.
Barty hasn’t tried calling him yet, because he doesn’t wanna get yelled at at nearly midnight on a fucking Thursday, but if this idiot doesn’t reply in the next half an hour, Barty is gonna blow his fucking phone up. Literally, too, if he has to.
He exhales loudly through his nose, pushing the door of the pub, trying hard to ignore the cheesy name to maybe feel less like killing himself about this whole thing.
Between the Evans’ issue and Regulus deciding to fall off the face of the earth out of nowhere, Barty has a bitch of a headache. Going to a pub isn’t gonna help with that, especially one on campus, but if he had stayed at his room while waiting for Regulus to give some sign that he’s alive he was gonna end up lighting something on fire.
Possibly himself.
He’s pleased to discover the place is tiny and nice and quiet, and that there’s only a handful of people inside, nursing their drinks and chatting softly at their respective tables. A part of him feels slightly disgruntled at the calm atmosphere, but the annoying pounding in his brain keeps him from doing something stupid to try and disrupt it.
Barty goes straight to the bar, happy to find it empty, and waits to be served, his mind still deciding on the next course of action for his plan while his hand reaches for his phone almost unconsciously. He has the sound on, he’ll know immediately when Regulus texts back, there’s no use in checking every two minutes when he’s aware that there’s no response just yet.
His body seems unable to get the memo, however, which is beginning to piss him off.
“You alright over there? Can I get you any—”
Barty snaps his head up so fucking fast his neck cramps. He recognised the voice immediately, so he knew who was bound to be behind the bar, but it still makes his stomach churn, coming face to face with Evans.
She looks different. She’s wearing a ponytail, which isn’t exactly new, but it’s very messy, strands escaping the tie and falling onto her sweaty forehead. She’s wearing the uniform of the place, an unassuming black shirt with the logo of the pub, and it shouldn’t look good on her, because it’s not meant to be flattering in any way, but as usual, she manages to pull it off.
Evans is also not wearing any makeup. Which, again, not new, because apart from the occasional gloss and some mascara, she tends to walk around barefaced. And yet, something seems to be off about her. Barty can’t put his finger on it, but she doesn’t look like her usual self.
He isn’t sure of how he feels about it.
“You,” Evans deadpans, the polite smile vanishing from her face.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Barty murmurs right before he whistles lowly, working on schooling his expression into something bored.
“Is it, though?” she asks, a ginger eyebrow arched. Evans isn’t even pretending to be indifferent, or unaffected. Her irritation is almost palpable, and Barty is sure that if it weren’t because of how wrong-footed he’s feeling he’d be ecstatic by this. “Didn’t you have enough after invading my space in the library? You also had to come to my place of work?”
“Hey, hey, calm your tits, princess,” Barty is quick to retort, eyes widening. “I had no idea you worked here. I’m pretty sure this is my first time on this side of campus.”
Evans rolls her eyes with a shake of her head. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
“Listen, I have no problem admitting to being an asshole, but I won’t take credit when it’s not due. Have you ever seen me here? Be honest.”
Evans narrows her eyes, staring him up and down, possibly trying to gauge how honest he’s being right now. Barty has no idea of what he’s doing with his face, but in the end, she just sighs deeply and averts her gaze.
“I’m on the night shift,” Evans mumbles, distractedly wiping the counter. “Maybe you’ve come during the day and asked around to know when to bother me.”
Barty lets out a mix between a huff and a laugh, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm.
“You’re way too full of yourself,” he chuckles, watching her body tense up with no little amount of delight. “I’m aware that this is hard for your pretty little head to wrap around, but not everyone is obsessed with you and what you—”
“Crouch, I’m really not in the mood to argue with you right now,” she cuts him off, and surprisingly, she sounds more exhausted than actually mad. “I still have 3 hours of my shift left, so if you could mind your business and let me do my job, it’d be greatly appreciated.”
Barty blinks at her, cocking his head slightly to the side. He weighs his options as he looks at Evans pretending to act busy, genuinely considering ignoring her words and taking advantage of the situation. Like, he didn’t come here with the intention of continuing with his plan, Barty just needed a distraction, but that doesn’t mean he can’t use this incredibly convenient situation to finally get what he wants from Evans.
However, and as someone who also has to work shitty jobs to get some money and make ends meet, Barty can’t find it in himself to be an asshole about this. Or, well, not too much of an asshole, at least.
“Sure, princess,” Barty agrees easily, biting back a laugh when Evans whips her head around to gape at him. “Can I get a pint, though?”
It takes her a couple of seconds of gawking before she manages to react, but then her shoulders sag, and she exhales, “of course. Any preferences?”
“Not really. Which one would you say it’s your best lager?”
“Well, San Miguel is one of our most popular ones—”
“Evans. I asked about your opinion, not which one gives you the most money, or what a bunch of drunk idiots think is the best one.”
She pauses and makes a tiny noise that mostly sounds like a scoff, but which Barty thinks might be a snort. It’s gone way too soon for him to be sure, but it’s still enough to make him perk up a little.
“Okay,” Evans drawls, rolling her eyes. She turns around and grabs a pint glass, pouring the beer with ease but covering the brand with her small frame, so Barty is left wondering until she finally faces him again, offering the drink with both eyebrows raised. “There you go.”
“Well. Let’s see if you know what you’re talking about.”
Evans crosses her arms over her chest and watches closely as Barty takes a long gulp.
It’s nice. Bitter, but smooth, too, and he’d bet anything it’s one of the strongest lagers this pub offers. He’s unable to keep the surprise out of his face, and it earns him a tiny smug grin from Evans.
“Good?” she presses, grabbing the rag and going back to wiping.
“It’s decent,” Barty mutters, refusing to give her the satisfaction, before taking another sip. “I didn’t peg you for a beer person.”
“I mean, you don’t know me at all, so I’d say that tracks.”
“C’mon, I do know quite a lot about you, and I think most people would agree with me on this.”
“Again, most people have a very surface-level idea of who I am, so…”
“Are you really gonna deny that you look like the kind of girl to order herself a cider and get tipsy from a few sips?”
Evans scoffs in disbelief, but her mouth twitches, and Barty is at least 56% convinced she’s fighting back a smile.
“Nothing wrong with that,” she argues, hands coming to rest at her hips. “I like cider, too, but I usually prefer beer. And I have more tolerance than that, thank you very much.”
“Somehow I doubt it. I bet you’re a lightweight,” Barty teases her, and shockingly enough, he realises he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s not trying to push her, or actually make fun of her. It’s just some harmless bickering. Or mostly harmless, he thinks.
He feels a pull at his stomach, and forces himself to take another gulp of the pint to try and ignore it.
“I’m really not,” Evans insists, amusement in her tone. “I’m sure you could still drink me under the table, but I can hold my alcohol.”
“Prove it, then.”
“What? Right now?”
“Why not? It’s not like you have anything better to do.”
Evans laughs incredulously, before taking a look around the room and spreading her arms wide. “I’m literally on shift, Crouch. You’re aware that drinking while on the job is illegal, right?”
“Oh, c’mon, princess, don’t be a pussy.” Barty smirks a little, staring at her with half-lidded eyes. “I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”
“My manager is at the back, and she’s pretty chill, but I don’t think she’d be okay with this. And my coworker is right behind you, cleaning tables—”
“Jesus Christ, Evans, live a little. You don’t have to get drunk or anything, you can just have a cheeky pint with me.”
“I thought the point was for me to prove that I’m not a lightweight,” Evans reminds him with a tilt of her head.
Barty rolls his eyes. “We can leave that for another time. Just have a drink with me. You really seem like you need it.”
“Wow, okay. Thanks, I guess.”
“I’m not gonna apologise. We both know you look like shit.”
She huffs, going back to wiping and pretending to be unaffected. But she’s so pale that there’s no way to hide the blush that begins to spread over her cheeks. And that combined with the tiny furrow between her eyebrows are enough to show she’s not happy with the comment.
It baffles Barty a little. Despite how pristine Evans tends to look everywhere she goes, she’s never given him the impression of being vane. It’s more a matter of organisation, of professionalism, of appearing perfect in every sense of the word.
Besides, it’s not like she cares about what Barty has to say, especially when it’s about her.
“I’m doing an eight hour shift after a full day of lectures, what’s your excuse?” Evans grunts, not meeting Barty’s gaze.
“In a pissy mood, are we?”
“What do you think?”
“You know what could help with that? A nice, cold beer.”
Evans groans dramatically, making sure to tilt her back and everything, and despite the playfulness of the gesture, her shoulders remain stiff, her whole body almost in a defensive position.
“Stop pushing. You’re not gonna convince me,” she says, giving him a stern look.
“Why? Are you scared, princess? Is that it?” Barty taunts her a little, grin on his face and eyes glowing with mirth. “Everyone here is drunk or half asleep, they’re not gonna notice. And I’m sure it’ll do you some good.”
“I really shouldn’t—”
“I’ll even pay for it, yeah? It’s on me, princess. You aren’t gonna turn down a free drink, are you?”
“Crouch—”
“It’s just a silly rule, you won’t die if you break it—”
“Stop,” she snaps a bit sharply, curling a bit into herself. Barty startles a little, the smile falling from his face as he watches Evans close up, lips pursed before she turns her back on him. “Just—drop it, okay? You already tried this shit last time, and I’m really not in the mood. I’ve had a very long day, and it’s not—I can’t do it tonight, Crouch.”
Barty blinks at her, unsure of what kind of expression he must be sporting right now. He has no idea of how he managed to ruin this when he wasn’t even trying to do so in the first place.
“Evans,” he begins, squirming a little in his seat. “That’s not what this was about. At all. I swear. I know I was a bit of a cunt at the library, but—”
“That’s the understatement of the century,” she scoffs, still refusing to face him. It’s driving Barty slightly mad, being unable to see her face. “I don’t know what you’re gaining from, like, stalking me around and actively trying to piss me off, but I’m gonna need you to quit it. Please.”
Barty pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales loudly. His headache, that had apparently vanished during his little talk with Evans, has come back with a vengeance.
“Okay, if you’d listen to me just for a goddamn minute—”
“Not here, Crouch,” Evans cuts him off, voice getting more strained by the second. “Not at my job. I mean it. I don’t—I genuinely can’t.”
“Princess—”
She visibly cringes, rag slipping from her fingers and dropping to the floor. “Don’t. Don’t you fucking—” Evans takes a deep breath. “Just finish your drink and go.”
Barty is itching with the urge to fight, to protest, to give this infuriating woman a piece of his fucking mind. They were sort of getting along for once, and yeah, that wasn’t the goal, that’s never been the bloody goal, but it was happening, and they were both clearly enjoying it and Barty was doing his best to not be a fucking asshole. And this is the shit she decides to pull? Out of fucking nowhere?
Fuck Evans. Genuinely fuck her. He doesn’t know why he chose to be civil in the first place, when it’s so clear she can’t stand to not be a bitch for a single second.
His fingers grip the counter tightly, jaw clenched and mouth filling up with blood because of how hard he’s biting down on his tongue to stop himself from cursing her out. Just the sight of her disastrous ponytail and her tiny frame is enough to make him see red.
And yet, Barty holds onto the last thread of self-restraint he has left, and listens. He curls his hand around the cold pint glass and takes it to his lips, finishing the drink in one swift move, gulping it all down. He drops it back down on the bar with more force than necessary, relishing in the flinch Evans is unable to hide at the noise, and then he gets up.
Barty’s out of the pub less than five seconds later, slamming the door harshly behind him. When his phone finally vibrates inside his pocket, he doesn’t even bother taking it out.
***
Barty thinks it might be time to give up with his stupid fucking plan.
This doesn’t mean he actually believes he’s in the wrong, or that he made a mistake with his assumptions regarding Evans. Oh, no, he’s certain he’s right, and what he’s seen of her lately has only served to confirm it, even if all of his attempts to break her have ended up in failure.
But he’s beginning to grow a bit tired. Evans is more stubborn than he thought, and after what happened at the pub, he feels like he might be pushing her in a very bad way. Like, sure, she wants to see her snap, drop that perfect mask she seems to have glued to her face and start acting like a normal person, but the reactions he’s been getting so far haven’t been the greatest.
He came close to getting somewhere at the library, but then it slipped through his fingers before he had the chance to hold onto it. Then, at the pub, he wasn’t even trying anything, and for a moment there, he almost thought that being around Evans could be bearable. That she could be kind of fun, even. But then she went and decided to play the victim and fucking ruined everything.
Barty seeked her out again after that, but all of his attempts had been half-hearted at best. The interaction at the pub left him with a bitter aftertaste, one he hasn’t been able to get rid of just yet, so he didn’t make much of an effort the handful of times he managed to corner her afterwards. Evans hasn’t come close to giving in a single time since the library, and Barty can’t even find it in himself to be upset about it.
He doesn’t even know why he’s still trying. It’s not like Evans is worth it, anyway, and he isn’t gonna get anything out of it, apart from personal satisfaction. Life was a lot easier when his only concern was making sure he beat Evans’ grade on every assignment and exam of their shared modules.
So, after nearly a month of absolutely nothing, Barty believes it might be time to fucking drop it. He’s tired, and this whole thing only serves to worsen his mood. Catching sight of Evans around campus used to give him this little rush, even if it came with a drop of aversion because it’s a well-known fact at this point that Barty isn’t part of the Evans’ fan club, despite how popular it seems to be with the rest of the student body.
Now, however? Now he just feels dread. He feels like he can barely breathe when they’re in the same room, and somehow, knowing that she’s actively pretending not to notice him only makes it worse. It fills him with the need to yell at her, force her to acknowledge him, curse her out until his throat is fucking raw and his vocal chords refuse to keep cooperating.
He never expected this stupid plan to end up with him acting like a pathetic, desperate bitch, but maybe he should’ve seen it coming. Maybe he should’ve listened to Regulus, because he’s as much of a weirdo as Barty is, but sometimes, and only sometimes, he can be right about things.
Barty loathes to admit that this might be one of those times.
“I’m going out for a smoke,” he tells Regulus, who has his nose glued to a book and a frown, and is sitting to Barty’s right. He doesn’t address the twins, even though they’re also studying at the table, because he knows he won’t be heard unless he repeats himself five times.
Regulus simply hums in response, which drags a long-suffering sigh out of Barty, because that doesn’t mean shit, and he doesn’t want to deal with the subsequent scolding if it turns out he didn’t actually listen. But since he isn’t in the mood for much, hasn’t been since that stupid night at the pub, really, he doesn’t add anything else and gets up, grabbing his jacket and making his way towards the back entrance of the library.
It’s a bit chilly when he sets foot outside, and yet, Barty doesn’t even think of putting his jacket on. He walks a bit to the right, leaning against the railing of the stairs that give way to the door, and then he rummages through his pockets until his fingers close around his pack and his lighter.
He only has five cigarettes left, which makes his mouth twist, and then tells himself he’ll make sure to remember to buy a new pack before he goes back to his accommodation. He’ll also mention it to Regulus, so his chances of forgetting become even lower.
Barty grabs one of the cigarettes and puts it between his lips, lighting it up with nimble fingers and using his other hand as protection against the wind. It isn’t that strong, but it’s bad enough that he struggles for a couple of seconds until he can finally manage to take a proper drag.
He watches people run around campus for a few minutes, while he continues to ruminate if he should actually drop his plan and leave Evans alone for good. Barty can’t find any good reasons to keep pushing, and he doesn’t even have the strength to do it anymore, so he supposes that the answer is quite clear. But a part of him, the one that doesn’t like losing and it’s too prideful for its own good, is fighting hard against the mere notion, making him doubt.
Barty can’t even ask his friends for advice. Regulus doesn’t like the idea in the slightest, and has been asking to be kept out of it every single time Barty has attempted to bring it up in his presence. He’d probably force him to give up immediately and repeat different variations of ‘I told you so’ for the next three weeks. Barty doesn’t think he’d be able to survive it without throwing himself, or Regulus, out of the highest window he can find.
Pandora would probably cheer him on, which is nice, but also encourage him to push even harder, or go for a more questionable approach, which isn’t as nice. Both Rosier twins lack tact when it comes to people, but while Evan’s is born from a genuine lack of understanding, or occasionally, a lack of interest, Pandora’s is born from disdain. She’s more of a people’s person than her brother could ever be, but it’s mostly fake, and she has no issues dropping her whole kind, sociable facade when it suits her, or when she doesn’t care about whoever’s involved. Pandora’s help would probably make everything worse, in the long term.
And Evan simply doesn’t give a fuck. He’d tell him to stop if that’s what he wants, or to continue pushing if that’s what he prefers, and then would spend the rest of the conversation wrinkling his nose, looking at Barty like he’s an absolute freak and insulting him every two sentences. Don’t get Barty wrong, Evan is the most fun to talk to because of this exact reason, but when it comes to needing actual help, it’s an absolute waste of time. He isn’t interested in people, not when they’re alive or it doesn’t concern their bodies and how they work, so he wouldn’t be able to offer anything of substance.
God, this whole situation just fucking sucks. Not like that’s anything new, or surprising. He’s more than used to things never going his way by now, and if Barty’s being honest, that should’ve been enough reason for him to not even entertain this plan when it first formed in his brain. What the fuck was he thinking, really?
But well, that’s just it, isn’t it? He wasn’t thinking. He never does when it actually matters.
Why is he even getting so worked up over this anyway? It’s not like he cares about Evans. So what if she got upset that night at the pub? Barty wasn’t trying to pull any shit for bloody once, and it’s not his problem she assumed the worst and then didn’t even bother to hear him out. If she wants to play the victim, then she can be his fucking guest. Barty is gonna end this right now, because he refuses to let this annoying bitch take over his life after a simple—
The door opens, and Barty turns his head on instinct, ready to go back to his little mental tantrum a second after, when he realises who just came out of the library.
Seeing Evans makes his anger spike up for a handful of seconds, and he’s about ready to throw his half-smoked cigarette to the floor and return inside. That’s how you know it’s bad, because Barty wholeheartedly believes that wasting a smoke, in this economy, is basically sacrilegious.
But then he notices the redness of her eyes, the faded streaks of mascara running down her cheeks and the dead stare and he just. Stops. Gapes. Lips parted wide enough that the cigarette threatens to fall from his mouth, eyebrows slowly but surely shooting upwards.
Evans doesn’t seem to notice him at first. She’s too busy searching her pockets, movements almost frantic, before he finally finds what she was so desperately looking for: a crumpled pack of cigarettes, lighter neatly tucked inside next to the few cigarettes she has left.
Barty doesn’t know what sort of sound he makes at the scene in front of him, but it must be loud, because Evans’ eyes widen before she raises her head and their gazes meet.
They stare at each other in complete silence, Barty’s cigarette being slowly consumed the longer he spends without taking a drag. Neither of them even blink, their minds having a bit of trouble catching up, but when they finally do, Evans is the first one to look away. Her expression darkens and she clicks her tongue, going back to focusing on her pack of cigarettes and ignoring Barty’s presence.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me—” she hisses, sticking a cigarette between her lips and grabbing her lighter. Barty is still too stunned by the image of Evans smoking to react to her swearing.
He continues to watch—this time remembering to take drags in between before his cigarette is wasted—as Evans struggles to light up her fag, brows furrowing and face pinking with frustration. She keeps muttering to herself, and if Barty’s being honest, she looks about ready to throw the lighter at someone’s head. Most probably at his.
Barty moves a moment later, not giving it too much thought. He approaches Evans slow and careful, like he would a scared animal, and when he’s practically right in front of her but continues to not be acknowledged, he isn’t sure if Evans is even pretending he doesn’t exist at this point.
“Here, let me—” Barty starts, reaching out delicately.
To his astonishment, Evans doesn’t swat his hands away, or take a step away from him. Instead, she groans, tilting her head back in frustration, before she lowers her arms and shifts to face Barty properly. She tilts her head up and glares, always so determined, always so proud, even when she’s being a complete and utter mess.
“What? Came here to gloat?” she grits out, and Barty feels like it’d have more of an impact if she didn’t seem so incredibly exhausted. “I’m assuming seeing me at my lowest might be a fantasy of yours.”
“Shut up,” Barty sighs, half-hearted and refusing to respond to the accusation, considering she isn’t exactly wrong. “Tilt your head up a little.”
“No,” Evans retorts without missing a beat, tone flat. “Fuck you.”
Barty rolls his eyes and grabs her by the chin, forcing her to raise her face before she gets the chance to continue bitching at him. He’s half-expecting her to resist, but apart from pursing her lips and letting out a tiny, quite childish huff, he allows him to do as he pleases.
Despite what Evans might believe, Barty isn’t a monster, so he makes sure his touch is gentle, keeping the contact light and soft.
He leans down until the tip of his cigarette, which is nearly gone at this point, touches Evans’. She tenses up a little at the proximity, but after she realises what Barty is attempting to do, she relaxes and simply lets it happen.
Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for it to begin burning, and after Evans manages to take her first drag, Barty takes a step back, giving her some space. He even turns around, shaking his head slightly, and returning to leaning against the railing. This time, though, he’s facing it, trying to give Evans some privacy in case she isn’t done with her little breakdown.
Is Barty curious? Immensely so. But he won’t prod, because it really isn’t none of his business, and he doubts Evans would be interested in sharing anything with him. Besides, he’d be furious if she of all people were to catch him in such a vulnerable position, so he’s trying to be as decent about it as possible. Barty isn’t that good of a person, but he can, at the very least, understand how frustrating this might be for Evans, and he’ll do his best to respect that.
He doesn’t have any reasons to antagonise her right now, anyway.
Barty goes back to his people watching, even though his brain seems to be stuck on the girl standing a few metres away from him. He’s just glad he can’t see her, because it makes acting like she isn’t there a lot easier.
He shifts a little and finishes his cigarette, putting it out against the railing and deciding to smoke another one on a whim. Barty had only planned to have a single smoke and then return to his friends, hoping that his head would feel clearer after some fresh air and the burn in his lungs. But Evans’ presence ruined that, and now, he’s unable to focus on anything that isn’t her and her miserable existence.
Barty has taken about a couple of drags of the new cigarette, when he feels some movement behind him, the hairs at the back of his neck standing up. He represses a flinch and stops himself from visibly reacting, continuing his smoking as he patiently waits, hoping that the sudden tension on his body can’t be noticed from the outside.
After a couple of incredibly unnerving seconds, Evans comes to stand right beside Barty, elbows resting on the railing while she keeps her head forward, half-consumed cigarette dangling from her fingers. Barty doesn’t dare acknowledge her, isn’t even sure of how that’d be received, but he casts a sideways glance, mildly relieved to see that Evans hasn’t started crying again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to deal with that.
