A Poison That Never Stung

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/48309373.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Major Character Death
Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Barty Crouch Jr./Evan Rosier, Regulus Black/James Potter, Sirius
Black/Remus Lupin, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Pandora
Lovegood/Lily Evans Potter, Peter Pettigrew/Sybill Trelawney
Characters: Barty Crouch Jr., Bartemius "Barty" Crouch Sr., Evan Rosier, Regulus
Black, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Marlene McKinnon,
Dorcas Meadowes, Mary Macdonald (Harry Potter), Pandora Lovegood,
Lily Evans Potter, Peter Pettigrew, Sybill Trelawney, Narcissa Black
Malfoy, Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Frank Longbottom,
Orion Black, Walburga Black, Tom Riddle
Additional Tags: Rosekiller, Character Death, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe -
Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, they're rich and
pretentious, rosier twins, French Evan Rosier, Morally Grey Evan
Rosier, Morally Grey Barty Crouch Jr., Morally Grey Regulus Black, but
on the other hand they are just dorks, Fake/Pretend Relationship, but i
swear its fun, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, not smut but sexual content,
Sexual Content, dorcas is a pub owner she's so hot, Barty Crouch Jr. is a
Little Shit, I'm Bad At Tagging, Homophobia, rosekiller against
patriarchy but evan IS the patriarchy, rosekiller otp
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-07-02 Updated: 2024-02-11 Words: 85,942 Chapters:
15/?
 A Poison That Never Stung
by asterialunar

Summary

Barty discovered an inexplicable thrill in the face of danger, reminiscent of a child fearlessly
playing with fire or a cunning murderer leaving behind tantalizing clues.

The thrill he felt, standing in front of Evan Rosier's doorbell, was dangerous. He barely had
any acquaintance with either of the Rosier twins. He was merely accustomed to their names.
They were the golden children who were next in line, destined to take over Empyrean
Holdings, along with Regulus, of course. They were like porcelain dolls their parents put on
display—devoid of any genuine emotion or independent thoughts, just reflections of what
they were taught.

As he stood on his doorstep at 6 am, Barty was consumed by the sweet possibility of
corrupting them.

Notes

Hi everyone!
People expect me to update a battle undone. But here I am, uploading a brand new fiction at 2
am in the morning. I put more effort into this than I have ever done into anything else, so I
am pretty excited about it. Feel free to give me feedback and comments. I think this platform
deserves a slow burn, angsty, and funny RoseKiller fanfiction. I will do my best to provide it.
Kisses to you all.

See the end of the work for more notes

 just a little rush

He did not believe in death. He never imagined a place peaceful where everyone was kind to
each other, where love was a thing other than a faked state of mind. It was only hell. It was
always only hell. Sworn existence of earth until God’s creation of men, the realms were
nothing but everlasting flames. The pain, the sorrow, the despair... He did not believe there
was any reason for it to be different after one stopped breathing. Death was just a definite
rotting of the body. The rotting of the soul was infinite. Everchanging. Everlasting.

He was in a rush.

He was always in a rush.

London was crowded. Everyone had a place to be in. He, also had a place to be in. His father
was very certain as he was asking him to come home for dinner. He hadn’t refused the ‘offer’
at first. He never refused at first. It was easier to give an uncertain response, then to never
show up. He’d convinced himself that it was easier.

Nothing was easier,

They only seemed to be; while smoking a Cuban in the early evening, sitting down on a small
café, not really talking much with the friend he was supposed to be hanging out with. It was
easier to overlook important matters while both of the parties involved had things to hide.

He’d know that the most.

He’d learnt it from the ‘greatest politician of all times’, as the newspaper wrote. Soon to be
the president, they were certain.

“There’s a new club opening around the corner, a friend is the owner. I might get us in. Are
you up for it?”

“You don’t have friends, Regulus.” His voice was mocking. What he said was the complete
truth. Regulus Black never had friends. Not even he was his friend.

“Someone who owes me is the owner.” Regulus corrected himself with a piercing tone.

“That’s more like it. Will there be any press?”

“Of course not.” Regulus answered as if he had just been asked the most obscene question
ever. “What happens in there, stays in there.”

“I would rather if you’d said yes.” His voice was still carrying the mocking tone that he’d
begun the conversation with. His smirk could’ve been seen from kilometres away.

“Please, Bartemius”. Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Unlike you, I have a reputation to

protect.” He’d said every word with undeniable seriousness and had meant, every one of
them but Barty’s mocking tone was starting to spread to him as well.
“I’ll stab you with the fork of my cheesecake, if you ever call me Bartemius, Little Reggie.”
Barty said provocatively.

“Do not be naïve enough to believe that I wouldn’t fight back.” Regulus’s words were
threatening but his body language was very much relaxed. His threat made Barty laugh.

“You’re the only one who can put up a fight against me, did you know?” he gave what he
believed to be somewhat of a compliment.

“Oh flattering.” Regulus mocked. “Anyways. You still haven’t given me an answer. Are you
down or are you not?”

Barty shrugged and moved in his chair to fix up his posture. “My father expects me to dine
with him.” He paused. “So yes, you can count me in.”

Pleased he got a positive answer, Regulus leaned back on his chair. His jet-black suit was the
same colour as his hair. He wasn’t wearing his tie; he’d probably gotten rid of it on the way
there. He was repetitively making a small but disturbing sound by clicking his thumb ring to
the side of his tea cup. Rest of his long fingers were wrapped around the cup as he was about
to drink it, though he hadn’t made such an attempt in the previous minutes.

“Do you know who else will be attending?” Barty asked. Not because he wanted certain
people to be there but because he wanted to know who to expect. For someone who liked the
excitement of not knowing, he was too fond of being in control.

“I’m pretty sure respective people from the Empyrean will be attending. I don’t have access
to the guest list but I’m sure there are people who won’t miss the chance to flaunt their titles.”

Barty was intrigued. He wasn’t one of those people who would want to flaunt their titles. Not
even close. He just had a thing for flaunting. In general… So, if he were given an opportunity
to show himself off and make a scene, there was no hesitation. He had to take it.

“If the club is just opening tonight, why would people care so much about making a presence
there?” He asked casually. This was the closest thing they had to a friendship. Talking about
clubs, criticizing their social circle... Barty had no idea what life choices he had made had
decided it was a jolly good idea for someone like him to hang out with someone like
Regulus; but it had happened somehow over the years, and neither had cared enough to try to
escape it. They were circumstantially hanging around, if that’s what friendship was.

“It’s called the ‘Riddle’s Place’.”

Barty’s sarcastic expression froze on his face for a moment. He wasn’t expecting to hear the
name he had just heard. After quickly pulling himself together, he started to ask the question
Regulus was waiting to hear.

“When you said were talking about having someone who owes you, had you meant Tom
Riddle?” he was frowning, very much confused. Regulus laughed it off.
“I think I’d use my leverage on Riddle for more than getting into a club if he owed me.” He
said cunningly. “He has no relation to the place. Not directly. Not legally.” Regulus united
both his hands together and arched his back. As he placed his hands on the table, he
continued talking. “He’s planning for his comeback. He’s using the club to launder his
previously earned money.”

Barty sat straight on his chair. Paying full attention. “Why is he doing it so openly though?
Giving the place his name? Why take such risk?”

Regulus was quick to give the answer. “On paper nothing is illegal. Riddle isn’t directly
linked to there. He’s still behind the bars, no one can prove he has any control over the place.
Giving his name to it is a smart strategy. A threat. To ensure that his enemies; he’s still not
done.”

Barty thought about it for a second. The whole thing must’ve been planned thoroughly;
because to him, there were many risks. He knew himself was someone who could take them,
he also knew Riddle didn’t like any possibility that could go beyond his power. He wasn’t
someone to take risks. That’s why the plan must’ve been perfect. Barty couldn’t have cared
less about any of it. It had been a while since he’d pulled himself away from politics, money
or of any company. His duty in life was to do the opposite of everything his father ever asked
him for. That was it. His duty was to have fun and he was doing it until he could feel the thrill
in his bones. That’s why, he was now even more eager to go to the club. He knew his father
wouldn’t approve it. Which was pretty hypocritic if you asked him, though no one had.

“How do you know all this? I’m beginning to think you’re shagging every source of
information down at the company.” Barty laughed. A sane person would feel threatened by
hearing the news of Riddle’s arise. Albeit, Barty was far away from being sane.

“I do not need to shag them.” Regulus overemphasized the shagging part. “It’s all they talk
about in the Empyrean. We had a meeting today solely to decide on our side if he came back.
Mr. Rosier was scared to his bones. And you’re nothing but a fool, Barty, if you think your
dad will not get affected by any of this.”

Barty shrugged. “I hope they lock him up somewhere. You know they missed the opportunity
the first time.”

Regulus did not respond. Barty knew they had their different opinions on the matter so he
didn’t push further. Their so-called friendship also involved not interfering with the other
person’s businesses.

“When do we go?” Barty changed the topic after a while of silence. “We do not want to keep
Mr. Riddle waiting for too much.” He smirked.

Regulus knew he was joking but he still raised an eyebrow, threateningly. “Be careful saying
those words around here. You never know who’s listening.”
Barty laughed. “What can they do, lock me up? We’ve already seen they don’t have the
power.”

“Let’s go then.” Regulus got up as if the conversation had bored him to the bone. “Let’s see
for ourselves.”

So, they did. They paid the check and got up. As they left the café and directed themselves
towards the street, Barty saw Regulus’s driver Frank starting up the car. Very sure of himself,
Regulus told him that car wasn’t going to be necessary for the night and that Frank was free
to go home if he pleased. Barty felt something close to being proud of Regulus’s determinacy
to spend the night outside.

Just like Regulus said, the club was around the corner. It was just the right amount of
distracting. The sign saying Riddle’s Place was glorifying enough to tell anyone who saw it
that it was a respectable place. It was also not too splendiferous to the point where it was too
attention grabbing. Regulus walked over the bodyguard with a high confidence. By the way
he walked, everyone could understand he was a guest, not a participant.

“Black. My name should be on the list.”

The guard checked on the list. Probably relaxed about not having to turn Regulus down, he
checked near his name.

“You can enter Mr. Black.” He opened the way and handed him a black mask to cover half of
his face. His eyes lingered on Barty for a second until Regulus turned back and pointed at
Barty so that he could enter as well. The bodyguard didn’t stop him as he casually walked
behind Regulus. The guard didn’t give Barty a mask so he thought it was a good idea to
choose the prettiest amongst the basket. He got a bright red mask and placed it on his face.
When they entered, a place like a pub first welcomed them. There was a round table in the
middle of the pub with bartenders preparing drinks in the middle and customers sitting
around on the barstools. The lightning was very red but the light of the bar area was blue
which was creating an eye-hurting contrast. Apart from the bar, almost all tables were loots.
Loots where people seemed to be inviting others. Only people not clad with masks were the
staff, Barty quickly realized. The ones who were clad all white. Girls and boys, all in
seductive workwear. It was hard to distinguish which staff member was responsible with
what. It seemed, waiters and waitresses were dressed the same as bar-girls and boys.

“Where’s Miss Meadows?” Regulus asked a boy in white. He was much shorter than
Regulus. It was hard to sort in the lightning but it appeared his eyes were green. Or maybe
hazel… Barty was not sure. He had an innocence to him, he thought. He didn’t seem as
vulgar as the others working there did.

“She’s not accepting visitors, sir.” The boy respectfully answered.

Regulus held on to the boy’s arm, ignoring him carrying a tray full of drinks.

“I don’t think you heard me, pretty boy. I came here, just to talk to Miss Meadows. She’s,
what they call, a ‘dear friend of mine’.”
Barty wanted to laugh. He really did. Saying someone was ‘his dear friend’ was so out of
character for Regulus. He didn’t mind laughing but he knew Regulus could kill him if he
made a fool of them there.

“Sir, I really cannot help you.” The boy was apologetic.

“What’s your name?” Regulus asked, reprimanding.

“Peter, sir.”

“Very well, Peter. I presume you know where Miss Meadows is. Well, find her and tell her
that Mr. Black is here. Me and my friend will be waiting for you at the bar, Peter.” As he was
ending his words, Regulus pushed 20 pounds to Peter’s tray. The waiter nodded obeying and
walked away. Barty kept his quiet until he was out of sight. As soon as he did, he let out a
small laughter. Probably louder than necessary.

“Jesus, Black. Forgot how much of a big boy you are when you’re in charge.” He mocked.
Regulus made a face, perfectly balanced between anger and contentment.

“You forget, Crouch, that I’m always in charge.”

“Sure, big boy. Whatever you say.” Barty punched his arm feebly, to show how taunting
Regulus’s big boy act was.

As they were waiting for Peter to come back, they ordered the drinks. Barty ordered Gin &
Tonic for a slow start. Regulus dove in with old-fashioned scotch. They talked about pretty
much nothing and simply gazed over the place. It was impossible to be recognized unless you
wished for otherwise. Masks weren’t unusual for places like this. It was the signature Riddle
move after all. He had started the type of clubs where respected members of their society
could go and be completely reckless. Their sinful bodies could be hidden amongst all the
others. Every secret desire they declared taboo was revealed, trusting on the secrecy of the
masks. All the respectable people would satisfy their deepest desires, cheat on their spouses,
maybe even make business deals with shared anonymity. However, when Riddle’s empire
had fallen and all his clubs were shut down, new clubs had taken on the system. None were
as successful as Riddle’s. Neither had the sweet taste of sin as much as Riddle’s did. Now
this, this was his return. His masks. His clubs. His people. Not owned by him but still his.

They didn’t wait too long before, Peter came back. In every way he moved, his respect
towards Regulus had gotten extreme; almost to the extent of bowing in front of him.

“Mr. Black, Miss Meadows is expecting you and your friend in her chambers, Sir.”

Regulus thanked only by a tilt of his head and started to follow Peter. Walking closely
behind, Barty leaned on Regulus’s ear and whispered. “Bravo, Big Boy.” only to be ignored
by him completely.

Meadow’s chambers were on the second floor, after passing bunch more of the same loots
from the first floor. Peter knocked on the door for three times with a consecutive rhythm and
the door opened to reveal a beautiful woman standing in front of her work table. Her long
legs were barely covered by her skin-tight tiny dress, it’s light green was complimenting her
dark skin so well that Barty found himself staring. Not in the way he wanted to be with her
but in the way he wasn’t sure how it was possible to carry a dress with such grace.

“Nice to see you, Meadows.” Regulus was the first to enter the room, followed by Barty soon
after.

“Please, call me Dorcas, Regulus. We’ve known each other for too long to call each other by
our last names.” Her smile was much more sincere compared to what Regulus had going on
with his face.

“Dorcas, this is Barty.” Regulus introduced Barty to Dorcas. Still having manners, unlike
Regulus, Barty made the attempt to shake Dorcas’s hand. She didn’t leave his hand hanging
and greeted him.

“What brings the both of you here?” she asked. Everything about her was kind. Her tone, her
movements, her expressions. However, Barty felt the coldness of someone who could commit
murder without a second thought. She behaved as safe as it could get, but felt as dangerous.

“You opened a club, on my neighbourhood and named it Riddle’s Place, Cas. What do you
think I’m here for?” Regulus was neither holding back nor losing any time with icebreakers.
Barty wondered why was he there. Nothing Regulus had ever done was uncalculated, so if he
was dragged along to this bar by Regulus, there must’ve been a reason. Barty wasn’t mad
about it. He would allow Regulus to use his last name if he was also allowed to do the same
thing in return. In his opinion, people overreacted to being used and vice versa. It was the
rule of nature. People were social creatures and being social hadn’t necessarily meant there
would be good relations. It just meant relations.

“I kindly have to turn you down, Regulus, if you’re here to talk business.” Her smile had
disappeared. The way she talked and emphasized on words was delicate yet piercing. Barty
was now sure of his initial hypothesis. She could easily wipe out anything and anyone that
got stuck in her way. He’d already liked her.

“You know better than everyone that everything eventually is business. We learned that
together in our first year. Remember?” Regulus was trying to use fond memories of old times
to get through to her but Barty was doubtful she’d let loose that easily.

“We also learned that business doesn’t give any pleasure to those who do not know how to
enjoy it. So, give this day to me. I shall enjoy my first success and make sure you and your
friend are being served in the best way possible.” She leaned her back on the table, almost
sitting on it now. She was perfectly balanced over her high white stilettos. The white in her
shoes signified the power she held as if she were stomping on the white clad workers. She
was on top of the hierarchy of all the servers.

“You know I don’t like when my questions are left unattended, Cas. So, I’ll accept your offer.
For today. You know it won’t be enough soon.” said Regulus, making a clear threat.

“Enjoy your night, Regulus.” She forced a smile in return, making it obvious that she was not
about to give in to any threat he were to make.
“Bon chance in your business, Dorcas.” Regulus didn’t even let his lips curl one bit.

After they left her chambers, Barty had no idea where to start with his questions “What was
that?” was all he could bring himself to say. He anticipated for further details but kept himself
back from over-bothering Regulus with questions.

“A Reunion with a university friend.” Regulus talked as if he was explaining the most
ordinary acquaintance.

“I may have dropped out from uni in my second year but I’m pretty sure reunion does not
mean stabbing each other with your eyes.” Barty pointed out. He was sarcastic in every way,
yet he’d meant what he said.

“Business School was tough.” Regulus was avoiding an actual answer. Lucky to him, they
had arrived at back to the bar and had to settle down on a loot. As soon as they did, Peter
scampered along to ask for their orders. They ordered their drinks and sent him away. When
he did, the conversation topic shifted to something else, mostly by Regulus’s efforts. Barty
hadn’t put up a fight since he was pleased either way.

The rest of the night went on smoothly as they invited girls and boys, all in white clothing to
their table. For a chat. For something more. The drinks went on and on. No business was
discussed in the meanwhile and Barty didn’t question his position in the matter. He was to
learn eventually. In a society like theirs’ no secret was kept for more than necessary. For now,
it was easier to go with the flow. As it was easier to forget about his father who was probably
losing his mind over his absence. So, he did. He lost himself in the light, in the alcohol, in the
girls and the boys. Barty developed a respect for Dorcas Meadows. He didn’t know a lot
about her but without a doubt she knew how to run a place and to throw a party. Peter would
not leave their side for more than ten minutes at once and had paid great attention to their
comfort.

It was around 4 am when they left Riddle’s Place, barely being able to walk. Regulus was
trying to lean on Barty to keep his balance but since Barty was doing the exact same thing,
they were walking in every direction but forward. A little bit to the left, a little bit to the
right… They tried to make the position work and find their way to their destination which, to
be honest, they had no idea where.

“You should call Frank.” Barty said, as if he was saying the most genius thing mankind had
ever discovered. Somehow, he believed that name was the key to their escape.

“Who’s Frank?” Regulus asked, very serious.

“Hell, would I know?” Barty asked back. “I don’t have a Frank in my life.”

“I don’t either.” Regulus was very certain.

“Okay, don’t ring the chap who neither of us knows. Let’s go home.” Barty declared.
“My mother is going to kill me for showing up like this,” Regulus smirked.

“So will my father.” Barty let out a small chuckle. The alcohol was making everything sound
funnier than they actually were.

“Well, to messed up parents then?” Regulus raised his hand as if he was making a toast.
Regulus did the same.

“To messed up parents.” He started laughing. Regulus didn’t join him. He looked as if he’d
sobered up by the mere thought of his parents. Barty couldn’t do the same. It was easier for
him to use being drunk as an excuse for not showing up to dinner. Or as an excuse for every
single thing he’d ever done that was not approved by his father.

“I should take a taxi.” Regulus said, sounding more serious and awake now. The sun was
nowhere to be seen but its rays were starting to show themselves slowly. Barty had no
strength to argue back or tell Regulus to do anything else, so he simply nodded.

“I’ll stroll home.” He found the mornings to be much more soothing. He preferred the night
time when everything was pure chaos but there was something that excited him about the
idea of every person asleep, unguarded. He felt more powerful.

“Will you be okay?” Regulus asked as he pulled his telephone out likely to call the taxi.

“Would you care if not?” Barty smirked with a challenging tone.

“To be honest, not really. I just don’t want to be the last person seen with you if you die.” He
couldn’t tell if Regulus was joking or dead serious.

Barty shrugged. “I will not die.”

“Better not.” Regulus said.

“Good night big boy,” Barty laughed and turned his back to Regulus without waiting for his
answer. For a while, he wandered alone in the streets. Waiting for sobriety to kick in. It
didn’t.

He gave up on waiting for it after half an hour. When he got certain he knew the directions
for his house, he just walked towards it.

Around 5 am, he took out his keys to enter the house. He was very cautious as to not wake
his father up. He was supposed to be up for work in 2 hours. If Barty woke him now, he knew
it would not be pretty. He’d planned to go to his bed, sleep until his father goes to work and
go out before he comes back. It was a good cycle. A great one in which he was to do
whatever he desired and would rarely receive backlash in return. It was a good plan if his
father hadn’t been waiting for him, fully awake, in his room.

“It’s 5 am, Bartemius.” A voice was heard. It was the unpleasant way his father greeted him.
His tone was intimidating. It was the exact tone Barty remembered hearing in his childhood.
In that moment, he wished nothing more than to be able to sleep. He had no energy to do this
strife now. He had no desire yet he had to.

“I’m 24 years old.” He merely pointed out.

“You promised to turn up for dinner.” His father’s voice was not angry. He was not shouting
either. And to Barty, it was scarier than anything. He’d rather the times his father shouted as
it meant the matter was not that serious. Times like these when his father was calm about a
bad thing were the ones that made Barty Crouch Jr. rather shake in his boots. It meant that
Barty Crouch Sr, as the politician he is, was in the argument because he knew he would win.

“I did not promise to anything. I merely said I would try to make it work.” Barty was forcing
his father. It was very much like him to be daring, push his father’s limits just to see the
extent his father could go. Barty liked to test his anger.

“Enough with your mind games, Bartemius. Just as you said, you’re 24 years old now. You
should own up to your actions.”

Barty laughed, a little bit due to his angry, a little bit because he wanted to make his father
even more furious. “I will own up to my actions when you stop controlling every one of
them.”

His dad smiled. Or maybe Barty imagined he did in the fog of the alcohol. His father never
smiled. Never... Not even to piss Barty off. “You’re an adult now, son. You’re a Crouch who
has responsibilities to this family.”

Barty, completely ignoring his father’s presence, laid down on his bed, staring at his ceiling.
The only reason he did that was to prevent himself from throwing up but as soon as his
backed touched the bed, his vision started spinning. The alcohol hadn’t completely left his
body. His eyes were still blinded by the blue-red lights of the club and he could still feel the
warmth of others on his skin. “I hadn’t realized people were procreating to create their little
war pawns.”

“I’m not mad that you went to Riddle’s Place today,” his father pointed out.

Barty had no idea where he had learned that from. He didn’t care. His father was a powerful
man who had his connections. Barty wouldn’t be surprised to learn he had someone
following him at all times. Privacy of individual life was not a particular concern of his
father.

“So what?” He wished for his father to go away so that he could have the sleep he was so
deeply desiring.

”It was your first and last time going there.” His dad subtly raised his voice. “Just like a true
Crouch, you went in to do a status check. It was a smart move. True foolishness would be
going there twice.” His father was still sat down, looking at Barty so intensely that he could
feel his father’s piercing gaze without even turning his head in his father’s direction. “You’re
going to give me the intel about the place and then, you’re never to set foot in there again. Do
you understand? Neve! I can’t risk my career over Riddle’s masquerade. Not again. Not
anymore.”

“I’m not an extension of you, father. I can go anywhere I please.” Barty was almost shoving
his father off, barely paying attention to any word he was saying. Sleep was all he had in his
mind and the way his stomach was grumbling all the time wasn’t helping his situation
whatsoever.

“It is not suitable for an engaged man to go please his heart in cheap places, Bartemius.” His
father’s tone had clearly changed. It was now filled with anticipation.

“Good thing I’m not engaged.” Barty murmured in response. It made no sense to him
whatsoever that his father had brought up such nonsense as an excuse.

Then it hit him. The alcohol, the dizziness, the sleep all went away in a second. He could hear
his mind starting to work again with the sound of a click. He straightened up and sat down on
where he was previously laying down.

“What did you do father?” his voice was much angrier than he had been expecting. Usually,
he would not let his father get through to him. He wouldn’t get angry at him nor yell at him.
He often believed that he was beyond and above of the way his father treated him and to take
him down, his calm words would suffice. This time, however, it was no time to joke around.
It was no time to plot a response. Terror was overpowering any possible matter Barty could
feel or think.

His father did not respond.

“Father, what did you do?” Barty asked demandingly again with the same angry tone.

His father smirked again. Slowly and somehow sincerely.

“Mr. Rosier and I had a chat today, Barty. Now that Riddle’s return is on the table, we need
alliances.” Barty Crouch Sr. pulled out a cigar from his pocket and lit it before continuing.

“The Empyrean Estates need to make their political stance clear. I as the authority of politics,
if you will, need to have as much power as I can. I’m sure you understand nothing is more
impactful as the dynasties of Rosiers and Blacks. Besides, those of us who were fooled by
Riddle the first time should be more careful who to trust this time. You would certainly agree
with me when I say Pandora is a very beautiful young girl, son.”

Barty’s mind stopped functioning. This time the reason for his numbness wasn’t the alcohol.
It wasn’t the fun nor the enthusiasm. It was a nightmare. It was surely a nightmare he was
seeing because he’d fallen asleep in the pub.