“Thanks,” she mutters at some point, raising the cigarette to her mouth.
“Don’t mention it,” Barty responds in the same tone.
He wasn’t expecting Evans to be the one to break the silence, but he won’t exactly complain. He’s quite nosy, because an upset Evans is quite a rare sight, and besides, he’s always pleased when he gets to see her dropping the act. Considering the past few weeks, he was about ready to give up, to admit defeat and to assume that Evans was even more of a psycho than he had thought. But here he is, smoking a fag with her, biting his tongue so he doesn’t comment on the smeared make-up or the general bad vibes she’s emitting.
It’s not because it’d be an asshole move, because everyone knows Barty is an asshole, Evans more than anyone, and he’s never bothered hiding it. But this is everything he’s been hoping for for months, maybe even years, and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna ruin it now because he can’t keep his big mouth shut for a little bit.
“Are you really not gonna make fun of me?” Evans questions after a few minutes of silence, their exhales filled with smoke and the chatter around them being the only noise.
“Why would I?” Barty asks in return.
“Oh, come on, don’t play daft. You’re always saying that I’m not perfect and that I simply just like to play the part, and well, this proves it, doesn’t it?” Evans laughs under her breath, but it’s a bitter, broken thing. “You were right. You’ve always been.”
Barty shrugs, even though he isn’t sure if Evans catches the gesture. “I already knew I was right. It’s not like seeing you act like an absolute mess is any news to me.”
He hears Evans huff weakly, and somehow, it makes something twist inside Barty’s stomach.
“It is quite refreshing, however,” he goes on, resisting the urge to take a peek at her expression. “I was starting to doubt you were actually a real person.”
“Fuck off,” she snarks, but it lack all of her usual bite. “There’s nothing wrong with trying to be the best version of yourself.”
“I’ve never said that.” Barty pauses to take a long drag of his cigarette, then blows the smoke slowly. “But is that really your best, Evans?”
She squirms, and even though Barty can’t really see it, they’re standing close enough that he can feel it.
“It has to be,” Evans mumbles, a certain anxiety covering her words. “It has to. Because if this—if everything I’ve done, everything I’ve worked so hard for, still isn’t enough then—then I don’t know—”
Barty is moving before he realises, pressing closer to Evans until he can nudge her softly with his shoulder. “Hey, princess, breathe. C’mon, don’t go full panic attack on me, yeah?”
She nudges him back, with more force and definitely with a lot more aggression, but Evans seems to listen to him, taking a deep breath and settling down a little. He doesn’t think she’s actually calmed down that much, but he’ll still count it as progress. Besides, she doesn’t move away, keeping their arms pressed together as she goes back to smoking.
It doesn’t escape Barty’s attention, though, the way her hand trembles when she raises her hand to put the cigarette back on her lips.
“Sorry,” she whispers shakily, smoke slipping out of her mouth.
“And don’t apologise,” Barty continues, a bit pointedly.
“Ah, yes, forgot you hate apologies for some reason.”
“It’s not that I hate them as a whole, I just—I’m not the biggest fan of them being thrown around when people don’t mean them. If you truly feel sorry about something, then fucking prove it instead of offering me a couple of shitty words than don’t fix anything.”
Evans hums, and this time, Barty dares to tilt his head and glance briefly at her side profile. She seems deep in thought, eyes still a bit swollen, but most of her expression is inscrutable, and Barty looks away feeling even more restless than he was.
“I get that,” she ends up saying, finishing her cigarette and putting it out against the railing, just like Barty did. Her movements are experienced, as if she does it constantly, and he can’t understand how this is the first time he’s ever caught her smoking. “But I also think that a ‘sorry’ can go a long way. It depends on the situation, I suppose. Like, even if you’re planning to make it up to me, I still want to hear an apology. It’s the bare minimum.”
Barty considers it, while he watches by the corner of his eye how Evans takes out another cigarette. “I see your point, too, I guess, but I can’t say I relate. Let’s just agree to disagree.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of our thing,” she snorts, and the corners of Barty’s mouth twitch. “You don’t do a lot of apologising, do you?”
“Nah.” He makes a vague gesture with his hand. “I don’t tend to regret most of the shit I do.”
Used to, Barty thinks bitterly, eyes narrowing a fraction. But it stopped as soon as I kicked my father out of my life.
“Not even when you fuck up?” She inquires, shifting until it’s only her side that’s resting against the railing, the rest of her body facing him.
Barty turns his head towards her, eyebrow arched as their gazes meet for the first time since she stepped outside of the library.
“Not even then,” he tells her, eyeing her unlit cigarette. “Everything I do is because I want to. Any of it ending badly doesn’t change that, so I might as well own it.”
“Sounds nice,” Evans sighs a bit wistfully. She finally puts the cigarette on her mouth and then gets on her tiptoes, tilting her head up while her hand holds onto the railing, helping her remain steady. “Light it up for me again? Please?”
Barty feels a little shiver run down his spine, but he plays it off with a teasing grin, fingers slipping into his pocket and grabbing his lighter. It’s not really necessary when Evans is cooperating this nicely, but he still cups her jaw with his free hand, bringing her even closer and keeping her in position while he does as told.
She makes a tiny, barely audible noise at the touch, and Barty loosens it, momentarily concerned about being too rough. But Evans doesn’t complain, and she doesn’t move away, her eyes regaining some of their usual glow as they follow Barty’s movements.
This time, and for obvious reasons, the cigarette catches fire a lot quicker. Evans sighs, clearly pleased, and Barty leans back, putting his lighter back inside his pocket once more. He sort of expects Evans to go back to staring straight ahead, but she stays exactly where she is, way too near and never looking away from him.
Barty, for some absurd reason, relishes in being the focus of her attention.
“Such a princess,” he mumbles, sounding a bit too fond.
Evans smiles a little, but she tries to cover it with a forced cough and a roll of her eyes. Barty gets the urge of reaching out and touching her again, but he makes sure to crush that need before it can take root.
“You really need to stop it with that nickname,” she scoffs, half-hearted.
“You like it,” Barty says, not even bothering to grab another cigarette as an excuse to stay outside with her. He’s content with watching her smoke.
Evans kicks him on the shin, but it’s playful, and it doesn’t hold any actual strength, and best of all, she doesn’t even deny it. Barty winks cheekily, barely able to hide his glee.
“Are you really not gonna ask about it?” Evans asks after a moment, blinking up at him.
“Do you want me to?” Barty throws back, breathing in the smoke she blows out.
“I don’t know,” she admits, rolling her lower lip between her teeth. “I guess I’m just waiting for you to do it. Aren’t you curious?”
“I am.” Barty shrugs. “But we’re not friends, you don’t owe me shit, and I got the feeling that you don’t wanna talk about it. So why bother? It’s none of my business.”
“That’s surprisingly nice of you.”
“I’m a very nice person.”
Evans snorts. “Sure.”
“When I want to,” Barty amends quickly, dragging another laugh out of her.
“Good to know I have to break down for you to want to,” she comments, amused.
“What can I say, the whole running mascara look is kinda doing it for me—”
“God, shut the fuck up!” she exclaims, laughter slipping into her voice while she pushes him teasingly. “I know I look like shit, you don’t have to mock me.”
“I’m not!” Barty denies, helpless to the chuckle that escapes him in the process. “I genuinely think you look good like this. More real, you know?”
Evans’ expression softens slightly at that. “Well, thank you, I suppose. I’ll make sure to come to you the next time I’m feeling awful, since you seem so into it.”
“You just want me to stroke your ego,” Barty teases her, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Is that so wrong? I need some comfort, Crouch, and you really aren’t the best at it, so the least you could do is compliment me.”
“Oh, save it, Evans, everyone and their mums think you’re the prettiest girl on campus. You don’t need my compliments.”
Her eyes widen comically at Barty’s words, and her lips part, a tiny exhale accompanied by a cloud of smoke escaping through the gap.
“You think I’m the prettiest girl on campus?” she murmurs, sounding almost shy, which is simply impossible because this is Evans they’re talking about.
“Drop that whole humble act, it doesn’t suit you. And besides, I never included myself in that statement.”
Evans’ face goes a bit pink at his words, a frown taking over her features as she averts her gaze, clearly embarrassed. Barty watches her with no little amount of entertainment, having a hard time repressing the urge to mock her further.
“You are, though,” he ends up confessing, and what he thought was a lie, doesn’t really taste like one as it falls from his mouth. “The prettiest girl on campus, that is.”
Her blush worsens at Barty’s admittance and he begins to feel a little lighthearted, staring dumbfounded at the effect he has on Evans. He was so sure about her not caring about what he says or believes about her that the sight in front of him is nearly impossible to assimilate.
Barty thinks he kind of gets it, now. Why so many people seem to worship the ground Lily Evans walks on. She’s messy, and annoying, and such a people pleaser it makes Barty sick to his stomach. But here, with smeared makeup all over her face, cigarette in one hand and ridiculously flustered by a silly compliment Barty wasn’t even thinking much about while he gave it, she looks like a vision. Tangible and raw. A little broken, but so sweet Barty’s teeth ache.
Beautiful.
He’s so distracted, doing his best not to blink so he can be able to commit the scene to memory, that he almost misses it when she speaks up again.
“James broke up with me,” she sighs, still refusing to meet his gaze.
Barty promptly chokes on his own spit, before letting out a cackle, waiting for the punchline of the joke. But then it never comes, and Evans simply puts out her finished cigarette against the railing before wrapping her arms around herself, and Barty feels so wrongfooted that he fears he’ll crash against the ground any second.
“What?” he says, incredulous. “You’re having me on. What the fuck?”
“Nope,” Evans murmurs in a drawl. “Gossip flies around here, anyway, I’m sure everyone will be talking about it soon enough.”
“Holy shit, I knew he was a fucking idiot, but this is a whole other level.”
Evans whips her head around to look at him, eyebrows raising upwards.
“He broke up with you?” Barty goes on, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head with a laugh, the noise coming off weirdly annoyed. “God, he’s such a loser. What the actual fuck? I feel so bad for him. Except I don’t, I hope he’s feeling miserable right now.”
She continues gaping at him in what can almost be called awe, but she manages to respond softly with, “I doubt it. He seemed pretty fine to me. Just a bit guilty about my reaction.”
Barty snaps his fingers, making Evans jump a little, and then proceeds to point an accusatory finger at her.
“Yeah, why the fuck are you even crying?” he inquires in absolute disbelief. If he didn’t feel bad about the state she was in when he first saw her, he definitely isn’t now that he knows the reason behind it. “He’s the one missing out. You could do so much better than him, really. Potter, however? Oh, he’s gonna regret this for the rest of his pathetic life. I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t come crawling back in a few days.”
Evans makes a choked out sound, like she’s holding back a laugh, and Barty doesn’t blame her. This whole situation is absurd.
“I hope you tell him to go fuck himself, though,” Barty laughs, shaking his head. When Evans continues to gawk in complete silence, not letting out a single one of her sarcastic comments, he raises both eyebrows at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “What?”
She blinks. “I thought you hated me,” it’s all she says, quietly.
“I mean,” Barty begins, frowning slightly, “I’m not fond of you, that much is true. And you’re kind of a bitch. But I definitely don’t hate you. And even if I did, that doesn’t mean I can’t see that you’re definitely way too good for your boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” Evans corrects almost immediately. It drags a grin out of Barty.
“Good.” He nods firmly at her. “Did the breakup really take you by surprise? I thought people usually saw these things coming.”
She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and shrugs with one shoulder. “Not really. But at the same time—I don’t know. We haven’t been doing great lately, but I never expected—I assumed it was just a rough patch. We’ve had a few of those, and we’ve always pulled through.”
“So he didn’t even try to fix it? Or fight for your relationship? Man, fuck that dude. Just when I thought Potter couldn’t be any worse…”
“He can be a bit of a prick,” Evans admits under her breath, and somehow that pulls a bark of laughter out of Barty. She joins him a second later, and even though she sounds a little hysterical, it’s also genuine.
“Good riddance,” Barty states once they’ve both managed to calm down, and to his surprise, Evans smiles sweetly at him, before nodding in agreement. “You deserve so much better.”
“You think so?”
Barty scoffs. “I know so. He’s a fucking tool, princess. He’s not worth having this whole breakdown over.”
Evans breathes loudly through her nose, fingers pulling swiftly at the sleeves of her ridiculous thin sweater. Barty didn’t notice before, probably because he had been too distracted by the sight of a broken Evans, but she seems cold. He supposes it makes sense, considering it’s been quite chilly these past few weeks, but seeing it so plainly does something to him.
Seriously, what the hell is up with him today?
“I mean, this isn’t only because of him,” Evans protests, pouting slightly. “I’ve also been—”
Evans stops herself abruptly and cringes, eyes lowering to the floor before they return to Barty’s face, something sheepish shining in them.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, rubbing her upper arms absentmindedly. “It just hasn’t been a good week. Or a good month.”
Barty squints at her, but decides almost immediately that it’s best if he doesn’t bring it up. They’ve been doing so well so far. Evans has confided in him enough for the day. Probably for a lifetime.
“Tell me about it,” Barty answers, and she visibly relaxes. “You okay over there, Evans? You keep shivering.”
“Oh,” she murmurs, looking down at her body as if she’s realising for the first time that her limbs keep trembling. “I’m a bit cold. James cornered me at the library and I stormed out after going off at him, so I didn’t even think of stopping to grab my jacket.”
“Jesus, princess, you really are a fucking mess,” Barty says with a chuckle, scratching the side of his jaw.
“Well, you took yours but didn’t even bother putting it on, so I don’t think you have the right to judge.” She raises her chin all proudly, arching an eyebrow in silent challenge.
Barty rolls his eyes so hard his head tilts back. “If you want it that badly you can just say it.”
“No, I just—” Evans never finishes her sentence, because Barty grabs his jacket, which had been wrapped around his arm, and puts it over her shoulders.
He moves it around a little, tugs at the neck until it properly envelops her tiny frame. Evans goes a bit red once again, nose wrinkling as she watches him, but she doesn’t protest, sliding her arms through the sleeves so she’s actually wearing it.
Barty hums and zips it up carefully, biting back a laugh when he sees how ridiculously big it looks on her. The contrast it creates doesn’t help either, because it’s a black leather jacket, filled with studs and patches, and she’s wearing a denim skirt and light green sweater adorned with daisies.
“Thank you,” she whispers, gaze lowered down and fixated on her new garment. She extends her arms, not even a quarter of her hands peeking through the sleeves, and wriggles her fingers. Barty’s about to make fun of her when she speaks up again. “You know what? I don’t think you care as little as you claim to.”
Barty’s teasing comment dies at the tip of his tongue, smirk disappearing as if it had never been there in the first place. A knot settles at the top of his throat, and despite his attempt to swallow it down, the stubborn, pesky thing doesn’t move, making a home in between Barty’s vocal chords.
Suddenly, he can even bear the thought of looking at Evans.
He pushes himself away from the railing, turning around from her without a single word. Barty half-expects her to sputter, yell something at him or even try to stop him from leaving, but Evans stays quiet, and he doesn’t have to turn around and check to know she isn’t following him.
“Don’t stay out here for too long, princess,” he tells her, raising his voice to make sure she hears him.
Barty tries to resist it, he really does, but in the end, and right when his hand wraps around the handle of the door, he risks a brief glance over his shoulder.
Evans is already looking at him.
Chapter 2: two.
Summary:
Sometimes she isn’t even sure she’s doing this for Petunia. Not anymore. Lily just doesn’t know who she is, outside of a perfect score on an exam, outside of a compliment from a teacher, apart from a starry-eyed glance aimed at her. Outside of her handsome and popular boyfriend, and her nice and supportive friends, and her ideal and lovely made-up little life.
Notes:
hello again! sorry this ch took longer than expected.. it's been done for a while, but i hate editing so i procrastinated it a lot + i've been on holiday so fanfiction wasn't really a priority. and i scraped a whole scene, rewrote the entire dialogue of another, etc etc, i won't bore you with the details because this ch fought me with tooth and nail and i kinda hate it. but i also love it?? it's hard to explain
regardless, i'm very excited for you guys to read it and take a peek into lily's messy mind. she's incredibly dear to me in this story, and i hope you guys love her as much as i do <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lily isn’t sure of how much longer she can hold all the mismatched pieces of her life together.
For as long as she can remember, she’s always done her best to mould herself into what others wanted her to be. What others thought was nice, and good, and perfect. She doesn’t know why or when this started. She supposes there wasn’t a specific moment, and it was more of an amalgamation of things, stuff that kept piling up until she couldn’t help but yield. Live for others and their pleasure. Make sure no one could whisper a single bad thing about her, or point out her flaws, because she always does what it’s expected of her. She always keeps everyone happy.
It’s never posed that much of an effort, if Lily’s being honest. She likes being admired, being loved and appreciated, having others hanging from every one of her words and staring at her like she’s something sacred. Something holy, something that begs to be worshipped. Maybe that’s why she got addicted so quickly to pleasing people, to the little rush every compliment gives her, every smile and dreamy sigh. Lily’s never thought of herself as an angel, mostly because she knows the bitter truth, but she loves that others treat her like she’s one.
She was very normal when she was a child. Plain and mediocre. Liked running around and playing in the park and getting dirty in the process. She had a tendency of stealing her sister’s toys, especially when Petunia explicitly told her not to touch them, and enjoyed getting into trouble a bit too much.
Her parents never seemed to mind when she was messy; they were kind and patient, allowing her daughters to run free while supporting them every step of the way. They were good parents, and never really pressured Lily into anything. In fact, they might be some of the few people who don’t actually expect her to be perfect. They love her unconditionally, and they’ve always done it.
Unfortunately, they’re also a bit absent. A bit distant. Too detached.
When she and Petunia began to argue more often, to fight dirtier, they assumed it would pass. That it was normal, even healthy, and that kids should be allowed to be kids, even when it meant hurting each other sometimes. Or all of the time.
Lily doesn’t think they noticed when Petunia started to call her a freak. To turn her nose up at her, always finding her faults, always reminding her that she was never good enough, that she had to try harder. That she had to be good.
She can’t find much sense in all that shit now, but back then… well. Petunia was the person Lily admired the most, she’s quite certain she still is despite it all, and she had been desperate for her approval.
With parents like theirs, Lily had never really felt the need to please anyone before. She liked learning, so she didn’t mind putting in the work in class, which earnt her high marks and the praise of all her teachers. It felt good, but it didn’t give her the need, it didn’t make her crave it, because her parents would support her no matter what and she knew that. She’s always known that. Her sister was her best friend and life was simple, so what else could she ask for?
Something shifted when Lily finally joined Petunia in secondary school, however. She still has no idea of what it was. If it was something she did, something she said. Or if it was something else entirely, something Lily couldn’t have avoided even if she had tried.
Maybe it hadn’t been related to her at all. Maybe it had been all Petunia, and she had simply ended up paying the consequences.
Lily can’t even remember what it was like, having a good relationship with her sister. Confiding in her, trying to suppress their laughter late at night when they were supposed to be sleeping, sharing complicit glances that no one but them could understand. She only remembers the disapproving looks, the hissed comments, the clench of a jaw that is uncannily similar to hers.
She can’t stand it. It has her waking up in a cold sweat at night, turning and turning afterwards, being unable to fall asleep again in fear of having a repetition of her last bad dream. Most of the time, perfection comes easy to her. It’s practically second-nature, an instinct, something she can cover herself with and pretend it’s her actual skin.
But it weighs on her. It’s been doing so for years, even when she didn’t realise it, even when she was too focused on the light and the warmth to notice the water rising, grazing her chin playfully and threatening to drown her.
Lily knows it’s too late to stop. She doesn’t even think she’d want to, even if she could, which might be the worst part of it all. She’s grown accustomed, comfortable. She’s made her peace with it, and accepted that she’s doomed to spend the rest of her days living like this. Like a shell of herself. Attempting to keep everyone content and adoring, in the hopes that her sister will stop sneering at her when they’re in the same room.
Sometimes she isn’t even sure she’s doing this for Petunia. Not anymore. Lily just doesn’t know who she is, outside of a perfect score on an exam, outside of a compliment from a teacher, apart from a starry-eyed glance aimed at her. Outside of her handsome and popular boyfriend, and her nice and supportive friends, and her ideal and lovely made-up little life.
But really, she likes it. Loves it, even. It takes a toll, but Lily thinks it’s worth it. Probably. Hopefully. So what if she cries herself to sleep sometimes, or feels so burned out she chain-smokes and has to buy her packs three at a time? At the end of the day, it’s a very rewarding lifestyle, and she wouldn’t change it for the world.
Except.
Except everything’s been falling apart and Lily has no idea of how to stop it. Doesn’t even know if she can.
She’s helpless to do anything else apart from stand there and watch it all come crashing down.
***
“That fucking, stupid, good-for-nothing asshole—” Mary hisses, fingers clawing at her curls and pulling furiously as she paces around the room. “I never trusted him. I knew he was bad news since the second he began pursuing you, with all those big gestures, and the flattery—god, I should kill him for this—”
“Mary, babe, you know I support you, always, and I’m more than happy to beat a guy up for you, but—”
“‘But’? What do you mean ‘but’? If you actually loved me, that would’ve been the end of that fucking sentence—”
“But,” Marlene repeats, more pointedly this time, from where she’s lounging on the couch. “James hasn’t done anything, apart from breaking up with Lils, which, objectively speaking, isn’t really a crime—”
“Except that it is!” Mary snaps sharply, thunder behind her dark eyes. “He took her to meet his parents, he made all those comments about marriage, and having kids, and now all of a sudden he doesn’t want it anymore? He didn’t even give her a proper reason, only said it wasn’t working anymore, which is absolute bullshit—”
“Baby, he’s allowed to change his mind, we don’t know if he’s been going through something—”
“Don’t you dare ‘baby’ me right now. Not when you’re basically defending the enemy—”
“He’s not the enemy! We’ve been friends with him for years!”
Mary lets out a derisive snort, and crosses her arms over her chest. “Speak for yourself. He made Lily cry—”
“And Lily is right here,” she finally interrupts, raising a hand and waving it a little in the air. They both turn to look at her at the same time, giving a couple of disoriented blinks, and Lily would’ve been offended if their expressions weren’t so hilarious. “Maybe stop talking as if I’m not half the topic of this discussion? Or like I’m not listening to every single thing?”
After a couple more blinks from both of them, Marlene sighs loudly, and then slides to Lily’s side of the couch, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder. Lily hums in appreciation and presses closer, her head finding home in the side of her friend’s neck while she lets herself be cuddled. Marlene has never been an overly affectionate person, not in the physical aspect, so Lily is always very grateful when she makes the effort because she knows she needs it.
“Sorry, Lils,” Marlene murmurs softly, dropping a loud smooch on the top of her hair that manages to make her smile a little. “How are you holding up?”
“How do you think she’s holding up, she got broken up with five days ago—”
“Like I already told you both,” Lily cuts Mary off quickly, before she can go into another one of her angry rants, “I’m fine. It took me by surprise, and yes, it hurt a bit, but I’m okay now, and I don’t wish him any harm.”
Mary squints her eyes at her, bending in half just so her gaze can meet Lily’s, eyes roaming all over her face, clearly searching for something. Probably for the lie, but Lily’s confident she won’t be able to find it. Mostly, because she doesn’t think there is one, but also because she’s gotten so good at lying after all this time that not even her closest friends can usually tell if she doesn’t want them to.
The Lily they know is the Lily she’s carefully and delicately crafted herself over the years. A perfect, kind, little doll that everyone can love without fear of ever being disappointed.
“There’s no way,” Mary mutters, shaking her head softly before she straightens up again. It shouldn’t be impressive, or the slightest bit intimidating, because she’s short, almost as short as Lily, who’s barely 5’4. But she knows how to command all the attention in a room, take up space everywhere she goes. It’s one of the first things that drew Lily to her. “There’s no fucking way. You can’t be over it this quickly, you have to be putting on a brave face.”
“I mean,” she begins, unsure of how to explain herself. She has no idea of how she feels anymore, what part of it is a lie and what’s genuine. “You’re the one who told me he’s not worth being sad over.”
“Yeah, but that’s me being rational. Feelings aren’t supposed to be rational!”
“Mary, you got upset over her being upset, and now that she’s okay and dealing with it well enough, you’re also upset?” Marlene cuts in with a click of her tongue. “Honestly, make up your mind, woman.”
Lily watches Mary scowl, a perfectly manicured finger being pointed all accusatory in Marlene’s general direction, who raises her hands in mock surrender for a second before she goes back to embracing Lily gently.
“Do you really not think there’s something weird about this? I mean, they were literally in love—”
Lily snaps her head up, barely avoiding hitting Marlene on the chin in the process. “Wait, hold on, pause, stop right there,” she says, a nervous tinge covering her voice. “No one said anything about love.”
That seems to get them both to halt, Marlene’s body tensing against Lily’s as both girls slowly focus all their attention on her. She squirms under the scrutiny, a nervous chuckle slipping past her lips. All of a sudden, her eyes lower, and she finds her thighs, covered by a pair of old, way too washed jeans, incredibly interesting.
“What?” Mary is the first one to break the silence, eyebrows shooting upwards. “You didn’t love him?”
“That can’t be,” Marlene replies before Lily even has the chance to open her mouth. “I’m pretty sure you told me that you loved him a while ago.”
“And James was always sending ‘love you’s’ in the groupchat!” Mary insists, gaze jumping from Lily to Marlene and then back to Lily. She’s always been loud and had a tendency for the dramatic, but this might be the most deranged Lily has seen her in a while. “And you always said it back!”
“I know,” Lily manages to comment, shifting in her seat. Marlene loosens her hold almost immediately, and her heart swells at the gesture. “I guess I never thought too much about it. We have—had been together since we finished high school, so it just felt right. I don’t even remember who said it first, just that we started saying it at some point and never really talked about it.”
There’s another pause, almost as heavy as the previous one, and then, “My god. For such a perfect couple you two were more of a mess than I thought.”
Lily laughs softly, nodding along, because it’s not like she can deny Mary’s words, no matter how much she’s dying to do so.
They were, in fact, a picture-perfect couple, but only because Lily made sure of it. James was everything he could’ve ever asked for in a boyfriend, and even though she hadn’t been interested at the beginning, he had been relentless, and somehow had managed to win her over somewhere along the way.
Because Lily did like him, that much she was sure of. She can still recall those pesky butterflies in her stomach, the frantic beating of her heart whenever he used to touch her, how right it always felt to hold his hand, to be kissed by him, to be loved.
She had been brokenhearted when James had admitted that he couldn’t do it anymore. That he didn’t feel what he was supposed to. That he cared for her, but only as a friend, and that it had been that way for a long time.
It had hurt her so deeply that she had lost her temper. Yelled at him in the middle of the library, forgetting where they were, forgetting herself. She had bursted out crying at some point during her desperate rambling, and James had simply stood there and taken it, eyes filled with pity as he stared down at her. That’s probably what she had found the most overwhelming, and what had pushed her to leave the building mid-rant, itching for a smoke.
Seeing Barty Crouch Jr. during what had been one of her worst breakdowns in years had felt like an incredibly sick joke from the universe. Lily had been about ready to send it all to hell.
Fortunately, the whole experience hadn’t turned out to be half bad, but she still doesn’t trust Crouch in the slightest, and now that her head feels clearer, and she’s been able to analyse their little encounter from a different perspective, Lily isn’t sure of how comfortable she is with how close she got to the guy. Especially in such a vulnerable state.
They haven’t bumped into each other since, and she sort of hopes it stays that way.
“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Marlene speaks up, ignoring the little snort that that specific turn of phrase drags out of Mary. “You were never in love? You’ve been dating a guy you kind of just like for almost four years?”
Lily cringes slightly. “When you put it like that it sounds a bit insane.”
“That’s because it’s fucking insane,” Marlene retorts in a deadpan tone.
“I didn’t realise, okay?” Lily tries to defend herself, even though she doesn’t think there’s anything she can say to help her case. “Our relationship was nice. James has always been lovely, and I was very comfortable in what we had. Maybe I loved him at some point, but then those feelings turned more platonic and I never noticed until it was too late.”
She makes a point of avoiding her friends’ gazes, despite the way she can feel them boring into her, filling her with the need to get up and run away.
“I suppose that’s not unheard of,” Marlene mutters, and it sounds hesitant to everyone in the room, but Lily still appreciates that she’s trying so hard for her. To understand her. As if Lily hasn’t made that basically impossible. “And you were friends before you started going out, so if you think about it—”
“Yeah, okay, but that doesn’t explain why you got so upset over it,” Mary points out, putting her hands on her hips. She’s watching Lily with a frown twisting her face. “If you didn’t have any actual feelings, why did it hurt you so much?”
“Come on, it wasn’t that bad—”
“Lily, you told us you had a full on breakdown at the library. And that same night you called us sobbing and sounding nearly hysterical, barely making any sense. Me and Marls thought someone had died!”
Lily curls slightly into herself, pleased that Marlene hugs her even tighter. It’s not like she can hide from Mary’s sharp eyes, but that won’t stop her from trying.
“I’m not sure,” she admits quietly, sounding muffled. “It hit me really hard at the moment. I got so angry for no reason, and then it all came crashing down, and I just—I don’t know, Mary, I really don’t. Perhaps it was because James didn’t give me an actual reason, only that he couldn’t be with me anymore, and it was—it made me feel so—”
Useless. Disappointing. Like a failure.
She struggles to find the correct words, something she can tell her friend that will be believable enough without showing too much, even though they both have seen her at her worst on more than one occasion.
Mary seems to take pity on her, because she lets out a long-suffering sigh before she drops to her knees, sitting on the floor right in front of where Lily and Marlene are cuddling. She reaches out and grabs both of her hands, giving a tiny squeeze and then kissing her knuckles softly. Lily feels a prickle in her eyes, and for a moment, she worries she’s about to start crying like a child.
“I get it, Lils,” she murmurs gently, gaze softening considerably. “I really do. A breakup is never easy, and regardless of what you felt or didn’t feel when it happened, you were together for a long time. That’s gonna sting no matter what.”
“Exactly,” Marlene chirps in, caressing Lily’s arm. She’s being a bit too rough, her movements too clumsy, but she still leans against the contact. “You had planned your whole life together and shit. Like, all of us assumed you were gonna get married at some point!”
“Yeah, me and Marls got so excited at the prospect of being your bridesmaids,” Mary tells her, a bit wistfully, but then her expression hardens and shakes her head. “Now I’m glad it won’t ever happen, though. You’re way too good for James. Fuck him, honestly!”
Mary’s words sound a bit too similar to what Crouch said to her a few days ago, which also reminds her of the other things he also said to her. She has to hide her face into the crook of Marlene’s neck to make sure neither of them have the chance to catch her blush.
Oh, how Lily despises him.
“Okay, babe, let’s tone it down a little. You might not agree, but he’s still one of my closest friends,” Marlene huffs out, stern. “And he’s been feeling quite bad about this whole thing, too.”
“And I’m supposed to care?” Mary inquires drily. Lily isn’t looking, but she can almost feel her arching an eyebrow. “He did this and chose to handle it incredibly poorly. I have no sympathy for that man.”
“You’re so full of shit,” Marlene snorts, and Lily has to bite her tongue to keep herself from chuckling. “Less than two weeks ago he was holding your hair back while you threw up in his bathroom and crying about how much you loved him.”
There’s some shuffling, and then a loud smack. Lily takes a little peek just in time to see Marlene’s face contort into an offended expression while she holds onto the arm she has around Lily.
“That was before,” Mary grumbles, her lower lip peeking out slightly. “Present me has realised the error of past me’s ways. I’m a new person.”
“Hitting your own girlfriend just because you know I’m right, un fucking believable…” Marlene mutters under her breath, sporting a scowl. “Whatever, you’re gonna be back to being best friends with him in a few months, when Lily over here also goes back to being best friends with him.”
Lily wants to protest, because at the moment, she doesn’t feel especially fond of James, after what happened. But then again, and considering her personality, she’ll probably forgive him eventually, and he did express the want for them to rekindle their friendship whenever she feels ready for it, so. Yeah, Marlene is definitely onto something.
“She won’t,” Mary denies without missing a beat, not leaving any room for judgement in her tone. “You won’t,” she insists, addressing Lily directly. She blinks at Mary but doesn’t say anything in response, which probably is enough of an answer, considering the groan her friend lets out. “Why do I even try?”
“I keep wondering the same thing,” Marlene says, way too smug, and Lily elbows her softly on the side, even though she’s smiling a little.
“Leave her alone,” she scolds without any real heat. “I need someone who’s 100% in my corner. No offence.”
Marty lights up at this, lips painted a vibrant red curling into a shit-eating grin as she raises both eyebrows at her girlfriend. Marlene sputters, and Lily feels it against her face, unable to stop a giggle from coming out.
“I take full offence!” Marlene whines, shaking Lily around a little. “I’m also 100% on your side! It’s just that—I’m also—”
“James is a very dear friend of yours, I’m aware,” Lily interrupts her sweetly. She raises a hand just to pat her all comfortingly on top of her head, but also because her buzzcut always feels ridiculously nice to the touch. “I don’t mind, Marls. I’m glad he has you, too.”
Mary exhales loudly through her nose. “You’re way too kind for your own good, Lils.”
Lily turns around to glance at Mary, and somehow, she manages to swallow down a cackle and instead grin at her friend.
“Anyways, we’re going down to the corner shop because we’ve run out of milk and if I can’t have my coffee before my lecture tomorrow I’m gonna commit a homicide,” Mary continues, getting up from the floor and dusting off her dress.
“‘We’?” Marlene asks with a scrunched nose. “Why do I have to come too?”
“Because you’re my girlfriend,” Mary retorts, as if that’s all the reason she needs. And if Lily is being honest, she agrees. She also used to drag James around everywhere when they had started dating.
Until his presence became a bit suffocating, that is.
“Fucking fine,” Marlene grunts, maneovering Lily with as much care as she can muster, so she can stand up without jostling her too much. Despite all the whinging, Lily catches the soft pink dusting her cheeks before she turns around. “You want anything, Lils?”
She tilts her head back until it rests against the back of the couch, considering. She was close to finishing her last pack of cigarettes, but both Mary and Marlene believe she’s just a social smoker, and that even then she avoids it as much as possible when going out. Lily can’t ask them to get her three packs out of nowhere, especially considering the circumstances. They’d assume she’s toying with the idea of suicide, or something.
Well, she’s supposed to be going through a breakup. Lily really can’t find it in herself to care much, personally, mostly worried about what this means to her image and how her parents, or worse, Petunia, might react. But she’s aware that that’s probably not what anyone would expect of her, so perhaps…
Hm.
“Ice cream?” she ends up mumbling.
“Gotcha,” Marlene agrees immediately. “I’m gonna find you the sweetest, most tooth-rooting stuff I can find.”
“And then you can pick what film we’re watching tonight,” Mary adds, already sounding a bit far. She’s probably waiting by the door.
“Sounds nice,” Lily hums, eyes fluttering shut and lips curling upwards.
“Where the fuck is my jacket?” Marlene hisses under her breath, barefoot feet stomping all around the living room. Lily thinks about helping her look, but she’s so, so tired, and the couch is so, so comfy.
“I’m pretty sure I saw it on the dinner table, babe,” Mary yells.
“Did you really? That’s weird, I don’t remember—Oi, this ain’t my jacket.”
There’s the sound of rushed steps getting closer, and then, “what do you mean? That’s your leather jacket.”
“No, it’s not. And considering how often you steal it, I’m a bit offended you can’t tell.”
“It’s a leather jacket, and it looks exactly like yours, what do you—”
“Mine doesn’t have these many pockets. Or the patches. Not to mention, it’s at least a size too big,” Marlene argues, and really, Lily is barely paying attention, but some alarms begin to go off inside her head and she forces herself to finally get up from the couch.
“What’s going on?” she wonders right before she yawns.
“Lils, is this yours?” Marlene asks in response, and then she’s turning around with Crouch’s jacket in her hand, and oh god, Lily should’ve just pretended to fall asleep on the couch instead of joining this conversation.
“Um—”
“Please, Marls, Lily would never wear something like this,” Mary exclaims with a little laugh. “It’s not her vibe at all. I don’t think I’ve ever—”
Her voice dies down as soon as she notices the kind of expression Lily is wearing, leaving the sentence hanging.
She doesn’t have a lot of control over her face right now, but she assumes she must be more than a little pale, eyes open wide and making a point to avoid any of the disbelieving gazes set on her.
“Lils,” Mary begins softly, like she’s speaking to a frightened animal. Lily takes a step back. “Whose is this?”
“Because there’s no way this is yours,” Marlene continues. Lily usually finds how in sync they are incredibly cute, but at this moment, and with the whole thing being directed at her in a bad way, she’s not loving it. “Like Mary said, it isn’t really your style. And if it already looks big on me, I can’t even imagine how massive it’s on you.”
Lily takes another step back, and swallows thickly. She tucks both sides of her hair behind her ears, and when she parts her lips, the only thing that comes out is a nervous laugh.
“Well—you see—,” she begins, hesitant. She doesn’t understand why thinking of a lie on the spot is turning out to be so hard, when she usually does it all the time. She clears her throat, trying to gain more time. “It’s just—the other day, I went out and I, I kind of forgot my jacket, but I realised too late, so I couldn’t really go back to get it, and then I bumped into, into Remus, and he saw how cold I was so he just—he offered me his jacket?”
Mary blinks at her, raising one of her eyebrows painfully slow. “Are you asking or affirming?”
“Affirming.”
“You sure? Because I can call him now to check.”
“That… won’t be necessary.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mary huffs, quite smug. “You gonna try lying again or was that enough?”
“Um,” Lily replies eloquently.
Mary stares at her expectantly, and Lily looks through her brain, desperately searching for something convincing enough, something that’ll get someone as stubborn as Mary off her back.
As a last resort, she gives Marlene a pleading look, and after some confused blinking, her friend seems to understand. And even though she’s probably as curious as Mary herself is, she gives Lily a nod, the beginning of a smile pulling at her mouth.
“Okay!” she hollers, clapping loudly and making her girlfriend wince. “I think we should put a lid on this and talk about it later, when we’re all more relaxed and we’ve had some dinner, yeah?”
“What?” Mary exclaims, turning around to openly pout at Marlene. “But that was suspicious as fuck! You saw it too! And the jacket’s been sitting there for at least a couple of days, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen it before—”
“Baby,” Marlene interrupts gently, lowering her voice until it’s smooth and basically dripping with honey. “Not right now.”
Mary opens and closes her mouth a few times, clearly indignant and with more than a couple of insults ready to fire. But no one can persuade her like Marlene, and after a handful of failed attempts, she visibly deflates, cheeks a bit red and a scowl on her face. Marlene and Lily exchange a knowing glance, and Lily silently voices a ‘thank you’ in her direction.
Marlene seems about to respond, but then Mary is grabbing onto her hand and forcibly dragging her towards the door, making her drop the jacket on the floor. It earns her some exclamations and a lot of complaints, but Mary pretends not to hear any of them, and Marlene lets her do what she pleases, letting her pull her around without even actually resisting.
Lily doesn’t manage to calm down until the door slams right after her friends leave. And even then, she can still feel a certain tension around her shoulders, gaze falling onto Crouch’s stupid fucking jacket. Her hands curl into fists almost immediately, and despite the distance, she swears she can still smell it, that surprising clean and fresh scent, detergent-like, and something that is so inherently him it drives her up the wall.
She takes a step forward, without really thinking about it, body already bending down with the intention to take the jacket and—
No. No.
Lily gives it a little kick, sending it under the table, and with a little scoff and red beginning to cover her cheeks, she turns around and runs towards her room.
***
She’s been doing incredibly well since the breakup. And really, Lily’s the most surprised of them all.
Their small friend group has been temporarily divided out of solidarity, even if Lily hadn’t actually asked for it, but all of them seemed content enough to take turns, having lunch with Lily on even days while James gets the odd ones. She has no doubt that this is all Mary’s doing, but knowing her heart is in the right place, she can’t find it in herself to put a stop to it.
Besides, Lily doesn’t think she’s really in the mood to see James at the moment. She’d be forced to play nice, to act perfectly polite and be the bigger person, when deep down she’d be holding back dozens of passive-aggressive comments. It’d probably be hilarious to watch James squirm and pretend everything is fine, considering that he wouldn’t be able to reply, or defend himself. He’s the asshole in this whole situation, after all. The one that broke her heart.
That’s what everyone thinks, anyway. They gotta keep up appearances, even if James isn’t aware.
But the thing is, the gossip hasn’t been as bad as Lily had expected. Some people have been making up some outrageous stories, like James cheated on her, or that Lily cheated on him, but most of them seemed to lose interest after a couple of weeks. Neither of them had spoken about it, despite others pressuring them into giving some details, hungry for any sort of information, so at some point, everyone had merely given up.
Life seems to have gone back to normal, and Lily is quite pleased by this. She’s returned to focusing on her studies, hanging out with friends, and avoiding Petunia’s calls. The latter she does her best to not make an actual habit of, but she hasn’t been in the best mood lately, and talking to her sister is always so ridiculously exhausting. Not to mention, she hasn’t told her yet about her breakup with James…
In theory, it should be easy, because Petunia has never liked him that much. But she had given him her approval, even if it had been the disdainful kind. She keeps telling her that she could do so much worse whenever they speak and the subject is brought up, which, coming from her, is high praise.
Lily has no idea of how to break the news to her. Because talking about the breakup means telling her that it was James who broke up with her, and Petunia will surely have something to say about that.
She doesn’t want to hear it. Lily is already beating herself up more than enough over it.
Sibling issues aside, she thinks she might be slowly but surely regaining some control over her life. For a brief moment there, Lily really had thought everything was ruined, but she can do this. She can make it better, she can fix it. The breakup has been a tiny and inconsequential bump in the road. It’s made her lose her balance slightly, but she’s over it now, and nothing has to change.
She’s fine. Everything’s fine.
So what if finals are stressing her out more than usual, the anxiety eating her from the inside out and keeping her awake at night to the point she doesn’t think she’s slept more than three days in the past week. So what if her nicotine addiction is reaching genuine alarming levels. So what if she’s struggling to keep up with her own schedule, with the favours, with the studying and keeping everyone around her happy.
It’s just a bit of a rough patch. Another small bump, just like the breakup. Lily will bounce back soon enough, and this will all become a bad memory.
Really, the only positive she can find in all of this is how little she’s seen of Crouch lately. She’s been meaning to, at least, give him his jacket back, but he’s been skipping classes a lot more than usual, and Lily has only caught glimpses of him around campus, almost always accompanied by that pretty, tall boy that looks vaguely familiar.
Lily’s definitely not complaining. Crouch’s leather jacket has been sitting at the end of her bed for weeks now, always taunting her whenever she slips into her room, but she’s beginning to grow used to it at this point. She’s kind of glad they haven’t crossed paths since their little chat, because Lily is convinced that’s the last thing she needs, after everything that’s been going on. It might be what’s keeping her mildly sane, in all honesty.
And, well, as she looks around her purse in search of enough money to buy more than just a sad pack of cigarettes, she decides that yes, it absolutely is the only thing keeping her mildly sane.
Although, she thinks she might be about to drop the ‘mildly’ from that sentence and exchange it for a ‘barely’ dangerously soon, because if the trembling of her hands due to withdrawal isn’t bad enough, then the person she can see round the corner definitely is.
She doesn’t even have the time to move out of his sight, run to the other side of the little shop and wait until Crouch has gotten whatever it is he needs and left. The moment he’s in her line on sight, he raises her head and their eyes meet.
Lily freezes up, hand still half inside her purse and eyebrows raised so high she must resemble a deer in the headlights. Crouch, however, manages to pull himself out of his daze a lot quicker, and after faltering for a brief second, he starts to make his way towards her instead of the entrance of the shop, lips spreading into a teasing smirk.
The gesture is annoying enough to give Lily back her mobility, and she’s fast to lower her head down with a huff, going back to her frantic searching and doing her best to ignore Crouch’s imminent approach.
Really, just when she thought that life couldn’t get any fucking worse—
“Well, hello there, princess,” he greets her cheekily, not at all bothered by the tiny grunt she lets out at the sound of his voice. “It’s been a while.”
“I don’t know, I don’t think it’s been long enough,” she mumbles under her breath before promptly giving up. She takes her hand out of her purse with a deep sigh and tilts her head up, resigning herself to whatever this is.
Hopefully a very short and mostly irrelevant conversation.
She allows herself a very quick peek at the boy in front of her, gaze sliding over his long nose and the silver ring resting on the side of it, the messy brown hair that looks like he’s just rolled out of bed. The matching piercing on his lower lip, the slightly crooked teeth, the jewellery hanging from both ears. The chipped black nail polish, the ridiculously big shirt with a band or maybe a film Lily isn’t familiar with, thrown over a long-sleeved top carelessly. The ripped jeans and the dirty combat boots.