“What… Did… You… Do?” he was using every inch of force he had on his body in order not
to attack his father right there and then. It made no sense. Barty was the last person to marry,
ever, let alone comply with an arranged marriage. His father should’ve known better. Now,
his father was going to be the one to make a fool of their last name by breaking his promise
to Mr. Rosier.

“To save our families from the destruction of Riddle once again, you are to marry the Rosier
daughter this winter.” His father had a way with words. His casual tone was making Barty
sick to his stomach. He knew his father was treating life as a game of chess, up until that
moment he had merely thought he was the knight. Not the pawn.

Sitting down wasn’t enough. Unable to get rid of the rage going big on his chest, he got up,
now looking his father from above.

“You cannot make me marry someone because of their surname!” he roared.

His father was calm. The calmest, Barty had seen him in ages. The man was pleased. He was
pleased to trade his son for power. He was so very pleased to put his son on display and to
have found a buyer.

“Family name is everything.” He emphasized in every word. “It is power and power is of
great essence. I gave my everything to prevent ours from being shamed. I have not let it get
tainted even at worst times. The name Rosier is one of the most respectable family names we
can have an alliance with, Barty.” He paused but not for enough that Barty could interfere. “If
you refuse to comply, then I’m sorry but will you have to give up on the Crouch name as
well.”

As soon as his father was done talking, Barty’s first instinct was to attack. To attack his father
and catch him without a weapon. He did not care about the damn surname. Taking it away
would be a gift, rather than a punishment. But he was not the type to go without a fight and
please his father. He needed to get back at him instead. He needed the revenge of yesterday,
today and tomorrow.

His mind started to work like a ticking clock on a bomb, he wasn’t sure. Something in him
was ticking nonstop.

His father was threatening to disown him if he did not marry Pandora Rosier.

No.

His father was threatening to disown him if he did not marry into the Rosier Family.

The Rosier Family.

The twins.

Evan and Pandora Rosier.

Evan Rosier.

Male, 24, not publicly heterosexual.

Queer marriage.

The shame his father was so scared of bringing to their family.

Still, a Rosier.

And Barty, the son of the most respectable politician of the conservative party.

He took a breath.

He released a breath.

“So, you’re saying, if I accept being engaged to Rosier, I’ll keep my privileges as a Crouch?”
he chose each word so carefully so that his father had nothing to suspect.

Barty Crouch Sr. got visibly amused and excited. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, son.
Marry into the Rosier family. You’ll have access to the opportunities that both me and Mr.
Rosier can provide.” His grin got bigger by each sentence. “If you can look past over your
prejudices against me, you’ll see that this, is the of a lifetime for you.” He paused to weigh
Barty’s reaction before continuing. “A beautiful wife, a successful company and the
inheritance of me, the future president. You just have to say yes.”

Each word made Barty sick. No, it was not the alcohol that made him want to throw up
anymore. It was the possibility of the future his father had been envisioning for him. It was a
faith worse than hell. He was not going to let any sort of that abomination to happen even if it
was the last thing he ever did.

“How will I make sure you’re telling the truth?” Barty dared, trying his best to sound
interested, not disgusted. “How will I make sure you’re not going to make a threat to disown
me the next time you’re angry? I need to know if marrying Rosier is enough. If I’m going to
make sacrifices for my family then I should stay as a part of it.”

Excited Barty was about to accept his proposal, his dad quickly took out a fountain pen and a
piece of paper from the inner pocket of his suit and started to write. Due to his nature, his
father was accustomed to formalizing agreements and contracts. Barty was very aware of the
fact. He had given his father a bait which he hadn’t even hesitated to jump on.

If my son, Bartemius Crouch Jr, goes through the engagement and marries Rosier, he can use
and have access to every source I own, when I’m alive and dead.

Bartemius Crouch Sr.

“Look,” he showed him the paper. “That’s all I’m asking. Marry her, and I’ll forgive every
trouble you have put me through in the past.”
Her…

Should’ve included that as well, Barty thought and had to keep himself from laughing.

His heart was racing. He hastily grabbed the paper from his father and held it in his own
hands. It was the paper that could start his life without the reign his father. He could benefit
from every opportunity his father possessed without being under his control. If he were to
marry the Rosier son, he knew his father would lock himself up somewhere and would never
come out until the day he died. Maybe he could even attempt to die sooner. All with one
simple move Barty would make. He just had to be careful.

“I have somewhere to be,” he gave his father an insincere smile. “I’ll see you soon. Very
soon, with my answer to your offer.”

Before his father could say anything back, Barty left to exit the house. He knew exactly
where to go. In a neighbourhood like theirs,’ everyone knew where each other lived. He got
in his car and started to drive. The road short enough that he could’ve walked but his blood
was boiling. He had no time to lose. He had no temper that could wait any longer. He opened
all the windows of his car to let the cold wind of early morning brush through his skin. Even
that wasn’t enough for him to cool down.

What he was about to do seemed like a result of poor thinking skills, but all Barty could do
was to think. Think so bloody damn much. Think until all the voices in his head start to drive
him mad.

He was constantly thinking in every second of his life, and now he had to come up with a
proper explanation before ringing the doorbell of Evan Rosier at 6 am and telling him that
they had to get married.
 sedated
Chapter Notes

I have been waiting to upload this chapter for 5 hours now. AO3 had broken down :(
Anywayssss. I received such sweet feedbacks for the first chapter which made me more
excited to continue working on this fiction. I hope you enjoy the second chapter as well.
I'm very eager for you to meet the Rosier twins because I had such fun writing them.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Barty discovered an inexplicable thrill in the face of danger, reminiscent of a child fearlessly
playing with fire or a cunning murderer leaving behind tantalizing clues. The prospect of
evading imminent threats exhilarated him. He revelled in the adrenaline-fueled journey of
placing himself in precarious situations solely to experience the exhilaration of finding an
escape. It was his greatest quality as well as his greatest weakness.

The thrill he felt as he stood before Evan Rosier's doorstep was dangerous. Dangerous
because of the variety of possibilities. He was far from having any acquaintance with either
of the Rosier twins. He was merely accustomed to their names. When he was still forced to
attend gatherings and his rebellion would remain unsuccessful, he would see them from afar.
The twins were born into the wealthy arms of one of the greatest dynasties, the children of
Frédéric and Genevieve Rosier. The golden children who were next in line, destined to take
over Empyrean Companies, along with Regulus, the son of the co-founder Orion Black, of
course. Barty had crossed paths with the twins on several occasions, particularly when
Regulus reached out to him while drunk, seeking his help after spending the day with the
twins. During those encounters, Barty engaged in casual conversations with both Evan and
Pandora as he took Regulus under his care from theirs. Those small encounters were the only
things Barty knew about them aside from what was written in the newspapers. And according
to those newspapers, the Rosier twins seemed to have much brighter reputations than Regulus
and Barty. They were praised to the point where Barty thought it to be insincere. They were
like porcelain dolls their parents put on display—devoid of any genuine emotion or
independent thoughts, just reflections of what they were taught.

As he stood on Rosier's doorstep at 6 am, Barty was consumed by the sweet possibility of
corrupting them. Yes, the initial plan he had created was solely to provoke his own father, but
what harm was there in hurting the Rosier parents along the way? Double the fun, he thought.
He rang the bell with no hesitation nor doubt. The recklessness brought on by the presence of
alcohol still running through his blood, combined with the exhilaration of his instincts, had
left no place for worry. That's why when no one answered the door the first time, he didn't
wait for too long to ring it again.

Finally, he heard the lock open, soon revealing the one and only Evan Rosier. The discomfort
Evan felt from being forced to wake up was readable in how his body was positioned.

"Qu'est-ce qui se passe, putain?" his voice was deep and raspy, making it very obvious that
these were the first words he spoke that morning. His eyes were barely open, and Barty could
swear he had no idea who he was talking to. Amongst all the words Evan said, Barty only
knew what putain meant, having heard it from Regulus thousands of times before. It was not
a pleasant word. Barty did not care.

After receiving no answer to his question, Evan visibly forced his eyelids to see who was
standing before his door. Coming face to face with a clearly confused Barty, he switched to
English.

"The fuck do you want?" He asked, his English still carrying a heavy French accent. Barty
had heard him talk in a perfect British accent before. The sleepiness must have affected him,
causing him to switch between languages and accents. He was wearing nothing but dark blue
night shorts. His golden hair painfully lacked any form of wave or volume and was long
overdue for a trim. His green irises were surrounded by redness caused by lack of sleep.

"Are you gay?" Barty asked in a very casual manner, even though he was very much curious
and anxious. His fingers were crossed to get a positive answer. He was still wearing the black
pants and white button-up from the night before, all very wrinkled up. He probably smelled
like a beer pit, and his hair was all messed up. However, he still acted as if showing up at the
house of pretty much a stranger at 6 am and asking for their sexual orientation was nothing
but ordinary.

"Did Black send you " was Evan's first reaction. "Petit Merdeux, I'd told him I would pay for
the MJ." Evan frowned. He was not pleased to have been woken up, and it showed. Barty
was not going to give up easily, though.

"Reg doesn't even know I'm here," Barty shrugged casually. At first, he didn't make any
attempt to say anything further, waiting for the answer to his question, but Evan was looking
at him in a way that suggested he was about to shut the door if he didn't receive an
explanation. Barty repeated himself. "So, Are you?"

"I don't know!" Evan exclaimed, clearly confused. Barty didn't know if his frown was due to
anger, disgust, or curiosity. "What in the bloody hell?"

Barty grinned because, I don't know, wasn't particularly a no. "Now you are."

"What?" Evan asked.

"Now you are gay." His tone was very relaxed.

"I can't just turn gay merely because you told me to." Evan was utterly lost. "What is this
about?" he asked to learn further.

"With all due respect," he said, clearly mocking, "your father sucks as much as mine does."
With the tips of his toes, he slowly began to sway back and forth without changing his
position. Evan had rested his right side on the doorframe, impatiently waiting for whatever
nonsense Barty was about to tell him.

"I have to come in," Barty insisted once more. Evan didn't make any attempt to invite him in,
nor did he say anything.

"It's rude to turn a guest down. I thought you went to a Finishing School," Barty said. He
wasn't the most brilliant person, but even he knew teasing Evan would not be helpful for his
case. He merely couldn't stop himself.

"Why on earth would you bother to come to my door at 6 am to insult me and my family?"
Evan didn't sound angry, but he was clearly annoyed. Barty could see his sleepiness fading
away and his accent returning to its British form.

"Haven't you heard the news?" Barty smirked loosely. The expression on Evan's face made it
clear that he had no idea what to expect. "Our dearest dads decided we could make great
brothers-in-law."

Barty witnessed the changing emotions on Evan's face as he dropped the bomb. He shouldn't
have been enjoying the situation as much as he did, but the terror on Evan's face was too
funny to ignore. Although it was a shitty situation that Barty himself was very much annoyed
with, he could as well make the best of it by allowing himself to enjoy Evan's pure terror.

"You're talking nonsense." Evan raised an eyebrow. Even though his words said otherwise, he
looked wholly concerned by the possibility of Barty telling the truth.

"Why would I lie, though?" Barty's tone was severe, but the smirk was still glued onto his
face.

"Why would I bother to come to your door with no reason whatsoever and make up the lie of
marrying your sister?"

Evan examined Barty for a while, considering the validity of the information and Barty's
trustworthiness.

"Will you let me in now so I can explain?" Barty asked but had already made a move towards
walking in. Evan hesitated for a moment. Barty took one more step to test Evan's reaction,
and when he didn't do anything to stop him, Barty took the chance and walked inside,
ultimately pushing Evan to his side a little in the process.

"This is an invasion of privacy you're committing," Evan called out from behind, his voice
carrying hints of anger for the first time since they started talking.
The interior of the house was interesting for Barty to see. Unlike the clean, polished, and
oversimplified decoration, he would expect from the golden child of a wealthy businessman,
the inside of the house was objectively cosier. It was still much more luxurious than a young
adult would generally be able to afford and choose, but it still wasn't as cold as Barty
expected. The living room was revealed as soon as he walked through the door and passed
the small entrance. Two of the three walls surrounding the living room were painted moss
green. A few charcoal drawings that looked as if they were hand-drawn were hung around the
living room in mustard yellow frames. Most of the drawings were obscure shapes instead of
solid pictures. A darker yellow sofa set was placed directly in the middle of the room, across
from the big, recently released, latest model television screen. The remaining fourth wall was
divided by a giant light grey kitchen table, all marble, which functioned as a separator
between the kitchen and the living room.

"I don't think being a guest in your house is more of an invasion than forcing your sister and I
to marry," Barty pointed out as he directed himself to the sofa, not even looking at Evan, who
had closed the door and was following him inside.

"Stop with the nonsense of marrying my sister," Evan's voice was as if even the thought made
him sick. "And be clear. What are you talking about?"

Without waiting for an invitation, Barty threw himself onto the yellow sofa. "I think I made
myself quite clear, Rosier. Our dads arranged a marriage between your sister and me."

"You've repetitively said that, yes," Evan made a grimace in response to Barty's words as he
pulled a shirt from the armchair and started wearing it. "Mais, pourquoi?"

"If you continue with that French shit, I'll leave and handle this with your sister," Barty
challenged Evan.

"I mean, why?" Evan translated. "Why would they do that?" He sat on the armchair, his
elbows pressed on his knees and his head between his hands.

"Riddle's return." Barty's answer was short but impactful. He could see that Evan was
connecting the dots in his mind.

"For an alliance?" he asked. Barty nodded.

"Well, fuck them then," Evan's response was unexpected and tense. "Over my dead body."
His responses and general attitude were surprising to Barty. He wasn’t behaving as if he was
the well-bred golden children of the generational wealth but responding as the crackhead next
door. Barty wasn’t sure if it was Evan’s natural way of talking or if it was a result of his own
talent of bringing the worst out of people.

"Oh, how adorable," Barty pouted, "putting up a fight for your beloved sister." He was clearly
mocking the way Evan responded to the situation. He sat up straight, put on a more serious
face, and continued, "Believe me, I have no intention of putting myself through that just to
please my father.”
"I'm assuming you have a solution if you can still joke about it," Evan raised an eyebrow.
Barty could see in his every expression that Evan was disgusted by him. It made Barty
furious, not because he took it personally, but because it was a general problem with these
people. They'd overlook anyone who did not act according to their wishes and wouldn't
hesitate to belittle them merely with their gazes.

"I have no intention of putting myself through that just to please my father," Barty repeated
the same sentence, emphasizing the word 'please,' which made Evan look at him as if he was
insane. "But I have no problem doing the same to annoy him." Barty paused for Evan to
process, although Evan looked as if he was miserably failing to do so. "I'm saying if there's
no way to avoid suffering, I would rather drag my father along into my misery."

Evan leaned back against the sofa, fixing a direct gaze upon Barty, his expression devoid of
emotion. "Whatever you want to say, say it," he ordered, his tone laced with a subtle threat.
"You're becoming incoherent."

"I'm sorry you have to remember it this way forever," Barty was lying; he was not sorry in
the least, "but you're marrying me, and this is my proposal."

Barty's words hung in the air, creating an almost tangible tension between him and Evan. The
room fell silent as Evan processed the proposal of Barty. His eyes narrowed slightly, his
posture straightened, and a flicker of defiance ignited within him.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm going along with this," Evan replied, his voice
sharp and filled with determination.

Barty leaned forward; his gaze unwavering. "I don't expect you to comply willingly," he
retorted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "In fact, I'm counting on your resistance. We both
know the kind of people our fathers are. They won't back down easily."

"You're insane." He looked as if he was genuinely concerned about Barty's mental health.
"Did you really bother all the way here to talk complete rubbish? Why on earth would I
accept that?" Evan was utterly shocked.

"Would you prefer if I married your sister?" Barty asked, his voice was filled with sarcasm as
he leaned forward daringly.

"That," Evan's toning was very intense as he pointed his index finger at Barty, "is not an
option."

Barty's voice dripped with arrogance as he outstretched his arms, mocking Evan. "Since
you're against me marrying your sister, I guess you'd prefer to call me 'husband' instead of
'mom' or 'dad.'"

Evan was utterly furious now. "Watch your mouth," he issued a warning, "If you continue to
act up, I will not hesitate to kick you out."

Barty grinned. "Please excuse me," his tone was anything but sorry, "I forgot I'm talking to
your grace."
"You realize you're the one asking for my help, right? Maybe try being more serious about it
so I actually have something to consider." Evan was visibly doing his best to keep calm.

Barty knew Evan was right, and, in a way, the reminder had been helpful. Although the
teasing and the mocking were benefitting his enjoyment, he had no other option but to
convince Evan. In fact, Evan didn't have a choice either if he wanted to save his sister. Barty
needed to explain that to him.

"Look," he put on a slightly more serious tone, "now that we've gone through with my
opening gambits, we can move on with the actual thing." He was still carrying on the
mischievous grin on his face, but his way of talking had changed for the reason of convincing
Evan.

"Be my guest." Evan's face was slightly relaxed as Barty's attitude faded away.

"Like it or not, our dads agreed to get Pandora and me married." Barty started off with well-
known information. "I don't enjoy it any more than you do."

Evan looked at him in disbelief after his last statement, reminding him of the previous
conversations in which Barty was immensely enjoying himself. Barty couldn't help his lips
curling up as he talked.

"Well, okay, I enjoy the way you hate it, but I have no actual interest in marrying your sister
whatsoever."

"You made it clear that you preferred marrying me." Evan was now the mocking side with
one difference. Barty wasn't the type to get annoyed, unlike him.

"If I don't marry a Rosier, I am to be disowned." Barty continued to explain. "If my dad can
do it, so can yours. I assume you wouldn't want your precious MBA to be for nothing."

Barty waited for a while for Evan to process. To weigh down. When he did, he, of course,
had questions to ask.

"How is I marrying you a solution to any of this?" he inquired, his voice tinged with
confusion and scepticism.

"My dad wants me to marry her because of your surname." Barty started to list of his
solutions. "The surname you both carry. It shouldn't matter to him which Rosier I marry. I
have it written here." he pulled out the piece of paper and handed it to Evan. "I'm sure you
heard how conservative he is. It'll be a scandal if you're the Rosier he wished for me to
marry." He sighed. "So, I get to keep my rights as a Crouch and annoy my father at the same
time. Win-win…”

Evan arched his back to sit straight. "What do I get off of it?"

"Your father cannot disown you if he wants to continue his alliance with the greatest ally he
could make during this time." Barty's voice was very sure of himself. "Besides, he will have
to support our marriage if he wants to have the public pity. He can be the saviour of our little
queer' relationship.'" The idea disgusted Barty, but he tried not to show it.

"Oh, and also," he added. "You get to be the hero of your sister and get to have a very pretty
husband." Barty emphasized 'and' as if the last two reasons were more substantial than the
first two.

"So, what do you say?" he asked after a brief silence, not receiving a response. His voice was
filled with a mix of anticipation and a touch of humour. "Did I manage to convince you to
marry me? Let me remind you that probably no one else on earth has made such a well-
reasoned proposal.”

Evan rubbed his face harshly with his hands. It was clear the situation was challenging for
him. Barty waited for his response, hoping that his reasoning was enough.

"Saying yes feels like a stretch." Evan gave a deep breath. "There must be another solution."

"Relax a little," Barty was as genuine as he could get. "I'm not about to turn you into a trophy
wife. We'll just pose for the cameras a couple of times and wear expensive wedding rings."

"You are actually insane, aren't you?" Evan asked, this time, less concerned.

Barty shrugged. "If we end up getting married, you can always try to lock me up in a mental
hospital."

"I will not marry you," Evan said, but it sounded more like he was saying it to calm himself
down rather than to reject Barty's offer. “Besides, you’re way too mental. Even for Azkaban.”

"Good thing you have a twin I can always count on to marry me." Barty intentionally
annoyed Evan.

"Stop with my sister." Evan's anger came back. "I mean it."

"Well, if you don't suggest we become arsonists and burn our parents to flame, I must marry a
Rosier. Your choice is: which one it's going to be?" Barty was bluffing. He was not going to
marry Pandora. He was not going to allow his father to win.

"Can't we just convince them that this is a bad idea?" Evan asked, which made Barty pout as
if he was talking to a child.

"You're much more naïve than I expected, Rosier. This is beyond us, you know that. To them,
it's more than a marriage."

"Well, why do you care about carrying your father's last name?" Evan interrogated. "Ever
since you were 18, you made it clear that you have no desire to keep up his legacy."

"I don't care about his legacy, but why would I turn my back on the money I could inherit
when there is an easy solution in which I can have the money and ruin his beloved legacy?"
To Barty, it was as clear as day.

"Easy, as in devoting your life to a fake marriage." Evan was stern.

"You're reading too much into it." Barty was somewhat serious. "We can always have a
divorce in a few years. If you don't have the love of your life waiting at your door to marry
you instantly, I see no problem in an on-paper agreement." He was using every leverage he
had. "Do not worry; I will not be the guardian of your sex life or anything. You're not being
forced into monogamy."

Before Evan could find the chance to resist further, the doorbell rang. He gave Barty a look to
inform him that their conversation was not over and walked over to answer the door. Barty
leaned in to see who had come at this hour though he had a pretty strong guess. Not long
after, the voice of a furious young girl filled in the room.

“Evan, tu ne vas pas croire ce qui’il s'est passé!” her voice was shaking quite much.

“J'ai une idée assez solide.” Barty heard Evan responding. Even though he had no idea what
any of the words meant, from the way they sounded, he was confident it had something to do
with him.

"Me marier! Au fils de ce politicien. Crouch, n'est-ce pas?” Now it was definitely about him.
“C'est terrible Evan. Terrible.”

Barty could understand what that also meant. He shared the sweet sentiments of Pandora as
well.

As they stood in front of the door, even though Barty could barely see Pandora from where he
was sitting, he could see how furious she was. He knew it the best that hearing the news of
you being practically sold for politics was not the ideal way to start the day. However,
compared to Barty, whose body was craving sleep and who was wearing the clothes from the
night before, and Evan, who was still trying to fully wake up in his pyjamas, Pandora looked
much more put together. If his eyes weren't fooling him, she looked as if she was even
wearing makeup. Barty could see she was wearing an ankle-length purple skirt with a white
top.

“Tu devrais peut-être rentrer.” Evan said, and shortly after that, Pandora entered in, and Evan
followed her right after closing the door. When Pandora saw Barty as soon as she walked in,
Barty saw the way her face got red immediately.

"Oh, mon dieu!" Her voice was filled with disbelief.

"Nice to meet you too," Barty didn't bother to stand up.

"Evan, please tell me that bastard is not actually here." Pandora looked at Evan, begging him
to do something.

Evan gave Barty an eye. "He's not that bad." He emphasized the word 'that' "His hairline is
receding, but he probably will not be going fully bald until 35."
Barty let out a chuckle. "Thank you very much," he had enjoyed the not-so-compliment.

Pandora was utterly shocked. She was still standing, looking both at Evan and Barty in
astonishment. Her long blonde hair was tucked behind her ears, and unlike his brother's, she
had beautiful waves in hers. She had placed his hands on her waist, almost looking like a
mother angry at her child. She started to take a stroll inside the house out of nerve. "If you
like him so much, why don't you marry him instead."

Even though she was not actually serious but talking out of spite, Barty took the opportunity
he saw and cut in. "Yes! Indeed." He looked at Evan. "Your sister is smarter than you. I wish
my father had asked me to marry you so I could marry her."

Very much confused, Pandora stopped her stroll and raised an eyebrow. "What are you
blabbering about?"

"Let me explain, smart girl," Barty complimented her though it did not sound sincere. "I have
no intention of marrying you, don't take it personally. However, I'm interested in your
brother."

"Why?" she asked with a face of disgust.

"It's unexpected. Live a little." Barty smirked.

"Est-ce qu'il se fout de ma gueule?" she turned at Evan. Barty understood that she was asking
a question based on her toning.

To Barty's pleasure, Evan responded to her in English. "I've been dealing with this shit for an
hour. You get immunity after some time."

"You're very kind, thank you." Barty teased.

"He believes if I marry him, our dads will be pissed, you will not be forced to marry him
anymore, and we still will get to keep our rights as Rosiers." Evan summarized every
argument Barty had made regarding the issue.

"That's obscene." Pandora was very serious. Her piercing gazes were occasionally lingering
on Barty, making it evident that she was uncomfortable by his presence. "You or me,
marrying is not an option."

"That's what I said." Evan looked proud to have been proven right.

"You're welcome to suggest another solution." Barty was the only one still seated, while
Pandora and Evan stood before him as if they were his parents reprimanding him for his
misbehaviour.

"Believe me, I'm willing to go to every extent to stop making this arrangement happen." Evan
was sure of himself.
“Dis-lui de s'en aller." Pandora directed her words at her brother. Barty understood why
Regulus was tolerating to twins more than he did to anyone else. His family also spoke
French in their household, so it came naturally to him. He probably felt more comfortable
talking to them solely because of the language.

After hearing Pandora's words, Evan talked to Barty. "You should go." His tone was
authoritarian. "We've got a plan to come up with."

"I thought we were a family now," Barty fake-pouted, his voice tinged with disappointment.
"We should be working together."

Though not particularly loud, Pandora's voice carried an air of authority that made it all the
more threatening. "Go!" she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. His body
yearning for the sleep he miserably lacked, Barty knew it was best not to insist. So, he got up
out of the -very comfortable- sofa.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he courteously inclined his head to express an exaggerated sense of
respect. "It has been an absolute delight. I do hope our paths shall cross once more." With an
air of self-assurance, he began to make his way toward the exit, not waiting for an answer. A
swell of pride filled his chest, his departure executed with utmost finesse. As he was opening
the door, a voice from behind called out to him, belonging to none other than Evan.