When Lily’s eyes finally go back up, she’s unsurprised to find Barty’s dark ones staring back at her with an astounding amount of mirth shining in them.
“Done checking me out?” he questions with an arched eyebrow, shit-eating grin becoming impossibly wider.
Heat climbs up her neck, but Lily makes sure to keep it at bay before it reaches her face. She won’t give this asshole the satisfaction.
“I suppose,” she sniffs with a tilt of her chin.
“What’s the verdict, then?”
“Terribly disappointing.”
Far from being offended, Crouch lets out a bark of laughter, the sound startled but so genuine it almost drags a smile out of her. Lily makes sure to press her lips tightly together, though, her expression carefully blank as she waits for him to calm down.
“God, princess, I missed you,” he sighs, amusement still present in his words.
She wrinkles her nose. “The feeling is not mutual.”
“Damn, I see I haven’t caught you in a good mood. Bad day?”
“It’s been lovely so far, actually,” she lies through gritted teeth, a condescending smile curving her mouth. “Until now, that is.”
“Always an honour to ruin your day,” he replies, lighthearted, as if all this is just a big joke to him. It probably is. Lily doesn’t think Crouch has ever taken something seriously in his life. “You really not gonna tell me what’s up?”
“I don’t understand why I should—”
“C’mon, we’ve gotten closer since I saw you sobbing your eyes out outside of the library—”
“Shut it,” she hisses, fear gripping at her heart while she resists the urge to take a quick look around, check that no one they know is near, that no one has heard him. “We don’t talk about that. In fact, I’d like to pretend it never happened.”
“And why is that? Are you embarrassed by any chance, princess?”
“Of being seen with you? Incredibly so.”
Barty’s facade seems to finally wobble a little at that, his grin turning a bit crooked, less genuine and more irritated. It fills Lily with an absurd amount of delight.
“Ah, yes, we wouldn’t want to stain your spotless reputation,” Crouch agrees sarcastically, and she narrows her eyes at him.
“Exactly. Glad we agree. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
She takes a single step towards the door of the shop, resigning herself to just buy a pack of cigarettes and hope it lasts until she gets paid, when she realises that Crouch is walking right beside her, completely unphased.
“Oh, so you’re following me now,” she mutters, pausing momentarily before resuming her pace, Crouch having no trouble keeping up with her with his ridiculously long legs. “Great.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Evans,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m also here to do some shopping.”
“Somehow I doubt it.”
“If you really think I’d go out of my way to stalk an annoying spoiled brat like you—”
“Well, I’ve never seen you around here before, especially not in this shop, so I’d say it looks more than a little suspicious—”
“That’s because it’s my first time coming here. A friend lives nearby, and he sent me to buy some groceries,” Crouch ends up snapping, stopping right in front of the entrance. “Not like that’s any of your business.”
Lily feels a pang of guilt deep inside her stomach, which only serves to irritate her further. She refuses to feel bad about making assumptions about Crouch, considering he judges her over every little thing she does.
“I’m not gonna apologise,” Lily states, doing her best to sound firm. “You being here is too much of a coincidence.”
“I wasn’t asking you to,” Crouch scoffs, and she sneaks a glance just in time to catch him rolling his eyes. “And listen, I’m as unhappy about this as you are, I’m just not making a big deal out of it.”
“I’m not making a big deal out of it,” she protests almost immediately, crossing her arms over her chest. “But it hasn’t been a great day, and this is the last thing I needed, okay?”
“I’d say sorry, but I’m pretty sure there’s nothing wrong with needing some groceries.” Crouch shrugs, careless.
“It is when you’re in my shop.”
Crouch smirks uglily at her, amusement in his eyes. “Oh, this is giving me deja vu. I thought we had already been through this, Evans. You can’t claim random tables at the library, and you can’t claim a corner shop simply because you live close to it either.”
She huffs, averting her gaze but being unable to argue further because, well, he kind of has a point. That doesn’t mean Lily has any plans to openly agree with him, though.
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I please, thank you,” she mumbles, still looking everywhere but at the boy standing right beside her. Can’t he just go in? Focus on his shopping and leave her alone?
Crouch lets out a low laugh while he shakes his head. For some reason, the gesture seems to be more fond than genuinely irritated. “Well then, princess. After you.”
He makes a wide and definitely too dramatic move with his hand, stepping to the side so Lily can have as much space as she needs to go inside the shop. She tilts her head and makes sure to give Crouch the most deadpan expression she can muster, but when he only replies with a cheeky wink, she lets out a quiet exhale and walks inside the place.
Lily heads straight to the snack aisle, pretending to be checking it out in an attempt to throw Crouch off, get him off her back so she can go to the counter and actually get what she came here to get.
She’s still pretending to be looking over the different bags of crisps, when she decides to take out her purse again, count all the money she has on her once more. As if that’s gonna change the fact that she barely has anything left for a single pack of cigarettes. But that’s what desperation and a ridiculous amount of denial will do to you, she supposes.
Lily is so focused, that it takes her a bit longer than necessary to notice that someone has stopped right behind her, and is peeking over her shoulder at the contents of her purse. In fact, she doesn’t realise until the person lets out a little hum, making her jump and almost drop everything she has in her hands.
“Careful there, princess,” Crouch laughs from behind her, fingers curling around her waist to keep her steady. The touch feels like being electrocuted, a spark catching where Crouch’s hand is pressing against her.
Lily stumbles out of his hold almost immediately, barely missing crashing against the aisle in the process. Crouch doesn’t seem surprised by the action, but he still raises a questioning eyebrow at her when she turns around to glare at him.
“Have you ever heard of personal space?” she hisses, flustered and furious, nails digging harshly into her purse.
“Once or twice. Mostly in passing.” Crouch shrugs, and Lily grits her teeth. “You seemed like you were struggling a bit there. Everything okay?”
“Like you care,” Lily scoffs, already turning away, moving onto another aisle. Of course, and because Crouch is a bitch, he gets the hint and actively chooses to ignore it, following her again the moment she starts walking.
“I don’t,” he replies casually, and Lily rolls her eyes. “I just, you know, get how much struggling with money really fucking sucks, and I think we could help each other out.”
Lily stops, a huff mixed with a chuckle escaping from her mouth as she faces Crouch, both eyebrows arched while she looks him up and down.
“Oh, do you, now? Funny, considering I’m pretty sure you’re filthy rich. I know who your father is, Crouch. Everyone on campus does. You’re not fooling anyone, and I don’t want your bloody pity.”
He doesn’t stop grinning, not even for a single second, always with that aloof attitude that gets so badly on Lily’s nerves; mostly, because she’s started to realise that it’s simply an act. But his smile seems to have turned a bit forced, tense, like it’s been stitched onto his face against his will.
She doesn’t think she offended him, because it’s practically impossible, and it’s not like she hasn’t said meaner things to him. But he looks way too stiff, a certain clench to his jaw Lily doesn’t think he’s ever witnessed in him.
Lily is so used to him not caring about anything, that she’s a bit at a loss, at seeing him so visibly upset.
“Sorry to break it to you, Evans, but your info is a little outdated,” he says, and he attempts to infuse his tone with cheerfulness, but it comes out strained. “I got disinherited a while ago, so I’m afraid I’m as broke as you are.”
Her eyes widen, and she blinks at him a few times, shocked and confused and not really understanding how to make peace with this knowledge, because it doesn’t seem to fit the image Lily has of Crouch in her head. Him being an entitled rich asshole has always been one of his main personality traits, the biggest reason why he acted the way he acted, especially towards her.
For a moment, she considers if he might be lying, but she doesn’t think he has a reason to. Sure, he could be looking for her sympathy, her understanding, another one of his ridiculous attempts to get closer to her so he can… stab her in the back? Take advantage of her? Show the world how much of a liar she is? Lily isn’t sure, but she’s not an idiot, and she’s aware that Crouch’s sudden interest in her hides ulterior motives.
But he could’ve come up with some tragic backstory, give Lily more details to try and get her to genuinely care, to feel bad and offer some comfort. It’s clear he doesn’t wanna talk about it, that he would’ve never brought it up on his own volition, that he’s resisting the urge to fucking bolt right now.
If nothing else, and after how much of a mess her life has been lately, she can be civil about this. She understands better than anyone how sickening it can be, to be vulnerable in front of others, especially the last person you’d ever want to see you in such a state.
“Oh,” she mumbles, before clearing her throat a little, doing her best to be casual about this. “I’ve never—I had no idea.”
He scoffs. “Of course you didn’t. It’s not like it’s common knowledge. My father wanted it to be kept as quiet as possible. Worried about his reputation, I imagine.”
“Well, I never really liked him,” Lily confesses with a shrug. “He always seems to support good and just causes, which I suppose it’s nice for a politician, but he gives me the creeps.”
Crouch lets out a loud snort, and then he blinks a couple of times, grin falling off his face almost immediately. He seems surprised, like he wasn’t expecting his body to react like that.
Lily gets the feeling. It’s been kind of a constant lately, whenever Crouch is around.
“Smart girl,” he tells her, almost managing to drag a smile out of her. Something rattles a little against her ribcage, but Lily does her best to swallow it down. “He’s, ah, a bit of an asshole.”
“That does seem to be a recurring theme between politicians.” She cocks her head a bit to the side, eyes never leaving Crouch’s face. “But I’m assuming you’re not talking about him as a person.”
He squints his eyes at her, lips slowly spreading into an ugly grin. It’s more of a baring of teeth than anything else, and it’s clearly holding a warning, but Lily doesn’t even blink, expression determined as she crosses her arms over her chest.
“I really don’t wanna discuss my father with you, Evans,” he admits, voice slightly strained.
Lily holds his gaze for a few excruciating seconds, Crouch staring back at her with the same unmoving determination, before she shrugs, allowing her shoulders to sag. “That’s fair,” she sighs quietly, averting her eyes and returning her attention to the aisle they’re in right now. “I’ll stop asking.”
As expected, Crouch follows her, and Lily pretends that the roll of her eyes is more annoyed than fond.
“Just like that?” he questions in a mumble.
“Just like that,” she confirms with a tiny nod. “I’m not that mean, Crouch. I might not like you, but I’m not gonna pry into something that clearly makes you uncomfortable.”
He lets out an outraged noise from somewhere beside her, and Lily has to make an active effort to not turn around and look, almost itching with the urge to check the kind of expression Crouch is wearing.
“Who’s uncomfortable?” he huffs out, and Lily thinks she could’ve believed him, if she hadn’t witnessed firsthand his reaction to his father being brought up in conversation. “I don’t give a fuck about that man, princess. I’m just glad he’s out of my life.”
She hums, leaning down to read the tag of one of the ready meals, even though it doesn’t look appealing to her in the slightest. “Me. Definitely me. So, if you could stop following me around and let me do my shopping in peace, that’d be greatly appreciated.”
“And if you could stop pretending to be here for anything other than your concerning nicotine addiction, it’d also be greatly appreciated.”
Lily breathes loudly through her nose, straightening up and turning around, expression deadpan but gaze cold as she faces Crouch once more.
“What’s it to you?” she inquires in a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “You don’t have any right to judge me, and I—”
“Like I said,” Crouch interrupts her, raising one of his hands. Lily glares at the limb with all her might, but of course, it only serves to widen Crouch’s grin, “we can help each other out. I’m assuming you’re short on money? Considering all the desperate searching you were doing?”
She splutters a little, heat climbing up her neck at an alarming pace. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business. Honestly, Crouch, you and your assumptions can fuck right off.”
“Jesus, can you listen to me for one second, Evans?” He runs a hand down his face, pulling at the skin under his eyes in the process. Crouch appears to have reached unknown levels of exasperation, which is ridiculous, considering he’s the one annoying the shit out of Lily. “I’m aware that you always expecting the worst out of me is my own fault and I can’t blame you for it—”
“Damn right you can’t.”
“But,” he goes on, a bit more pointedly, “we’re out of campus, this is completely unrelated to grades, and I don’t even live near. I told you, I’m just visiting, and when I saw you struggling, I—” Crouch pauses, pinches the bridge of his nose and then lets out a deep sigh. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t have any reasons to antagonise you right now.”
“You understand why I’m having a hard time believing you, right?” She asks incredulously, giving a tiny shake of her head. “Besides, it’s not like you need a reason. You’ve never needed it before. You love making fun of me over the stupidest things—”
“Yeah, okay, but not about money issues. Never about money issues. I’m not that much of a hypocrite, princess.”
Lily raises her eyebrows at him, narrowing her gaze while she slides it up and down Crouch’s body. It earns her a snort, but Crouch also raises his arms in mock surrender, bowing his head a little.
“Point taken,” he huffs, his tone an odd mix between defeated and amused. “I was gonna propose something that was mutually beneficial, but if you’re so set on getting rid of me, I’ll grab my shit and leave you alone.”
Relief warms up her chest and she opens her mouth, ready to tell Crouch to fuck off so she can buy her single pack of cigarettes and then spend the brief walk back home pitying herself. But, you see, and as someone who quite enjoys learning, Lily is an inherently curious person. When she first saw Crouch, she was only focused on losing him, pushing him as far away from her as possible. Her walls are always up when he’s around, but after their little and sort of involuntary heart-to-heart, Lily is even more wary of him. She shared way too much with someone who’s basically a stranger. Not to mention, Crouch despises her almost as much as she despises him, which means if he gets the chance to use the information he gained against her, he will.
Lily isn’t an idiot; she can tell that there’s more to Crouch than meets the eye, and contrary to what she used to believe less than a month ago, she doesn’t think he’s a bad person. Sure, he isn’t a good person, either, but it’s still more than a lot of people can say. That doesn’t mean she trusts him, or that she has any intentions of becoming his friend. In fact, Lily is gonna do her very best to keep a modicum of distance between them.
However, none of this erases the fact that after all the pestering and all the pushing, she’s more than a little intrigued about what Crouch is planning. Lily saw a new face of him a week ago, and surprisingly, she didn’t dislike it. She almost found it—found him—sweet. And the possibility of spending more time with Crouch, watching him outside of uni and picking at his brain a little, is quite appealing to Lily at the moment. Now that she isn’t actively feeling the need to strangle him with her own hands, that is.
So, even though deep down she’s painfully aware of what a terrible idea this is, Lily ends up closing her mouth with no sound having escaped out of it.
Crouch blinks at her one, two, three times, before realisation finally dawns on him and that insufferable grin of his turns into an actual smirk.
“Well, would you look at that?” he whistles, and Lily grits her teeth, feeling colour rushing to her cheek and looking away from Crouch’s knowing gaze. “Run out of insults, have you, Evans?”
“Shut up,” she mumbles, hands twitching with the urge to curl into fists. “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, okay? Nothing else. And if I’m being honest, you’re already making me regret it.”
He laughs softly and Lily can’t even be mad at him about it. The noise is sincere, and gentle, and lacking all of its usual mockery.
“I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” Crouch assures her, before wrapping loose fingers around her wrist and tugging her to a different aisle.
Lily shivers at the unexpected contact, but she lets herself be pulled, not even considering breaking herself free as Crouch leads her to the back of the shop, to a tiny corner next to the fizzy drinks section.
“Okay, first of all,” he begins once they stop, turning around and meeting her gaze head on. He hasn’t let go of her. “What are you wearing under that jumper?”
It takes Lily a couple of seconds to process his words, but once she does, she tears her arm out of his grasp, face aflame and expression twisting with something she hopes looks like indignation.
“Excuse me?” she spits out, barely suppressing the need to hug herself, try and hide from his scrutiny.
Crouch frowns slightly, but then his eyes widen in realisation and he chuckles softly, shaking his head slightly while he moves closer to her once again. He speaks up before Lily has the chance to put some more distance between them.
“Shit, sorry, princess, I didn’t mean it like that.” He tilts his head momentarily, considering, before a glint of mischief appears on his gaze. “Well, I did mean it like that, but not in the way you think.”
Lily relaxes, but only slightly, and then offers Crouch an unimpressed stare that borders on a glare. “I’m gonna need you to explain right now.”
“In a sec,” he assures her. “Can you answer the question first?”
She purses her lips, looks around them, relieved to find out no one seems to be paying them any attention, and then shifts the weight from one foot to the other.
“Just a tank top,” she says quietly, fingers pulling at the sleeves of her jumper almost unconsciously.
Crouch hums lowly. “Low-cut?”
She feels her face heat up once again, but she does her best to swallow up her anger, force herself to keep her cool and not make a scene.
“How is that even relevant—” Lily begins, voice shaking with barely-contained rage.
“Again, probably not what you think,” Crouch cuts her off, still looking so damn entertained. “Stop being difficult, Evans. I promise it’ll make sense.”
Lily glares at him for a few seconds, briefly considering punching him straight in the nose and going back home empty-handed. But she refuses to let this asshole win whatever game he’s playing. Besides, she came here to get her stupid cigarettes and she won’t be leaving without them, no matter what it takes.
In the end, she just takes a deep breath, willing herself to calm down, before grabbing the hem of her jumper and pulling it upwards, taking the garment off with more aggressiveness than necessary and nearly throwing it at Crouch’s head.
He blinks, watching Lily as if he’s seeing her for the first time, mouth slightly parted and expression open in wonder. Crouch doesn’t even try to duck when she seemingly attempts to hit him with her jumper, too busy being in awe with her little tantrum. Somehow, it only worsens her mood.
Lily snaps her fingers at him, which fortunately serves to bring him back to the present. But it proves to be the wrong thing to do, because then his gaze falls down a little, staring a bit too intensely at Lily’s white tank top. It’s not see-through, thank god, but it’s tight on her, and quite low-cut. Mary always says it makes her boobs look great, and it’s the main reason why Lily has kept the thing, despite how old it is. That, and the comfiness.
Right now, though, she’s sort of regretting putting it on. Although, in her defence, she didn’t think someone else apart from her flatmates was gonna see it.
“Fuck,” Crouch whispers under his breath, almost to himself. “That’s perfect.”
Lily takes another step back, not even wanting to know how bad her blush must look by now. If Crouch doesn’t start explaining soon she’s gonna fucking bolt any time now.
She covers her cleavage slightly with her hands, unable to stand it anymore, and that’s what finally seems to pull Crouch out of his daze. His gaze snaps up, and his eyebrows raise when they discover whatever expression Lily is sporting right now. Crouch clears his throat a little, his grin turning a bit apologetic, but he doesn’t look away, not even for a second.
“You can relax, princess, I’m not gonna do anything to you,” he sighs, which is probably the closest she’s ever going to get to an apology. Regardless, she doesn’t move her arms away from her chest, jumper clutched tightly between her fingers and an arched eyebrow directed at Crouch. “It might come as a surprise, but I’m not really interested.”
Lily’s mouth opens in a scoff, her hands finally falling away from her body and finding solace at her sides, resting on her hips. She pointedly ignores the tiny sting between her ribs at his words. “Not a surprise, Crouch, just a relief. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”
He barks out a laugh at that, and Lily doesn’t like the sound, doesn’t like how it pushes her to smile, or how it takes some of the tension off her shoulders. It’s obnoxious, and hyena-like, and there’s gotta be mockery hiding somewhere there.
“Fair enough,” he huffs when the laughter dies down, amusement still present in his tone. “How good is your small talk? Because it’s shit when we speak, but I imagine I’m somewhat of an exception.”
She rolls her eyes, moving to the side to allow an old man to walk past her and get a bit closer to the shelf Lily is standing next to.
“I’d say it’s pretty okay. I’ve always been good at entertaining my dad’s coworkers when they come over for dinner,” she tells him, lowering her voice. “Are you gonna tell me what you’re planning, or…?”
“My friend, the one that lives near the shop, told me that that guy at the cashier is a bit of a perv.” He tilts his head back, nodding at the checkout zone behind him. Lily glances where he’s vaguely pointing, and doesn’t have any trouble locating the bloke Crouch is referring to. She shops here often enough, after all. “Not like I have any room to judge.”
“He’s a bit of a creep, yeah,” Lily concedes, focusing on Crouch once again. “I don’t see how that’s relevant, though.”
“It’s relevant because if you go and chat him up a little while you buy your cigs, let him ogle you for a bit, then I can get you, at least, a couple more packs for free.”
Lily does a double take, a tiny gasp escaping her lips as she tries to decide how she’s feeling about this whole thing. It’s not a bad plan, she knows she can keep him distracted long enough for Crouch to grab whatever he needs, and it’s not too busy today, which means that someone complaining about her taking too long is a lot less likely. But Lily isn’t sure of how okay she is with stealing, even if she isn’t the one doing it. It’d be for her, because of her, at least partially, and she’d be an accomplice.
Although, maybe what’s unnerving her the most is the fact that her first impulse was to agree. There’s no guilt, no remorse, no second thoughts. Lily just wants her nicotine dose, and Crouch might not be her favourite person, but he’s offering to help, and his deal seems way too good to pass up.
Which brings her to her next point.
“What’s the catch?” she inquires, shifting slightly on her place.
“There’s no catch, princess,” Barty retorts easily, slipping his hand in the pockets of his jeans and giving a shrug. “I’m just feeling charitable today.”
“Oh, are you?” Lily murmurs with a snort, the noise unexpectedly genuine. “You really don’t want anything in return?”
“Nope. Unless you’re offering?”
She rolls her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Fucking knew it.”
“Hey, you’re the one who keeps pushing. And if you’re gonna think the worst of me no matter what, then I might as well take advantage of it.”
“I suppose. So, what do you want?”
Crouch pretends to think about it, even though Lily is almost sure he already knew what he was gonna ask since the moment she brought it up. Still, she doesn’t say anything about it, waiting patiently until that irritating shit-eating grin of his makes an appearance.
“I don’t know,” he sighs, rubbing his chin. “It’s not like you have a lot to offer me.”
“You’re also broke, so shut the fuck up,” she snaps half-heartedly, dragging a soft chuckle out of Crouch.
“I don’t want your money, anyways,” he tells her, and Lily can’t help the way she squints at his statement. “But maybe you could let me ogle you a little, too, once we’re done here.”
She lets out a laugh, unconsciously, half expecting Barty to join her, but he never does. He doesn’t stop smiling either, but there’s nothing about him that implies he’s anything but serious.
“I thought you weren’t interested?” Lily asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not,” he insists, before giving her a cheeky once over, taking his time and not even bothering to be subtle about it. She heats up under the attention, but she manages to keep her head high, her expression indifferent. “But it’s a pretty nice sight, princess.”
She has to press her lips tightly together to stop them from curling upwards. “Thank you? I think.”
“Sure, Evans,” he laughs softly. “Anytime.”
“I guess you can ogle me for a bit, if you want it so bad.”
“Really?”