"Do not show up at my door at 6 am again."

Barty interpreted this as an open invitation to arrive at any hour except for 6 am. He
determined that his next arrival would be promptly at 5 o'clock.

He shut the door from behind without saying anything further in response to Evan. The
thoughts came rushing into his mind as he made his way toward his car, which was still
parked out. Not everyone was Regulus Black, having a private driver. So, he got in his car
and started the engine to drive himself home.

Barty knew that things were not as easy as he made it appear to convince Evan. He knew that
there were responsibilities of a marriage, even if it was a fake one. They had to maintain a
public appearance if they wanted everyone to believe them. He was well aware that it was
going to be difficult. He had no choice but to face his plan's challenges. Because this was it.
This was the breaking point. He’d never had the best of relationships with his father. Around
the age of fourteen, he began to rebel. He had started to talk back. He always ended up being
the one punished even though he was on the right most of the time. Now, he had to do more
than just talk back. He had to be the one punishing him. Controlling his actions and
behaviour was one thing; determining the rest of his life was another. He couldn't allow it. He
had to show his father that he was capable. Capable of making his own decisions. His own
bad decisions were not anyone else's but his own.

He possessed enough talent to fuck his future up on his own. He didn't need his father to do it
for him instead.

Even though his body craved sleep, he felt disappointed when the road to his house came to
an end. He was very much fond of the thrill of a high-speed car. He could always reach out to
 Regulus and inform him about the arrangement though he knew he had to get some sleep if
he desired to spend the night at Riddle's Place again. One night of going back had made him
remember how much fun Riddle's clubs were. Very sinister, very wrong. These clubs offered
an escape from the mundane, a chance to immerse oneself in an alternate reality where rules
bend, and inhibitions melt away. Barty enjoyed it. He had an insatiable appetite for things
that were supposed to be hidden underground. He didn't particularly know when his moral
compass had lost its way, but currently, it was driven solely by pleasure. That was why he
was so keen on doing this with the Rosier son and not the girl. He was thrilled by the idea of
getting to pain his father. That man had hurt Barty in ways that were impossible to undo.
Barty needed to give him pain for his personal satisfaction.

He was sure this was the way. The political stance of his father was clear. Marriage was a
gift to men and women. A sacred arrangement that mustn't get tainted by any other kind. He
had given multiple interviews regarding queer relationships. If his son were to marry a boy, it
would ruin his reputation. His credibility would be destroyed entirely. Barty wanted that.
Barty wanted that bloody damn much.

It was relaxing to see that his father had left the house, considering he hadn't gotten an
answer from Evan yet. He needed to ensure he and Rosier were on the same page to accept
his father's proposal. For that to happen, he was ready to do whatever it took.

As soon as he lay down on the bed, voices in his head got louder and louder, plotting and
scheming. Usually, he wished for them to stop. To get a moment of peace. Usually, he
yearned for the silence he never got to have. But at that moment, he wanted them to get as
loud as they could get. Just so he could find a way. A way out… After a while of thinking in
his own personal crowd, sleep overpowered the voices, making them stop and giving him the
peace, he desperately craved.

Chapter End Notes

Each time I read Barty say "Now you're gay," I laugh out loud to myself. There's
something seriously wrong with me. I think with this chapter characterization of
everyone is more clear. Also, bear with me a little longer so I can introduce all the other
characters. I literally have a plan for every single marauders era character lol.
You're free to let me know your feelings and criticisms regarding the chapter.
See you next time and take care <3
 scum of it
Chapter Notes

Hello! I will be keeping it short this time. Thank you for your sweetest feedback, and I
hope you enjoy the chapter. See you at the end.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Barty was never the type to yearn for affirmation or care for validation, perhaps because he
had rarely experienced them. Instead, he embodied the spirit of a free soul. He found a
peculiar pleasure in witnessing the expressions of disappointment on people's faces. It was a
fascinating observation about human nature — they never seemed to learn. Despite the
inevitable let-downs that followed, they persisted in placing their trust and belief in others.
Barty, on the other hand, had mastered the art of shielding himself from disappointment at a
young age. From that moment forward, his life had been about pure joy. Recognizing that
disappointment was inevitable, Barty had chosen to take an unconventional path. Rather than
being on the receiving end of disappointment, he decided to be the one who caused it.

Despite all of those being true, there were moments of exceptions. Times when he would
worry about the reaction he could get. Not that his feelings would get hurt if the outcome was
negative. No, people couldn't possibly do anything to affect his emotions. His worry was due
to the nature of his plan. He needed everything to go accordingly, and for that, Regulus Black
should've been on board.

"You've gone mad." Regulus's face did not carry much of a shock despite his words. His
voice was merely stating a fact. He was not surprised by the path Barty had chosen, but still,
Regulus Black was a man of insidiousness. He was clearly thinking that the plan was utter
nonsense.

"They made me." Barty grinned. He was not offended by Regulus's statement. On the
contrary, he felt as if he'd achieved his desire to be called mad.

Their second night at Riddle's Place had not differed dramatically from their first. Peter was
still the one serving them as they were sat down on the same loot as the night before. Dorcas
was nowhere to be seen, and Regulus hadn't made any attempt to spot her. They had invited a
couple of white-clad girls and boys to their loot but were barely paying attention to them.
Their focus had shifted when Barty had decided it was a good idea to tell Regulus he was to
get married soon to one of the two twins one way or another.

"You do realise your so-called plan," his voice was very belittling, "is based solely on
annoying your father and doesn't solve any of your actual problems. Do you not?"
"My problems are my father." Barty pointed out. "Look," he put on a more serious face. "He
wants me to marry into the Rosier family to maintain my privileges as a Crouch. So, I will. I
will just happen to be ruining his career and morals in the meantime."

Barty finally allowed the blonde bar boy, who had been trying for the last 5 minutes, to climb
on his lap. The boy leaned his head towards Barty's right side so Regulus and Barty could
still maintain eye contact as they talked. Barty had a girl sitting next to him as well. She was
not doing much but simply rubbing his left hand, which was, oddly, quite relaxing. Regulus
had a boy sitting next to him. He was just occupied by holding Regulus's glass for him when
he wasn't drinking.

After taking a sip from his smoky and peaty scotch, Regulus began talking. "Let's assume
that's correct." He handed his glass over to the boy. "Rosier has no reason to get on board
with it."

"I was hoping you, as my beloved, dearest friend, would help?" Barty smiled mischievously.
"We all know how persuasive you can be, Regulus."

"Do not call me that again." Regulus looked disgusted. "Besides, this isn't about persuasion.
Rosier is a cunning one, loyal to the core. Maybe not to his father but to the company. He
wouldn't risk harming his position there." Barty attempted to cut in, but Regulus didn't allow
him. "You might have a written assurance, Barty; he doesn't."

Barty, doing his best not to let the bar boy sucking on his neck distract him, drank the rest of
his cognac and put the empty glass on the loot table. Peter, who was standing silently beside
them, immediately picked it up.

"Do you wish for anything else?" he kindly asked.

"Not as of now." Barty answered with little attention. His gazes were fixed on Regulus,
examining his every expression.

"They don't have assurance for what can happen if they refuse the arrangement between me
and Pandora either." Barty stated. "They have a risk to take in every scenario. We can
convince them to- "

"I am not a part of any of this." Regulus interrupted him. He wasn't angry though his tone
was very much stern.

"Oh, but you are, Regulus." Barty was enjoying the situation. "Like it or not, it is your
company's future."

Not getting a response from Regulus except for piercing gazes, Barty continued. The bar boy
had now leaned on his left side for a change.

"If the Rosier family is so keen on making alliances, do not think Blacks would hesitate to do
the same." Barty raised an eyebrow. "You can soon be wed to a pretty little girl, Reggie.
Considering you're now the only heir left in your family."
Barty knew he was touching on more than one delicate subject. But he needed to get Regulus
scared if that was possible. Regulus had to think the situation was affecting him too. That was
the only way he would help Barty.

"You're crossing the line." Regulus was as cold as ice. "You will be the one to end up losing if
you drag me into this."

"I'm not dragging you into anything." Barty was relatively calmer. "I'm merely pointing out
the possibilities. You can't tell me I'm wrong."

"I'm capable enough to solve my own problems if they even occur; thank you very much."
Regulus meant his words to be the end of the conversation. He took the last sip from his
scotch, but instead of giving it to the boy next to him, he gave it to Peter. He then turned to
the boy and started kissing him violently. As if he was proving a point. As if he was trying to
prove he was never be wed to a girl.

"You're naïve if you believe you have a way out of all this." Barty pointed out.

"I'm anything but naïve, Crouch. If I were you, I would be careful about the enemies I make."
Regulus's face carried a sense of seriousness. Barty could tell Regulus wasn't offended about
any words spoken so far, but it was around the corner. These words were the warnings of it
for Barty to not push further.

"You are very much aware I'm not the one to make an enemy of you." Barty assured.
"Believe it or not, I'm merely trying to help. I only ask for the same in return."

"Even if I were to accept helping," Regulus's words filled Barty with a touch of hope. "I am
not sure how I would be of any help. Rosier is a stubborn man."

"I only want you to be on my side, Reg." Barty was hopeful he could include Regulus in his
plan. "I'm pretty sure Rosier will accept if you tell him it is a good idea indeed." Barty still
hesitated, but he didn't need Regulus to know that. "Besides, I want you to support the affair
when it goes public."

Regulus looked at him with disbelief and disbelief only. "You're out of your mind if you think
I'll come down to that after everything that went down."

Barty was expecting such a response, yet he believed he could change Regulus's mind.
Eventually…

"If you think about it, you'll see my point actually makes sense." he said before actually
attempting to explain his point. "Your parents lost a lot of supporters and customers after the
incident with your brother." Barty was bringing up complex topics that should have been kept
from being brought up. "They wouldn't want the same thing to happen all over again. This
would be their flaunting way of redeeming themselves through your support." Barty was
using every leverage he could think of. "Believe me, neither Rosiers nor Blacks would risk
taunting their reputation once more. They'll ensure to keep everyone happy."
A few years ago, Regulus's older brother, Sirius Black, had been disowned and kicked out of
the family and the company. There were plenty of reasons for the occurrence, but as it had
happened around the time of Sirius's coming out, the Black family was blamed for being
against same-sex relationships. Against them being public anyways. The press were divided
into two. Half of the impactful families had supported the actions of the Black's, claiming
that in a family like theirs' heirs must be produced, and anyone who did not obey should be
punished. The other half was mad at them for discriminating against their son due to such an
obscene reason. Tackling the burden of Riddle's business as well, the dynasty had faced a lot
of harm. That's why Barty knew the Rosier parents were not going to be publicly against the
affair he was planning with the Rosier son. That was also why he was certain Regulus was
eventually get affected by the whole thing. Once -if- the engagement between them
happened, Blacks were certainly going to be quick to choose a respected wife for Regulus to
ensure the continuity of their family name. Barty knew Regulus wasn't going to go as far as
he was about to do. He was going to obey. Barty also knew Regulus had no intention of
marrying. Not to a woman, anyways. It was one of the topics they had yet to discuss, but very
clear.

"You are expecting me to take a big risk." Regulus raised an eyebrow.

"Life is a game of poker." Barty grinned. "The more risk you take, the bigger the prize you
will get."

Barty observed as Regulus weighed his options. Though not directly, Barty could understand
the pressure Regulus was under. He was the last of their parents. The last heir. It came with a
lot of responsibilities Barty could see Regulus was crushing under. That was the reason
Regulus got so tense every time his family was mentioned. His brother, to be more precise.
To Regulus, everything was his fault because, as the older brother, he was the one trained for
it all. He was the one who was taught business from an early age. Regulus was the spare. The
backup. He shouldn't have had to learn everything in such a short span of time. Barty was
there when Regulus had learned about the disowning. He had seen the change of glaze in
Regulus's eyes as if he had just turned his emotions off, saying it was not fair.

"My family cannot survive one more failure." Regulus pointed out. He then made a hand
move to Peter, asking for another drink. Barty made the boy on his lap get down on the seat.

"They will not, Regulus." Barty made sure to sound convincing. "They might even thank you
for playing to the gay-ally side. They will think it's an act."

"It will be an act." Regulus corrected him. "Even if I agree to support, you know I will not
actually be supportive."

"Oh, Reg, never taken you as someone who is intolerant to homosexuality." Barty pouted,
side-eyeing the bar boy who was sitting very much close to Regulus, hands on his lap
because Peter still hadn't come back with the drink.

"I will be if you date Rosier." Regulus had eased up a little, finding himself enough comfort
to make jokes. "I don't think I can handle the two of you at the same time. One by one is
exhausting enough."
Barty gave a big smirk. "Oh, come on, we can't be that bad."

"You'll last a week." Regulus raised both his eyebrows. "My bet is that he will murder you."

"As long as you help him cover it up, I guess." Barty mocked. "I wouldn't want my children
to be orphans because their dad is in jail."

"You will not have children, Barty." Regulus rolled his eyes. The conversation had turned
into their usual selves. Unrelated to the actual matters. Just mock-ups of their problems. It
was a nice change of atmosphere.

"Maybe we will. I, for sure, would be so much of a better father than mine were." Ouch,
Barty thought to himself. There was a poetic truthiness to it.

"The kid would die of starvation, and you know that." Regulus sounded very certain.

"I would not let her starve." Barty protested. "Although there is a high chance, she could get
poisoned from anything I cook."

"She?" Regulus asked, mocking. Barty shrugged in response which made Regulus the one to
talk again. "Rosier is a great cook, by the way?"

"He is?" Barty smiled mischievously. "That will be fun."

"Do I have to remind you that you are not looking yourself for a trophy wife?" Regulus made
a sensible point which Barty couldn't care less.

"A man is allowed to dream." Barty smiled as the girl next to him finally stopped rubbing his
hand and started to work her way through his thighs. He didn't stop her. Peter got back with,
having re-filled Regulus's drink.

"I'll think about it." Regulus finally gave in. His response was more positive than Barty had
been expecting. So, being the prima donna he is, he wasn't satisfied and asked for more.

"I need you to give me an answer, Reg." he insisted. "My dad is expecting to hear from me,
and before accepting, I need to ensure I have your support."

Regulus didn't answer. He looked as if he was barely paying attention to any word he was
saying. Instead, his glazes were focused on the white-clad bar boy. To get his attention, Barty
tried harder.

""Since the day we were born, we've been groomed to be the architects of society's future. It
was an implicit call for us to conform. I saw it as an invitation to a transformation. I will
succeed when my father witnesses his own downfall." It was one of the rare moments when
Barty Crouch Jr. was intimidating, not because he was unhinged and unexpected but because
he was cunning and serious. He usually left plotting to others, others like Regulus. Now, he
knew he had to take the matter into his own hands. Yet, Regulus still was as unbothered as he
was before Barty spoke.
"Are you listening to me?" Barty's voice grew sharper, his impatience seeping through. He
leaned in closer, locking eyes with Regulus, determined to capture his attention.

"I am," Regulus's response was unperturbed. "I'm just choosing to ignore you."

Barty rolled his eyes. "You've already decided to support, didn't you?" he was taking his
chances even though he wasn't sure of the validity of his own statement. "You're just too
proud to admit it."

"Careful, Crouch," Regulus cautioned with a sharp edge in his voice. "One could presume
that we possess a level of intimacy that grants your insight into my character." His tone
dripped with sarcasm, emphasizing his disbelief and challenging Barty's assumptions.

Barty let out a genuine laugh. He enjoyed the times when Regulus Black was annoyed. Not
actually angry, merely annoyed. It wasn't dangerous, and there was something rather
charming about the boy who looked at him with fuming eyes and a deep frown. He did not
possess a real threat but tried his best to seem like he did.

"We possess a level of intimacy so deep that secretly you wish to be the one to marry me."
Barty teased.

"In your dreams." Regulus immediately objected.

The night started to fade away into the morning as the chiming of clocks marked the passage
of midnight. They kept themselves pretty busy with the bar boys and girls. Peter had not left
them unaccompanied through their presence, and no other familiar faces covered in masks
had passed by. Though the place had been in use for two days, Barty and Regulus had found
themselves in a pleasant routine. Regulus hadn't made his stance clear regarding the issue
with the whole arrangement, yet something inside Barty was certain he had the support of
him. One way or another, the desire for twisted games ran in the genes of the Black family,
with their crime of choice being unique to each member.

Neither of them had gotten drunk as they left Riddle's Place. Barty knew it was a night he
couldn't risk not being in control. There was a high chance he was going to face his father at
home. He knew his dad was in waiting for a response which Barty was not ready to give. So,
he needed to have a clear mind, choose his words carefully, and make sure his dad had no
idea about his plans.

They parted ways with Regulus around 2 am. Barty had the mischievous impulse to go wake
Rosier up solely to annoy him, but he also lacked sleep himself due to the previous night.
That's why he needed to postpone annoying him to the next day and more appropriate hour.

Oddly enough, his father had fallen asleep when Barty arrived. It was odd, not because his
father was a man to stay awake till late hour but because Barty thought he would be eager to
get the response as soon as possible. He couldn't help but feel discomfort as to why his father
had gone to sleep. It was the thing about growing up with an unstable parent. Anything they
did that was out of the pattern was something to be concerned about. A potential punishment,
a potential argument, a potential anger…
The rest of the night was uneasy. He woke up multiple times throughout the night, only to
force himself back to sleep. His mind was never shutting off during the day, so he hated the
nights like this when his mind wasn't enthusiastic about giving him a break. When he woke
up, he hadn't felt rested. It took a lot of strength to get out of bed when it was almost noon.
Even though it was Saturday, he had heard his father leaving the house at an early hour which
wasn't a strange occurrence. He was a man who had dedicated his entire life to his work, so
he would go to his office even when the rest of the workers took their days off. As he directed
himself towards the kitchen, it was relaxing to know his father was not at home.

At the age of 24, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of shame in his present living
arrangement, living under the same roof as his father. It was far from the ideal nor the
aspiration he harboured for the prime years of his life. Alas, his father exhibited no hesitation
in stopping to pay the rent of his student flat after he had dropped out of university, making
him forced to move back into his family house. Being a person who detested working, he was
yet to attempt to make a salary of his own. Apart from the fact that he was still financially
dependent on his father, he had no reason to regret his decision to drop out. To him, studying
politics and taking over his father's reputation was a faith worse than having no money
whatsoever. Soon, he was hoping, he was going to guarantee financial freedom without
having to work a day in his life, thanks to the will his father was enthusiastic about giving
him.

He filled his cup with black coffee before leaving the kitchen and making his way toward the
patio. As May was getting ready to yield its place to the sweet arrival of June, the weather in
London embraced a tender serenity. The sun, a shy and gentle presence, peeked through the
veil of clouds, casting a glow upon the city. It seemed to whisper secrets of impending rain,
lending an air of anticipation to the atmosphere. Barty took a sip from his coffee and lit
himself a Silk Cut.

It had started off as a peaceful morning until he had decided to check his telephone and saw a
text message from his father. It was informing him about the invitation to the Rosier Mansion
the same evening for dinner.

He took a breath from the fag he was holding between his fingers, his eyes lingering on the
bright screen. His initial impulse was to tell his father to piss off. Gatherings were not his cup
of tea. Especially when they were with his soon-to-be parents-in-law. However, he had to
think straight in order not to jeopardize his plans.

There were a couple of options he could choose from. First, he could simply not go. It would
show his father that whatever the outcome of the arrangement, he wasn't owned by him, and
no matter what he chose, it was of his own free will. His second option was to go, behave
perfectly, and be the perfect candidate for a groom. This would help him to convince his
father that he was about to accept the arrangement and would also be beneficial for him to
convince the Rosier parents that he was a well-bred person. Lastly, he could go and cause a
scene. With his attitude, his clothing, and his way of talking, he could do his best to change
everyone's mind about the possible marriage. But what good would it be dismissing the
arrangement while there was a way he could benefit off of it. Thinking of the best way to
handle it, he smoked the last few breaths from his cigarette before putting it out.
His fingers slid through the screen, reaching for a familiar name. It didn't take Regulus to
answer his call.

"I know why you're calling, and no, I will not be there." He heard Regulus's voice from the
line.

"Wait, how do you know what I was going to say?" Barty asked, even though it was
irrelevant.

"I heard Mr. Rosier and my dad talk about it. He invited us too." Regulus explained. Barty
could hear he was in a crowded place, so it wasn't surprising to learn it was the company.
Neither Frédéric Rosier nor Orion Black was better than his father when it came to being a
workaholic. The only odd thing was for Regulus to be there in the middle of a Saturday.

"Why are you even there?" he asked, not even sure why he was asking in the first place.

"I hadn't realized I was supposed to answer you, Bartemius."

Barty rolled his eyes even though he knew Regulus couldn't see. "I'll take the hint of you
calling my full name as a sign of your patience running out." he breathed out. "You will be
there, Reggie; we both know it."

"Why do you care about my presence?" Regulus asked; he sounded as if he was walking
from one place to another.

"You're like my blankie. I need you to feel good." Barty teased.

"I'm hanging up."

"No, wait!" Barty tried to stop Regulus from hanging up but failed miserably.

After coming to terms with the fact that Regulus had ended the call and was not going to call
back soon, Barty got up on the patio and walked inside the house. It didn't take long for him
to wear his daily clothes, fix his appearance a little, take his car keys, and leave.

He knew where to go, yet he had no idea if his reason for going was present. Of course, he
was going to Evan Rosier's house. The upcoming dinner seemed like a good opportunity to
annoy and trick him into agreeing to his plan. Since Regulus was at the company, there was a
high chance Evan was there too. It was a question he could find the answer to if Regulus
hadn't hung up on him, but now, he had to take the risk and see for himself.

Not long after, he was standing in front of Evan's house. It was an appropriate time in a
lovely noon which made Barty feel like it was the worst time to show up. Nonetheless, he
rang the bell.

The door opened without delay, revealing a one, confused Evan Rosier. As soon as he saw
Barty was the one standing in front of him, he frowned.

"Nope." He shook his head. "We are not doing this."

"What is it that we are not doing exactly?" Barty asked mischievously. "I was merely passing
by."

"You were not merely passing by, and you are not welcome here." Evan's voice was cold.

"Your parents beg to differ." Barty smirked. "You know I have a special invite to your
precious childhood home this evening." He tried to walk through the door, only to be stopped
by Evan.

"I presume you are not enthusiastic to go." Evan's attitude was very much belittling. "You
made it clear over the years that you're not the person to be around for gatherings."

"Well," Barty shrugged. "They were never with my in-laws." His smirk was only getting
bigger.

"Just an idea," Evan was carrying a mocking tone. "Don't show up. Like, ever. Make us
forget about your existence so that the arrangement is off. No one marries no one. Happy
ending."

"But you see," Barty made a hand gesture as if he was bowing. "It is no fun that way. I'd
prefer coming and not miss out on the fun at all."

Evan breathed out with anger. Just as he was about to say something, Barty saw a girl
approaching behind him. His smirk turned into a more playful expression, his eyes gazing
over the girl.

"I was wondering if you needed help." The girl's toning was very kind and respectful. She
was a beautiful girl with long midnight blue hair, which was almost black, deep brown eyes
with gentle curves, and very delicate facial features. Her upturned nose was accessorized with
a septum piercing and a nose stud which Barty appreciated her for keeping them in a formal
environment like theirs. She wasn't a complete stranger to Barty; he was sure he had seen her
a couple of times both in real life and in magazines around the Rosier twins though he didn't
necessarily know who she was.

"Thank you, Emmeline," Evan responded without looking her way. "He was just about to
leave."

"No, Emmeline," Barty was quick to object, his gazes still focused on the girl who he learned
was called Emmeline. "I was not about to leave, actually."

"Barty Crouch, I presume?" she asked, carrying the same kind tone he used while talking to
Evan, who was still standing between them, leaning on the door frame.

"Junior." Barty corrected. "Wouldn't want to be mistaken for my father. Nice to meet you,
Emmeline."

Before she could say anything further, Evan interrupted. "What do you want?" he asked
Barty. "Leave me alone."
"I don't want anything." Barty was calm. "Maybe you can give me a few tricks to allure your
parents, though."

"I have no intention of such." Evan frowned. "Make a fool of yourself; I don't care."

"You are acting as if it's my fault that our dearest parents decided your sister and I look good
together." Barty was slightly more serious now. "I want to fix this as much as you do."

"Well, excuse me if my understanding of fixing it isn't replacing myself with my

sister, connard." Evan raised an eyebrow.

"Conna-what?" Barty was confused. "Anyways," he fixed himself, not paying too much
attention to the potential curse word in French. "Just tell me your favourite colour so I know
what to wear tonight?"

"You're insane." Evan was visibly bored with the conversation.

"Tell me Pandora's favourite colour then." Barty took a different path. "You know you'll have
to choose between the both of us eventually. May this be the first step?"

"Shall I make him leave, Mr. Rosier?" Emmeline held her chin up, looking at Barty colder
than their first interaction.

Barty almost laughed at the way she called him mister. He was not the type to be called
mister. On the bright side, the way she was respectful towards him was clear proof that their
relationship was based off of work. If they were engaged in a romantic activity, it would
mean Barty would have another obstacle to handle.

"No need, Miss Emmeline," Barty mocked them in his own way. "I am capable of leaving on
my own." He took a step back. "Evan," he bowed. "Can't wait to see you tonight."

Without waiting for a response, he turned back and directed himself toward his car. It took a
few seconds to hear the door closing behind him. He wondered if Evan was unfazed or not.

The rest of the day went on as Barty waited impatiently for the evening to arrive. He was
thrilled by the possibility of any chaos that could occur at night, and looking at the past
statistics, he was certain a type of problem was going to happen if all three of the Black,
Rosier, and Crouch families were present together.

At first, he went home to change into a sleek attire. He opted for black users paired with a
stylish black button-up shirt. Despite his persistent efforts to tame his hair, he eventually gave
up after several unsuccessful attempts. He was quick to get prepared in order not to come
across to his father. It would be better for him to travel separately and wait for him before
entering the Rosier mansion. As he left the house, he repeatedly tried to contact Regulus, but
all of his calls went unanswered. Nevertheless, he remained confident that Regulus would
eventually appear. He had always been the type to accompany his parents to various events. It
was evident that Barty stood out as the only black sheep within their community, aside from
the numerous disowned children.
 Before the time of dinner, he had one last stop to make. He parked his car in front of a flower
shop. He felt weirded out by himself. He had never, not even once, walked through a flower
shop prior to that moment. However, he was never potentially engaged either, so anything
was possible in life.

"Could you please arrange for a bouquet of red roses for me?" he asked the person in charge
of the flowers.

Now, he was ready to make an appearance.

Chapter End Notes

Barty smoking a silk cut makes so much sense in my mind. Not really sure why.
Regulus thinks he is dark, but in reality, he is a dork. All of them are, to be honest.
Their friendship dynamic is so fun to me to write; I can only hope you feel the same.
Emmeline my beloved <3
HE BOUGHT A BOUQUET OF ROSES
Anyways, see you next time. All constructive criticisms and feedback are appreciated,
so feel free to comment. <3
 tame your demon
Chapter Notes

I had written 2K words and forgot to save them... It was so painful to realise the
document was not present on my computer, and I had to re-write the entire thing.
In the end, I'm very happy with the way the chapter came out. I think this chapter is vital
for the upcoming of the plot. I hope you share my satisfaction with the chapter; I wish
you all an entertaining reading.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

For a person who enjoyed receiving attention, Barty hated crowded places way too much. It
wasn’t simply due to the overwhelming number of people, but rather because the places he
was forced to endure seemed like a real-life depiction of hell on earth embodying each of the
seven deadly sins. Pride was present in those who shamelessly prioritized themselves above
all others, their disdain for anyone else evident in their expressions. Greed manifested in the
relentless pursuit of power, with their individuals willing to stoop to any depths to satisfy
their insatiable desires. Lust lingered in the secretive gazes exchanged across the room, an
unspoken dance of forbidden desires. Envy permeated the atmosphere as individuals yearned
for unattainable things, forever discontent with their own circumstances. Gluttony was on
display as people continuously indulged in excess, their appetites insatiable. Wrath brewed in
those who were quick to ignite in fury, waiting for the slightest provocation to unleash their
anger. And then there were the slothful, who occupied positions of authority not through hard
work, but by delegating and commanding others while remaining idle themselves. These
seven deadly sins formed the foundation of a supposedly flawless society, a façade that Barty
had witnessed crumbling over the years. Throughout his childhood, he had been among these
people. In town council meetings, balls, charity events… No matter the name of the event,
there would be rooms full of expressionless faces staring blankly at his pain, so devoid of any
meaning he would think that there must’ve been evil intent.

The mansion he entered was a familiar yet enigmatic place. He remembered pieces and bits
of the Rosier Mansion from his childhood. He remembered looking at the family portraits
hanging throughout the sage-green-painted hallways. He remembered how glorious the
frames were, each one looking as if they were hand-carved. He didn’t remember much, but
he would never forget the way Genevieve and Frederic Rosier held their heads up high while
welcoming their guests, standing in the middle of the Salon des Hôtes, toasting for an issue
that Barty couldn’t care less about. Even in those days, the Rosier twins would not be seen
around. It was very rare that they were at home in Britain. They would either be at France,
spending time with relatives, or at their private boarding school in Switzerland. During those
days, he would often explore the mansion alongside Regulus, who had been educated at
home throughout most of his life. Regulus, driven by an unwavering determination to
distance himself from the façade that his brother and older cousin Andromeda would
eventually construct, was a constant companion in his wanderings.

It had been years since he was last present in the Rosier Mansion. Ever since the town
council had paused operating after Riddle’s fall 15 years ago, political gatherings had become
a rare occurrence. And his father was only wanted for his political power as the mayor and as
the descendant of one of the founding families of their town, Godric’s Hollow. Without these
titles, there was no reason for him to be invited; he was neither rich nor impactful compared
to members of the other founding families: Rosiers, Blacks, Malfoys, and Lestranges. Even
in the times, his father was invited, Barty had always found ways to make excuses for not
attending. Thus, the current situation felt unfamiliar and peculiar to him- a willing participant
in a societal gathering. He hated it. He just had to play along. He had to put on a mask and try
not to get back at his father, who had threatened him if he misbehaved minutes prior to their
entrance to the mansion.

Standing next to his father in the glorious entrance, Barty looked at the members of the
Rosier family; all lined up to greet them.

Frederic Rosier. As he stood at the beginning of the line, his chiselled jawline, carved with
precision, spoke of determination and resilience, hinting at a strength that lied dormant yet
ready to be unleashed when the need arose. His cheekbones, sculpted with precision, added a
touch of aristocratic grace, evoking a sense of sophistication that melded seamlessly with his
ragged masculinity. He had clear resemblance to both of his children though the aging had
given him wisdom and affluence.

Geneviève Rosier. The woman who had graced her family with the delicacy. Everything
about her was elegant. Her emerald eyes, which carried the most emotion compared to her
family, was the same colour as the satin dress she was wearing elegantly. Her red-tinted
blonde hair, cascading in silky waves, served as a catalyst for the distinctive shade of Evan’s
dark blonde locks. In contrast to Pandora and Frederic’s platinum tones, which bordered on
ethereal white, Genevieve’s hair emanated a warm radiance reminiscent of a summer sunset.
Its rich, golden hues danced in elegance, adding a touch allure to her already captivating
presence.

And there stood the Rosier twins at the end of the line. By the look on their faces, both
disturbed by the arrival of Crouch family, yet both well-mannered enough to not show any
disrespect. They were both looking at Barty with piercing eyes but also with a forced smile
on their faces which were very much insincere. Even though their eyes making their
discomfort obvious, both of their body languages were as kind as possible. Evan, whose head
was held up high, his hands placed together with respect was wearing a light blue button up
shirt and a pair of trousers. His hair was tamed perfectly. In every way possible, he looked
like the way he was supposed to look as Frederic Rosier’s son. And Pandora. Her little white
dress was creating a contrast with her black stockings. Her silky hair was falling down her
shoulders in perfectly shaped waves.

Barty playfully locked his eyes with both of the Rosier twins, informing them the roses he
was holding were a gift meant for one of them. Pandora, who was at the end of the line was
looking at him with piercing eyes. She looked as delicate as a porcelain doll yet as dangerous
as a fierce warrior. She had a presence that was cold. Whenever she was around, the room
would fill with a quiver but right now, Barty could see the flames she was bursting out
through her eyes, which were the same colour as her mother’s. Silently, she was threatening
Barty to leave. Unfazed by her warning, Barty replied with a mischievous smile.

On the other hand, Evan was not even hiding the fact that he was daring. Even in a single
attempt Barty were to make to give the roses to him, he was at ready to attack. Barty enjoyed
the power he was holding between his fingers. By making the choice of who to give the roses
to, he could reveal plenty of his intentions. He could give them to Evan, shocking everyone
by the affair. Or, he could give them to Pandora, making everyone sure that he was to be on
board with the arrangement. Both of the twins were looking at the flowers with hidden fear,
as well as clear disgust.

Barty grinned at them both before respectfully bowing in front of Genevieve Rosier and
handing her the bouquet.

“My roses hang their heads in humble admiration, for they know they cannot rival your
exquisite beauty. Yet, I would be more than honoured if you accepted them, Mrs. Rosier.”

He witnessed a beaming expression of pride on Geneviève's face, an expression of surprise

on Frederic's countenance, a look of utter confusion on Evan's features, and a profoundly
disturbed expression on Pandora's face.

Members of the Rosier family were surprised, not expecting Barty to behave as a so-called
gentleman. But his father knew better. His father could see he was up against something, and
it was making him nervous. Barty enjoyed the way his father was on pins and needles,
waiting anxiously for the potential misbehaviour Barty could conduct.

“Thank you very much.” Genevieve’s eyes sparkled with contentment as she gracefully
thanked Barty, her head held up high.

“Let’s not keep our company wait any longer,” Frederic Rosier declared, “Please, the drawing
room is this way.” He led the way. First, members of the Rosier family walked through the
glorious hallways Barty vividly remembered. Behind them, Barty and his father were
following. After making sure they were steps away enough not to hear them, Bartemius
Crouch Sr whispered towards his son’s ear, threatening him.

“If you pull any sort of shenanigans, I will ensure you will regret it.”

“Not to worry, father.” He smirked to concern his father and cause him to be at ease for the
rest of the evening. “I am perfectly capable of being well-bred.” His words were very well
pun intended though he wasn’t sure his father had realised it.

As they entered the drawing room, members of the Black family arose to greet them. Barty
couldn’t help himself and grinned mockingly at Regulus, who had sounded certain about not
attending during their previous conversation. Barty could bet on his life Regulus was not
going to say no to his parents, and he was right, of course. In response, Regulus offered him a
piercing look, implying that he should kindly shut up.
After the second round of the greeting ceremony, all of them sat down on the ostentatious
sofas. The Black family all lined up side to side on the big sofa, along with the twins. Each of
the Rosier parents were sat down on the two armchairs, covered with the same floral fabric as
the sofa. Barty was sat next to his father on the smaller sofa as his gazes were focused on the
grand tea table standing in the middle of the room. The wooden colour of the table was barely
visible since it was covered by plates of aperitifs and a variety of hors-d'œuvres. Two
handmaidens were serving them with white wines in narrow glasses with upright shapes.

“Please enjoy a glass of Château d'Yquem 2009 before dinner,” Frederic ordered. “It’s a
family favourite of ours.” his voice resonating with the authority befitting the family's refined
palate.

“Thank you, Frederic.” Orion Black was the first one to jump into the conversation. “Us
Blacks have always been a Château Lafite Rothschild family. I surmise we need to be open to
new tastes, don’t we, dear?” he turned to his wife for assurance, who quickly nodded with a
smile.

“Well,” Barty engaged in the conversation without beholding enough knowledge to do so. “I
would suggest nothing beats a strong glass of scotch. Am I wrong?”

His father nudged him with his elbow as a warning. Barty hadn’t genuinely tried to disrespect
or misbehave, so his father’s warning seemed pointless to him. Though looking at the slight
surprise and belittling on Orion’s face, his scotch wasn’t as qualified as the pretentious
French wines that were brought up. Barty didn’t like that there was a possibility that he had
said things that would displease Frederic Rosier; it would contradict his plan. Luckily, after a
moment of pause, Frederic let out somewhat of a genuine laughter.

“Indeed, Bartemius, a good scotch at a bad time can overthrow any other beverage.”

Flattered by the words of his soon-to-be father-in-law, Barty locked his gazes on Evan with
almost a non-visible movement of his eyebrows for a short time before looking back at
Frederic.

“Please, call me Barty.” His voice was well-mannered. “As it seems, we are soon to be
family, no need for such formalities.”

“Very well then, Barty.” Frederic’s voice was pleased. “However you want.”

Barty could feel the piercing gazes of the twins lingering on him. Regulus was probably
confused yet indifferent. For a while, three of the adults talked business, with few
commentaries from the young adults, mostly from Regulus and Evan. Pandora was too busy
to threaten Barty by merely looking at him.

“Pandora,” Walburga Black talked to Pandora to change whatever topic was being talked
about. “As much as I am happy for your possible engagement with Bartemius,” her gazes
barely touched on Barty as she mentioned his name. “I would’ve loved for you to be a part of
our family as well, dear child.”

Regulus killed his mother with his eyes right there and then. Nobody saw it except for Barty.
“Well, Walburga,” Frederic cut in before Pandora could respond for herself. “It was our first
choice if you remember.”

“Is it true, mother?” Regulus asked. “Why wasn’t I informed about it?” his voice and words
were still well-behaved, yet Barty could see Regulus was trying his best not to react. Pandora,
on the other hand, was worse at hiding her feelings.

“Not you, Regulus.” Orion answered instead of his wife. “Well, you see, as Genevieve
carried Pandora and Evan, our son had recently been born. We had discussed a potential
marriage if the child Genevieve delivered happened to be a girl.”

Barty wished he wasn’t present in the room but watched as an outsider instead. That way, he
would be allowed to react in the ways he wanted. Now, he had to pretend he was as tensed up
as the rest by the upcoming of the name of the older Black son. It was a funny fate of game.
They had promised Pandora to marry Sirius, who had turned out as gay. Now, they had
promised her to Barty, who was -hopefully- going to marry her brother. Whether this
situation was humiliating or fortunate was left for Pandora to decide.

“It is honouring to know I was valuable enough for my family to see me as a jewellery they
can trade, really.” Pandora was smiling, her words were coming out as compliments yet the
meaning was hazardous.

“Dora, please.” Her mother warned. “Do not be disrespectful near our guests.” she paused
before adding. “Besides, us parents always want the best for our children. Do we not?”

“Whatever you say, Mother.” Pandora talked, defeated, yet her tone was penetrating, ensuring
her mother that the conversation was not over.

“Of course we do.” Orion was quick to approve after Pandora, happy that the conversation
hadn’t led to Sirius. “Also, Evan is a respected bachelor, am I correct? The black family is
wide enough for him to choose himself an esteemed wife for us to unite our families.”
Everything about him made Barty sick to his stomach. “We will gladly let Crouches be the
first to unite us.”

“Gladly,” Barty’s father engaged in the conversation. “I am sure both Barty and I are ready to
do our part in the welfare of our families.”

Barty wasn’t a morally driven person, but the conversation between their parents was too
nauseating even for him. It was making him sick. All of these families, treating their children
as commodities, talking about selling them to each other so openly, was making Barty’s
blood boil with rage. It was twisted, and it had to end. If he wasn’t convinced enough before,
now he knew he had to do anything to get Evan on board with him. Their parents wanted a
marriage. They had to give them one. Barty was going to make sure to do everything in his
power to get their parents to regret it. He saw the way Evan’s hands strongly gripped the wine
glass. His knuckles had whitened due to the pressure. He was staring at the floor and not at
any of the adults. Pandora, on the other hand, was looking at her mother with clear
disappointment. Genevieve was looking back at her apologetically which Barty wasn’t sure
was sincere. Amongst the three of them, Regulus was the best at hiding his emotions. His
hands were pressed tight against the floral fabric of the couch but apart from that, he carried
no sign of discontentment.

Barty desperately wanted to make a joke about being the second choice, but he didn’t in order
not to contradict his plan of acting mannered. Instead, he made a comment which hopefully
was going to satisfy Frederic and the rest.

“I’m sure the measures you have taken are to ensure the well-being of our families, right,
Father?”

His father smiled, half surprised, half proud. “Of course, Barty.” He chuckled nervously.
“Frederic and I had long discussions about this arrangement.”

“Yes, we had,” Frederic was quick to confirm. “And don’t get me wrong, Barty, but I was a
little sceptical if you were to agree our arrangement with your father. We all know, you had
your criticisms of our society.”

Barty smiled respectfully. “Times are changing, Mr. Rosier. If the times are right, I would be
more than content to be a part of your family.”

Maybe for the first time in his life, Barty was acting like the son of a true politician. His
words were carefully chosen. He wasn’t getting himself anything irreversible, nor was he
making out actual promises. He wasn’t making it obvious that he was there for the well-being
of the families. He was refraining from any kind of mention of a name, a pronoun, or a
definite agreement. Ignoring all the death stares of his peers, he took a sip from his wine, still
carrying the smile attached to his face.

This was his game. He had been preparing his all life for this. His father had made sure of it
by all the ways he had used to raise, educate and punish Barty. Right now, he was the god,
and everyone in the room was his pawns, oblivious to their roles in the grand scheme. His
father was his victim, and the others would either become allies or collateral damage along
the way, perhaps even both.

Once the wines were over, they were greeted into the dining room. The gleaming white
tablecloth, flawlessly draped, cascaded down to the floor, reflecting the soft glow of the
candlelight. Delicate porcelain plates, adorned with intricate floral patterns and gilded edges,
awaited each guest, positioned precisely in alignment with the polished silverware, whose
gentle gleam hinted at a lifetime of careful polishing. The room, adorned with timeless oil
paintings and antique furniture, emanated an air of history and heritage. Chandeliers cast a
warm, golden glow, casting dancing shadows across the room, creating an intimate ambiance
despite the felt coldness of each member present. The Rosier house was decorated to be
warm, intimate, and vivid. But to Barty, it was the most foreboding, chilling, and inhospitable
environment ever called home.

After the offer made by Frederic Rosier, they settled on the dining table. As handmaidens
started to serve foie gras with fig compote and toasted brioche -as they were informed by
Genevieve- Barty’s eyes lingered on Pandora and Evan. Pandora was sitting directly across
Barty which he had believed was an intentional seating arrangement. Evan was placed left of
Pandora, and next to him, Regulus was sitting down. Barty was sat down between his father
and Walburga Black. Next to her, her husband was sitting and in the two opposite sides of the
table, Rosier parents were placed almost looking as royalties.

The dinner commenced without the mentions of business or marriage, but it didn’t take the
adults to bring up those issues. As filet mignon with truffle demi-glace started to get served as
the main course, the conversation topic got heavier. Maybe that’s why they were served with
red wine along with it. It was probably older and much more expensive than the red wines
Barty would order for himself with a chich French name he couldn’t pronounce, but he kept
his quiet and asked nothing about the qualifications of the wine to not make a fool of himself.

“I wouldn’t desire to taint your perfect dinner with these matters,” Orion Black spoke after
swallowing a bite. “However, there are factual issues we cannot ignore.”

“Of course, Orion. There are things that should be discussed. I heard the Malfoy son was
planning to infiltrate to the municipal.” Frederic spoke. His last sentence was directed at
Crouch Sr. “Is it true, Bartemius?”

“He hadn’t made such an attempt.” Barty looked at his father, swelled with pride. Just a
question directed at him had made him feel important. It was pathetic, really. “Although I
wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Riddle’s supporters have always been keen on interfering in
governmental matters.”

Among all the 5 members of the founding families, the Crouch family had been the one to
always fall back. They were not as noble as Blacks, not as impactful as Rosiers, not as rich as
Malfoys, and not as daring as Lestranges. Ever since the foundations of the town, rest of the
four families had been all about development. Rosiers and Blacks had increased their existing
power in France as well as planting the seeds of their rule in Britain. The worst mistake of
Crouch ancestors was to dimmish their existence in Italy and move to Britain completely
with the desperate hopes of building their dynasty there. It had the opposite effect, making
them weaker. While Malfoys, Lestranges, Blacks, and Rosiers worked on their business,
growing their wealth, the Crouch family had always been the head of politics. Mayors of the
town had almost been a member of their family, with just a few exceptions, each of them
running for the president of the ministry but failing until now.

There was a chance for Barty Crouch Sr to win the elections. Everyone had admired the way
he handled the problems that occurred both during and in the aftermath of the Riddle reign.

Tom Riddle hadn’t founded the town, but he had built it.

He had owned every single corner, every bar, every restaurant. He was the economy itself. He
was the one to decide how the companies should be ruled. So, Founding Families had
obeyed. Some as pawns, some as followers.

But Riddle’s money was not all thanks to his mastermind in management. No, he was
stealing from the government. Money laundering, tax evasion, fraud, money embezzlement.
He had committed every crime related to the economy. There were even rumours about blood
money, which to that day was not proven.
It was not easy to detect crimes of Riddle. Like the underground water pipes surrounding the
town, he had connections everywhere.

When he was finally caught, the stance of the founding families was at risk. Town Council
had been gathered after centuries of its creation. Riddle was the one to own their money.
They weren’t ready to let him take it away.

Most of the members of Black and Rosier families had run away to France, completely
rejecting any kind of relation to Riddle. The only ones who stayed were Geneviève and
Frederic Rosier, along with Orion and Walburga Black. They had faced trials. Some of their
wealth had been taken away, but the ones left were more than enough to start the Empyrean
Companies and make it one of the greatest companies in Britain in the span of 15 years.

Half of the Malfoys and Lestranges were supposed to be imprisoned for openly admitting
their support to Riddle. They were not. They had been declared innocent, still owning the
family companies. It was twisted. It was a clear proof of a corrupt government.

Lastly, the Crouch family had done what they did best. They had used public pity to grow
their political power. They’d gain the public vote by claiming they were fooled and tricked
into Riddle’s games even though a few months prior, all they did was shake hands with
Riddle, smiling and posing for the cameras.

Now, Barty knew what to expect from the future. His father was going to be pushed around.
He was going to fall for a couple of words praising him, and was going to allow everyone
around to use him. He was weak and pathetic. Barty was the only one his father thought he
had the strength to authorize. Pity for him; he was utterly wrong.

“We trust you,” Walburga gave him the encomia he deeply yearned for. “All of us do. It may
be Barty and Pandora marrying, however, Rosiers and we have been supporting each other
for a long time. Their marriage makes you and your son a part of our family as well.”

This was an obvious offer for an alliance. Rosiers and Blacks intended to get Crouches on
their side for Riddle’s return. They needed the majority to stand against Malfoys and
Lestranges, and to manage that, they were using Pandora and Barty as war assurances.

“We’re ready to do whatever it takes.” Barty Crouch Sr. possessed a sickening smile.

“Are we, dear brother?” her voice possessed a type of threat that Barty couldn’t quite point
on.

“We’ve discussed this in private, Dora darling.” Evan sounded slightly aggressive though his
wording was very kind. “No need to bring it up.”

“No, please,” Barty’s father insisted. “Let our dear girl speak. I know my son has plenty of
reasons to get on board,” he was reminding Barty about the agreement between them,
“however I would love to hear what you think.”

“I am not sure you do.” Pandora talked, her gazes focused on her fork, playing with her food.
“I beg your pardon?” Barty Crouch Sr asked in confusion. Maybe because he hadn’t heard
Pandora, maybe because he wished to have misunderstood her.

“I am not sure you would like to hear my thoughts, Sir.” She held her head up to look at him.
“They can get rather too loud, sometimes.”

“Excuse her,” Geneviève stepped in before anyone could say anything further. “Sometimes,
she may have a unique sense of humour.”

“Brilliant.” His father smiled, looking at Barty and Pandora. “My son is a very entertaining
young man. I’m certain they will get along.”

Entertaining young man.

They were the kindest words his father had said to him in ages. They made Barty grimace
with disgust. He fixed himself before others saw his expression.

The smell of Soufflé au Chocolat with raspberry coulis filled in the room even before they
were served. For the first time during the evening, Barty knew how to pronounce the name of
the dish. The dessert part of the dinner was relatively calmer compared to the main course.
Yes, Pandora looked as if she could burst into flames at any second, but she was that way
every time Barty had seen him so there was a fair chance they were safe. Even though his
father waited for words of affirmation to come from Pandora, she hadn’t made any attempt to
please his expectation, causing an awkward silence at the table. The one to break it off was
Frederic Rosier.

“If everyone enjoyed their souffles, why don’t we give children a little bit of time alone to get
to know each other further?” He offered. “Us adults have things to talk as well. I would love
to welcome you to my office.”

No one opposed him. As everyone got up, the handmaidens started to collect their empty
dishware. Pandora, on the other hand, was still sat down, not making a move to get up. Barty
saw Evan nudge her, asking her to come with him. She obeyed; her unwillingness was as
clear as day. Barty moved his eyes away from them, distracted by the Regulus who had
approached his side.

“You surprised me, Crouch. You can act like a true gentleman at will.” His tone was
contemptuous.

“The thing is, Black: I’m never willing.” He smirked after finishing his sentence. The adults
had left the dining room, and the four of them were the only ones standing, along with a few
handmaidens.

“So, Evan, Pandora, lead the way.” Regulus looked at both of the twins.

“I’m not leading you to anywhere.” Pandora rolled her eyes. “Not if he’s going to follow.”
Her gazes were fixed on Barty.
“Stop acting like these are my fault, lovely Pandora.” Barty was insanely calm, which
probably made Pandora more furious than she was. “You’ve heard it. If it wasn’t me, it was
going to be someone else. Maybe our lovely Reg here, considering how much his mother
seems to be eager to be your mother-in-law.”

“Don’t.” Regulus was the first the warn him. His sentence was short, but the threat was clear
in his voice.

“Your existence annoys me.” Pandora sneered. “Do I need a reason for it?”

“Yeah, actually.” Barty scoffed. “You do.”

“Je vais le tuer.” She breathed out a sentence Barty had no idea what it meant. She sat back
down on one of the dinner chairs. The table had all cleared out now, so she easily placed her
elbows on the table, placing her head between her hands.

“Tu ne le feras pas.” Evan answered her.

“Pourquoi? Donne-moi une raison.” Pandora was quick to answer. She sounded unbothered
according to the way the words were coming out of her mouth. It looked as if she wanted to
get over with the day as soon as possible. Even though Barty had no idea what she was
saying, he could understand her discomfort.

“Parce que tu te ferais attraper.” Now Regulus had engaged in the conversation as well,
reminding Barty that he was the only one not understanding the language. Before continuing
his sentence, Regulus sat down across Pandora. “Nous savons tous que je suis le seul capable
de commettre un meurtre sans être pris.”