“Only if you get me two packs of cigs, though. And make them Richmond.”
Crouch laughs again, but it’s a bit louder. More sincere.
“Aye aye, princess.” He tips an invisible hat at her, and she’s not quick enough to swallow the giggle that bubbles up her throat. Before Crouch has the chance to comment on it, she throws him her jumper, pleased to see he doesn’t drop it, and starts making her way towards the checkout.
There’s a couple of teens right in front of her, giggling and whispering to each other while the guy, the creep she and Crouch were talking about, scans their items boredly and barely acknowledges them. Fortunately, they only have a bunch of snacks and some chocolate, so it doesn’t take long for Lily’s turn to come.
She smiles sweetly once she’s right in front of him, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s useless, though, because to no one’s surprise, his eyes fixate on her cleavage quite blatantly, lingering for way too long for him to play it off afterwards. Still, when he finally meets her gaze, he’s almost beaming, shameless about his dilated pupils and the way his gaze keeps slipping downwards.
There’s a reason why Lily always heads straight to self-checkout, after all.
“Hey,” he greets her, and she does her best to not wrinkle her nose at his gruff voice, the greasy blond hair, the leer twisting his face or his creepy, dark eyes. He can’t be more than a few years older than her. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.”
Lily forces a giggle, batting her lashes. “Didn’t think anyone noticed me.”
“I mean, you come fairly often.” He shrugs, going for casual, and then his eyes focus on her boobs once again. “And I don’t think I could ever forget a face like yours.”
She giggles again, happy that there’s some remaining red on her cheeks that can pass off as a blush. And if that isn’t enough, Lily feels like her growing anger will be more than enough to bring some colour to her face.
“Really?” she questions coyly, tilting her head to the side. “I didn’t think you looked at me, but I have to admit I was hoping you would.”
“Is that so?” His grin turns into a smirk, and Lily has to swallow down a scoff. “It took you a while to come to me. You always go to self-checkout.”
“Well, it was hard to muster the courage to approach you. Especially when I didn’t even think you were interested.”
“Oh, I am more than interested, don’t you worry.”
Lily grits her teeth and makes sure to smile even wider, her hands at her side twitching with the need to curl into fists.
“So what can I get you today, gorgeous?” he goes on, and Lily can only be thankful, considering she was running out of flirty things to say.
She doesn’t usually have to do this much work. People just go to her, especially boys, and she can simply decide who she wants without having to actually put in the effort.
“A pack of cigarettes, please?” Lily asks, biting her lower lip and taking some satisfaction in the way the idiot follows the movement with a gulp. “Richmond,” she specifies after a beat.
He seems to be in some sort of trance, so she giggles again before reaching out for the cigarettes in question, fingers grazing one of the packs right next to his face. Lily makes a point of standing on her tiptoes—even though she isn’t that short—and getting her cleavage right in front of his eyes, just a few centimetres away. She feels an odd mix of pride and disgust when she watches his lips part in what can only be awe.
“A pretty girl like you? Smoking?” He’s teasing, smirk stitched in place, but it falls a bit flat. Lily can tell there’s no real joke behind his questions, and they border on accusations. “You should quit. It’s terrible for your health.”
Her right eye is nearly twitching, and yet, surprisingly, she manages to sigh pitifully, averting her gaze as if she’s embarrassed. Oh, she’s not gonna be setting foot in this stupid corner shop again any time soon.
“I know,” she murmurs, properly scolded. “I’ve been trying to, but uni has been so stressful lately. But I’m more of a social smoker, really.”
The guy hums, but he doesn’t seem very pleased. Still, he reaches out to the little shelf where some of the packs are stocked, and grabs the cigarettes Lily just asked for.
If she’s being honest, the only thing keeping her sane right now is the fact that she’s gonna get an extra two packs for free. That, and all the scenarios she’s coming up with inside her mind in which she murders this creep in cold blood.
“There you go, beautiful,” he says, giving her the pack, albeit begrudgingly. “It’s 12 quid, but maybe I could sweeten up the deal? If you’d like?”
She pretends to perk up at this, despite the dread she can feel pooling at her stomach.
“Oh, would you?” Lily wonders excitedly, eyes going big. “That’d be lovely. You’re so kind, um…”
“It’s Tyler, sweetheart.”
She cringes, hoping it’s not actually noticeable. “Tyler,” Lily repeats with a tiny nod. “What’s this deal about, then?”
“It’s pretty simple. You can take your cigs for just seven quid if you give me your number.”
Lily bites her tongue so hard she tastes blood, swallowing down every single refusal, every single insult. She figured something like this was bound to happen with all the flirting, but she had hoped Crouch would be done grabbing all his shit by then.
Almost as if he’s been summoned, Lily catches sight of him by the corner of her eye, and suddenly worried about him getting caught when they’re so close to success, she rushes to lean forward, making sure to occupy the creepy cashier’s whole line of sight. Lily rests both arms on the counter, making her boobs stand out even more.
It’s so easy it’s practically laughable. Tyler’s gaze falls down to her chest without a single moment of hesitation, like a moth to a flame. He doesn’t even bother to look away afterwards, this time.
“That does sound like a good deal,” Lily concedes slyly, biting her lip, even though her efforts aren’t being appreciated. Her boobs are doing all the work, truly. “I really can’t say no to that.”
“You won’t regret it, gorgeous,” he murmurs, dark, hungry eyes still fixated way too low. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Lily almost gags through her smile. “Oh, I’m sure.”
He puts the price in and Lily reaches for her purse, counting the money with swift fingers before he gives it to Tyler. He touches her hand in process, lingering more than necessary and definitely on purpose, and it’s an exercise in self-restraint, resisting the need to immediately pull away as if burnt.
“Do you have a pen?” she asks, reluctantly, one she has the receipt and the cigs inside her purse.
“Of course. Gimme a sec.”
He searches behind the counter, clicking his tongue a couple of times before he finally finds what he’s looking for. Tyler offers it to her with what he probably thinks it’s a seductive smile, but it only serves to make Lily want to run for her life.
She grabs it with a grin of her own, if a bit stiffly, and she’s still considering if she should give him a fake number or the real one, and block him if he actually decides to text her, when an arm sneaks around her waist from behind.
Lily startles, about to elbow whatever asshole decided to put their hands on her, but then there’s a firm chest pressing against her back, and a familiar scent enveloping her. She doesn’t think she would’ve been able to recognise it a couple of months ago, but now? She’s grown used to it, after so many days of burying her nose in leather, lungs filling with the smell of fresh detergent and tobacco.
“Hey, baby,” Crouch says, voice honey sweet but still hiding a certain edge. Lily’s heart gives a flip at the endearment, and it takes her a second, to realise he’s talking to her. Calling her ‘baby’. “Done already?”
She gulps down the little knot stuck between her vocal chords, and then tilts her head back, looking at Crouch’s face. He’s smiling, but it’s dangerous, almost a threat, and he doesn’t meet Lily’s gaze. Crouch seems too busy staring at Tyler, brown eyes narrowed and unblinking.
“Y-yeah,” Lily responds, and the word comes out so weak she rushes to clear her throat right after. “You know I just wanted some cigs.”
Crouch hums, still not looking away from Tyler. “True. But you were taking such an awfully long time, I got a bit worried for a moment there.”
Lily squirms a little, doing her best to keep a frown from twisting her features. She was doing exactly what Crouch told her to do, so why the fuck does he look so annoyed?
In fact, this whole act of pretending to be dating, or whatever, was not part of the plan at all, so he should feel lucky Lily didn’t punch him in the mouth and told him to go fuck himself.
“Ah, yes, sorry about that,” she says with a little laugh, finally looking away from Crouch. When her attention returns to Tyler, he finds him curled into himself, nervous eyes fleeting all over Crouch’s face but never stopping anywhere for too long. “Me and Tyler were just talking.”
“Tyler, huh?” he mumbles, tongue wrapping around each syllable with what can only be called disdain. “Well, thank you for keeping her entertained while I did some shopping, dude. I truly appreciate it.”
Lily turns to look at Crouch just in time to see him raise a plastic bag, probably holding whatever it is that his friend asked him to buy. She has to bite her lip to repress a snort.
“It was no problem, mate,” Tyler responds, tone tight. “She’s a delight. Very friendly.”
She whips her head around at those words, squinting her eyes slightly and giving this fucking asshole her most venomous smile. Lily even bats her lashes for good measure, the gesture filled with mockery. Tyler never looks away from Crouch, however, but she’s sure he can feel it.
“Oh, I know,” Crouch laughs, baring his teeth. His arm tightens around Lily, and she rests her weight against his chest, watching how Tyler clenches his jaw, cheeks going red in what must be shame. “Could charm a wall, this one. I’m so lucky she gives me the time of day.”
Lily rolls her eyes, but it’s all good-natured, and when Crouch leans down to kiss her temple briefly, she presses into the contact sort of unconsciously. Lily can feel some heat on her cheeks when he pulls away, and it makes something deep inside her rattle. She must be more touch deprived than she thought. James and her were together for a while, after all, and he had always been on the clingier side.
“Idiot,” she mutters, a bit surprised to find out she doesn’t have to feign the fondness in her voice.
“Only for you, princess,” he retorts, and the smile he gives Lily is probably the most genuine she’s ever seen him. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” she breathes out, letting herself be pulled, Crouch’s hand still firmly wrapped around her as he guides her outside. “Bye, Tyler!”
She raises a hand and waves over her shoulder a bit teasingly, and isn’t shocked when she doesn’t receive a response. Lily isn’t gonna be able to come back to this corner shop in a very long time, but she thinks it was more than worth it.
And even if it wasn’t, at least it was fun.
It’s a bit of a foreign concept to Lily, doing things without thinking, without any planning, without worrying about the consequences. Doing them simply because she wants to, because it suits her. Doing them for fun.
They walk out of the shop calmly, in no rush, and even though Lily hasn’t done any stealing, there’s some nerves bubbling up in her stomach. But when they finally set foot outside and no alarm begins going off, no one screams after them or tries to stop them, she relaxes, body sagging against Crouch’s.
He takes her down a narrow street, and doesn’t stop until the shop is completely out of their sight. Crouch pulls her behind a car, next to a tiny building’s doorway, before reaching under his jacket and behind his back. A second after, he has three crumpled packs of Richmond, and Lily gasps delightedly before grabbing them greedily and shoving them inside her purse.
“I gotta admit it, Crouch, you’re not as useless as you look,” she says, but it’s more teasing than anything else, a little grin curving her lips.
“Happy to be of help, princess,” he retorts with a wink. He still has his hand in the small of her back, the contact light but very much there.
Neither of them say anything about it.
“I’m not gonna be able to show my face there in a while, but I guess it’s for a good cause.” Lily shakes her head slightly. “What was that, by the way? At the end?”
Something flashes through Crouch’s expression, but it’s gone too fast for her to recognise it. His face is carefully neutral as he shrugs. “You looked like you needed saving,” it’s all he tells her as an explanation, which, fair enough.
“I did,” Lily sighs, lip curling. “He was asking for my number, and I couldn’t really say no. Thank god you showed up.”
Crouch scoffs loudly, brow furrowing. “That fucking creep. How did he even think he had a chance? Please, as if you’d ever.”
Lily laughs softly, patting him half-heartedly on the shoulder. His expression smoothens at the touch, and he slides closer to her, not even attempting to be subtle.
She doesn’t really mind. Her skin crawls at the proximity, except it’s not with the need to step away, but with the need to move even nearer. Lily’s face heats up slightly at the realisation, the hand that Crouch continues resting against her back burning even through the cotton of her top.
Lily waits for him to say something, make one of his stupid comments that will either annoy her and ruin whatever moment they seem to be having, or lighten the mood enough for her to stop feeling like she’s losing her mind.
But he stays silent, grinning gently at her, his thumb caressing her back distractedly. Lily has to dig her nails harsh into the palms of her hands to keep herself from squirming.
“Well,” she starts, hoping her tone sounds more indifferent than she feels, “I guess it’s my turn to hold my end of our deal.”
Crouch blinks a couple of times before he smirks, sending a tiny shiver down Lily’s back.
“Yeah, princess?” he asks lowly, teasing. Always teasing. “Gonna let me look my fill?”
“I promised, didn’t I?” Lily answers, and she tries for the words to sound a bit like a joke. Casual and light. But she doesn’t think she quite manages it.
“Yeah. Yeah, you did.”
Crouch doesn’t seem to need more encouragement than that. He pulls her in suddenly, and Lily tumbles forward with a yelp, both hands coming up to rest on Crouch’s chest and help her regain her balance. She’s about to scream at him for being such a brute without warning, when she notices that Crouch isn’t even looking at her. Or, well, not at her face, at least.
His gaze is fixed a bit lower, on her cleavage, and Lily can feel her cheeks beginning to burn. It’s silly, and inconsequential, and she’s aware that Crouch probably just wants to get under her skin. He’s always pushing her buttons, and besides, he’s already established that he isn’t interested in her, not like that. It’s not like Lily wants anything to do with him, anyway.
And yet, Crouch’s heavy stare makes something pool at her stomach, something too close to desire for her tastes. Lily doesn’t like to be ogled like she’s some piece of meat, doesn’t think anyone could ever enjoy that, but the attention, depending on who’s giving it, can be kind of nice. And really, she doesn’t care about Crouch. Can barely stand him on a good day, and she’s fantasised about breaking his nose more times than she can count.
But he’s funny. He’s wicked smart. He’s witty, and sarcastic, and a bit of a pervert, that’s true, and what’s happening right now only proves it, but he’s never made Lily feel uncomfortable, like Tyler, and many guys before him, have.
There’s something about him. Lily isn’t sure she would’ve called him handsome a couple of months ago, but now, looking at his messy brown hair, his dark eyes, his long nose and the ring adorning his lower lip, she can’t deny that he’s attractive. Maybe not in the conventional way. Maybe not like James is, with his boy-ish charm and his athlete body, but attractive nonetheless. Lily doesn’t understand how she never noticed.
Maybe that’s why, when Crouch’s eyes become hungry as they linger on her chest, and his tongue comes out to lick at the corner of his mouth, she can’t do anything else but look away, face a bright red and heart trying to tumble out of her chest.
It’s been a while since she’s felt wanted like this. Raw and desperate. Not like she’s some prize to be earned, a reward to brag about once you have it and then discard without a second thought. But like she’s just a woman. Pretty, and desirable, and wanted. Real and human.
Lily comes to the conclusion that she quite likes it. And she isn’t sure of how she feels about that.
She fears it might not be good for her. Not in the long term. Petunia definitely wouldn’t approve, and Crouch’s presence always seems to be related to her failing, or breaking down, or making a mess of things.
Lily shouldn’t allow this thing—whatever it is—to go on. But the problem is, she has no idea of how to stop it.
“Okay, that’s enough,” she exclaims, whipping her head around until she’s facing Crouch once again. Lily grabs him by the chin, forcibly pushing his head up. “My eyes are up here.”
He laughs, hoarsely and bit strained, his pupils still eating up at his iris. His hand clenches against Lily’s back, and it almost makes her gasp. “Believe me, princess, I know. And don’t worry, they’re very pretty too.”
She rolls her eyes with a huff, but the way her lips curl into a smile gives her away. Lily uses her hands, which are still resting on Crouch’s chest, to push him away playfully, finally putting some needed distance between them.
He lets her go easily, and even though Lily feels like she can breathe a bit better now, she immediately misses Crouch’s touch. She frowns and turns away from him, beginning to make her way home.
“You’re just gonna leave like that?” Crouch says after her, tone teasing.
“Our deal is done and I have my cigs,” she replies, without even bothering to look back.
“Fuck, Evans, you’re such a bloody tease!”
She tips her head back and laughs, getting a peek of Crouch’s grin before she rounds the street.
“You love it!”
***
Lily doesn’t have any trouble admitting it: she’s been avoiding Crouch since what happened at the corner shop two weeks ago.
It’s not even like they see each other that often, anyway, and they definitely don’t seek the other out. Why would they? They’re rivals. Lily might’ve never said it out loud, or confessed it to any of her friends, because she isn’t supposed to get involved in such petty arrangements. But she knows. Nothing gets her as competitive as doing assignments for the few modules she shares with Crouch. And regardless of how annoying she finds him, or how his mere presence is enough to ruin her day, Lily finds some… entertainment in their little game.
Not like she’d ever say so, least of all to him.
Still, and despite the fact that she’s never enjoyed his company, Lily has always looked forward to their classes. To their competition. To seeing that bitter smile of his whenever she manages to do better than him on an exam.
Now, though? Lily is taking advantage of the fact that there’s still some time until finals to not even acknowledge Crouch’s presence, even though he keeps finding excuses to glance over his shoulder to search for her gaze. It’s been tiring, keeping her head down and pretending she isn’t hyper-aware of those brown eyes fixed on her a few rows down. They only interact when there are grades involved, and with the exams around the corner, most professors are doing their best to lower the workload, make sure they all have more than enough time to study.
Lily can’t help but feel a bit guilty. She doubts that Crouch cares, or that he’s even noticed, but considering they had begun to sort of get along, she thinks she’s been acting like a bit of a prick. But what else is she supposed to do? She wants to take back some of that lost control, take the reins back before her sister, or any of her friends, can realise how much a mess she’s been lately.
There’s no perfect boyfriend anymore, and it threw Lily off a bit at the beginning, especially because of how sudden it was, but it’s fine. It’s more than fine, even. She was doing okay before James came along, and she will continue to do so now that he’s gone. Lily isn’t even sure if she actually misses him, or if she misses the stability he brought with him. The safety and the security. The relief on her parents’ faces, knowing she had found such a good boy to—hopefully—settle with. The scorn in Petunia’s, that slowly but surely, turned into tolerance. She was never James’ biggest fan, but she couldn’t deny that he was handsome, and had a certain charm.
It’s the closest to a victory Lily has ever felt in regards to her.
Her parents will be sad about the breakup, probably worry about her and how she’s feeling, but they’ll get over it as soon as they realise that Lily is doing great.
Petunia, however? She’ll take this as Lily’s personal failure. She’ll huff and scoff and scold her for not being able to do anything right. The fact that it was James who broke up with her and not the other way around would only make matters worse. She’ll remind her until she’s on her fucking deathbed, tell her she’s useless, and undesirable, and of course she can never be bloody normal.
Lily can feel the start of a headache just thinking about it.
But she can fix this. She will fix this. Lily only needs to focus on other things, like uni. Like her reputation. Like her friends, even though things have been a little strained lately, with Mary still refusing to drop her absurd vendetta against James and Remus refusing to take sides (but still deciding to spend an awful amount of time with James because, according to him, he needs him more than Lily ever could).
She doesn’t care. Really, she doesn’t. Remus has always been ridiculously fond of James, despite how wary of him he was at first, when Lily and him had started dating. And she hasn’t spoken to James since the breakup, so she has no idea of how he’s doing. Maybe Remus is concerned for a reason. Maybe James has been doing badly and he needs all that support and Lily has always been strong, anyway, and Remus knows that. He’s doing the right thing, she’s sure.
But then again, this all happened because of James. Because he didn’t feel it anymore, that spark, that love, so really, Lily doesn’t understand what he has to be upset about anyways, but what would she know, right? He broke up with her, and yet, he’s the victim. The one hurting, and the one who needs to be looked after.
Whatever. Lily is completely over it, and she has other, more important things to concern herself with.
Like doing her best so she’s top of her class, of every class, by the end of the semester. She needs to apply herself, harder than ever, and focus on what she can control. If she gets her marks even higher, if she gets them perfect, maybe it’ll soften the blow. Her parents will pay attention to her achievements, instead of her lack of a boyfriend, and Petunia won’t be able to give her that much shit like that. Their parents won’t let her.
And Crouch… Crouch poses a threat to all that. Not only because of the rivalry and how irritatingly intelligent he is, but also because he’s been distracting her. Lily keeps slipping when they’re together, lowering her guard and acting in ways she’s not meant to. She’s had fun, sure, but that’s temporary, and definitely not worth it.
Lily can’t lose sight of what truly matters.
Besides, avoiding him hasn’t been all that hard outside their shared modules. They have different schedules and Lily basically lives at the library. He hasn’t been looking for her, obviously, which shouldn’t feel as disappointing as it does, but, well, Lily has also been trying not to dwell on that.
She doesn’t understand why she’s been thinking about him so much. She wants to stop. She needs to stop. But her brain doesn’t seem to be getting the memo.
Although, maybe, it’s sort of her fault. Her fault and that damn jacket’s. Lily is aware that she should give it back and be done with it, but she can’t bring herself to. It’d ruin her plan of staying as far away from Crouch as possible, anyway, so technically, she’s following her own rules.
That’s what she’s forcing herself to believe, at least.
She shakes her head a little, doing her best to put a stop to all the overthinking. She mumbles a ‘goodbye’ to her manager, who tells her to get home safe in response, and then pushes the backdoor of the pub and steps outside.
It’s fucking freezing. Not like she expected otherwise, but it still hits her hard, a strong gust of wind hitting her in the face as soon as the door closes right behind her. Lily tightens her jacket and starts making her way to her flat. It’s not that far, despite being outside campus, but between the cold and how much her feet are hurting, Lily can already tell it’s going to be a long walk.
It’s a Friday, so there’s more people out and about, which is a bit of a relief. Lily has been working the night shift in The Leaky Cauldron for almost a year now, but it never stops being unnerving, having to go back home alone so late. Remus walks with her whenever his own shift finishes late, or when he’s still studying at the library, but his pain tends to get worse at night, so Lily doesn’t make a habit of asking him.
Mary and Marlene also pick her up whenever they can, when they come for drinks and to keep her company, but during the week, when the three of them have class in the morning and with finals so near, Lily doesn’t dare text them. She won’t say no if they offer, but Mary almost always calls her when she can’t come, and having her talking her ear off on Lily’s way home is more than enough.
It fills her warmth. She has such kind, loving friends. That’s why she has to work so hard, to be the best she can be. Lily owes it to them. She wants to give back, because she keeps taking too much.
She takes her phone out, briefly checking the last few texts Mary and Marlene sent to their group chat. Apparently, they’re going to a house party tonight, one of Mary’s classmates is throwing it and Lily thinks the name sounds familiar, but she doesn’t have it in herself to try and remember. It’s not like she cares, anyway. She’s never been that fond of parties, not like James is.
That’s definitely one of the perks of them not being together anymore. James liked to drag her to every single party he got invited to, and he got invited to all of them. Lily doesn’t mind going out sometimes, even if she prefers to go to a nice pub to get some drinks and chat for a few hours. But James has always been insistent, and she had a hard time denying him, especially when he looked so excited.