Out of patience, Barty burst out. “Hello? I’m sorry, but I didn’t go to a fancy Swiss school or
have French ancestors.” He added. “Nope, not bloody sorry, actually. I’d quite rather be me
than you.”

"Possiamo parlare in italiano se vuoi." Evan was the one to respond to him, in a language
that wasn’t French. It was probably Italian. It sounded more similar to Barty than French. He
and Evan were the only ones standing now, so he was sure Evan had seen the confusion on
his face.

“Wait, you don’t speak Italian?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“The question is, why do you?” Barty raised an eyebrow.

“Second language at middle school. Never mind,” he shook his hand as if it was nothing to
talk in Italian out of the blue. “Aren’t your ancestors Italian?”

“Yes,” Barty’s confusion hadn’t worn off. “They are all dead. My family and dad were not as
pretentious as yours, apparently. They didn’t bother to talk Italian in an English-spoken
country.”

“It’s called culture, Crouch.” Evan frowned, not really angry.

“If you stop bickering, we’ve matters to discuss.” Regulus pointed out. Arty threw himself in
one of the chairs, rolling his eyes.

“Buzzkill,” he whispered, and in response, he received death stares from Regulus.

Evan attempted to sit down, but Regulus stopped him just with an expression. Barty couldn’t
translate the telepathic communication the two had, but once they were over, Evan made a
hand gesture that caused the handmaidens to leave the dining room. As soon as they were
alone, Regulus was the first to talk after a deep breath.

“Barty… Evan…” he looked at them both one by one. “If you decide to go with it. I will
support you.” He admitted. “Publicly.”

Barty knew he would eventually get Regulus to agree, but for it to happen this easily had
taken him by surprise.

“Wait!” he leaned towards Regulus. “Really?” he had gotten childishly excited as he turned at
Evan, “Dibs on making him my best man.”

Barty was not completely delusional. He knew Regulus would rather kill himself. Or maybe
kill Barty. Maybe even both. However, the first opposition hadn’t come from Regulus. It had
come from Pandora.

“My brother is not going to marry you.” Her voice was certain.

“So, will you?” Barty raised an eyebrow, daring.

“No one is marrying anyone, and that is final.” She sounded as if nothing in the world was
going to change her mind. “I will not marry you and I will not Evan to do so to save me.
Believe it or not, we do not need you to get back at our parents about this.” She was almost
hissing.

“I’m sure you don’t.” Barty scoffed, clearly mocking them. “That’s why you’ve acted as
puppets all evening, I presume?”

“Say another word, and you’re a dead man, Crouch. Deal with your own family. Les Rosiers
se soutiennent mutuellement.”

“Les Rosiers se soutiennent mutuellement.” Evan repeated the exact same sentence as
Pandora with a difference. He wasn’t angry, nor he sounded threatening. He looked
thoughtful. Confused… He sounded as if he was reminding himself of something.

“What does that mean?” Barty couldn’t help himself but ask. Regulus was the one to answer
him.

“Rosiers have each others' backs.” His eyes were focused on Evan, who seemed to avoid eye
contact with anyone in the room.

“You know what? Allez vous faire foutre!” She almost yelled. Standing up, she pushed her
chair back, almost making it fall. Without saying anything or waiting for others to respond,
she stormed out towards to grand door of the dining room and rushed out. Barty expected
Evan to go after her, but he didn’t.

“Always a delight, my sister.” Evan grinned mockingly.

“Shouldn’t you go calm her down or something?” Barty asked, even though he didn’t
actually care.

“Have you met an indulged young woman before?” He asked back. “Going after her would
be the same as signing my own death certificate.”

“You just don’t know how to put up a fight.” Regulus was the one to tease Evan this time
instead of Barty.

“Go on then, be my guest.” Evan implied Regulus to go after Pandora to calm her down.

“I would,” Regulus sounded confident. “If she hadn’t had every right to be angry.”

“Are you showing a sign of empathy?” Barty over-exaggerated his body language as he
sounded shocked by the words that came out of Regulus’s mouth.

“I’m merely saying they humiliated her today at the dinner, and you rubbed it in her face.”
Regulus wasn’t blaming Barty. It was not like him to judge others because of acting horrid.
He would be most likely to judge them according to their stupidity.

“Well, despite what she likes to believe, not everything is about little miss perfect. This is
about our parents. We all saw how terrible they can be, have we not?” Barty had given up a
part of his sarcastic attitude.

“I did not allow you to disrespect my sister. Only I can do that.” Evan warned Barty, which
Barty had not care at all.

“We have, Barty. That’s why I said I would support you. Do you have amnesia or
something?” Regulus sounded dead-serious as he asked the question.

Barty had gotten Regulus’s blessing, which was adorable in a way. Now, he only needed
Evan to agree. Well, it would be better for Pandora to be on with it, but even if she wasn’t,
Barty was not going to stop his plan solely because she hadn’t stopped having tantrums after
graduating high school.

“So, Evan Rosier, now that Regulus made his stance clear, what is yours?” Barty asked.

“This is absolutely insane.” Evan was talking to himself.

Pause.

“You are insane.” He was now directly talking to Barty, not parting his gazes for a second for
almost a minute. “Bonkers, even.”

Pause.
 “I hate you.” He moved his gazes to Regulus for a brief moment.

Pause.

“I hate you more.” He looked back at Barty.

Not even a second of pause.

“Bring white roses next time. I like them better.”

The room fell silent, the tension palpable, as Evan's demand hung in the air.

Chapter End Notes

THIS WAS SO CHAOTIC BYE

If I were given one chance to meet any HP universe character I would choose Walburga
solely to beat her up ngl.
pls don't hate pandora I assure you we'll all love her; she's just in her rebellious phase.
I think one of my favourite thing about this story is the Regulus sass. I love him sm.
Evan speaking Italian out of nowhere was so hot, even though he's not real and I'm the
one writing him, the scene I imagined in my mind was to die for.
I'm sorry for the intensified french but I have no power over their pretentiousness :'2
ALLY REGULUS
w h i t e f l o w e r s next time SIR WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THATTTT
anyways I've gotta calm down. Or not, if you get crazy with me in the comments :)
See you next time, take care.
 fuel the pyre of your enemies
Chapter Notes

Hellllloooo
I was supposed to upload tomorrow but got too impatient.
I made a playlist consisting of the songs I listen to while writing, if you're interested. Its
called "poison that never stung" by asteria luna on spotify. You can also find the link on
my tumblr @asterialunarr
I hope you enjoy the chapter. See you at the end

See the end of the chapter for more notes

There were people who had wasted their entire existence over solving a single paradox. They
had dedicated their purposes of living to them. However, in truth, the essence of humankind
was the pioneer paradox that was yet to be solved. Beauty was intriguing to them. Yet, the
allure of darkness was the undeniable truth of human life. “Beauty is terror. Whatever we call
beautiful, we quiver before it.” Donna Tart had written. “All religion, my friend, is simply
evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.” Edgar Allan Poe would say. Due
to their nature, humankind had the instinct to go after the forbidden, as if they were not the
ones to forbid them in the first place. They would decide what the expected behaviour was
and punish everyone who did not act on it but couldn’t refrain themselves from pursuing the
opposite discreetly. “Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to
be normal.” was the way of Albert Camus explaining the paradox.

And Barty had seen it. He had seen every sin come to life; he had witnessed every prude
being seduced. The ones who would talk the most about virtue were the ones found guilty of
fraud. Ones who valued the family above all were the ones who abused their children behind
closed doors.

That was the allure of the Riddle’s place. The ones who talked against most of same-sex
relationships could go and perform the unspeakable without the knowledge of their spouse.
“They yearn for what they fear for.” Dante had written the words centuries ago, not knowing
his sentence would be of meaning in today’s world. To people like them , people like Barty
were scary. People like Regulus’s older brother Sirius were dangerous. They would fear
them. Fear the way they were free. Careless. Sirius was hated for being queer, yet everyone
was aware half of the people who talked badly against him were moaning under young men,
possibly even younger than him, at the Riddle’s place. They would fear him because they
would envy him. Yearning intensely for what he had.

Up until that day, Barty had been able to float by. He was successful in not letting others
interfere with his personal matters. He was not any less queer than Sirius, but no one had
realized it because he was caught with women several times. They were oblivious, thinking
that it was black or white.
Now, his time of peace regarding the issue was about to be broken.

Bring white roses next time. I like them better.

It had been less than 12 hours since Evan had spoken those nine words, and Barty couldn’t
bring himself to stop thinking about them ever since. The opportunity for them to talk further
upon it had not been granted since their parents returned to the dining room after their
meeting in the office. He wasn’t quite sure of the meaning behind the words. It could’ve
easily been the way of him accepting Barty’s plan, or they could also be meant as teasing. He
wasn’t sure, and he was hesitant to ask. He had the phone number of Evan saved on his
phone through Regulus; he had spent the night trying to figure out if he was to send a text to
ask or not. His father bugging him through all the way back home, asking for a definite
answer, was not helping Barty think straight. It was not like him to overthink a simple matter.
He was impulsive, hasty, and restless. In this situation, uncertainty had become something he
hated. He needed to know, and he needed to know for certain.

He got out of bed, barely having any sleep throughout the night. As he started to get ready,
the sun hadn’t still shown himself. He acted silent not to wake his father up; he was not in the
right mind to get away from his father’s persuasive talks. Swift yet composed, he slipped into
a pair of comfortably loose, deep blue jeans and a snug black tank top. Foregoing the luxury
of sitting, he deftly laced up his shoes, one foot at a time, maintaining his balance with quick,
agile movements. Grabbing his trusty leather jacket as a precautionary measure, he secured
his car keys before setting out for the day.

Silently closing the front door behind him, he was filled with the joy of managing to leave
without getting caught. The sky held a hint of darkness, with the first signs of dawn barely
gracing the horizon, as Barty slipped into his car and glanced at the time screen, which
displayed the number 5:32.

The sound of his radio was the only voice heard in the empty street, along with the
screeching of his tires. The smoke coming out of his recently burnt cigarette was the only
smell filling his car, along with the powdery, citrus cologne he had put on.

He drove around Godric’s Hollow for a while with the unrealistic hope of coming across an
open florist. It wasn’t a surprise to see his hopes were empty. He stood at the door of Evan a
little before 6 am, as he had previously promised himself. He was disappointed in his
inability to fulfil Evan’s wishes simply because he believed the white roses to be a sign of
acceptance.

He rang the bell and expected to wait for a while before the door opened. To his surprise, he
didn’t have to wait for long to see the face of Evan, fully awake and dressed in the same
clothes from the dinner which was only a couple hours ago. He looked as if he hadn’t gotten
a minute of sleep, dark circles covering his eyes as well as the redness surrounding his pupils.

“Good morning,” Evan’s tone was “unbothered as if he was expecting Barty to come. No
sign of surprise was apparent in his expression as he gazed over Barty.

“It’s 5 am,” Barty mentioned, ignoring the fact that it was almost 6 o’clock. Manipulating
himself to believe it was 5 am was giving him a satisfaction provided by the fact of keeping
his promise.

“And?” Evan asked, leaning on the door frame. He had unbuttoned his wrinkled light-blue
shirt, revealing his skin beneath it.

“I couldn’t get white roses,” Barty said with a smirk, wasting no time in addressing Evan’s
earlier statement and making his purpose for coming over evident.

“What a shame,” Evan pouted playfully, causing Barty to frown in confusion. “If there are no
white roses, I might have to reconsider my decision.”

Barty despised it when the person beside him was the one being sarcastic and passive-
aggressive. That was his role, not someone else’s. It was fun when he did it, but it became
perplexing when others adopted the same attitude.

“Which is?” he asked for an explanation of what Evan meant by saying his decision. Barty
tried his best to hide his excitement.

Evan rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed. “What do you think?” he retorted, raising an eyebrow.
“Why would I ask for roses from someone I just turned down for their proposal?”

Barty stood there for a while, trying to figure out what Evan was up to. Trusting people was
not Barty’s strong suit, and even though he had worked hard to get Evan to say yes, when the
words came out of him, Barty had a hard time believing them.

“If you haven’t backed down, I’m on board.” Evan found it necessary to explain clearly since
Barty hadn’t given any sort of response. “By the look on your face, you look as if you’re
having second thoughts.”

“Why?” Barty asked as the first thing. “What changed?”

“I have my own reasons.” Evan shrugged, making it clear that he had no intention of
explaining the said reasons. “Do come in,” he invited him in. “We’ve got to talk if we’re
doing this.”

Barty obeyed without protest. He walked in, moving past Evan, who had stepped aside from
the door. Walking in, he saw the place was the exact same as he’d been there the last time.
The only difference was the dark yellow blanket that was curled up on the couch. He went
into the living room and sat down, hearing Evan’s footsteps which was a sign that he was
following.

“You weren’t surprised to see me arrive.” Barty pointed out, questioning Evan’s lack of
reaction to his arrival.

“You’re not that hard to figure out.” Evan raised both his eyebrows, annoying Barty. “I knew
you couldn’t wait till an appropriate time.” He sat down on the armchair, facing Barty as he
spoke.

“So,” Barty grinned widely. “You were expecting me all night.”

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Evan emphasized the word ‘expecting’ as he rolled his eyes. “I
merely knew you’d come, eventually.”

“Whatever makes you sleep at night.” Barty mocked. This was his way of refraining from
talking about the actual matter. Alas, he wasn’t fortunate. Evan was not hesitant to bring up
the subject.

“If we’re doing this, we need to talk about it thoroughly.” He sounded serious. “Know that
Pandora doesn’t know I agreed. She won’t be pleased.”

“Believe me, your sister’s displease will be the least of our concerns if we do it.” Barty was
certain. “I don’t know about your lot, but my dad is not the most accepting father out there.”

Barty’s goal wasn’t to seek his father’s approval; rather, he aimed to earn his disapproval.
However, his motivations didn’t alter the truth. If the marriage between him and Evan
happened,

Pandora’s reaction would matter the least. In fact, it would be a blessing for her, so she ought
to have been grateful instead of being unappreciative.

“Public appearance is everything to my parents.” Evan was deeply agitated. His expression
was belittling his family. “They will not go to the extent the Blacks did with Sirius. They may
even pretend they knew about it all along, for god’s sake.”

Barty knew anyone who grew up in a household like Rosier’s would have problems with
their family. Like Regulus hated his parents with every emotion he had but still acted as they
said, or Sirius, who had chosen to cut ties with them early on. Andromeda Black, Edwarlinda
Malfoy, Alphard Black, and many more others were living proof of the rebellion against the
oppressive families they were surrounded by; it was not an extraordinary situation. It wasn’t
an extraordinary situation. What surprised Barty was the golden child’s merciless criticism of
his own family. It was hard to believe that the Rosier family was just putting on a show
instead of being a genuinely well-functioning family. It all seemed too good to be an act.

“I want to destroy my father’s reputation,” Barty pointed out. “I’m not taking any risks that I
can’t take. Are you sure you will not back out the second your precious father asks you to?”
Maybe Barty was underestimating Evan, or maybe he was just being realistic. Either way, he
had to know he could trust Evan on this. After passing the point of no return, nothing and no
one should’ve stopped them, not even themselves.

Evan bristled at the suggestion. “I’m capable of making my own decisions. My father doesn’t
own me.”

“Excuse me if I’m having doubts on that.” Barty pointed out, probably crossing a line that he
wasn’t supposed to cross. “All the years of seeing you in newspapers posing alongside your
father as his heir makes it hard to believe otherwise.”

“I’m strategic.” Evan interjected defensively. “I’m not you, Barty. I’m not going to ruin my
chances of owning the empire my father built because my ego can’t handle taking orders
from him.”
They were staring each other in the eye, both of their threats visible, gazes dangerous. Both
of them were touching sensitive subjects about each other. Neither cared.

“You’re gullible if you believe this is about my ego.” Barty sounded serious and daring. “It’s
about his.”

“I don’t care about your motivations as long as you don’t question mine.” Evan said, studying
Barty’s expression.

“So, we have a deal then,” Barty’s grin widened on his face. “We’ll get married.”

“We can’t get married out of nowhere, Crouch. It has to be believable.” Evan objected. “I’d
thought your plan was stronger.”

“What do you suggest we do then? I don’t think our parents would be willing to wait long
before sealing the arrangement.” Barty pointed out the obvious fact. Both of them knew their
parents would act as fast as possible for the unity, to seal it before Riddle’s actual return.

“We may get them to accept defeat without actually getting married.” Evan started to explain.
“First, we’ve got to start with an engagement and hope it’ll be enough.”

“What if it’s not?” Barty asked, trying to consider every possibility because, to him, this was
not mere revenge. It was also the start of the rest of his future, the one in which his father had
no power over his actions.

“Then we’ll do whatever it takes to make them give up.” Evan was determined. More
determined than Barty imagined he would ever be. He gazed over Barty for a moment, a
silent agreement going through both of his eyes; then Evan got up and walked towards the
kitchen. Barty waited for him to come back, but when he saw Evan preparing coffees, he
walked near him. He sat down on one of the barstools of the table separating the kitchen and
living room. He saw the ashtray and the pack of cigarettes lying on the marble table. Seizing
one without seeking permission, he casually lit it while initiating a conversation.

“We ought to set some ground rules.” Barty inquired. “For the limits of the engagement.”

Setting down the cups he held, Evan turned his attention back to Barty, his focus momentarily
lingering on the cigarettes.

“I totally agree.” He looked at the fag a while more before lifting his gaze up to Barty’s face.
“Allow me to initiate; cigarettes are private property and shall remain untouched.”

Barty laughed, genuinely amused. “Oh please, we both know you could buy the factory
producing them if you wanted. By taking a single fag would hardly- “

However, the rest of Barty’s words halted abruptly as he observed the expression on Evan’s
face.

“Wait, you don’t actually own the company, do you?” Barty questioned, utterly astonished.
“Technically,” Evan was forcing out the words even though his attitude carried a slight
knobbiness as he rested his back on the counter, “I don’t. It’s signed under Pandora’s name.”

“Which brand?” Barty asked, his shock still hadn’t worn off.

“In Godric’s Hollow, all tobacco products have the same manufacturer. Thus, every brand
that’s sold in town.” Evan was carrying a sense of shame by the way he talked about the
company. It was obvious he was not comfortable talking about the assets, but Barty was very
much interested in the topic.

“So, every time I purchase a pack, I inadvertently contribute to your dinner expenses?” Barty
teased playfully, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“As I said,” Evan replied, turning his back on Barty to attend to the now-ready coffees,
signaled by the machine’s bleeping. “It’s owned by Pandora and operated by my father.” He
turned back, placing the coffees on the table and nudging one towards Barty.

“Perhaps I should reconsider marrying her?” Barty asked with an innocence in his voice,
excited that he could maybe have free fags for the rest of his life.

“Piss of.” Evan’s threat sounded real. Whenever Barty mentioned or simply joked about
marrying Pandora, Evan would tense up no matter his previous mood. Barty took a sip from
the coffee before answering him.

“Jesus, Rosier. You should learn what joking is.” He was not affected by Evan’s threat and
was still carrying a relaxed attitude.

“I know what joking is. I just don’t like it when it’s about my sister.” Evan explained briefly.
He lit himself one of the fags. The room was filled with the smoke coming out of their
ciggies, but the wide windows were beneficial to keep the place smell-free.

“You should know I’m not the best when it comes to following orders.” Barty warned him
with an unserious tone in his voice. “I will most definitely steal your cigarettes every time I
run out or merely feel like it.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “This is a mutual agreement. Keep your part, and I will keep mine.”

“Fair enough.” Barty agreed, though he stood by his previous statement. He was not the best
when it came to following rules. “We’re both allowed to see other people. In secret, of
course.”

“Sure.” Evan agreed without a second thought. “Just don’t be reckless about it enough to ruin
my reputation.”

Once that was settled, Barty thought of another rule to set. However, Evan was quicker to act.

“No family talk, ever.” Evan was determined to get this Barty to accept his rule. “No
interfering with private family matters or jokes involving siblings.”
Barty smirked mischievously. “The first one is fair but don’t you think the second is a bit
irrelevant for me, considering I have no sibling you can joke about.”

Evan raised an eyebrow threateningly. “I mean it, Barty.” He frowned. “Pandora is as angry
as it is. Do not tease her.”

“Fine.” Barty breathed out. “I’ll try my best.” He hadn’t made a clear promise.

“No French.” He was happy to come up with a rule he could set.

“ Mais, pourquoi ?” Evan grinned, annoying Barty by doing the exact opposite of his wish.
Barty threatened him with an eyebrow move.

“Evan, no bloody French.” He repeated himself. “Not full damn sentences in it anyways.”

“Deal.” Evan accepted, not paying too much attention. “I want white roses sent to my office
every day.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Barty blinked a couple of times, trying to push back his confusion and
mocking laughter yet miserably failing to do so. “White roses?” he grimaced, finding the idea
rather absurd.

“We have to be convincing, right? You’ve said it yourself.” Evan was pretty serious about his
rule, which, to Barty, was insane. “This is my way of showing everyone that this is pretty
damn serious.”

Barty struggled to keep a straight face but eventually managed to regain his composure. “I’m
not your prince charming; get your own roses.”

“You were doing your best to act charming giving them to my mother yesterday, didn’t you?”
Evan was clearly mocking him, which annoyed Barty.

“I can send the skulls of my victims instead. How would you like that?” Barty retorted, his
frustration genuine, though Evan remained unfazed.

“Believe me, if it was Pandora you were marrying, roses wouldn’t be the only things she’d
want.” Evan quipped, trying to make light of the situation. While it may have been true,
Barty’s interest in roses had been focused on convincing Evan to agree. Now, roses were no
longer his concern.

“Send them to yourself and sign my name under it if you want them so much.” Barty
believed he’d find a solution that would make them both satisfied.

“I’ll send them to myself 3 days of the weekends. You send them in the other 2.” Evan didn’t
look as he was about to give up without a fight. Barty was as headstrong as Evan, if not more.
However, he didn’t wish to make Evan turn back from his decision. So, he seemed to have no
choice but to accept.
“Fine.” He finally gave in. “But they can be two random days each week according to my
chance of remembering them.”

Victorious in getting his way, Evan smiled. “Deal. What else?”

Barty took a sip from his coffee, thinking of another clause to add to their rules.

“I want Regulus to be there for the majority of our public meetings.” He then came up with a
rule that did not make the most sense.

“You’re scared of me?” Evan teased him, not losing the opportunity Barty had offered to him
in silver plate.

“I’m scared of me.” Barty changed the direction of the conversation. “I might suddenly
decide to murder you.”

“And you think of all people, Regulus would be the one to stop it?” Evan’s voice was filled
with amusement, clearly undermining the notion.

Barty shrugged in response. His motivation behind asking for such a measure was to ensure
he did not get into an argument with Evan in a public place. They barely knew each other,
and Regulus was the one to know them both: making him the sole candidate for solving any
conflict that could potentially occur. It was best to maintain a positive public image, not
giving any reason for paparazzi to believe they were not a real couple.

“Maybe I’m looking for an accomplice.” Barty was hurling empty threats.

“Sure.” Evan was clearly in disbelief. “Whatever.”

“What will be our first step?” Barty asked. “We have to start somewhere.”

“Let’s go to Riddle’s place today. So that people will see us. I hear you and Regulus are fond
of the place.” Evan did not take long to come up with the first step. To Barty, his idea did not
make the most sense.

“It’s the last place these things are revealed though.” Barty pointed out. “Its sole reason is to
go and do things in discreet. Besides, we’ll be in masks anyway.”

“Are you that artless to believe Riddle’s Place is that secure?” Evan looked confused by
Barty’s words. “People talk, Barty. Half of the people in Riddle’s Place are there for the sole
reason of having leverage over each other.”

“Still,” Barty insisted. “Masks.” He reminded.

“Think about it.” Evan lit another cigarette as he started to explain. “You have been there
multiple times if I’m correct. They know what your silhouette looks like. If they see you with
another person other than the crew, they’ll wonder. Curiosity is the biggest curse given on
humankind.”
He was completely on a different perspective than Barty was. Barty had the feeling this was
not going to be the only time they were not on the same page. Barty was impulsive yet direct.
Evan, on the other hand, was more like Regulus. More cunning, calculated, and systematic.

“I’m not sure how it’s any better than directly revealing a relationship. You have the press
following you around all the time. Do you not?” Barty asked.

“My point exactly. They’ll see me going in. They’ll wonder what I’ll do. The rumour starting
outside of Riddle’s Place will connect to the ones starting inside.”

“Sure, I guess why not use the excuse to go there; but I still see no point in complicating it.”
Barty gave in. He knew he could get persuasive at will; however that moment, he decided it
was not necessary. He would take any opportunity to spend a night out.

“You’ll see.” Evan was convinced his way was the correct one. “These things take time if you
want to perfect them.”

Barty raised an eyebrow playfully. “You seem experienced.” He grinned, which caused Evan
to frown in response.

“Yes, Barty. I faked married once before and know all about it.” His stares lacked emotion,
making it obvious he was being sarcastic. Still, Barty found the urge to ask for assurance.

“Wait, really?” he asked, realizing how dumb the question was afterwords had already left his
mouth. Evan continued to stare at him, not giving a response.

“I was kidding.” Barty tried to take back what he said. Evan completely ignored him,
changing the conversation topic all together.

“Riddle’s place tonight.” He reminded Barty. He nodded to show Evan that he was on board.

“Don’t forget.” Barty grinned mischievously. “You are madly in love with me.”