At least that’s over now.
She tells her friends to have fun but be careful, and reminds them to call if they need anything at all. There’s no immediate answer, and Lily isn’t surprised. With a tiny sigh, she pockets her phone inside the jacket and quickens her pace.
Lily can cut through campus and head to the nearest street, because that’s the quickest way to get home. But it’s a surprisingly quiet night, and her shift hasn’t been great, so she’d rather take a bit longer and walk through the entirety of campus.
Her hand slips into her jeans’ pocket, used to grabbing her headphones whenever she goes out on her own. But Lily knows it’s not the best idea, so she bites the inside of her cheek and represses the urge, fingers slipping out completely empty.
It’s mostly quiet, apart from some people lingering outside the Economics library and others presumably on their way to a party. Lily can only assume it’s the one Mary and Marlene also went to.
There is, in fact, quite a lot of noise near the accommodation buildings when Lily walks in front of them. She can see colourful lights and faint music coming out from a few rooms, and she slows down a little, trying to discern if her friends are outside, chatting to any of the smokers or just getting some fresh air.
But it’s dark, and Lily is in a bit of a rush, so after a couple of seconds, she shakes her head and she resumes her pace.
She’s almost past the accommodations, when something catches her attention and makes her stop in her tracks. Or rather, someone.
Crouch is stumbling down the same path Lily is walking through, but he’s going in the opposite direction, just a few metres away from reaching where Lily is currently standing. He isn’t alone, however; he has his arm wrapped around a blonde girl’s waist, letting her support all her weight on him and making sure she doesn’t trip. She’s clearly drunk, considering she keeps laughing and murmuring things way too close to Crouch’s ear.
The sight makes bile climb up her throat, and her stomach clenches painfully. She lowers her head, gaze fixed on the pavement under her dirty trainers, and presses her lips into a tight line. She resumes her walking, keeping to the right side of the path, nearly stepping over the grass, in an attempt to make herself as invisible as possible.
Lily refuses to analyse her reaction, or the possible reason behind it. She isn’t in the mood, and besides, it’d be counterproductive, considering how hard she’s been trying to keep Crouch both out of sight and out of mind.
She couldn’t care less, anyway, about what he gets up to in his free time. Or the fact that he doesn’t seem too bothered about how distant Lily’s been. Or how ridiculously pretty the girl leaning into his side seemed to be, even front afar. All brown skin and platinum hair and glittery makeup and a long flowy skirt.
Lily has never seen Crouch hang around girls, that’s all. She’s surprised, and more than a little confused. Most of the time, he’s always with that black-haired boy, the one with the sad eyes and the seemingly-permanent scowl. And that one blond guy, with the dead stare, and who is so very unnerving, for reasons Lily can’t even explain.
This girl is new. Or at least Lily has never seen her before. Not around campus, and definitely not around Crouch. But what does she know, really? Because she doesn’t know a lot about Crouch, and maybe he’s the kind of guy to sleep around. He’s definitely a flirt, and a bit of a pervert, so she supposes it’d make sense. It’s just—the thought has never crossed her mind. Maybe it’s because Lily has never seen him in that light, she meant it when she said she wasn’t interested but now… She doesn’t even know. Lily is just frustrated, because it’s late, and she’s tired and aching all over, and his plan of avoidance is ruined, and—
“Evans?” Crouch murmurs, and Lily winces, but she still doesn’t raise her head. She catches sight of Crouch’s dirty combat boots, and the girl’s Mary Janes, and she walks even faster. “Evans!”
She stops even before Crouch grabs her by the wrist, always so gentle and yet so firm, and Lily shuts her eyes tight for a moment. She takes a deep, trembling breath and then finally lifts her head, schooling her expression into something bland as she turns around.
The girl is even prettier from up close. Her platinum girl is wavy and comes down to her waist, and it seems to glow under the streetlights. She has some freckles adorning her nose, and there’s glitter on her eyelids and her cheeks. Her full lips are painted a deep purple, and her brown skin seems so very soft. It’s a shade or two darker than James’, and Lily definitely understands what Crouch sees in her.
There’s something odd about her, though. Lily can’t put her finger on it, and she thinks it might be because she’s staring at her with the curiosity of an animal watching its prey. Or because she barely blinks. Or the lack of emotion in her gaze.
Lily forces herself to tear her eyes away from where she’s cuddled into Crouch’s side, and focuses on him instead. He’s grinning at her, like he’s pleased to see her, and Lily feels half-tempted to return the gesture.
“Why are you in such a rush?” he asks, arching a teasing eyebrow. “Seems a bit late for a walk. Unless you’re going to the party?”
Crouch is still holding onto her, contact burning into Lily’s skin, and she pulls her arm away, pretending she doesn’t notice the way Crouch’s smile falls a little, a furrow settling in his brow.
She shakes her head. “Not really. I just finished my shift. I’m on my way home.”
“Alone? At this hour?”
“You already know I work the night shift, Crouch. It’s routine at this point.”
“Still. It doesn’t seem very safe.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Lily responds with a bitter snort. “I can handle myself.”
“Yeah, no doubt about that, princess.” She isn’t sure of what makes her more sick, the fondness in Crouch’s tone or the nickname. “But I wouldn’t mind giving you a ride, you know? If that’s what you—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Lily cuts him off, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. “You’re clearly busy, and I don’t want to ruin your fun.”
“You wouldn’t be,” Crouch retorts with a little shrug. “The party got boring pretty quick, and we were also on our way home.”
“Then you should go back to that.” Lily hugs herself slightly, shuddering at a sudden gust of wind. “It’s not like we live near, anyway—”
“And?” Barty says in a huff. “I’m not in a rush. Just let me drop Pandora off first and then—”
“Come on, Crouch, that’s a shitty move, even for you. You were clearly going home together—”
“Well, yeah, because I live in an accom, less than five minutes away from here, and she doesn’t.”
Lily’s jaw clenches. “How gentlemanly of you.”
“Why, thank you,” he retorts with that mischievous spark in his eyes. “It’s one of my many qualities.”
“Sure,” Lily laughs curtly, no amusement in the sound. “Qualities.”
Crouch tilts his head slightly to the side, adjusting Pandora a little when she begins to slip down. “I’m sensing a concerning amount of hostility coming from you in waves.”
“Does that surprise you?” Lily inquires, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Kinda. You’re never this much of a bitch if you don’t have a reason. And I’m pretty sure I haven’t given you any. Mostly, because we’ve been talking for less than two minutes.”
“Your existence is more than enough reason, I think.”
Crouch snaps his fingers, a bark of laughter accompanying the sound. “That’s what I’m talking about! What’s got your knickers in a twist, Evans?”
“Maybe the prick that keeps distracting me from going home?” She grumbles, fingers twitching against her arms. “I’ve just done eight hours with no break, Crouch, so I just wanna be on my way.”
Some of the mirth vanishes from his expression, and he pauses to look at her. Look at her properly. His eyes slide down her body slowly, not unlike how he did the last time they saw each other. Lily thinks it’d would’ve made her go a bit pink, if the circumstances were different. If Pandora weren’t there, and she wasn’t in such a foul mood.
“Dora,” he murmurs to the blonde, despite never looking away from Lily. “Are you okay with going with Reg? He told me he was getting picked up, so I’m guessing he’s waiting for his brother outside the main entrance.”
“Of course,” Pandora hums softly, and her voice is smooth, velvety soft. Because of course even the way she talks is attractive. “But I thought it was his boyfriend picking him up this time?”
Crouch seems to make a double take, mouth opening and closing a couple of times with no sound escaping it. His eyes look like they’re about to pop out of their sockets, and for a moment, Lily fears both him and Pandora will end up tumbling to the ground.
“What the fuck?” he exclaims, so loud both Pandora and Lily flinch. “What boyfriend? Since when does he have a boyfriend?”
“I’m not sure,” Pandora responds quietly, raising her hand so she can try and make Crouch’s frown disappear by rubbing her fingers in between his eyes. Lily grits her teeth and looks away. “I don’t think I was supposed to say anything, but I forgot you didn’t know.”
“Yeah, why the hell didn’t I know?” Crouch wonders in a hiss. “I’m his best friend. He tells me everything. Not to mention, I think I’d know if that fucking weirdo was getting any—”
“It’s a new development. Reg hasn’t given me any details, probably because he knew I was gonna tell Ev, and he was bound to tell you—”
“Well, he fucking didn’t.”
“He probably forgot too. You know he’s not the nosy type, especially when it concerns our love lives.”
Crouch lets out a loud scoff, and Lily takes a peek, just to find him pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand.
“I can’t believe I’m the last one hearing about this. And I can’t believe that little shit was purposefully keeping it from me—”
“Reg’s always been a bit of a coward, especially when it comes to big changes.” Pandora pats him gently on the top of his head, and Lily is a little taken aback at the action. “He was probably just scared of your reaction.”
“I don’t see why,” Crouch huffs, leaning into the contact briefly before tilting his head away from it. “I’m always telling him that a nice fuck would definitely fix that insufferable attitude of his—”
Crouch snaps his mouth shut with a clack, gaze lost somewhere behind Lily. Pandora blinks at him, before turning to blink at Lily, who can only shrug helplessly in response.
“Oh, that fucking conniving asshole!” He snarls all of a sudden, and Pandora’s eyes widen slightly as she stares up at him. “He must be fucking someone I hate! He’s just protecting his little boy toy’s ass. I swear to god, if it’s one of those idiots from the rugby team I’ll—”
He makes another pause, and it’s safe to say Lily is more than a bit lost. He can sort of assume who Regulus is, because Crouch isn’t close to many people. But she doesn’t understand why he is so pissed off about this whole thing, and as someone who was dating the captain of the rugby team not that long ago, she takes some offence in Crouch’s disproportionate disdain.
“No way,” he whispers, a disbelieving laugh slipping past his lips. “There’s no fucking way. Regulus wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t—”
“Barty,” Pandora calls him firmly, hand taking ahold of his jaw and forcing him to meet her gaze. For someone who’s definitely drunk, and maybe even high, she seems to have complete control. If you ignore how sluggish her movements look. “There’s no point in working yourself up over something you’re not even sure about. You need to talk to Regulus. And then you can lose your mind if that’s what you want.”
“Oh, I’ll be losing my mind alright,” he mumbles with narrowed eyes.
“That’s okay. Just make sure to let me know before it happens. I’d like to watch.”
And just with that, Crouch visibly relaxes, his expression softening as he rolls his eyes at Pandora all fondly. Lily hates to admit it, but they make a good couple. They don’t exactly match on the outside, despite not looking as ridiculous as Lily and Crouch must look whenever they’re together, but they definitely fit. He feels comfortable around her, and Pandora seems to be able to calm him down, to get him to listen, with just a few words.
Lily doesn’t think she’s ever seen Crouch so tame. And she’s surprised to realise she doesn’t really like it.
“Sure, Dora. Whatever you want,” he agrees with ease, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.
“Perfect.” She nods to herself, before pushing Crouch away gently. Pandora manages to stand on her own, but the steps she takes are unstable. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to the entrance before Reg’s boyfriend gets here.”
“I’ll text him to let him know you’re coming,” Crouch sighs, albeit reluctantly. “And I hope you know I’m gonna be interrogating you about this dude tomorrow.”
“Sorry, Barty, but I think Regulus is gonna make me swear not to tell,” she answers with a long-suffering sigh. The apology sounds surprisingly sincere.
Barty clicks his tongue as he takes his phone out, tapping quickly on the screen. “I’ll get it out of you,” he says half-heartedly.
“You can certainly try!” Pandora exclaims, tripping over nothing but managing to regain her balance before it’s too late. She turns around, begins walking backwards, and somehow, it helps with her stability. “I’ve been told I respond great to physical torture!”
Lily makes a face, because she’s pretty sure Pandora isn’t joking, not even when Barty cackles in response and she joins him a few seconds later, giggling a bit hysterically.
“Crazy bitch,” Barty murmurs with an amused shake of his head. His voice is filled with affection, and Lily can’t take it anymore.
“You really are gonna let her leave on her own? While she’s drunk?” she asks, appalled and annoyed and still fucking freezing.
Pandora slows down her pace, blinking furiously at her at the same time that Crouch arches both eyebrows.
“She isn’t drunk,” Barty says after a beat. He glances at Pandora. “You aren’t drunk, right?”
“Nope. Only took some sips from Reg’s drink.” She shrugs, spreading her arms wide while she continues walking backwards. “I am very high, though.”
“Oh, yeah,” Barty chuckles. “I think all of us can tell, love.”
Something angry, and ugly, and a bit feral claws at Lily’s ribcage, and she presses the heel of her hand harshly into her chest. “Still,” she presses, practically spitting out the word. “It’s late, and it isn’t safe—”
“The main entrance is less than five minutes away from here,” Pandora tells her slowly, and it’d be offensive if she weren’t so clearly out of it.
“And I can assure you, Evans, the last thing she needs is my protection,” Crouch adds, hands slipping into his pockets. “Anyone with the slightest bit of common sense knows better than to cross her.”
Pandora laughs, clearly pleased. “Damn right!”
Lily huffs. They truly belong together, huh?
“I just—I don’t think it’s right. She’s your girlfriend, Crouch, and you shouldn’t—”
Crouch wheezes, eyes unnaturally wide while he stares at Lily. “She’s my what now?”
Lily frowns at him, squirming in her place and suddenly unsure about her assumptions. About letting her anger blind her. Maybe they’re not dating, maybe they’re simply hooking up, and now Lily has made it weird, because she can’t leave well enough alone, and apparently, she doesn’t know how to shut her mouth when Crouch is around.
“Listen, princess, we’re not—” he begins, running a hand through his hair, an airy laugh escaping his mouth.
“And what about it?” Pandora pipes in, stopping completely and staring straight at Lily, unblinking. She’s a bit far by now, so she’s nearly yelling, to make sure she’s heard. “What if me and Barty are together?”
Lily splutters, colour rushing to her cheeks at an alarming pace.
“Nothing!” she exclaims, defensive and ashamed. “Nothing. It’s not—”
“Does it bother you?” Pandora presses, cocking her head to the side, wind making her hair go wild until it nearly resembles a halo.
“No!” Lily insists, lying through her teeth, the heat in her face turning unbearable. “Of course not! Why would it?”
“Yeah,” Pandora agrees softly. Lily feels like she’s being made fun of. “Why would it.”
With a last glance at Lily, and another one at Crouch, Pandora turns around, and starts walking away. She doesn’t sway anymore, and she looks surprisingly steady.
“I’m not her girlfriend,” Pandora screams without looking back. “We did hook up a few times, but it was ages ago, so you have nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not—!” Lily denies in a yell, voice breaking at the end. “I’m not worried! At all! I couldn’t care less! I don’t mind if you’re dating, or just fucking, or—or nothing at all—!”
“Evans,” Crouch calls her gently, and it shocks her a little, not hearing any mockery in his tone.
She refuses to look at him.
“You’re both free to do whatever the hell you want, and I don’t—it’s none of my business anyway!”
“Evans,” Crouch tries again, sounding considerably closer. Lily doesn’t even acknowledge him.
“I didn’t even know who you were until now!” she continues shouting at Pandora’s receding back, desperation in every word. “And Crouch isn’t—he and I are barely acquaintances! We don’t give a fuck about each other, okay!? We don’t even like—!”
“Lily,” Crouch murmurs close to her ear as his hand comes up to rest against her back.
That finally manages to shut her up, although she isn’t sure if it was the touch, or the sound of her first name coming out of Crouch’s mouth.
She turns enough to be able to look Crouch in the eye, and she has no idea of what her face must be doing right now, but it must be bad, or terribly pathetic, because he sighs softly and presses more forcefully into the low of her back. Lily stumbles into his chest, hands coming up to rest there.
When her gaze meets Crouch’s, she can’t find a word to describe the emotion shining in it, but it warms Lily to her core.
“Let me take you home,” Crouch murmurs quietly, gently. “Please,” he adds after a couple of seconds, like an afterthought.
Lily doesn’t even consider arguing anymore. She nods, fingers twitching against the fabric of Crouch’s shirt. “Okay,” she whispers.
The walk to Crouch’s vehicle is silent. Neither of them dare break it, despite the tension surrounding them, resting on their shoulders and making it a lot harder to breathe. There’s no more touching, even though Lily catches Crouch reaching out to her a couple of times—whenever the wind makes her shiver—but retreating before he makes contact.
It drags a little smile out of her, and if she weren’t worried about breaking this sudden peace, Lily is certain she would’ve made fun of him for it.
She’s so tired, so drained, that Lily doesn’t even make a comment about Crouch’s motorbike, regardless of how unsafe it looks. She just grabs the helmet he offers and climbs up right behind him, arms immediately wrapping around his middle. Crouch’s stomach seems to clench momentarily, but then he’s starting the bike and they’re off, and Lily can only think about swallowing down a laugh, because riding a motorbike is a lot more fun than she had thought.
It’s a disappointingly short journey. The roads are mostly deserted, probably because it’s late. Crouch drives fast, but he isn’t reckless, and Lily can’t be sure if it’s because she’s riding with him, or if this is just another thing that she got wrong about him.
He takes them to his friend’s neighbourhood, because after the corner shop incident, it’s clear that she and Regulus live fairly nearby. Once they’re there, though, Crouch asks for directions, and Lily provides them with as much precision as she can.
Before she realises, they’re parking right in front of the entrance of her little building. Crouch gets off with the ease of someone who does it on the daily, and then he helps Lily down. Not like she needs it, because she isn’t that clumsy, or that short, but she doesn’t say anything about it, allowing him to grab her by the hips while she holds onto his shoulders.
Lily thinks it’s nice, how his hands feel on her body. It shouldn’t, because they’re not friends, or actually close, and these casual touches were unthinkable between them a few months ago. But somehow it just makes sense. It feels right.
She’s trying not to think too hard on what that could mean for her. For them. Not like there’s a them in the first place.
Lily takes the helmet off, uncaring of her ponytail being half undone, and returns it to Crouch, who grabs it with a grateful nod of his head and stores it under the seat of the bike. After that, they both begin to make their way towards the entrance, side by side, shoulders grazing each other’s in between steps.
She sort of assumed that Crouch was gonna leave the moment her feet were back on the ground, but Lily is pleasantly surprised by how set he seems on walking her to the door.
It’s relieving, realising that she isn’t the only one who apparently feels reluctant to say goodbye.
Once they reach it, Lily climbs up the couple of steps and turns around, unsure of what to say to him. If Crouch has the same issue, he doesn’t show it, standing right there with both hands tucked inside his pockets as he watches Lily calmly.
“Well,” Lily croaks, clearing her throat right after. “This is me.”
Crouch grins, visibly amused, but he manages to hold back his laughter, which Lily appreciates.
“This is you,” he agrees softly. “You think you can make it to your flat in one piece or do you need me to walk you there too?”
Lily arches an eyebrow at him. “Are you asking to come upstairs?”
“Depends. Are you inviting me up?”
Lily blinks at him once, before she begins chuckling softly as she shakes her head. Trust Crouch to always manage to lighten the mood. It’s insane how comfortable he can make her, even if it’s through inappropriate comments or ridiculous jokes.
“I already told you,” she retorts with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not interested.”
The smile stays on his face, but it seems to fade a little. He looks away. “Yeah,” he responds quietly. “Yeah, me neither.”
A furrow sets between Lily’s eyebrows, and she’s still considering if she should ask about it, when Crouch mumbles a ‘goodbye’ and turns away, already beginning to make his way back to the motorbike.
She says it back, even though she doubts Crouch has heard it, and then she takes her keys out of her purse and opens the door.
For some reason, the whole interaction has left Lily with a bittersweet aftertaste in her mouth. It lingers in her tongue even after she’s brushed her teeth, after she’s washed her face and put on her pyjamas.
It keeps her awake all night.
***
When Lily finally explodes, it’s a Thursday morning, and there’s only a week left until finals start.
Everything is a mess from the moment she opens her eyes, with Marlene pounding at her door and screaming about why she isn’t ready yet.
Her alarm decided to not go off for some ridiculous reason, even though it’s clearly set when Lily grabs her phone to check. But since there’s nothing she can do about it, she simply dresses up in a rush and skips breakfast, almost running the whole way to campus and hoping her professor won’t shut the door on her face.
Despite her efforts, she ends up being late, but not late enough she isn’t allowed inside, so Lily supposes she’ll take what she can get. Unfortunately, sitting through two hours of uninterrupted theory on an empty stomach, and dizzy from the race isn’t the nicest experience. She considers asking to be excused at least three times, fearing she might end up throwing up all over her notes, even though it’d probably only be bile.
But she swallows down all the nausea and pushes through, paying as much attention as she can and writing everything she deems useful for the final exam. Lily barely participates, though, and she has a feeling her professor is slightly disappointed in her. Being late definitely doesn’t help, either.
It stings a little, because it wasn’t on purpose, and she doesn’t have an immediate way to fix it. Lily can’t stand failing, can’t stand not meeting everyone’s expectations, even if it’s just a one time thing. Lately, it seems like the universe is mocking her, set on showing her how her whole life is built on a lie, and how easily said lie can be destroyed right in front of her eyes.
But Lily is nothing if not a fighter, so she isn’t gonna let one bad day bring her down. She’s had many of them in just the past month.
She can take it.
As soon as the lecture’s done, she rushes to the closest vending machine and buys a bag of crisps and a chocolate bar. She does her best to avoid snacks, but she’s starving, and she’s convinced she’s gonna pass out in the next five minutes if she doesn’t eat something.
Lily has almost three hours until her next class of the day, so she opens the bag of crisps on her way to the library. She could go home, but she focuses better when there’s no distractions around her, and with everything that’s been going on, she’s severely behind.
Once she gets there, she isn’t surprised to find it packed. She is, however, mildly irritated by it. It was to be expected, considering how close the semester is to ending, but Lily doesn’t like it. Half of these people haven’t even been coming to class; do they really think some studying during the last week is gonna save them?
With a shake of her head, she goes straight to her table, just to discover it already occupied. Because of course it fucking is.
Whatever. It’s fine. It’ll only be for a couple of hours, until she has to head to her seminar. She’ll find another table, and as long as she can sit down in silence and do some revising, then it’ll be okay. Lily just needs some peace and quiet, getting a bit of studying done. That’ll fix that terrible start of her day.
Except it’s not that simple. Because when is it ever, really?
Turns out, there’s not a single available table in the entirety of the Engineering library. Which, sure, it isn’t the end of the world, there’s at least another four libraries on this side of campus, not to mention the Learning Commons, but this is her space. Lily’s favourite library in the whole university, and where she’s always gone to prepare for finals. It might seem a bit superstitious, and she isn’t, because it’s absurd, and she isn’t the type to believe in that stuff.