“I’m a good actor.” Evan’s tone was challenging. He talked as if they were in a competition
to see who would play better and who would give up first.

“We shall see.” Barty challenged back. They were going into a war without fulfilling the
truce with each other. It was dangerous, but Barty was ready.

The rest of the day went by quickly after Barty left Evan’s place. As he made his way home,
he couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation they had. The enormity of their decision
weighed heavily on his mind. Barty realized that they were stepping into a completely
unknown journey, and he had no idea what to expect next. It was both exciting and nerve-
wracking, like standing on the edge of a new adventure with no map to guide him.

He had texted Regulus to meet at Riddle’s Place at 6 pm without explaining the reason.
Regulus hadn’t questioned it, obviously, since it was nothing out of the ordinary.
Walking through the empty hallways of the house, he noticed that his father had already left.
Barty sighed, knowing that he couldn’t avoid the inevitable confrontation forever. His
father’s disapproval was something he had grown used to, but this time it felt different. This
time, Barty was determined to stand his ground.

He spent most of the day sleeping, compensating the night before. His mind was still busy
with crippling thoughts, but knowing he had achieved the first biggest step by getting Evan to
say yes was easing his mind.

Barty woke up around 5 pm, realizing he had little time left to prepare for the evening ahead.
He quickly hopped into the shower, the warm water easing some of the tension in his
muscles. Once he was out, he stood before the mirror, contemplating his appearance.

He made sure to dress to impress. He chose a black suit tailored to fit him perfectly. He
paired it with a deep burgundy dress shirt and a black tie, completing the ensemble with shiny
black Oxford shoes. He groomed his jet-black hair, and his piercing dark eyes seemed to hold
a new sense of determination. Despite the internal turmoil, he was looking sharp and
confident.

For a change, he decided not to drive to Riddle’s Place. Instead, Regulus had offered to pick
him up on the way, and Frank was behind the wheel.

“Hello, Sir.” Frank greeted him as he started the engine. “You look more polished than
usual.” There was a hint of joviality in his voice.

“Please, Frank.” Barty warned him casually. “No need to call me sir. We’ve known each
other for years.”

“I believe your sincerity. Yet you are still Mr. Black’s friend. That makes me at your service.”
Frank was a good lad. Barty enjoyed his presence even though their acquaintances were
always short-lasting. What Barty hated was the respect Frank felt the need to show. Barty
attempted to insist further, but Regulus cut in.

“Don’t bother.” He directed his words at Barty. “I’ve been trying to get him to call me by my
name for years without any success. Our Frank here likes formality way too much.”

Frank looked at them through the rear-view mirror and gave them both a genuine smile. “It is
only my job, Mr. Black.”

Regulus responded with a smile back. Once the Frank focused his gazes on the road, the
conversation shifted to Barty and Regulus.

“I heard today is not for our usual hang-outs.” Regulus pointed out.

Barty shot Regulus a side-eye, playfully irritated. “Okay, first of all, if you’re in this, be in
this with me. Do not gossip behind my back with him.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, seemingly unaffected, “Jealous, are we?” His tone was light, but
his expression remained serious without a hint of playfulness.
“I’m protective.” Barty chuckled, his grin widening.

“Don’t be.” Regulus’s answer was short. Barty had already gotten used to Regulus’s attitude,
and he knew him well enough to understand this was his way of being kind and funny.

They had arrived without realizing how the time had passed by. Frank dropped them off in
front of the Riddle’s Place. Regulus checked his phone as they waited a moment in front of
the grand door.

“He’s already in.” he read a text before informing Barty.

“How the hell we’re supposed to find him in there?” Barty asked a fair question. The masks
and the crowd were not the best setting to detect someone’s location.

“You should’ve thought about it before making the third-most devious guy in town your
fiancé.” Regulus indicated. Barty knew that he and Regulus unarguably were the first two.

“In my defence, he looked like an innocent puppy compared to his demonic sister.” Barty
defended his decision.

“You don’t know them at all, do you?” Regulus asked, in genuine curiosity.

“I do know how they present themselves.” Barty was honest while saying. His knowledge of
the Rosier twins was based on the extent they had presented themselves in the media. And by
that, what Barty saw was not much than puppets played by their parents. However, in the last
days, he had been proven wrong a couple of times. Even the way Pandora had talked back to
her parents during the dinner and the way Evan had agreed to the engagement was enough to
prove Barty’s prejudices were not fair. Still, he was sceptical. He wasn’t accustomed to them
as much as Regulus was. He needed time if he was expected to trust them.

“Let’s not keep him waiting any longer.” Regulus commanded. Barty agreed, and as a result,
they walked towards the entrance. They picked up two masks from the basket that was placed
near the bodyguard. Barty picked up the mask that he found the most alluring. It was black,
though the black was barely visible since the red embroidery was covering most of the
surface. It was a simple mask only covering the eye area though the embroidery itself was
enough to create an eye-catching look. He saw Regulus picking up one in pure black. It was a
simple mask with no decorations on it. However, its shape was unusual. As well as eyes, the
mask was big enough to cover the left of his face until his lips.

“We liked the masks.” Regulus talked to the bodyguard, handing him a couple of quid. “We
will keep them.”

Without leaving any time for the bodyguard to say anything, they walked in. It had been
multiple times since they’d been in the place, yet the initial allure of it hadn’t lost its impact.
Every time Barty walked in, he was charmed by the atmosphere. The sound of hushed
conversations and laughter filled the air, mingling with the soft notes of jazz music. The
masked crowd swayed gracefully, adding to the enigmatic charm of the place.
“Text him, say he should tell us where he is.” Barty reminded Regulus, convinced that it was
impossible to locate Evan.

“His text was clear that he wanted us to find him.”

“And since when are you taking orders from others?” Barty asked, aiming to agitate Regulus
into changing his mind and getting him to text Evan. However, before Regulus could answer
back, they got interrupted by Peter.

“Hello, Mr. Black.” He kindly greeted Regulus first and then looked at Barty. “Mr. Crouch.
Your regular loot is available.”

“Thank you, Peter.” Barty thanked him. “But we’re in search of a person.”

Peter shamefully averted his eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. I cannot give information about other
people present. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“We’re not strangers anymore, Peter, are we?” Barty tried his chance one more time. “I think
you can direct us to our destination with no problem whatsoever.”

“Sorry, sir,” Peter insisted, remaining professional and sticking to his policy.

“I know you’re serving us to report back to Miss Meadows, Peter.” Regulus then cut in. Barty
was as surprised as Peter was by looking at the expression on his face. “I’m sure she’ll be
delighted if she heard we met Mr. Rosier today.” He paused for a second before adding.
“Considering you’ll lead us to him first, of course.”

Barty had no idea what Regulus was talking about. Was it a real observation or a bait to test
Peter’s reaction? He had no idea. Of course, it was clear that every time they went, Peter was
responsible for serving them; it was an easy observation. Barty -unlike Regulus- hadn’t
questioned the reason behind it. He’d merely thought all the servers were responsible for
different regular customers. That’s why Regulus’s words were completely new to him, and by
the look on Peter’s face, they were true. His expression betrayed his surprise and
nervousness. He seemed torn between his duty to keep things confidential and the fear of
displeasing Dorcas or getting caught in whatever game Regulus was playing.

“Fine.” Peter cleared his throat. “Mr. Rosier has just arrived. I’ll walk you to him.” He led the
way, his nervousness dripping down in his every move.

“What was that about?” Barty asked Regulus in complete confusion.

“We’re important people, Barty.” Regulus answered. “We get special treatment.”

“How did you know- “Barty was interrupted by Regulus before being able to finish his
question.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Barty had no intention of conforming to Regulus’s words; however, he couldn’t push further.
They had arrived to a loot different than theirs. Evan was sitting alone. His golden mask had
 designs of cracks, revealing checker prints underneath. Unlike Regulus and Barty’s, Evan’s
mask had an elongated, asymmetric shape with motifs stretching from his eyes to his
forehead. Despite the upper half of his face being concealed by the mask, his distinctive
features -his hair, eyes, and lower face- still allowed for recognition if one looked closely
enough.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” It was his way of greeting them.

“You could’ve waited less if you had bothered to tell us where you were.” Barty said, still not
attempting to sit down.

“I thought you liked to play games, Crouch.” Evan’s tone was cocky. He had adapted to the
attitude of their surroundings. Even the way he moved his body while sipping his wine was
more playful, more provocative.

“I thought you didn’t.” Barty responded as he sat down. Regulus sat down next to him shortly
after.

“Hello, Rosier.”

“Can I get you anything, sir?” asked the white-clad server who was already there standing
next to Evan’s loot when they arrived. Before Regulus or Barty could give their orders, Peter
interrupted.

“I can take it from here.” Peter, with a confident air, cleared his throat and took charge, gently
dismissing the other server. It became evident to Barty that Peter held more authority than the
typical servers. His words carried weight and were swiftly obeyed. Regulus probably had
realized it the first time they were served by Peter. It had taken longer for Barty to realise.

Regulus looked at Barty just by a touch of gaze, implying that he was right about Peter.
Barty’s lips curled just a little in return. They gave their orders as the regular.

The day was still early, but there was the weight of everything present between them. It was
either the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning, depending on the fore coming of
the events. There was no stopping the Armageddon after it started, and now, they were
starting it.

No return.

No going back.

Chapter End Notes

Hello againnnnnn
This was the first time they were alone this long and I'm going feral over it.
Their rules pls :' they're both too stupid bcs why would you talk about fags and french
instead of talking about actual boundaries.
w h i t e r o s e s strike ones again
I said this on tumblr but I want to say it here as well. In my mind Barty wears Narciso
Rodriguez for him bleu noir and Evan wears Tom ford beau de jour. Dont ask me how I
know it, I just do.
I've given way too much thought into their masks and finally I'm so happy with the way
I imagine them. Also next chapter we'll have a new character who'll wear dark blue
mask. Be my guest to guess who they are.
Evan was so cunty for telling them to find him tbh. Love him for that
Anyways I kept notes too long this time. Sorry :' I was just excited.
See you next week:) Take care
 a call to motion
Chapter Notes

I wrote so much more than I planned this week, so I'm uploading early. If everything
goes according to plan, I will upload another chapter on Monday, our actual uploading
day. I'm not promising anything, but I will do my best.
Also the fiction, in general, has dark themes as you've already seen, such as parental
issues, homophobia etc. I was wondering if you'd like me to put content warnings in
each chapter specifically. I truly suck at them, but I can try if it'll make things easier for
you.
Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter overall<3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Growing up was the most natural occurrence that every living creature had to go through.
Exploring the world, coming to the terms with the things surrounding them, realising their
purpose, learning to act on ration instead of impulse were the basic steps of the human
growth. However, the major fact differentiating humankind from the other growing beings
was neither of these. Animals, acted on the instinct of survival, plants lived solely for
durability. Free will, on the other hand was attributed to the humankind. Barty found the
statement rather incorrect. Animals were the one to act as they wanted. Not having to fit in,
not forced to conform. Animals and plants were only responsible for their own. People had
responsibilities towards others around them. From the moment they were born, they were
born with a title called a surname. It decided your future instead of you. Poor or rich.
Conservative or liberal. Christian, Muslim, Jewish… Respected or disregarded.

All of these were decided for you based on how your parents wanted. It was a never-ending
line of decisions going back to one’s ancestors. Changing it was not always easy. Deciding
who you were was impossible. Your life was granted to you as if it was a gift but permit of
living it the way you wanted was considered a sin if you went out of the way of your family
name.

So no, men were not free. They did not have free will. They were bounded by surnames,
having their faith sealed not by God but by their parents.

Now, there sat the descendants of three of the most impactful families in their town, if not in
London itself. All possessing distinct characteristics from each other.

There was Barty, who refused to be a part of the charade his father had pushed him into. He
was notorious, misbehaved and insubordinate.

There was Regulus, who hated everything his parents believed in yet conforming to their
every wish simply because he believed he did not have any choice. He was suave, jaded and
aloof.

Finally, there was Evan. The one Barty was yet to figure out. He seemed happy by everything
his surname had granted him. The fame, the money, the title. But by the looks of it, he was
simply not that happy. He was eccentric, enigmatic and witty.

These three had the power to shape the future of their families. Unfortunate for their parents,
neither seemed to willing to procreate, considering their situation. Barty was fond of the idea
that he was capable of ending the blood-line, putting an end to the misery of generations of
societal oppression that was brought upon like a curse by their surnames.

“So,” Regulus was the one to talk first. “When will you tell Pandora?” his question was
directed at Evan.

“She’ll learn when everybody else does.” Evan’s answer was definite. He was sat down
comfortably in the loot. If not for the golden mask and the attitude he carried, he might’ve
been easily mistaken as the workers there. He donned an oversized linen white button-up
shirt that draped effortlessly over his lithe frame. Its pristine whiteness juxtaposed against the
beige trousers he wore, creating an unexpected yet captivating harmony with his resplendent
golden mask.

“Which is when?” Barty engaged in the conversation by asking the question he had in mind
for a while.

“As I said before,” Evan began to explain. “We’ll plant the seeds first. However, the
revelation must be grand. Definite, so that there’s no room for denial.”

“Pandora’s hosting the cotillion ball this year in London.” Regulus informed them both. “If
you want to go big, there’s no option bigger.”

Last time Barty was at a Ball, he was 16 years old. As a family they were invited to

Bal des debutantes of Pandora. His father had insisted on making an appearance as the newly
elected mayor. Those were the last times Barty had acted as his father’s wishes.

“She’ll kill me if I ruin her ball.” Evan’s voice was calm, but a hint of actual fear passed
through his eyes.

“She’ll kill you either way.” Regulus pointed out. “I talked to her, Evan. I know she’s not in
favour of this marriage.”

“But you’re still here.” Barty grinned. “That’d make you an accomplice. If she kills Evan,
she’ll kill you too.”

“No one is killing anyone.” Evan ended the conversation. “If we play our cards right.” He
added.

“So,” Regulus’s tone was questioning, “about the ball?”

“It’s smart.” Evan said with a small head nod, approving Regulus’s words.
“I don’t want to go to a bloody ball.” Barty objected. There were variety of choices in which
they could perform the revelation. It did not have to be in a ball.

“I don’t want to bloody marry you but shit happens.” Evan looked at Barty. He did not sound
nor seemed angry.

“Why ball?” Barty’s voice had sounded like a bratty child while continuing to object.

“It’s practical, Barty.” Evan was the one to explain him. “Every member of the society will be
there. If we go there together, our parents will have no opportunity to deny it.”

It was a brilliantly crafted idea, no doubt about it. Barty couldn't deny its cleverness. And,
deep down, he knew that agreeing to it would be the more sensible choice. Yet, being
sensible had never been his strong suit. The mere thought of attending those extravagant balls
filled him with dread, and the idea of dancing at them was even more detestable.

“I don’t do dances.” Barty’s voice was filled with disgust. “Unless they involve poles, laps
and me watching hot performers.”

“If he doesn’t know how to dance,” Evan directed his words at Regulus, “I can’t present him
to society.”

“Do you really think the only problem in you two presenting each other will be your lack of
dancing skills?” Regulus asked, deadpan.

“I know how to dance.” Barty felt the need to defend himself. When the other two looked at
him in disbelief, he added. “I do. I know it’s hard to believe but we all grew up in the same
society. Of course, I was taught to dance.”

“Very well,” Evan’s emotions shifted as his tone got challenging. “Prove it then.”

It was obvious he was trying to provoke him. Barty hated that it was working. The thing was,
Barty knew how to dance. He was not lying by saying he was taught how to. With that said,
he was terrible at it and he’d forgotten most of the steps. However, he was not going to admit
that.

“Fine.” Barty accepted the challenge. “When is this ball?”

“Next Saturday.” Evan answered. “It will be held in Lancaster Ballroom of Savoy.”

One more step of the game had been decided as well. Deciding on due date for things made
them solid. Real...

For a while they continued to talk about the ball. How would they act, what waltz were they
going to dance to, who was going to be there… But after they teased Regulus on who he was
going to choose as a date, the conversation turned into teasing, mocking and joking.

They enjoyed drinks for a while without tackling the complications of their situation. For a
moment, it felt as if they were friends. Friends who had no problems in life and was allowed
to have fun, let loose as much as they wanted to. However, Barty wasn’t naïve. He knew once
they walked out that door nothing would be the same. Because Evan was right. Even the
addition of Evan to Regulus and Barty’s usual presence was grabbing the attentions of others.
He could feel the occasional stares of other guests, sitting in different loots. He wasn’t sure if
the ones stared at them were aware of their identities or simply recognized their silhouette. In
either case, people showed interest. Not too grand to make their evening about them but
enough to disturb them.

Barty ordered himself for a Sazerac as Evan and Regulus asked for French 75s. As Peter
came back with their drinks they were back talking about their agreement.

“Are you two sure people will care about your presences here?” Regulus asked. “I know
they’re looking right now, but there has to be something to be seen in order for them to talk
about it tomorrow. You’re barely interacting, your faces are covered in masks and we all
know there’s no press, here.”

Barty wasn’t sure what Regulus wanted them to do. It was too early to show any sorts of
public affection and they were at the worst of place if they sought the press attention.

“Sorry but I will not be feeding content to your midnight kinks.” Barty teased Regulus. “Well
at least not yet.” He smirked, looking at Evan.

“Shut up.” Evan’s words were short but effective.

They probably would’ve continued to bicker, if a fourth voice hadn’t interrupted. First, it was
the clearing of throat, aimed for grabbing their attention. It was a successful attempt, all three
had looked at Peter at confusion. Because Peter was a server. Servers would not speak unless
spoken to.

“I’m sorry for interrupting.” Peter was barely looking at them, his focus was mostly on his
feet. Neither of the three gave a response to him. They continued to stare at him in silence
until Peter decided to continue.

“I know it’s not my place. But I might have a solution.” His voice was hesitant, almost
stuttering. He was not confident in the way he acted yet his respectful manners were still
present.

“You’re right it’s not your place.” Regulus said. He looked at Peter in the most intimidating
way. Even though Peter was trying for otherwise Regulus did not let him break the eye
contact. It was silent but his threat was clear. He looked as if he had some leverage on Peter
or maybe it was just his knowledge of Peter’s job there, which was quite literally spying
them.

“Let the lad speak, Regulus.” Evan warned Regulus. His tone was much softer and intrigued
compared to him.

“Since when does servers of Riddle listen to private conversations, Rosier? You’re nothing
but a fool if you think he’s just being friendly.” Regulus was genuinely annoyed, maybe even
angry.
Barty considered the possibilities for a while. Regulus had every right to be suspicious. He
was completely correct to say Riddle’s servers would not befriend customers. It was against
everything the place stood for. Yet, it was no surprise Riddle used these private clubs to
gather all the secret information these people had and using them to his advantage. Though
Regulus was right, Barty had the burning desire for the unknown. If the words were implied,
Barty needed to know what they meant.

“We don’t have to do as he says.” He then decided to say. “But what harm is in hearing him?”

“You do realise I will talk to Dorcas about this, right?” Regulus threatened Peter. “I’m sure
she’ll like to know that her crew is going against the rules, several times.”

Peter moved his gazes to his feet once more and talked, almost whispering. “It’s your
discretion, sir. I’m merely trying to help.”

“Don’t terrorize the boy.” Evan once again stepped in. Peter looked at him in gratitude.

“Whatever,” Regulus finally gave up. “Not my damn business.”

“I have a friend.” Peter explained, after believing he had gotten the permission to speak. “He
works as a publicist in the Quibbler. He’s here today.”

The Quibbler was the newspaper-magazine mainly focused around the high class of London.
It was owned by a lad named Xenophilius who was a resident in Godric’s Hollow so a good
part of the columns was shaped around people there. However, what Peter suggested was
alarming. First of all, they had no idea of Peter’s intentions. But what made it worse was, it
was most likely illegal. Barty knew Riddle wouldn’t allow press in without taking his
precautions just like he didn’t allow his workers to spread inside information. Barty wasn’t
sure of the legal aspect but he knew there had to be some sort of law enforcement applied.

“I wonder,” Regulus sounded sceptical. “Why on earth would you tell us that, putting you,
your friend and even your boss in danger.”

“I can’t tell you, sir.” Peter was apologetic.

“Then you are of no help.” Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“Who is this friend?” Barty couldn’t help but ask. In return he received terrorizing gazes
from Regulus.

“I can make you meet them, sir.”

Barty looked at Evan, to examine his response to Peter. Of all things, he looked gripped. It
was obvious he was calculating the possibilities but he was so far from carrying the
seriousness of Regulus.

“You’re both daft if you believe this is a good idea.” Regulus spitted out.

“The thing is,” Evan started, looking at Barty “Nothing about what we’re doing is a good
idea. Maybe for this once, we need bad ones.”
Regulus stared at Evan in disbelief, his tone turning into a warning. "You're smarter than this,
Evan."

"But I'm not," Barty chimed in, catching them both off guard. They looked at him blankly,
unsure of where he was going with this.

"What?" Regulus asked, his voice demanding an explanation.

"I'm not smarter than this," Barty clarified with a smirk. "I admit I make bad choices anyway.
So, if I decide to take lovely Peter here up on his offer and meet his friend, there's no way
you could convince me otherwise."

“You’re a menace.” Regulus looked bored.

“My point exactly.”

Barty looked at Evan to study his expression, however he looked distracted by his phone. He
read few messages without opening them and got up.

“Sorry, I have a call to make.” He looked as if he was in a rush. Before stepping away, he
looked at Regulus. “It’s Emmeline, she knows I’m here.”

After he was gone, Peter was still looking at them, waiting for an answer they were to give.
Barty wanted to use Evan’s disappearance to his advantage, now that he only had Regulus to
convince.

“Peter why don’t you tell your friend to meet us here, in 10 minutes.”

“You’re going to regret that.” Regulus took a sip from his drink; he clearly had given up on
trying to change their minds.

“That’s where you’re wrong, darling.” Barty stretched his body as he talked. “I’m not capable
of regret.”

“I’ll go inform the publicist, if you meant your words, Mr. Crouch.” Peter looked scared of
Regulus’s reaction even though he had asked the approval of Barty.

“Yes, I did mean them.” Barty was reckless. He did not care one bit. He didn’t necessarily
have to go with whatever the publicist had to offer. He merely wanted to learn.

Peter went away with a nod of approval. Now, only ones left were Regulus and Barty. Evan
was seen from afar, standing in a corner, talking heatedly as if he was arguing. Barty couldn’t
figure out why Emmeline’s knowledge was a big matter. He wasn’t going to question it
though. Not yet anyways.

“He is in trouble.” Regulus was the first to spoke after they were alone. Barty realized his
gazes were also focused on Evan who was still on the phone.

“Why?” Barty asked, not able to resist the temptation. He had a serious problem in taming his
urges.
“If there’s a person who cares about public appearance more than our parents, its Emmeline.”

“Do you know her?”

“Not really.” Regulus turned at Barty. “She’s always around. Like Frank. Or Mary.”

“Who’s Mary?” Barty’s questions didn’t seem to come to an end. He was aware his distance
from their lives but he hadn’t realized how much that distance was. He was always around
Regulus yet he knew so little about their lives at the Empyrean. Until now, it never had been
a problem.

“Pandora’s secretary. Maybe her assistant. Manager too. Emmeline and Mary are two of the
most hardworking people I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Oh.” Was all Barty could say. “So, they are basically modernized errand-boys. I will never
not be amazed by your desire for luxury.”

“You’re wearing a Zegna button up. You don’t get to criticize capitalism.”

“Fashion is not a luxury, Regulus. It’s a fundamental need.” Barty carried a smug look on his
face.

“Like it or not, you’re as much into your luxury as the rest of us, Crouch. You just pretend
you hate it but in reality, you’re no better than any of us.” Regulus was unnecessarily harsh
on words yet his face was soft, not judging, not angry.

His words made Barty think for a moment. In the end, he decided Regulus was entirely
wrong. It was true he liked the opportunities he could benefit off but he hated the way they
were gained. He fought to change it. Unlike the rest, he was not a sheep, taking orders from
everyone solely to please them.

“We’re not the same.” He objected.

“You like your inheritance so much that you’re ready to marry someone you don’t even know
to get it.” Regulus reminded him.

“That’s not about the inheritance and you know it.” Barty was desperately trying to defend
himself. When it came to convincing Regulus to something, to anything, chance of success
was almost zero.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night.” Regulus put the end to the conversation. Luckily, they
didn’t have to wait for any longer in the awkward silence. Evan, who had hung up his phone,
came back to the table, in a mood just between anxious and relax.

“How did it go?” Regulus was the one to ask.

“Convinced her not to come drag me out of here, so it was a win, I suppose.” Evan answered
as he sat down.

“While you were away, your so-called fiancé told Peter to call for the publicist.”
“You grass.” Barty rolled his eyes at Regulus.

“Don’t ever call him that.” Evan warned Regulus at the same time, a hint of disgust spread all
over his face. “Also, I figured he would.”

And you didn't stop him?" Regulus scoffed, belittling Evan's lack of action.

In response, Evan simply shrugged.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Regulus gave up. “Do whatever you want. Vous êtes imbéciles”

“I love you too, Reg.” Evan chuckled in amusement. It was obvious Regulus’s desperately
bored situation was an entertainment source for him.

Their bickering would probably last for a long time, if someone hadn’t approached their
table. As luck would have it, a young man in his mid-20s, presumably Peter's publicist, made
his way over. He stood tall and lean, his navy-blue shirt subtly accentuating the shape of his
muscles. To match his button up, he was wearing light-blue jeans which were making him
appear much more casual than most of the customers present. His shimmery mask was much
of a darker blue than his shirt, creating a harmonic contrast. His dark curls were falling off his
forehead, almost meeting the start of his mask.

“Hello, everyone.” He greeted before sitting down. “It is a pleasure.” He was unnecessarily
cheerful.

“We will decide if it is or not. I’m Barty.”

“Jackson. Jackson Porter.” The publicist presented himself.

“It’s an awfully familiar name.” Regulus was almost hissing. His every move made it
obvious; he had no trust whatsoever to the boy.

Jackson responded with a witty comeback, "It's an awfully small town." He maintained his
composure, not letting Regulus's apparent distrust affect him.

“Is it really, though?” Barty asked. “It’s not that small, is it?”

Just because he had voted in favour to meet him, it did not mean he was going to be kind to
him. Those were two very distinctive things and for Barty to trust the boy, he needed to know
his intentions. Maybe Barty wasn’t as observative as Regulus but he had his own ways to
figure out what people were up against. Intimidating them was the first one of those.

“May I sit down?” Jackson asked, his gaze sweeping across all three of them. Neither gave
him the permission but he sat down anyway.

“So, I’m sure Peter already told you that I’m a publicist. I work at the quibbler with
Xenophilius.” Jackson sound way too optimistic and cheerful that Barty found it irritating.
Neither of them was as kind as he was. Quite the contrary, Barty could see both Evan and
Regulus looking at the boy with piercing eyes. Neither replied to anything he said. However,
Jackson did not look like the type to give up easily.
Addressing Regulus directly, he continued, "You must be Regulus Black." Regulus remained
silent, not providing any response.

“You’re Barty and you of course, are Evan.” He identified them correctly.

“Sure, it’s not bloody creepy for you to recognize us with masks.” Barty said with a hint of
sarcastic congratulations. “What a brilliant way for you to gain our trusts.”

“It is my job after all.” Jackson smiled widely.

"So, you're a paparazzi," Evan said with a condescending expression and a derisive tone in
his voice.

“If I were a paparazzi, I wouldn’t try to strike a deal with you. I would simply leak your
acquaintance to the press.” Jackson was still talking too damn jolly. Barty hated even the way
Jackson moved his body. They were rather too conceited.

"You couldn't do that," Regulus retorted, refusing to soften his expressions. "Be a spy all you
want; you can't actually post inside information."

“I’m not trying to.” Jackson answered. He didn’t seem affected by the negative approach of
them. Conversely, he was looking amused by the situation. His self-confidence looked
indestructible.

“What are you trying to do then, Jackson?” Barty asked, furrowing both eyebrows. He aimed
to intimidate Jackson and make him give up.

“I’m trying to help you.” He sounded genuine though no one believed him.

“Why?” Evan was the one to ask.

For a brief moment, Jackson's eyes met with Peter's – who stood ready to take orders – as if
seeking his support. The exchange was short-lived, but enough for Barty to find it suspicious.
“Shared interest.” Jackson shrugged, casually.

“Which is?” Barty continued the interrogation.

“To get you on the press.” Without allowing anyone to fight back, he turned at Peter. “Pete,
can you get me a chardonnay, please. Gentlemen and I have business to discuss.”

Peter nodded before he went away to get Jackson’s order.

“We did not agree to a business deal.” Evan’s tone was warning. “If you know us as you
claim you do, you’ll know neither Blacks nor Rosiers would get themselves into something
they’re uncertain of.”

Jackson chuckled. "I do know that," he paused, his grin seemingly belittling Evan and
Regulus. Barty could see it bothered both of them. "Well, everybody knows that," he
emphasized, further adding to the insult. Barty noticed Evan and Regulus tense up.
Once Peter came back with his drink, Jackson took the lead on the conversation again.

“Look,” he cleared his throat. “I’m not asking for anything in return. Just go out tomorrow,
together and let me photograph you. No payment, no catch. No nothing.”

“You could’ve found a way to do that without talking to us first. I want to know why you
didn’t?” Evan asked. With a nonchalant gesture, he crossed his legs, one ankle resting on his
opposite knee. His left hand balanced the weight of his glass on his knee.

“I’m trying to be your friend.” Jackson replied.

"Too bad," Regulus's voice dripped with insincere pity. "You're doomed to fail."

Jackson widened his grin, which had never erased off of his face since he’d arrived. “I think
you’re wrong, Mr. Black.”

“That’s a bold opinion, Mr. Porter.” Regulus exuded intimidation, openly challenging
Jackson and almost threatening him. His piercing gaze alone could scare most people away,
but he also wielded his words like weapons, stabbing his opponents verbally.

“I’m a bold man.” Jackson raised an eyebrow, playfully. He was daring Regulus, which was
one of the biggest mistakes a man could do.

“We’ve figured.” Barty mocked. “By the way you dared to sit on our table.”

“Mr. Crouch,” Jackson turned his attention at Barty. “I think you would agree if I said you are
the risk-taker among your friends.”

Barty did not respond though his expression probably given Jackson the answer he wanted.

“You must know that in politics, the means to the end do not matter as long as the victory is
achieved.” Jackson was playing to the weakness of each one. He wasn’t wrong when he said
he knew each one of them. If he was really a publicist as he said, he must’ve been hell of a
good one. “I’m promising you the victory.”

"In politics, trust is earned, not freely given," Barty interjected, his voice unwavering. "Your
promises don't mean much without anything to back them up."

“So, give me a chance.” Jackson was resistant. “Allow me to photograph you and I’ll show
you I’m trustworthy. You can’t expect me to prove myself if you don’t give me the chance to
do so.”

The three continued to give the silent-treatment to Jackson. Barty saw Peter looking at
Jackson with an emotion mixed between worry and pity.

“You’ve got nothing to lose.” Jackson reminded them. “It is just a picture.”

“You do know you might not even be able to continue working at the Quibbler, do you not?”
Regulus used his title as a way to establish power over him. “It only takes one call.”
Jackson chortled as he ran his fingers through his curls, making them even messier. "I'm sure
you hold the power, Sir," he said joyously, in stark contrast to the tense atmosphere.
"However, I doubt you'll use it against me."

“Then you are naïve.” Regulus ridiculed.

“Maybe.” Jackson shrugged, undeterred by Regulus's judgment. “But I’d like to believe a
personal vendetta would not cause you to overlook an opportunity. Not every day a publicist
would risk their career over a single cause.”

“Do you not hear how dubious you sound?” Evan asked in disbelief.

As the tension in the room lingered, Jackson maintained his confident demeanour, seemingly
unfazed by their scepticism. He took a thoughtful sip of his drink before speaking again.

"I understand your concerns, and I don't expect blind trust," Jackson began, trying to find a
common ground. "But let's consider the potential benefits here. I can offer you a chance to
shape your public image, control the narrative, and influence how you're perceived in the
press."

Barty remained sceptical. "And what's in it for you?"

“Does it really matter?” Jackson asked. It was clear he was trying to assert a type of authority
over them. Alas, he had chosen the worst group of people to do that.

“Look.” Jackson sat straight, fixing his posture and pressing his elbows on the table. “I’ll go
now. I have no means to ruin your night. However, if you like to find me, here’s my number.”
He pulled out a card from his pocket and swiped in on the table with his two fingers. “Call
me, text me, anything. You’ll see I have no intentions of harming you.”

He looked at each of them one by one. Barty wasn’t sure what Jackson was looking for or if
he’d found it or not but he left without waiting for any response or reaction.

“He is nuts.” Evan commented, not waiting for long after Jackson’s departure.

Regulus looked at Peter, danger apparent in his eyes. “Whatever you, your friend and your
boss think your planning on us, do not even think about it.”

“We wish nothing but good, sir.” Peter was respectful as always. Maybe for the first time,
Barty did not find it sincere. Peter -possibly unintentionally- had revealed that he, Jackson
and Dorcas were in something together. He had not refuted Regulus’s allegations. The way he
said ‘we’ was enough of a proof.

Realizing what he said, Peter tried to fix it. “No one in the place wants anything bad to
happen to customers sir.”

“We’ve heard enough.” Regulus cut in, briefly. “Bring us the bill.”

Peter looked as if he wanted to object but he didn’t. Instead, he walked off to bring them the
bill. After paying it, they all stood up, ready to leave. Seeing no one else attempted, Barty
slipped the card Jackson had put on the table to his pocket after making sure nobody saw it
except for Peter.

When they left the Riddle’s Place, it was the earliest they had ever ended the night. It was just
around 10 pm. The night was young and so were they. They were just crushed under the
weight of a society, moulding them, shaming them, controlling them.

“My car is in the parking lot.” Evan announced, not much after going out of the place.

“We’ll call Frank.” Regulus explained.

“I’d rather walking.” Barty looked at Regulus.

“I can drop you two off if you’d like.” Evan asked, very casually. Through his attitude he
made sure that it was no big deal. Barty had meant it when he said he preferred walking,
though.

“Doesn’t matter to me.” Regulus was interested in Evan’s offer.

“I’ll walk.” Barty made it certain.

“Fine.” Evan did not try to persuade him. Not that Barty was expecting him to. “Good night
then.” He turned at Regulus. “Come, the car is this way.”

“Good night.” Barty intended his words for both of them.

“Talk to you later, Crouch.” Regulus said, before following Evan to the car.

Just like that, Barty was alone in the street, leaving the crowd of the Riddle’s place behind.
The alcohol on his body wasn’t the enough amount to make him forget. During the day, it
was easy to ignore the shitty situation he was in. At least, he would get to enjoy Evan’s
misery and Regulus’s commentary. When he was alone, things felt more real. Much more
serious.

He never cared for others’ opinions on him but it did not mean he wanted to give them the
freedom of talking about his personal matters. He never thought one day he would have to
explain people himself. But soon, he was going to reveal everyone that he was queer and
people were going to feel qualified enough to judge his preference in partners.

He wondered how Evan had accepted all this. Not that it mattered. It never did when Barty
got what he wanted. Still, he wondered how Evan had ventured outing himself, especially
when he wasn’t even sure if he was queer or not.

When he finally went home, his mind was rushing with too many things at once. So, when he
saw his father, waiting for him, Barty cursed on his luck.

“You were at the Riddle’s again, weren’t you?” His father was depreciative.
 “Nice to see you too, father.” Barty rolled his eyes, ignoring his father’s question all together.

“You know what, it’s my fault.” His father took the blame, obviously not sincere in his
words. “I shouldn’t have thought you finally grew up. Everything you said during the dinner
was an act, wasn’t it?”

Barty slumped into the sofa with weariness and sat across from his father. “Why does it
matter if it’s an act or not? Last time I checked, you people loved a good performance.”

“Us people?” his father frowned in an unserious disbelief. “You are a part of us, Barty. Like it
or not.”

“I’m nothing like you.” Barty hissed, his eyes blazing with anger.

“You just admitted you acted to please Rosiers.” His father found amusement in his situation.
“You are part of this community more than you realise, Barty.”

Barty contented himself with just looking.

"You're just terrible at fitting in," his father added with a chuckle of anger. "Have you ever
thought, Barty, that maybe it's not you not wanting to be a part of this? It's them not wanting
you." He continued with a harsh tone, "Who could blame them? You're lucky I'm your father.
No one else would tolerate you."

Every word hit Barty like a slap. However, he was immune to them. Just like any other thing,
if you were exposed to it just enough, it started not affecting. So, his father’s words were not
hurting him. The clench in his heart was not sadness. It was desire. Desire for revenge.

“I’ll do it.” He breathed out. The words had exploded out of him, almost. The very few words
he refrained himself from telling the past couple of days were out.

“Do what?” His father asked, not expecting Barty to give such an answer to his words.

“Take the deal. Marry Rosier. Whatever it takes.” Barty was feeling every single drop of
blood turning into needles, stabbing through his skin. Saying the words was easy,
acknowledging them were harder. Even if it was for a cause, saying yes to his father was
hard. Even though fake, accepting defeat was not something he took for lightly. And above
all, now knowing he had four options ahead of him was pesky: marrying Pandora, marrying
Evan, killing himself and killing his father.

Chapter End Notes

I'm already so exicted for ball. There's still time for it since I haven't even started writing
it but overall I have the idea in mind. It'll be fun. Probably.
Peter the rattest rat that has ever ratted lol. Love him for eternity though.
JACKSON PORTER PPPPPPPFPFTTTTTTT
take a clear guess on who it is
ik its hard
like really hard
kidding
I know we as a society decided James is red but I think he possesses the qualities of a
dark blue. Also he would look amazing in it :)
Regulus is so done with them and its just the beginning lol
I'm bad at Barty because why did he had to walk? I mean, an opportunity missed.
Barty Crouch Sr is a pain in the arse, what's new there?
 fall on me like night
Chapter Notes

The first paragraph may slightly be nsfw. It's not smut or anything, low-key erotic
thoughts only.
Also chapter 6 was bonus of this week, this is the actual chapter. After this I'll see you
on next Sunday or Monday, depending the amount of things I write.
Not keeping it long this time. Enjoy.
See you at the end

See the end of the chapter for more notes

In the vast tapestry of cultures, the meaning of sex diverged like the flowing currents of a
river, each stream shaping its own course. To some, it remained veiled in taboo, shrouded in
the shadows of prohibition. For others, it became a mere duty, a solemn ritual of procreation,
devoid of passion or delight. Certain societies embraced it as a sacred rite, a spiritual
communion imbued with divine essence. Yet, for the rest, it was an exuberant celebration of
pleasure, unburdened by constraints.

Barty belonged to the group that viewed sex as something sacred, although not necessarily
for the most conventional reasons. To him, it held a poetic joy, valuing the intimate
connection between two individuals, skin against skin, unrestricted by any barriers. He
cherished the element of surprise in his encounters, opting for different partners rather than
sticking to one. The unpredictability of each interaction, where he could never fully anticipate
his partner's next move, enthralled him, embracing the excitement of being pleasantly
surprised.

Within the realm of intimacy, a fierce battle of dominance and submission played out,
reaching its peak in the bedroom, where all participants emerged as victorious. Barty relished
the interplay of control, sometimes surrendering himself to the passionate fire, and other
times taking the reins of authority. It wasn't merely the physical sensations that excited him,
but the profound sense of being alive, awakened by the touch of another.

It was another day he’d woken up in someone else’s bed. His phone was ringing insistently
though it took a while for him to acknowledge his surroundings. He turned to his side on the
unfamiliar bed to face with an unfamiliar girl. She was still sleeping, unbothered by the
ringing of the phone. As he reached for his phone, he tried to piece together the events of the
previous night and figure out where he stood. He had a terrible head-ache and the sound of
the phone was not helpful to get himself together.

It took effort for him to finally reach to his phone and when he finally did, he saw Evan
Rosier calling him.
Reminding Evan’s existence reminded him of his problems as well. Previous night he’d
revealed to his father his answer to the arrangement. Not having the strength to stay and
watch his father swell with pride had an effect on his decision of going back to Riddle’s place
at a late hour, this time alone, and hanging out with strangers, only to end up in the bed of
one of them.

“Fucking finally.” He heard Evan’s voice through the phone as soon as he picked up.

“What do you want?” Barty asked, his throat feeling sore, his voice raspy. The girl woke up
due to the talking. She started at him as he spoke, trying to understand the situation.

“Are you still sleeping?” Evan asked in disbelief. “It’s one in the afternoon.”

“I’m hanging up the phone.” Barty threatened him, implying that he should come to the
important bits.

“Don’t.” Evan interfered. “We’ve got to find a plan now that we’ve turned down Jackson’s
help.”

“We didn’t.” Barty was barely able to keep his eyes open. He felt tired and sleepy, almost like
a cranky baby.

“What?”

“I said we didn’t. I still have his card.” Barty explained, sounding very bored.

“You what?”

“Are you going to make me repeat every damn thing?” He asked, getting angrier by each
minute he spent not sleeping. “I said I have his card. Yes, I took it, yes, I don’t do what I’m
told and yes Regulus will be mad. Anything else?”

“We’ve got plans to make if we’ll accept his offer or not, Barty” Evan was resistant.

“Wait you are Barty?” the girl next to him asked, hearing Evan’s voice through the phone.
“As in Barty Crouch?” Barty shut him up.

“Who is that?” Evan sounded confused.

“I don’t know.” Barty was honest in his response though Evan’s silence through the phone
showed disbelief. “Seriously, I don’t.”

“Rude.” The girl rolled her eyes.

“You know what, I don’t even want to know.” Evan sounded disgusted. “Just, meet me
today? To talk.”

“Fine,” Barty breathed out. “Meet me at 2 in Madame Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.”

“No.” Evan objected. “Nowhere public. Not before we talk. Come to my place.” Evan
ordered.

“Are you giving me commands, Rosier? Not very like you.” Barty mocked.

“You begged me to accept this.” Evan sounded angry. “Now I’m trying to take a step, it’s
your call to take on it. I won’t do this unless you take it seriously.”

“Don’t get mad.” Now that he was awake Barty was back at his game to annoy Evan. “I
know you can’t wait to take me home.”

“Do not push my limits, Crouch.” Evan warned.

“Fine.” Barty gave up. “You’re no fun.”

Then Evan hung up the phone without saying anything. Barty put his phone back on the
counter. The girl next to him was eyeing him, not bothered to wrap herself in the sheets, she
sat upright, leaning her back against the bedframe.

“You didn’t tell me your name was Barty Crouch.” She was frowning.

“You didn’t ask.” Barty shrugged casually as he got up and started to get ready.

"It matters not," she asserted confidently, a tad haughty. "Just don't go blabbing about us
sleeping together."

“What?” Barty asked in utter shock. He halted midway through buttoning his shirt.

"A friend of a friend has slept with you as well," she responded.

"Oh," Barty swiftly grasped the situation. "Blimey."

"It's all right," she said, rising and lighting herself a cigarette.

"Care to pass me one?" he casually asked. Without uttering a word, she flung the entire
package towards him. Barty deftly caught it and pulled one out, lighting it up as he continued
to speak.

"It was a delightful evening, milady, but I must leave now.” Barty pressed his lips together,
jamming the fag between them as he finished buttoning his shirt.

“Do you want a hug, or something?” she asked, laying on the bed, still fully naked.

“You’re heist.” Barty smirked. “I like that.”

“You said the same thing yesterday night.” She smiled, somewhat genuinely.

“Did I?”

“Go, Barty.” She commended.

So, Barty did. He bowed in front of her as a way to say goodbye, took his phone and left her
flat. He realised he had the cars of his key in his pocket as he took the lift down. Once he was
out of the apartment it was lovely to see his car parked right outside. The street wasn’t
unfamiliar to him, which made it easy to find the directions to his house. He had very limited
time to get ready so his shower was very quick. As he changed into his day clothes it was
comforting to finally wear his usual clothes and not fancy shirts and trousers. He was quite
content with his jeans and t-shirts, he wanted to keep it that way.

Once he was ready, he drove to Evan’s house. As he rang the bell, he was almost fifteen
minutes late though he did not care. Punctuality was not his strong suit. He had gotten
himself into trouble way too many times for being late when he was still a student.

“You’re late.” Evan answered the door. Barty walked in without waiting for an invitation.

“I was busy.” Barty answered, not giving an explanation. Evan didn’t ask for it anyway.
“What did you want to talk about?”

“Want coffee first?” Evan asked. Barty nodded. He really could use a cup of coffee to fully
wake up. They both went into the kitchen, Barty sat down as Evan prepared them.

“I was thinking,” Evan said, “Though I wouldn’t trust that Jackson guy with my life, it could
be kind of nice to have power on the press.”

“Elaborate.” Barty asked, not because he hadn’t understood Evan’s point but because he had
his own thoughts about the topic and needed to be sure they were on the same page before
revealing them.

“We want press to make news about us, right?” Evan asked for assurance which Barty gave
him by a nod. “But we don’t want it to be obvious. Just rumours to start the flickering.”

“Trustworthy or not,” Barty continued, “Jackson would have the power to limit the
information leaked to the press.”

“Exactly.” Evan sighed with relief; satisfied Barty had got his point. “Even if he wants to spy
on us, he would have to comply to keep close to us.”

“How will we ensure he doesn’t work for either our fathers?” Barty asked.

“Because he’s working for or with Peter and Peter has been around for a while, as Regulus
says. If he worked for our parents, we’d already be dead.”

“I don’t trust him.” Barty frowned. He knew Evan made a fair point but he couldn’t risk
anything that could harm their plan. It had to be mistake-proof. Their life depended on it;
maybe not literally but definitely figuratively.

“Neither do I.” Evan agreed. “But did you trust me while asking to marry you?” he pointed
out.

“I still do not trust you.” Barty did not hesitate.

“See?” Evan said as if he was expecting Barty to give such an answer. “We don’t trust each
other and we don’t have to trust him either. We can simply use his position in the Quibbler.”

“That’s assuming he is actually working there.” Barty reminded him.

“What’s the worst he can do?” Evan put the cups in front of them and sat down as he asked.
“Telling everyone our engagement is fake?”

“For starters.”

“Our words against his.” Evan sounded confident. “We just have to make it convincing from
the start.”

“For a person who was against of the arrangement, you’ve given way too much thought into
this.” Barty was half serious, half mocking.

“I’m a business man.” Evan looked proud. “I don’t put myself into things I can’t complete
perfectly.”

“Business man my arse.” Barty mocked. “You are a student who is granted an internship by
his father.”

“Internship?” Evan asked in utter disbelief. “I have 15% ownership there.”

“Because your father gave it to you.” Barty pointed out.

“Just shut the damn up, okay?” Evan looked bored of the conversation, maybe even a bit
irritated.

“I’ll shut up.” Barty said which left Evan in a state of surprise. “For now.” He added, erasing
the element of surprise from Evan’s face.

“Just call Jackson.” Evan ordered. Even though they hadn’t verbally agreed on it they both
knew Evan’s words were convincing enough. Barty hated to admit it but he was seriously
considering calling Jackson.

“Shall I?” Barty asked, in need of further convincing. Evan did not say a word but nodded
approvingly. Barty was still hesitant but he was not going to show any sign of it. Hesitation
was weakness and he detested them. He liked to pose a confident posture all the time. That’s
why

, despite his hesitations, he pulled out his wallet which he’d placed Jackson’s card in. He
dialled the number. After that, everything came easy. Jackson already was waiting for them to
call -which annoyed Barty to his guts- he didn’t like being predictable. They received an
address for the meeting spot, The Three Broomsticks, which Jackson insisted was not only
safe but entirely trustworthy, no matter how much trust one could place in his words. The
place was tucked away in one of the less prosperous corners of the Three Broomsticks.
Neither Barty nor Evan had been there before but Jackson had insisted they were less likely
to be caught on actual paparazzi there. The whole thing was very much away from being safe
but Barty was not the type to be scared off easily. He had no idea what Evan was thinking but
he hadn’t spoken a word showing fear. So, they drove off together, with Barty’s car. Apart
from few jokes about getting murdered by Jackson, they mostly listened to music without
much of a talk. The sound of Jimi Hendrix filled their ears until they arrived at the location.

It was a small pub which looked very old-Scottish architecture. The interior exuded a rustic
and inviting charm, with wooden beams lining the low ceiling and exposed stone walls
adorned with jars of teas and herbs. Dimly lit lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a soft,
golden glow throughout the pub, creating an atmosphere of comfort and camaraderie.

f not about anything else, Jackson was right about one thing: paparazzi was never going to
find them there.

As soon as they walked into the pub, they had seen Jackson sitting down. Even though they
had seen him once before and with a mask covering his face, he was not that hard to identify.
His dark curls were features that one did not encounter daily.

“Hello, gentlemen.” Jackson greeted them, rising from his seat. Both Barty and Evan sat
down without responding.

“What changed your mind?” Jackson asked, a broad smile plastered on to his face.

“Nothing.” Barty replied curtly. “We still hate you.”

“Yet you’re still here.” Jackson playfully retorted. He was wearing a red shirt that
complemented his warm complexion, a stark contrast to the previous night when he wore all
blue.

“To hear you talk.” Evan interjected. “So, talk.”

Jackson teased, "I've figured you'd be delightful to talk to." But his attempt at humour was
met with silent stares from the other two. Undeterred, he continued, " “Peter filled me in on
your situation. I was thinking playing on Evan first. It’ll give you an opportunity to convince
your parents Barty is still marrying Pandora. I can shoot a picture of you both without
clarifying Barty’s identity.”

“You sound like a creepy stalker.” Barty’s tone was somewhat amused, somewhat angry.

Evan, surprisingly calm, asked, "How much do you want for it?"

“Nothing.” Jackson shrugged. “It’s my job. I’m already getting paid for it.”

Barty couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So let me get this straight. You pop out of
nowhere, knowing private matters about us, risk your trustworthiness as a publicist, and put
your friend and his employer in danger, solely to help us for nothing in return?" His words
were filled with disbelief and mistrust.

“I’m a giving person?” Jackson tried to come across as likable.

"Give us one reason to trust you, and we'll consider it," Evan raised an eyebrow. Barty sensed
that Evan might already be inclined to accept Jackson's help, though he hadn't said so
explicitly. “Because you need my help.” Jackson replied simply. “And I already know about
your engagement so I can do this without your consent as well.”

To Barty, it remained baffling why Jackson was so eager to 'help' them. If only he understood
Jackson's true motivations, he might not even be concerned about how questionable they
were. Barty had a unique perspective on the matter; he didn't mind people engaging in
dubious actions as long as he knew what those actions were.

“Let’s try it today.” Jackson commented. “See what I’m capable of. If you’re displeased by
my services, I will let you alone. With or without consent Quibbler will not make any content
about you.”