But it’s still really bloody annoying. Lily’s been at Hogwarts for over two years, and this has never happened to her. Then again, she tends to come very early in the mornings to avoid this exact thing, but even when she visits unexpectedly between classes it’s never been this busy.
Well. There’s no point in complaining, Lily supposes. She’ll have to try the next one and hope for the best. She’s already wasting enough time as it is.
She goes through the back door, searching for her cigs on her way out because she’s gonna end up biting someone if she doesn’t have a smoke soon.
Lily’s hand has just curled around her pack, when her phone starts ringing. She groans, tilting her head back, and decides to ignore it, because whoever it is, they can’t be more important than her cigarettes. Especially when she’s feeling so homicidal.
She lets it ring, but as soon as it stops, it begins once more, less than three seconds later. And Lily lets it ring again, while she puts a cig between her lips and takes her lighter out, but then it starts going off again, not giving her a moment of peace.
Closing her eyes hard momentarily, Lily grumbles a curse through gritted teeth and fishes her phone out of her pocket. She doesn’t even check who’s calling, pressing the damn button and putting the stupid thing on her ear, using her shoulder to keep it there while she returns to trying to light her cigarette.
“What,” she snaps, frown twisting her features and struggling to get the lighter to work.
There’s a beat of complete silence, in which Lily wonders if maybe someone is playing a prank on her, or if whoever’s on the other side of the line just hung up. And then,
“Lily?”
She straightens up, lips parting and unlit cigarette falling to the floor. Lily thinks it would’ve pissed her off, if she weren’t so busy trying to breathe, trying to swallow down the knot suddenly stuck in her throat.
“Hi, Tuney,” she replies weakly, her voice breaking around her sister’s name.
Lily has been doing so well. She’s been so careful. It’s not that she likes to avoid her sister, but she just. She needed some more time to get her life back on track, to take all her control back, before she could face Petunia. Lily isn’t ready yet. She doesn’t know what to tell her, how to lie to her.
Because if someone can see right through her, then that’s her big sister.
ignoring Petunia’s calls hasn’t been that difficult, because she doesn’t call that often, and considering how obsessed with her studies Lily is, a couple of messages explaining she’s too busy with assignments are usually enough to appease her sister. Or maybe not exactly appease her, but it does stop her from being so insistent.
It has been a while since Petunia has tried to call, or even text her, to the point she had been relegated to the back of her mind.
Lily oughted to have seen it coming.
“Took you long enough,” Petunia huffs on the other side, some shuffling following her words. Lily hugs herself, forgetting all about smoking as she starts making her way towards the next library. “Finally found some time in your tight agenda to talk to your sister?”
Lily winces. “I’m sorry, Tuney, you know I’ve been very busy lately, and finals are right around the corner—”
“Yes, yes, I’ve heard this excuse before,” her sister cuts her off, and Lily can picture her waving her hand around, nose turned up.
Under different circumstances, it might’ve made her crack a smile.
“It’s not an excuse,” Lily sighs, lowering her tone slightly when she catches sight of some people she recognises. She schools her expression into something she hopes looks neutral, and quickens her pace. “But this semester has been hard, harder than usual—”
“I don’t see how that’s enough reason to not call me in nearly two months. Is your degree more important than me?”
“What? Of course not! But you know how I get. All my focus is on uni right now, and I forget about everything else. It’s not like I’ve been calling mum and dad, either—”
“But you pick up their calls,” Petunia points out a bit sharply. “Mum told me she spoke to you last week, so I guess it’s just me you don’t wanna talk to.”
Lily bites the inside of her cheek. “It’s not like that, Petunia.”
“Isn’t it?” Her sister scoffs, and Lily has to make an active effort to repress the urge to just hang up on her. “Because it sure looks like it. You promised a while ago that you were gonna visit and have lunch with me and Vernon—”
“I haven’t had the time,” Lily insists, her lip curling at the mention of her sister’s fiancé. “And this is also on you, you know? If you want to see me so badly, then why didn’t you come last Sunday? I went home for lunch with mum and dad—”
“Don’t interrupt me,” Petunia snaps.
“Why not? You do it to me all the time!”
“I’m older, I’m allowed to!”
“That’s not how it works!”
“Yes it is!”
Lily groans, massaging her temple with her free hand, stopping right in front of the Humanities library.
“Listen, if you just called me to fight, then I—” she begins, quieter, doing her best to regain her composure.
“I never want to fight,” Petunia lies, because yes, she does. She always wants to fucking fight. “But I don’t know what you expect when you keep giving me this attitude, Lily. I’m trying here, okay? I just—”
“No, you’re not,” she whispers bitterly with a shake of her head. A laugh slips past her lips, ugly and wrong. “You never try. I’m not giving you any attitude, I’m just being honest because you don’t understand—”
“Of course I don’t understand! Your priorities are all out of order!” her sister snarls, making Lily flinch. “I get that you wanna do well in uni, you want that stupid degree and I can respect that. But your family has to come first! Do you know how bad this looks, Lily? When my own sister can’t even make time for me—”
“And why can’t you make time for me? I’m always the one who has to make the effort, who keeps putting in the work—”
“Well, Lily, I actually have a life, you know? It’s not as simple for me, and yet I still call you and keep inviting you over—”
“Oh, yeah? And said life is… what? Being Vernon’s little housewife? Even though you could’ve gotten a degree, too, even though—”
“Not all of us want a career!” Petunia nearly yells, before letting out a tiny huff and lowering her voice. “I want a nice, comfortable life. To get married to a good man and start a family. And I thought you wanted the same—”
“I do!” Lily says, and it tastes sour in her mouth. “You know I do. I wanna—I want to be normal, like you, and—and happy—”
“Lily, breathe,” Petunia sighs, deep and long-suffering, like this is a mere inconvenience in her impeccably planned day. “Don’t start freaking out now, yeah? We’re talking. Just talking. I don’t get why you have to be so sensitive all the time.”
She tries to listen. Really, she does. She takes a deep breath, but she never manages to finish it, something stuttering in her chest and cutting it short. Her eyes have begun to sting, and Lily isn’t sure if it’s due to her shortage of air, or Petunia’s grating voice in her ear, or what she’s saying, but she refuses to cry. She refuses to cry in the middle of campus, when there’s so many people around, when her sister can still hear her on the phone, when she’s supposed to be cool and collected and not let childish things affect her.
Childish things like Petunia very clearly not liking her.
Lily should be over it by now, honestly. It’s not like it’s news to her. She thinks she’s always known, ever since both of them hit puberty and Petunia started to distance herself. To be rude, to be mean. To call her a freak.
She just wants to be enough for her. Their parents don’t even care that much, and no one’s opinion will ever be as important to her as her sister’s. She’ll throw it all away, change everything, if it means having Petunia back.
“And honestly,” Petunia goes on, an irritated edge in her tone, “I’m just trying to help you. That’s all I’ve been doing, because god knows you need it.”
“Yeah,” Lily murmurs, blinking back tears, her voice sounding muffled to her own ears. “I really do.”
This time, when Petunia sighs again, it’s a lot softer. Filled with pity. Somehow, it only makes Lily feel even worse.
“I know. I know. That’s why I’m so hard on you. I just—I know this stuff doesn’t come easy to you, but I want the best for you, Lily. Always do. You’re my little sister.”
You’re my little sister.
She is. That’s the only thing Lily’s always wanted to be. The one thing about herself she isn’t embarrassed about, the one thing she’s never thought needed some work.
The one part about herself she genuinely likes.
And yet, every time Petunia mentions it, it hurts. It aches. Because it’s always during fights, it’s always during arguments. When she’s feeling weak, or low, or when she decides to push the slightest bit to get Petunia to back off. To get her to listen.
It manages to destroy all her barriers, all her shields. Because Petunia doesn’t say it because she means it—although Lily really hopes that, deep down, she does. She just uses it because it works. Uses something Lily cherishes and throws it back at her like an attack.
Maybe that’s why the whole thing is like acid in her tongue, now. It makes her nauseous. Makes her want to throw up her whole heart and force Petunia to watch. To see it, see her.
“Okay, why don’t we have dinner this weekend,” Petunia suggests after Lily takes a bit too long to reply. “How does that sound?”
“It sounds—” she mumbles, hoping her sister can’t hear the tears in her voice, can’t hear the strain in her tone. “Nice. Very nice.”
“Right?” Petunia says, and it almost sounds like she’s smiling. It makes something inside Lily break a little. “And I’d say it’s about time! We shouldn’t spend so long apart, Lily. We gotta stick together, don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course.” Lily rubs at her eyes, at her cheeks, begs her tears to stop coming out.
“Good. You can bring James, and I’ll speak to Vernon so he can make a reservation at this lovely place he took me to a few months ago—”
“Wait, wait,” Lily interrupts, blinking furiously. “You want James to be there too? And—and Vernon?”
Petunia laughs a little, and it’s maddening, how even that tiny sound can come off so condescending.
“Of course, silly! As in, a double date, you know?”
“But I thought it was gonna be just us.”
“Oh, Lily. We’re not kids anymore. We both have boyfriends, I’m even gonna get married next year. James and Vernon are a significant part of our lives, so they gotta be there. You don’t expect me to just ditch my fiancé, do you?”
Petunia laughs again, and Lily curls a bit into herself, lowering her head when she notices a couple of students staring.
God, she wants to disappear.
“No, I just—” she tries softly, her free hand doing its best to get rid of the wetness on her cheeks.
“And you’ve been with James basically forever,” Petunia continues, as if she hasn’t even heard her. “You started dating before you even finished secondary school, and you followed him all the way here. I’m assuming you’d like to settle down with him someday? Presumably soon? Since graduation isn’t that far—”
“Tuney, I don’t—”
“Yeah, I get it, you’re probably thinking it’s way too soon, but honestly, Lily, the sooner you start planning ahead, the better. You don’t want to be a housewife like me, that’s fine, it’s the reason why you’re wasting so much time in uni, but once you’re done, you can’t only focus on finding a job.”
“But I still have time, there’s no—” Lily raises her voice, a little desperate. Breathing is proving to be more complicated than it was a few minutes ago, and why the fuck can’t she stop crying?
“Do you, though? Do you really?” Petunia asks quite sharply, and she feels like she’s been slapped across the face. “You’re nearly done with uni, and you turned 20 this year, and I’m aware that most of your attention is on your career, but you can’t have a nice life with just that. Besides, you love James, right? You didn’t listen to me when I first told you I didn’t like him and didn’t stop until I gave my approval, so he really must be the one.”
Lily swallows thickly, her stomach giving a violent pull and almost dragging a gag out of her. She isn’t sure if it’s this whole conversation or the fact that she’s crying where everyone can see her that’s making her feel so sick.
“You know I’m okay with him now, you have nothing to worry about,” Petunia continues, and Lily takes the phone away from her ear, finger hovering over the red button before she presses it against the side of her face once again with a shaky sigh. “So let’s do dinner this weekend, yeah? They can talk about rugby, or Vernon’s new job, and I can update you on all the wedding stuff. It’s been so stressful, Lily, but so very exciting, too.”
“That’s lovely, Tuney, and I really wanna hear all about your wedding, but—it’s just—I’m not sure if James will be able to—” Lily tries, her voice thin and breathing slightly uneven. She’s searching desperately for a convincing enough excuse, but it’s like her head is underwater.
She can’t think.
“What? Is he busy this weekend?” Petunia inquires. “Unless it’s a match that he can’t miss, he should make some time for you. This is why I told you it’s never a good idea to date a jock who actually takes it seriously. He’s gotta prioritise you, always, just like you gotta prioritise him. If he also wants to settle down someday—”
“We’ve never really talked about that—” Lily mumbles, even though it isn’t true, even though there had been talk about marriage since last year.
“Then what are you waiting for? Lily, James isn’t gonna wait around forever, either. He’s not the best there is out there, but at least he’s wealthy, and he’s always been clear about wanting a family. If your plans look exactly the same, I don’t understand what’s taking you two so long—”
“Stop, stop, Petunia, please, I can’t—there isn’t—” Lily lets out a frustrated noise, fingers tangling in her hair and pulling viciously. “We broke up, okay? We broke up.”
There’s a sudden and almost eerie silence on the other side of the line. Lily doesn’t think Petunia is even breathing, and for a moment, she fears her sister might’ve just hung up on her.
When there’s a long sigh in her ear, however, Lily is surprised to realise there’s more dread than relief.
“Seriously, Lily,” Petunia scoffs. “Can’t you do anything right? That boy used to be so smitten with you. What did you do?”
She laughs wetly, because the truth is that she has no idea. She doesn’t even know she managed to fuck up that badly when she had been so careful. Her relationship with James could sometimes feel like a chore, but she had never slacked off. Not a single day in her life. Lily put so much work in keeping him happy, in turning what they had into something perfect, and comfortable, and stable.
Why hadn’t that been enough?
“I’m—I’m not sure, I tried my best, Tuney, I really did—”
“Well, you clearly didn’t. I mean, look at you. One of the few nice, normal things you had in your life, and you just went and ruined it.”
“I’m sorry,” Lily whispers.
“When did this happen?” Petunia asks, completely ruthless, every word feeling like a punch to the gut.
Lily gulps, barely repressing a sob. “Over a month ago—”
“And yet this is the first time I’m hearing about it?” Petunia clicks her tongue. “You’re unbelievable, Lily. I’m your sister. I should be the first one to hear about this. You’ve been lying for so long and you don’t even care.”
“I didn’t know how to bring it up—”
“Oh, I’m sure. You must be dying of embarrassment. Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m surprised, like, of course you weren’t able to keep your boyfriend. Of course you were too much of a coward to tell me about it.”
Lily curls her free hand into a fist and presses it against her mouth, eyes shutting tightly.
“Is this because of—because of a girl?” Petunia asks all of a sudden, and Lily recoils so violently she nearly trips. “Because I thought you were done with all that nonsense about being half gay—”
“Bisexual,” Lily blurts out, and she wishes she could sound as angry as she’s beginning to feel. “It’s called being bisexual, Petunia. And I was never done with that.”
“Lily, come on,” Petunia huffs out, mocking and cruel. “That’s not actually a thing. You were just experimenting. Everyone does that when they’re a teen and confused. And even if it were true, even if you liked girls, that’s hardly enough reason to throw your whole future away. God, I bet it was those friends of yours, those lesbians,” Petunia spits out the word as if it’s filthy, and Lily sees red, “that put those ideas in your head.”
“Keep them out of this,” she snarls, gripping the phone so harshly she worries about crushing it for a second.
“I don’t think I will,” her sister replies coldly. “I never liked them. They’re a terrible influence on you, and I don’t want you thinking that that sort of life is acceptable, or fulfilling. I swear, if you say that you destroyed your relationship with James because you were obsessing over a girl like when we were teens—”
“He broke up with me,” Lily explodes, unable to disguise her distress, the tears covering her tone. “He’s the one who left me. And the fact that it didn’t even cross your mind to ask how I’m feeling—” She pauses briefly, panting. “I’m okay, by the way. It was probably for the best. I don’t think either of us would’ve been happy if we’d stayed together.”
“And you think you’ll be happier like this? Completely alone? Never knowing if someone as decent as him will ever be interested in you again?”
“Jesus, Petunia, I don’t need a relationship to be happy. And besides, someone told me recently that I deserve better than James, and I’m inclined to believe they’re right. It’s not—it’s not the end of the world.”
“Isn’t it, though? The end of your world? If you can’t even maintain a normal relationship, then what hope there is for you? You told me that this is what you wanted. The suburban house with the good husband and a couple of kids—”
“Am I not allowed to change my mind?” Lily cries against the phone, chest heaving. “I’m only 20. I haven’t even finished my degree. I can still find someone else, I can have a family, I can—”
“No, you can’t. Not like this,” Petunia states firmly. “I’m not even sure you want it anymore. You keep saying you’re trying, and working hard, but then this happens and you’re just crying your eyes out like when we were kids. You need to grow up, Lily.”
“I have!” Lily yells, throat burning. “I have. Everything I do is to make you proud, to show you I can be the sister you’ve always wanted but it’s—it’s so hard, Tuney, and I’m so tired—”
“A normal person wouldn’t have to try so hard,” Petunia exhales loudly through her nose, irritated, like she’s dealing with a defiant child. “A normal person wouldn’t have to try at all. But you’ve always been such a freak—”
“Don’t,” Lily snaps shakily. “Don’t you dare. You know I hate that fucking word—”
“Watch it!” her sister snarks back, raising her voice. “It’s what you are, what you’ve always been and what you will always be. I don’t know why I ever thought you could change. That you could be normal. I guess that one’s on me.”
“Shut up, shut up, I can’t—”
“And please, forget about that dinner. It’s already ruined, anyway, and if I’m being honest, I don’t think I could stand to see your face. Actually, don’t even try to call until—”
Lily hangs up. She isn’t even aware of how or when her brain sends the order, isn’t even aware of her body moving. But all of a sudden, she sees herself pressing the red button on her screen, cutting the call off.
Of course, Petunia calls again immediately after, but Lily doesn’t even consider picking up again. Instead, she turns her phone off and stares at the black screen, tears still running down her cheeks.
There’s numbness, for a moment. A few seconds in which Lily only feels empty, with all the noise around her reaching her muffled, and the weight of her phone in her hand barely there.
But then comes the sadness. The rage. The pain.
She grips the device hard and raises her arm, unable to resist the urge to smash the damn thing against the ground, hoping to never have to hear from her sister again.
Lily is about to open her hand when someone grabs her wrist, stopping her from destroying her phone. She jumps a little, and the hold hardens before it loosens up, and she turns around just to come face to face with James.
Fucking fantastic. Just what she needed.
“Lils? What’s going on? Are you—” he pauses and he takes her in, eyes flitting all over her face as they widen. “You’re crying. Shit, why are you crying? Did something happen? Can I—”
She wrenches her arm away, barely holding back the need to slap him, or maybe more, maybe even punch him. It’s not James’ fault, not really, and she knows that, but everything went to shit after he broke up with her, and if he hadn’t left her, if he hadn’t given up on them, then Petunia—
Lily shakes her head, before she turns around and starts walking in the opposite direction from where James came from. “It’s none of your business,” she tells him with a sniffle, rubbing furiously at her eyes.
He rushes after her, and Lily would like to say she’s surprised, but considering how long she dated him, she really isn’t. James has always been way too into the whole ‘knight in shining armour’ act, even when it’s clearly not welcome.
She used to find it very sweet, but now it’s just pissing her off more.
“I get it,” he says, walking right beside her with a concerned furrow between his eyebrows. “And it’s fine. You don’t have to tell me anything, but it’s—you’re obviously very upset, Lils, and—”
“Stop calling me that,” Lily mumbles, quickening her pace even though she knows there’s no use. “You’re not my boyfriend anymore.”
“Yes, I know, but we’re—I thought we were still friends—”
She snorts. “Are we?”
“I mean.” James averts his gaze, mouth twisting in what it almost looks like a pout. “I’d like to be. It doesn’t have to be right now, because you asked me for space and I wanna respect that—”
“Well, you’re doing a shit job at it right now.”
“—but I still don’t wanna lose you,” James finishes quietly, bordering on pitiful.
Lily doesn’t even bother to hide her chuckle, or the venom dripping from the noise. “Then maybe you should’ve thought of that before breaking up with me, James.”
“It wasn’t working. You know it wasn’t working. And don’t pretend I’m the only one who stopped having feelings, because we were together a long time, Lily, and I know you. I recognised the signs.”
“What fucking signs?” Lily exclaims, halting her advance and whirling around just so she can glare at James. She feels some satisfaction, at the way he takes a step back. “You just wanted to fuck someone else, and made ridiculous assumptions about how I felt instead of just talking to me about it so you wouldn’t feel so guilty.”
Lily says it with the intention of hurting, of striking a nerve, hoping to see James as upset as she herself feels. But when she sees him wince, eyes looking anywhere but her face, Lily feels all the blood in her veins go cold.
“James,” she begins after a bit, so calm it even surprises her. “Was there someone else? Is that why you wanted to break up?”
“Lily—”
“Did you cheat on me?”
“No!” James rushes to answer, something in his expression hardening as his gaze searches for Lily’s once again, meeting it head on. “Of course not! I wouldn’t do something like that. Ever. That’s not the kind of person I am, and I get that you’re very angry, I really do, but you—fuck, I just hate that the idea even crossed your mind.”
“What else am I supposed to think?” Lily scoffs, before resuming her walking. James doesn’t hesitate to follow, because he can’t take a bloody hint, and she grits her teeth. Their little argument is getting some attention, and it’s starting to make Lily’s skin crawl. “You broke up with me out of nowhere, giving me all these shitty excuses, and whenever I ask about it you just—”
“There is someone else,” James confesses quickly, tripping over his words. He buries a hand in his hair and runs it through it, fingers tangling and pulling on the strands. “But I never—nothing ever happened between us, Lily, I swear. We were together, and I care way too much about you. I wasn’t even planning on doing anything about it, I was sure it was just a silly crush but then—then I realised that I was thinking about them a lot more than I was thinking about you. They were constantly on my mind, and I wanted—well, you know.”
Lily doesn’t want to believe him. He wants to tell him to go fuck himself, call him a cheater, and a traitor, and curse him out until her throat is raw and her mouth fills with the taste of blood. But just like James knows her, can see and recognise the signs, Lily also knows him. Can tell when he’s being genuine. And no matter how desperately she looks into his hazel eyes, into the curve of his brow.
James is telling the truth, and somehow, knowing that he did the right thing, that he was respectful, and honest, and is trying his best, regardless of how well or how badly he handled the situation, makes her feel even worse.
“Good for you, James. Really,” she tells him, something that sounds like resentment but it’s mostly hurt covering her tone. “I hope that you two are very happy together, and that you don’t ever have to pretend to enjoy sex with her—”
James splutters, and Lily watches him step over nothing and almost fall face-first on the ground. She curses his stupid rugby player reflexes in her mind and lets out a tiny huff.
“I always—I enjoyed our sex very much,” he protests weakly, voice going slightly high-pitched. “It was a bit, well, um, lacking, I guess, towards the end, but it wasn’t one-sided. Or are you gonna tell me you didn’t spend the majority of this semester avoiding sleeping with me as much as possible?”
“You weren’t fucking me properly, so I don’t know what you expected,” she grumbles under her breath, some colour rushing to her cheeks.
“I’m aware, and I’m truly sorry because you deserved better, but come on, Lily,” James sighs. “What we had wasn’t an actual relationship. It hadn’t been in a long time. It was routine, and it was comfortable—”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Lily genuinely questions, a frown making itself present on her face. “It was nice enough, and we were perfectly okay. You didn’t have to end it like that. You should’ve talked to me first, we could’ve fixed it—”
“What would’ve been the point of that? We always ‘fix’ things, except we don’t, because we can’t, because there’s nothing to fix. We don’t love each other like that anymore, and I don’t understand why you’re so set on denying it.”
“I’m not denying shit,” Lily snarls, stopping again and forcing James to do the same, just so she can whirl around and point an accusatory finger at him. “You feeling that way about our relationship doesn’t mean I agree. Have you ever asked me what I wanted? If I was happy with what we had?”
“No, but—”
“Then stop talking like you know everything, because you don’t. You wanted to get rid of me, and you did it, okay? Congrats on your freedom. Hopefully your new relationship will be less of a disappointment.”
James gives her a pleading look, his expression completely devastated, and Lily is kind of waiting for him to start crying. She thinks it might make her feel a bit better, even if just temporarily.
“Lily, that’s not what I meant. At all. You’re getting it all wrong—”
“Am I?” She arches an eyebrow, her lips curving into a cruel grin. “You’re gonna tell me you didn’t run to this mysterious person as soon as we were done? That you don’t have a new girlfriend now?”
He flinches with his whole body, lowering his head in what might be either guilt or shame. “I mean, technically—”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She shakes her head with a snort, turning her back on him. “Do me a favour, yeah, James? Leave me alone.”
“Lily, please—”, he begs, reaching out even before she has started walking away, fingers grazing her elbow.
She recoils as if burnt, tilting her head back just so she can shoot daggers at him, nothing but contempt behind her eyes.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” Lily hisses, before moving away from James, her steps determined. “And if you try to follow me again, I’ll punch you in the face.”
Lily gives him one last look before she finally leaves, and she isn’t surprised to find that James doesn’t appear to be worried, or scared of her threat. Not because he doesn’t think she means it, but because he wouldn’t have a hard time defending himself from any of her attacks.
Stupid fucking jocks.
He seems mostly sad, really. But it looks way too close to pity for comfort, so it doesn’t take Lily long to turn her head away, steps determined and quick, desperate to leave that part of campus and their little audience. She’s trying not to think about how many people were watching, how many people probably heard at least half of their conversation. Lily believes she’d go insane otherwise.
To her immense relief, James chooses to listen and doesn’t try to follow her again. He still respects her, to a degree, even if he’s always had sort of an issue with boundaries. Lily is just grateful he won’t force her to make another scene.
She’s walking with her head hanging low, because even though she isn’t crying her eyes out anymore, her whole face must look very puffy, and red, and there’s still wet stains on her cheeks, not to mention the fact that she’s wearing mascara. It’s Mary’s, which means it’s more expensive than Lily’s usual one and it’s supposed to be waterproof, but she doesn’t know if she trusts it. She was basically sobbing, and she isn’t convinced she won’t start again at some point. Lily doubts the mascara is that strong.
Maybe it’s because of how inside her own head Lily is, or maybe it’s due to the fact that she isn’t looking where she’s going despite how many people there are on campus today, but her shoulder collides against someone else’s. It nearly sends her toppling to the ground, but Lily recovers fast, managing to retain her balance.
Considering how bad her day has been, the urge to tell whoever has crashed into her to fuck off is quite strong. But Lily knows it was mostly her fault, and her conversation with Petunia has left her feeling weak, and a bit numb, and James’ appearance hasn’t exactly helped. That’s why she apologises quietly, not even bothering to look up, before she continues walking.
She doesn’t take more than a couple of steps when a gentle hand curls around her hip, urging her to stop. Lily is too out of it to be irritated, or to swat the unwelcome touch away. She can only blink, a bit disoriented, and then finally look up, in search of who decided to interrupt her so abruptly while she was very clearly in a rush.
For a moment, Lily fears it might be James once again, and a spark of fury lights up in her gut, the beginning of a frown settling between her eyebrows. But it dies down the moment she comes face to face with the person holding her, the little fight that’s left in her abandoning her swiftly.
“Crouch?” she asks in a whisper, because of course it’s him. Lately, it’s always him, and Lily doesn’t have it in her to pretend she’s feeling anything else other than relieved.
“Hey, princess,” he greets her warmly, his usual shit-eating grin already in place. It doesn’t seem to reach his eyes this time. “You look like shit.”
It drags a laugh out of Lily, but it’s suspiciously watery, and she has to blink a few times to keep herself in check.
“Bad day?” Crouch asks with a tiny squeeze on her hip.
“The worst,” Lily huffs out, and there’s a certain tremble in her voice.
“Yeah, sounds about right.” He gives a shake of his head before taking a look around them, at the crowd of students rushing to their classes. “Wanna go somewhere more private? That way you can bitch about it to your heart’s content.”
Lily is nodding even before Crouch finishes speaking. “Please.”
His smile visibly softens, and then he’s wrapping his arm properly around her waist and guiding her through the sea of people. Crouch doesn’t have any qualms about pushing students or being a little rough if that gets them out of there faster, and Lily can’t help but feel a bit jealous. She wishes she could do that, too, especially on days like this. She wishes she could be as careless, as indifferent.
Except, Crouch isn’t really that careless, or indifferent. Lily doesn’t know him that well, but she’s seen enough of him to be able to tell. Maybe it’s because both their lives are based on pretending, on putting on a mask to protect themselves.
Their methods and motives might be different, but they’re more similar than either of them would like to admit. Lily thinks it’s the reason why, deep down, they seem to enjoy each other’s company, even if, more often than not, it’s against their will.
She isn’t paying attention to where Crouch is taking her, but they’re walking fast and slipping in between buildings to avoid as many people as possible. Before Lily realises it, they’re in a little alleyway behind one of the Administrative places. It’s small, and a dead-end, and there’s nothing apart from a tiny staircase that leads to a backdoor and an insane amount of cigarette butts littering all over the ground.
Lily is still relishing on the sudden peace and quiet, when Crouch pulls her with him towards the stairs. She watches as he plops down on the first step and then offers her hand, a question in his gaze. Lily takes it without thinking, and lets herself be pushed, just to find herself straddling Crouch’s lap while he helps her move and shift until she’s in a comfortable enough position.
Her hands go rest on his shoulders automatically, and Lily tilts her head a bit to the right, still trying to process what just happened and the fact that she’s sitting on top of Crouch as if she belongs there.
She isn’t sure of what’s more insane; that she isn’t freaked out in the slightest by this turn of events or that Crouch had the idea in the first place and is now acting like it’s normal. Like they do it all the time.
He holds onto her waist loosely, always giving her the option to move away, or even get up if that’s what she wants. His fingers twitch from time to time, as if he can’t help himself, and Lily swallows thickly, unable to meet Crouch’s eyes for more than a handful of seconds.
“Okay?” he questions with ease. She doesn’t understand how he can be so casual about all this. “Comfortable?”
Lily bites her lower lip and squirms slightly, feeling Crouch’s hands spasm against her body. “Yeah,” she mumbles, glancing at her lap.
“Good. You wanna talk about it?”
And really, Lily doesn’t think she does. But when she opens her mouth to refuse, something very different ends up coming out.
She tells Crouch everything.
Well, not everything, because that would take hours, maybe even days, since it goes back to her childhood. But she does tell him a little about Petunia, and the sort of relationship they have, and the stupid call. She tells him about how she bumped into James, how badly that ended too, and how it only served to fuel the fire her sister had started.
Lily even tells him she’s bisexual, which isn’t technically a secret, per se, or something she’s ever tried to hide, but it’s also a part of herself she doesn’t tend to share. Not because she’s embarrassed, not exactly, but Petunia always talks about it like it should be a reason for shame. Like it’s not even an actual thing, and Lily is simply confused, or seeking attention.
It might be why the word tastes so odd in her tongue.
Crouch, surprisingly, listens to the whole thing. He doesn’t try to interrupt a single time, and doesn’t make any of his usual inappropriate comments. He simply pays attention, fingers caressing Lily’s waist tenderly, and helping her calm down when, at some point in her rant, she breaks down crying. Again. She’s sort of expecting Crouch to make fun of her, because she’s a fucking mess, and he’s been right all along, and this is probably what he had been waiting for, right?
Except he doesn’t. He only presses her closer to him, his moves practised, as if he’s used to comforting heartbroken girls who can’t stop sobbing.
One of his hands climbs up Lily’s back, until it’s curling around the back of her head and urging her to hide her face into the crook of his neck. She isn’t sure if Crouch is trying to soothe her, or if he’s aware of how much she hates to cry in front of people, but either way, she’s grateful, and doesn’t resist it.
She finishes her story like this, nestled against Crouch, mouth moving against the skin of his throat and voice an absolute wreck.
There’s silence once Lily is done, with her sniffles being the only noise around them. But surprisingly, the quiet isn’t uncomfortable, or tense. It’s peaceful, and kind of nice, and she doesn’t feel the need to break it, or run away.
Lily doesn’t like how vulnerable she’s been in front of Crouch, because she still has no idea of what he wants, if it’s a good idea to trust him. But she doesn’t hate herself, either. She doesn’t get the urge to peel all her skin off.
“Fucking hell, princess,” Crouch sighs quietly, and Lily makes a questioning sound into his neck. “You have way more issues than I thought. And that’s saying a lot, because I basically considered you a psycho.”
She giggles, shaking her head as her shoulders tremble. She’s made a mess of Crouch’s jumper, the whole thing covered in tears and snoot and probably spit, too, but she isn’t gonna apologise. He brought this upon himself.
“Having a sister will do that to you,” she tells him, smiling a little. “Not like you’d understand, being an only child.”
“How do you know I’m an only child?”
“I just do. You have a certain vibe.”
Crouch lets out a huff, but it sounds amused. “I don’t know why, but that sounds like an insult.”
“It is,” she hums, burrowing even closer.
“Fuck off,” Crouch retorts. It lacks heat. “This shit doesn’t have anything to do with being a sibling. Your sister just sucks.”
“Watch it,” Lily murmurs, but she doesn’t have the energy, or the strength to properly get mad.
“It’s true. She’s a total cunt,” Crouch insists, unapologetic.
“She is,” Lily concedes. “But she’s still my sister. And I won’t hesitate to knock your teeth out if you say something like that about her again.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, his fingers digging into Lily’s waist almost painfully for a moment, before they relax and go back to massaging gently.
“You’re right. I’m too much of an only child to deal with this,” he admits with a scoff, and Lily laughs again, any remnants of tension completely leaving her.
“Still, thank you for listening. It helped, getting all that off my chest.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“You can be so sweet sometimes, it’s kinda unnerving.” Lily tilts her head back so she can watch Crouch’s side profile, her cheek resting on his shoulder. “To be honest, I was sure you were gonna make fun of me the second I started crying.”
Crouch snorts, and Lily feels the vibration where she’s leaning against him. “Why would I?”
“I don’t know, maybe because you’re an asshole? That’s, like, your whole thing.”
“Sure, but only when I have reasons to. There’s nothing wrong with crying.”
“Says you,” Lily scoffs with a roll of her eyes, but it’s more playful than anything.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Crouch lowers his head enough to meet her gaze, and Lily’s breath hitches at the sudden proximity. Their noses are basically grazing each other, but she doesn’t even consider moving back.
“That you seem allergic to being vulnerable,” she murmurs.
“Says you.”
Lily punches him weakly on the shoulder, and then her eyes follow the genuine smile the action drags out of him.
“Your jumper is covered in my tears, that doesn’t apply to me anymore,” she protests.
“Yeah, but it was against your will. It doesn’t count.”
“Yes, it does! You’re the last person I wanted to see me like this, and it’s happened twice now.”
“Wow, way to make a man feel special.”
“I mean, you probably should,” Lily reasons, squinting her eyes. “Feel special, that is. There’s not a lot of people who can say they’ve seen me cry. Most of them are family members, and that’s different, you know?”
Crouch exhales loudly through his nose, and then he’s pulling one of his hands away from her waist just so she can flick Lily on her forehead. She whines softly, rubbing at the affected zone while she glares at him, only receiving a lazy smirk in response.
“Stop overthinking it. I’m not gonna tell anyone, or start looking at you differently,” he says with a sigh. “You’re still the biggest bitch I know.”
Lily blinks at him, before her expression relaxes and the corners of her mouth curl upwards. “Good. And don’t you forget it.”
“You won’t let me,” Crouch teases her with an arched eyebrow. “Look at you, giving me attitude even after a breakdown.”
She goes to hit him again, with a bit more strength this time, but Crouch catches her by the wrist before she can get far. Lily huffs and tries to break herself free, but he tightens his grips, and she gives up after two attempts. It’s not like she can actually hurt him, anyway.
Once Crouch realises she isn’t gonna keep resisting, he pulls at her wrist, softly but insistently, and Lily obliges with a confused furrow between her brows. She watches as Crouch puts her arm around his neck, bringing their faces closer, both of them sharing the same air. Lily gasps quietly, her gaze falling to Crouch’s lips before she catches herself and looks away.
Her body seems a little confused at the proximity. At the shift in position. It keeps tensing up, and then sagging, and then tensing up again. Lily can’t stop squirming because of it, a steady blush beginning to spread over her face.
“Princess,” Crouch says sternly, doing his best to stop her from moving so much with the hold he has on her. “Stop it.”
“Sorry, I’m just—I’m trying to find the best arrangement,” she mumbles, jumping a little when she basically feels Crouch’s mouth move against her cheek.
“You seemed quite comfortable to me a minute ago, considering you’ve been using me as a pillow,” he drawls.
Lily narrows her eyes at him, and makes a point of shifting even more aggressively, straightening up so she can face him better. If it’s also to put some distance between them and clear her mind in the process, then that’s no one’s business but hers.
“I don’t think you have any right to talk,” she points out drily. “You basically dragged me into your lap.”
“I didn’t hear any complaints,” Crouch bites back, but he sounds a bit strained.
Lily moves the hand she has resting on the back of Crouch’s neck and buries it in his hair, just to tangle her fingers between the strands and pull as a warning, not trying to be too rough, even though she does manage to make Crouch tilt his head back.
A needy noise that sounds dangerously similar to a whimper tumbles past his parted lips, and Lily’s eyes widen slightly, a familiar pressure beginning to build in her gut.
“Because you were behaving instead of acting like a prick,” she hisses, hoping that her tone doesn’t come off as unstable and she herself is starting to feel. “But don’t worry, I can’t get off you right now if it’s such a bother.”
She makes the pretence of standing up, but Crouch simply holds her tighter, gaze darkening while he watches her. Lily doesn’t try to move away again, but she does give another pull at his hair. It’s a lot weaker, but it still gets her a reaction, with Crouch swallowing harshly and his shoulders going stiff.
“Yeah, thought so,” she scoffs.
“I’m not asking you to leave,” Crouch grits out. He seems to be getting genuinely irritated, and yet, he keeps leaning into Lily’s grip on his hair. “I just want you to stay still.”
She rolls her eyes, and makes a point of shifting once more, sliding impossibly nearer as Crouch sucks in a sharp breath.
“Lily,” he nearly growls, and she gives him an incredulous look.
“What?” she asks, raising her voice slightly without noticing. But then she feels it, right under her because she’s practically sitting on it. Lily doesn’t know how it took her this long to realise. “Oh.”
“Fucking hell, you never know when to quit, do you, princess?” Crouch huffs with a shake of his head, and somehow, he appears to be mildly amused.
But, then again, Lily thinks her whole brain might be glitching, so she isn’t sure of how accurate her assumptions currently are.
“Shit, Barty, I’m—I’m so sorry—” she splutters, her hold on the back of his head loosening considerably as Lily does her best to sit still.
The name rolls off her tongue with an ease that surprises even her. She never imagined she’d ever do the switch, considering the kind of dynamic she and Barty have—or, well, used to have, she supposes.
Maybe it’s because Barty himself has called her by her first name before, and it’s never sounded weird, or uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, really.
Or maybe it’s because they’ve reached a point in which it seems kind of dumb, to continue using each other’s surnames. Lily thinks she might’ve been forcing herself to maintain whatever distance’s left between them these past few weeks, worried about what crossing that line could do to her. To her life.
She’s realising that she doesn’t care that much anymore, so she supposes she’s about to find out.
“Why are you apologising?” he laughs, raising both his eyebrows. “It’s not like you did anything wrong. More like you did something very right.”
“Are you sure about that? Because you seemed quite set on stopping it from happening—” Lily argues with a little pout.
“Yeah, because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Barty retorts, like it’s obvious. “Especially after the morning you’ve had.”
“I’m not,” Lily says, finding that she actually means it. She’s a little embarrassed, and a little proud, but there’s no discomfort. Or the need to freak out, which might be the most unexpected thing of all. “Pretty sure that you’re the one who is, considering how hard you are.”
“Please, don’t flatter yourself, I’m half-hard at best.”
She snorts, casting a glance to Barty’s lap before meeting his gaze once again, arching a teasing eyebrow. “I’m literally sitting on it. I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but it’s definitely not me.”
Barty groans with a roll of his eyes, but most of the tension on his frame seems to have left him. Lily isn’t surprised. He was clearly just concerned about her noticing and her reaction, because let’s be honest, not that long ago it would’ve been awful. But with that out of the way, and seeing that Lily isn’t gonna get actually mad about it, he’s completely shameless about the whole thing.
Lily doesn’t know if she finds it sort of hot, or just ridiculously annoying.
“God, I knew this was gonna make you cocky—” he huffs out, hips twitching under Lily.
“I don’t think ‘cocky’ is the right word,” she tells him, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from grinning. “But I do take it as a compliment. Shouldn’t I?”
“Not sure. It’s not that difficult to get me going, princess.”
“Yes, because you’re a fucking pervert, I’m aware.” Lily makes a vague move with her hand, and it makes Barty chuckle. “But I thought you weren’t interested?”
He leans back slightly, letting Lily’s waist go and resting his elbows in the step right above the one he’s sitting on. Barty stares up at her with half-lidded eyes, and it makes something stir in the low of Lily’s belly. She has to make an active effort to not press her thighs together.
“Am I not allowed to change my mind?” Barty wonders lazily, gaze climbing up and down Lily’s torso until it finally settles on her face.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, going for nonchalant but unsure of if she manages it. “Have you? Changed your mind?”
His teasing grin turns wolfish. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Oh, Lily would. Lily very much would. But she’s not about to confirm or deny Barty’s statement. That would give him way too much power for her liking. Besides, it’s not like she has any idea of what she’d do with that information.
She doesn’t think of him that way. Or at least, she doesn’t think she does. Lily’s been very confused lately, and she’s had a nightmare of a morning, so she doesn’t think she’s in her right mind.
“Not really. I don’t care much,” Lily answers, fingers playing with the hairs at Barty’s nape. “You’re not even my type.”
Barty barks out a laugh, and then he’s straightening up and leaning forward, invading Lily’s space until their mouths are barely a handful of centimetres away from each other. Her breath hitches, and the smile that had been playing at her lips falls immediately.
“That’s a damn shame,” he murmurs, gaze fixed on Lily’s lips. “You’re missing out, princess.”
She gulps with some difficulty, and forces her expression into something neutral. “I don’t think I am.”
“No?”
“No. I think you’re all bark and no bite.”
He bares his teeth, and Lily takes it in stride, both of her eyebrows raising expectantly. “Let me prove you wrong,” Barty mumbles, and he’s eerily calm when he speaks, but there’s a certain roughness in his tone that sends a shiver down Lily’s spine.
“In your dreams,” she replies, and because she refuses to be the only one who’s embarrassingly affected by this, she grinds down slightly against Barty’s erection, dragging a startled moan out of him.
Before he has the chance to react, Lily gets up, relieved that her legs don’t tremble and that her knees don’t fail her once her feet touch the ground again. He dusts off her jeans all casual and runs a hand down her hair, in an attempt to tame it and make herself look presentable. She even takes her phone out, using the camera app to check that it isn’t too obvious she’s been crying—there’s some remnants of smeared mascara on her cheeks, but it goes away after Lily rubs at it a bit aggressively.
Barty must be even more of a pervert than she thought if her looking like this still managed to turn him on.
Her eyes are also red around the corners and a little puffy, but there’s not a lot Lily can do about that, apart from hoping it’ll go away in time for her next class.
When she finally thinks it’s safe enough to focus her attention on Barty, Lily finds him in the exact same position he had been a couple of minutes ago: leaning back, elbows resting on the next step of the little stairs and legs open wide. She glances momentarily at the prominent bulge in his pants, but ends up having to avert her gaze when her blush threatens to overcome her whole face.
“This might be the most evil thing you’ve ever done,” Barty scoffs, but it’s half-hearted, his smirk still in place.
He doesn’t even bother to adjust himself in his pants, or cover the erection a little. Lily can’t understand how someone can have such little shame.
“Come on, don’t be a baby. You’ll get over it.” She tucks her hair behind her ear.
“I’m not so sure,” Barty sighs dramatically.
Lily shakes her head a little, hating how fond the gesture probably looks.
“Just go home and take a cold shower. Or use one of your hands. You have them for a reason,” she reminds him as she takes her bag off the ground. She doesn’t even remember when she dropped it.
“Or you could use that pretty mouth of yours,” Barty suggests instead, a hungry glint in his eyes while he watches her.
Lily wrinkles her nose and narrows her eyes at him, hoping the amusement in her gaze isn’t giving her away. That, or the red in her cheeks worsening considerably.
“You’re disgusting,” Lily declares, hands on her hips and head tilted.
Barty winks at her. “You love it.”
She turns around before he has the chance to catch the curve of her smile. Lily even lets out an irritated huff for good measure, otherwise he might start thinking he’s growing on her, or something. She’s already let him see way too much, even if Lily can’t find it in herself to regret it.
At least, not yet.
Lily starts making her way out of the alleyway, chin raised and shoulders relaxed, feeling better than she’s felt in weeks. Maybe today can still be fixed. She can only go up from here, after all.
She doesn’t look back, despite how tempted she is. There’s no need, really. Lily doesn’t have to check to know Barty is staring at her, mischievous eyes seeing right through.
Lily can feel it. It’s as relieving as it is terrifying. New and raw and vulnerable and a bit unnerving. Surprisingly, she can’t say she dislikes it.
Perhaps she had been wrong about Barty all along. And Lily isn’t someone who’s fond of not being right, but she thinks she might be fine with it just this time.
Notes:
thank you so much for reading!! as per usual, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, and if any of you feel like saying hi, you can find me here <333
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