Barty looked at Evan to examine his stance on the matter. They looked as if they equally
hated Jackson. With that said, they both were curious to see what could happen. Not afraid of
being a scapegoat if things went bad, Barty took the lead.

“Very well.” Barty raised both of his eyebrows, “Do it. But if you do anything slightly out of
my wishes, you are a dead man.”

“I know my risks.” Jackson smiled, looking very pleased to have finally gotten them to say
yes.

van didn't object, and though Barty could tell he disliked Jackson, curiosity seemed to get the
better of both of them.

Delighted getting his way, Jackson practically jumped out of his chair. He rushed to grab
them two beers, leaving them watching him very much confused.

As they sat down again, Jackson arranged their seating without giving them a chance to
interfere. They sat across from each other, the pub's not-so-crowded atmosphere allowing
them some privacy. The pub's owner, a woman in her 50s, seemed familiar with Jackson's
antics and didn't show any surprise.

In a rushed manner, Jackson took several photos, capturing Evan's face and Barty's figure in
the frame. He directed them on how to position their hands on the table—close enough to
suggest acquaintance but not touching. As they were taking the photos, Regulus kept calling
both Evan and Barty. Both of them ignored his call, knowing he would get mad at them for
meeting Jackson, likely for a good reason too.

Despite their irritation at agreeing to this, Barty had to admit that Jackson was skilled. The
shots were cleverly composed, showing only a part of Barty's brown hair and shoulders. The
angles and distant quality made them look like paparazzi pictures, effectively concealing their
identities.

After displaying the photos, Jackson eagerly awaited their compliments, but to his
disappointment, neither Barty nor Evan uttered a word of praise. Undeterred, Jackson was
quick to break the silence.

“That wasn't so bad, was it?” he prodded, clearly fishing for gratitude.
Barty, ever unapologetically blunt, didn't hold back from belittling Jackson's efforts. "Anyone
is capable of taking some pictures," he remarked coolly, "what you do with them is what
matters."

Despite the seemingly harsh comment, Jackson found amusement in the situation, chuckling
joyfully. Barty and Evan's attempts to unsettle him seemed to have little effect, and he
remained steadfast in his enthusiasm.

“Haven’t had any complaints about my services yet.” Jackson was cocky.

“I’ll be the one to decide that.” Evan was not going to back down.

“I’ll get going.” Jackson rose from his seat. “Got to take these to the office if you want it
published tomorrow.” He bowed. “Gentlemen, it was nice working with you.”

“Remember. Wrong move; dead man.” Barty reminded him. Jackson just smiled in response
before getting going.

Barty glanced at the untouched beer in front of him, feeling a growing disinterest in
continuing the conversation with Evan. Nevertheless, he decided to stay a little longer, not
wanting to waste the already-ordered drink. He picked up the glass and took a sip, all the
while keeping a keen eye on Evan's next move.

“We should call Regulus.” He reminded. “Before he hunts us down.”

Barty let out a small laughter. “I know I threatened Jackson to kill him but we’re no more
alive than him.”

“Want to toss a coin for who should tell him?” Evan asked, jokingly.

Amused by the idea, Barty grinned mischievously. "I'll take care of it," he replied, implying
there was no need to leave such an important task to mere luck. "I find it rather amusing to
see him get all fired up."

"Be my guest," Evan said, a lazy grin spreading across his face. With a slow, satisfying
stretch of his back, he reached for the beer glass in front of him and settled back into the chair
with an air of effortless ease.

So, Barty did. He took out his phone and dialled Regulus only for him to pick up as soon as
the phone started ringing.

“I genuinely hope there’s a good reason why you and Rosier have not been answering my
calls at the same bloody time.” His lovely voice filled in Barty’s ears. He put him on speaker
so Evan could hear as well.

“Why?” Barty asked, sounding very amused. “Can’t you go a day without hearing our
voices?”

“More like I can’t go a second in peace knowing you won’t do anything stupid.” Regulus’s
voice carried more emotion compared to his usual self. If Barty did not know him, he could
even think he was nervous.

“Is something wrong?” Barty asked, curious.

“Whatever you do, do not trust Jackson Porter.” Regulus warned.

“A bit tad late for that mate.” Barty should’ve been nervous by Regulus’s words but he barely
was able to put down his laughter, reminiscent of a naughty kid who got caught by his
parents.

“What did you do?” Regulus asked, almost sounding disappointed.

“I will tell once you tell why did you advised not to trust him.” Barty tried to strike a deal. To
his luck, Regulus didn’t fight back.

“Because he doesn’t exist.” Regulus blurted in anger. Barty looked at Evan and saw utter
confusion as they both paid attention Regulus’s voice through the speaker. “The name
Jackson Porter has been bugging me since yesterday.” Regulus explained. “It sounded
familiar yet ridiculous. I’ve found out the town hasn’t got any Jackson Porter registered.”

“How are you so sure?” Barty asked. If he wasn’t Jackson Porter, then who was he? He knew
there was a high chance of him telling lies but faking an identity was the first step of fraud.

“Your father is the town mayor, Barty. I asked in a favour.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Barty sounded irritated. Hearing the mention of his father
had made him tense up.

“Well, I did.” Regulus was audacious. “Don’t worry I’m not stupid, I found the right cover
while asking. Anyways, as I said, Jackson Porter is not a real name. I have a pretty fair guess
on what it is.”

“What?” Barty asked, getting impatient.

“We’re all daft for not realising it as soon as he said.” Regulus sounded really mad. “He’s
James Potter, Barty.”

“Who?” The name had sounded familiar to Barty though he wasn’t quite sure of it.

“Fuck.” Evan breathed out. Hearing his voice, Regulus cut in.

“Rosier? You there too?” he asked.

“Yes, and we have bad news.”

“No.” Regulus interjected. “Don’t tell me this is going where I think it’s going.” His threat
sounded real. Barty was lost. The name did not mean anything to him but it apparently did to
the other two.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” he asked. “I thought I didn’t understand the two of you
because of French but turns out you are talking nonsense in English as well.”

“It’s not the time to joke around, Crouch.” Barty knew for certain Regulus was rolling his
eyes even though he couldn’t see.

“Explain, then.” He commanded.

“James Potter. Son of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter.” Evan explained. Barty was familiar
with the names though he still wasn’t sure of their qualifications. “They were one of the most
impactful families in Godric’s Hollow before Riddle corrupted their entire business and
ruined their reputation. They still live here but are never invited to the gatherings and all. Not
for the last 15 years.”

“How any of this is our problem?” Barty asked. “Same thing happened with lots of families
as far as I’m concerned. Weasleys are penniless. Prewetts moved away to Wales. Riddle
destroyed families. So what? They want revenge? So do we.”

Evan listened quietly as Barty spoke, his gaze unsettling Barty. He felt as if his words were
coming out as nonsense, but something in Evan's eyes indicated a hint of sympathy or
concern. “I don’t give a damn about what happened to their families.” Regulus’s voice was
filled with hatred. Barty was silent because he still couldn’t see the problem. If they didn’t
trust James because there was a chance, he used them to get back at Riddle and his allies -the
founding families and many others- Barty could accept it. It meant they were on the same
side.

"Remember who took Sirius in, Barty," Evan said, his voice taking on an odd gentleness.

Then Barty remembered.

James Potter.

That, James Potter.

Sirius Black’s best friend James Potter. The one who took him away years ago, when they
were all children. The name had slipped from his memory, buried beneath the years, but now
it resurfaced with a jolt of recognition. Regulus had cursed that name in resentment countless
times. And now, it appeared that James had cleverly disguised himself with a name similar
enough to stall them.

“Is this about you, then?” Barty asked. “He knew who we were from the start.”

“I don’t know.” Regulus hissed. “But I’m going to make him pay.”

“Why would he use Barty and I if he wants to hurt you?” Evan asked. When Barty looked at
him, he saw that his expression was cunning. “If he knows us, he should’ve known we are
not weapons he can use against you.”

Regulus's anger flared once more; his frustration evident. "I don't know," he repeated, "I don't
know what game they are playing, but there's no way I'll let them win."
In referring to James in the plural, Regulus implied that Sirius might be involved as well.
Barty couldn't fathom why Sirius, his estranged older brother, would send his best friend to
spy on him. The pieces just didn't fit, and Barty couldn't find a logical reason for James to
play the role of an ally in their fabricated engagement. It simply didn't make sense. What
could he possibly gain from this elaborate charade?

“I’ll talk to Dorcas.” Regulus breathed out in anger. “James, Sirius, Peter… They’re all
playing a game and Dorcas knows it. She has to, considering she let it happen in the first
place. I’ll make sure she tells me what it is.”

“What do you want us to do in the meanwhile?” Evan asked.

“If he reaches out, don’t let him know you’re aware of his identity.” Regulus ordered.

“Done.” Barty accepted without a fight. He knew when not to push Regulus. For his own
sake, if not for anything else.

When Regulus hung up, Evan took another sip from his beer, his demeanour reflecting a deep
sense of gravity and concern. Unlike Barty, Evan seemed acutely aware of the weight of the
situation, evident from the furrowed eyebrows and the worry in his eyes. He held onto the
beer glass firmly, as if seeking strength from its reassuring presence.

Barty, on the other hand, struggled to grasp the full extent of James's motivations. While he
acknowledged that James might not have purely virtuous intentions, he couldn't shake the
feeling that they weren't entirely malevolent either. Perhaps, he considered, James sought to
seek retribution for the wrongs the Black family had inflicted upon Sirius. Barty wasn't
inclined to interfere if that was indeed the case. All he cared about was that their parents
faced consequences for their actions, regardless of who delivered the justice.

“I don’t see the big deal,” Barty confessed after a while of tense silence. He leaned back in
his chair, trying to gauge the reaction of Evan. “If he means harm to Regulus, we’ll simply
kill him. Easy.”

“Are you insane, Crouch?” Evan asked in utter shock. Barty was not expecting a reaction to
possess a judgmental tone. “What good would it make if we kill him after he does the
damage. We should kill him before.”

Barty couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as his lips twirled to Evan’s words.

“Excuse me, what?” he asked, unable to hide his sardonic smile, asking Evan to repeat his
words because he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.

“As I said before, I’m a business man.” Evan was casual in his words, unfazed by Barty’s
mockery. “I take precautions.”

“You wouldn’t even kill a fly.” Barty guessed. Though he didn’t know what Evan was truly
capable of, he doubted murder was one of the qualities of the golden child.

“You would.” Evan grinned. “I’d just make sure you don’t do anything stupid to ruin it.”
Barty didn’t object. He knew he was likely to ruin a perfectly good plan just because of his
impulses he had a hard time of controlling.

“Now explain why James is a problem.” He changed the subject.

“Because we don’t know what he’s capable of.” Evan was quick to answer. “We don’t know
who he is after and how involved Sirius in all this.”

“Isn’t it possible that they want revenge from our families.” Barty pointed out. “Think about
it. Sirius was disowned for being gay. Peter hears me and Regulus talk about my engagement
to you which Regulus supports and tells James who tells Sirius. Maybe he just wants to get
back at his parents through our fight.”

“Peut-être.” Evan talked in French, probably without even realising. Barty could tell from his
voice that it meant some type of approval. “But we can’t overlook other possibilities. Ones
this about us and not our parents. Either way, we can’t trust him.”

“We didn’t trust him to begin with.” Barty shrugged. “Nothing has to change as long as we
use him to our advantage.”

“I don’t think Regulus would approve of still being in contact with James until he figures out
his deal.” Evan noted.

“What about me makes you think ‘seeks for approval’?” Barty asked, with a grin on his face.
Evan was more serious compared to him.

“I don’t know what kind of relationship you and he have but I have responsibilities to him.”
Evan looked as if he meant every word. “We work together so we have to trust each other.”

“Regulus Black doesn’t trust anyone.” Barty said.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Evan interjected. “He trusts people more than you and I. Even
when he doesn’t care, he trusts. He trusts you, for starters.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Barty’s tone was objecting as he blurted.

Barty had never taken Regulus for someone who trusted people, and Evan's words confused
him. Regulus was cold, distant, and highly secretive. Barty always assumed it was because
Regulus didn't trust him enough to share information. Evan's suggestion that Regulus trusted
others was hard for Barty to believe, as he couldn't think of any proof to support that idea.
Even if Regulus did trust people, he had a terrible way of showing it.

“We should deal with the whole James Potter thing after the ball.” Barty said, almost spitting
out the word 'ball.' The thought of attending it made him sick, but since it was already
decided, he wasn't going to back down.

“If he doesn’t go to our parents and ruin the whole thing before it can start.” Evan was
pessimistic.
 “You keep saying you are a business man but your risk-taking skills are as bad as your
problem-solving.” Barty couldn’t help but mock.

“You’ve seen nothing of me yet, Crouch.” Evan sounded daring for no reason whatsoever.

They stayed at the three broomsticks until their beers were finished and because Barty drank
faster, he even found a chance to order himself a second glass. Barty found out just like
Regulus, Evan also enthusiastic about Cubans but since he did not carry any he was generous
enough to offer Barty one cigar of their own productions. They talked mainly about James
and his intentions. Evan teased Barty about the upcoming ball and when Barty started to tease
him back about Pandora, he got furious and stopped the teasing completely. It was not the
ideal afternoon that Barty would generally plan for himself but he was aware this was going
to be a regular occasion if they could manage to go through with the ball. They just had to
make sure James Potter did not possess a threat.

Chapter End Notes

Barty sleeping with the entire town is so real to me bye.

The girl who he slept with is unidentified because I couldn't picture any of the
marauders girls era sleeping with him in my mind. But I wish she was a continuing
character. Wrote her for not more than two paragraphs but still love her idk how that
happened.
Idk what it is but I love Evan, Reg and Barty bullying James yet him still being very
much unfazed . They're all dorks Ilove them.
Evan?????? Barty?????????? was that a date or???? Deny it all you want but it was a
date babes.
Regulus is a mastermind but they're not paying enough attention to my babbbbyyyy
we almost hit 700 hits. it feels insane in such a short time. thank you very much loves.
 fed gold by sweet fools
Chapter Notes

Hi everyone! I'm here with this week's chapter. This is by far one of the chapters that I
had the most fun writing. We'll have new characters introduced; I'm excited for you to
meet them.
Enjoy.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Trust went both ways, forming perhaps the most primitive system of exchange long before
the concept of money existed. It was the earliest form of trade between humans—a valuable
commodity that had to be earned, given, and taken back if one proved unworthy. Unlike
emotions such as happiness, sadness, grief, or pride, which were subjective and personal,
trust was shared and exchanged, making it the rarest and most significant feeling a person
could experience. While some argued that love was mutual and the hardest emotion to
possess, Barty disagreed. Love didn't necessarily have to be mutual, but trust had to be
upheld by both parties to hold its true significance.

One thing Barty was sure, trustworthy or not, James had kept his promise. He’d waken up to
social media talking about Evan’s rumoured love life. The Quibbler had delivered on its
promise with well-built articles, captivating photographs, and carefully crafted news—a
testament to James's abilities.

Welcome to the glamorous world of romance, where secrets and whispers of love flutter like
butterflies. In the heart of our bustling town, the charming Evan Rosier has captivated many
with his enigmatic aura and debonair style. Our favourite bachelor seems to have
encountered a new presence in his life, and rumours are swirling like a tempest in the
springtime. Could it be more than just friendship? Join us as we delve into the curious tale of
Evan Rosier's newfound confidante.

Evan Rosier, the town's favourite bachelor, has been spotted with a mysterious new friend.
Their unconventional meeting spot sparks rumours of more than just friendship. The friend's
identity remains a secret, but in this town, secrets don't stay hidden for long. Is this the start
of a new affair for our white knight? Only time will tell, and we'll be watching closely as the
story unfolds. Stay tuned for updates on this mysterious affair.

James Potter might’ve been a fucker but he knew how to make bloody good news. Barty
spent his morning checking social media accounts of different magazines which were
interested in Godric’s Hollow’s affairs. There were number of rumours that shouldn’t have
been underestimated. People were funny, Barty thought. There were articles claiming they’d
seen Evan kissing the girl in the picture. There were debates on her identity. It was absurd to
read the news while knowing the actual truth. People were nothing but fools, pretending to
know things they actually had no idea about.

Barty was surprised by the amount of attention Evan had received just by a simple rumour.
He was not an A-list celebrity but people still seemed to care. So, Barty decided to push
further. Evan had asked him to send roses. Barty was going to give him them. Unsigned, for
now. If they wanted rumours, Barty would be delighted to provide it. He called the local
florist and asked for a bouquet of white roses anonymously sent to Evan’s office in the
Empyrean. It was a Monday which meant there was a high chance for everyone to be there.
Evan, Regulus, Pandora and their parents. Barty expected the whole thing to be a parade.

It was almost noon when he finally gotten himself away from social media and the news. He
started the day by changing, drinking coffee and eating microwave made porridge. He didn’t
have anything planned for the day but when Regulus called him during working hours, he
knew that was about to change.

“I’m genuinely asking:” Regulus’s voice sounded annoyed. “Are you insane?”

“Probably.” Barty answered. “But why?”

“Why on earth would you send roses to the office?” Regulus had the tone of a disappointed
father. A tone Barty was very accustomed to.

“Evan had asked for them.” Barty was mischievous. “I merely delivered.”

“Everyone is going feral over the thing.” Regulus slightly calmed down though he still
sounded irritated. “Frederic is forcing Evan to admit if he’s seeing someone or not. Pandora
is on the verge of figuring it all out. Emmeline is… well not happy to say the least. My father
keeps asking me if I know anything.” Regulus blurted everything at once. “And roses.
Bloody fucking roses? Why couldn’t you wait to send them? Both of you promised to do this
strategically and failed to do so in day one.” Regulus had tensed up as he spoke. Finally, he
added: “And I haven’t even started to get mad about going behind my back to meet Potter.”

“Jesus calm down.” Barty was still very much relaxed, unfazed by anything that Regulus had
just said. “Everything is going according to plan.”

“Which plan are you talking about?” Regulus asked. “I don’t imagine you planned Frederic
having an hour-long meeting with Evan to lecture him on his responsibilities to the family.”

“Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” Barty shrugged even though he knew Regulus
couldn’t see it over the phone. “We merely quickened the process.”

“You’ve got almost a week to declare the engagement. How do you plan on stalling them in
the meanwhile?” Regulus asked.
“Look.” Barty was still very calm. “I know you are only cool blooded when you have the
control. But this time, let loose just a little? It will be fine.”

“No offense Barty.” Regulus said the words but sounded like he wanted Barty to get
offended. “I’m having a hard time letting loose when the two idiots are the ones making
plans.”

“Come on Reg.” Barty sounded like a bratty child, insisting on Regulus to calm down. “I’ll
come there and pick you up, okay?”

“Don’t.” Regulus was certain to say no. “If they see you here it’ll make things worse.”

“I don’t agree.” Barty pouted playfully. “My father-in-law happens to like me very much.”

“Barty-“He heard Regulus’s warning voice through the phone but before Regulus could talk
further, Barty hung up.

He was already in his day clothes but he fixed himself a bit before hopping on his car to
drive. Empyrean was located in the middle of the town, surrounded by other companies,
factories and business buildings. Barty rarely went there, founding the place too knob for his
liking. He had gone on certain occasions to pick Regulus up or to meet him in one of the
cafes surrounding the company. That was it.

So, it was a first for him to give his car keys to Frank who was sitting alongside other valets
in the parking lot of the company.

“Hi Frank.” Barty greeted him.

“Welcome Mr. Crouch. What brings you here?” Frank asked as he fixed his posture,
buttoning his jacket with respect.

“I think you would want to see for yourself.” Barty was mischievous. “Come upstairs. I think
we could all use your help.”

“Is everything all right, sir?” Frank asked in confusion.

“First of all, I forbid you to call me sir from now on.” Barty did not leave any room of
objection and continued. “And answer to your question; yes, they are but you know how
Regulus can get. I think you know him better than we do. You’ll know what he needs.”

Frank nodded. “All right I’ll come if that’s what you want, sir.”

“Nah-ah.” Barty reminded. “No sir.”

“Fine. Mr. Crouch?” Frank asked, hesitantly.

“Just Barty.” Barty was insistent. Finally, Frank gave up.

“Okay, Barty.” He looked as if he looked in pain while calling him by only his name. “I’ll be
there as soon as I park your car.”
“Very well.” Barty was pleased to have gotten his way. “See you there.”

Once Barty was out of the parking lot, he walked in to the building. He had never walked in
the building yet he’d always thought the exterior design was way too glorious. To say the
least, the exterior was nothing compared to the interior.

The entrance foyer exuded luxury with high ceilings, elaborate chandeliers, and warm marble
floors. Polished brass fixtures and intricate woodwork showcased refined taste.

The reception area was immaculate, featuring plush leather sofas and a modern mahogany
desk. Receptionists were impeccably dressed, exuding professionalism and grace.

Continuing inside, stunning art adorned the walls, blending classic British elegance with
modern aesthetics. Lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, corridors bathed in natural light and
offered captivating cityscape views. Indoor plants added freshness. The lift to the top floor
boasted rich fabrics and a golden handrail, with soothing instrumental music. Arriving at the
executive area, glass partitions balanced privacy and transparency. The managing board's
offices were luxurious with oak desks, leather chairs, and tasteful décor. As Barty made his
way through the passages, he couldn't help but notice the presence of wealthy individuals
dressed in casual attire. Despite their relaxed clothing, an air of prosperity and confidence
surrounded them, hinting at their prominent positions within the company. Barty hated every
single one of them.

Once he made it to the floor where offices were located, the atmosphere had gotten even
more formal. Offices of all the owners were placed in the same floor as well as a grand
meeting room for the committee board. As soon as Barty stepped out of the lift, he was stared
at for walking unaccompanied in the ‘big boy floor’ as he liked to call it. Most of the people
probably knew who he was, either by his father or by his possible engagement to Pandora.
That’s why no one dared to stop him as he followed the signs until he reached Evan’s office.

Through the glass doors, he first saw the bouquet of white roses sitting on his desk. Then he
saw Evan himself; seated comfortably, engrossed in conversation with Regulus and Pandora,
who occupied the guest chairs. Emmeline stood nearby, her discerning gaze carefully
studying the expressions of the others. Next to her was a girl Barty vaguely recognized but
couldn't quite place.

Not one to waste time, Barty confidently strode into the office without knocking, an air of
informality dripping from his every movement. "A family meeting without me?" he quipped,
his charm and casual demeanour on full display. "I'm hurt."

He watched as Regulus’s face turned into an unsurprised disapproval. He was irritated Barty
hadn’t listened to his words yet he was expecting it.

Then he saw Pandora look at him with pure terror and Evan with a sense of shock.

“Merde.” Pandora hissed, almost whispering.

“What are you doing here?” Evan asked almost sounding scared to hear the answer.
"Call it damage control," Barty grinned, eyeing the bouquet with mock admiration. "Nice
roses, by the way."

He expected Evan to get mad at him for sending the roses but he did not. Instead, Evan
responded with a grin back.

“I can’t believe you would do this without telling me.” Pandora was looking at Evan. Not
angry but disappointed.

“Dora darling, would you allow me if I told you?” Evan's voice softened as he addressed his
twin sister, but there was a hint of blame in his words.

“I wouldn’t.” Pandora blurted out, agreeing to Evan’s words. “That’s the point. You didn’t
ask me because you already knew my answer.”

“This isn’t about you. It’s my decision.” Evan sounded certain.

“Is it vraiment?” She asked in disbelief. Rest of the room was patiently waiting for them to
finish their conversation but the two didn’t seemed to even realise their presence.

“It is.” Evan looked at Barty for a second as if he’d just remembered his existence before
looking back at Pandora. “Someone has to do something about the current order, and I want
to be the one doing it.”

“You are risking your entire career, Mr. Rosier.” Emmeline cut in. Her tone was warning.
“Mr. Black, Mary, back me up on this, please?”

Mary. That’s who the other girl was. Barty remembered Regulus mentioning Mary as
Pandora's assistant. Her formal attire and composed demeanour supported the assumption.
Her dark, warm skin and neatly tucked curls complemented her professional appearance, and
she stood gracefully beside Emmeline, attentively holding her notebooks and files.

“I was in favour of the engagement.” Regulus started. “No offense, Pandora.” He quickly
added without showing an actual sign of remorse. “But I’ve come to the conclusion that these
two idiots cannot make a single good decision. I’m tapping out. Do whatever.”

Barty pouted playfully. "Come on, Reg. That's exactly why you shouldn't tap out. I need
someone to keep me on track." His eyes sparkled mischievously as he grinned. "Rosier over
there recently proved he does too."

Before anyone could object or respond to Barty’s recent suggestion, Frank entered the room
as well. He greeted everyone with a respectful nod.

“I invited him, by the way.” Barty admitted with no shame. If anything, he was proud of the
action he had taken.

“Is everything all right?” Frank asked, confused by the inconvenient meeting between all
these people.
Regulus couldn't help but drip sarcasm in his response. "Ah, another great decision by Barty,"
he said, glaring at him. "You do have a knack for revealing secrets, don't you? Secrets are
meant to be kept, that's the good thing about them.”

Frank, feeling a bit uneasy about the situation, offered to leave if he was causing any trouble.
Regulus quickly assured him that it wasn't about him, and Barty took the opportunity to steer
the conversation back to the importance of having reliable people around even though in
truth, he trusted no one in the room. He just believed people were capable of agreeing if
given the right motivations.

“I’m not condoning any of this.” Emmeline was stern. “But I’ve been working for Mr. Rosier
for long enough to not abandon him in the middle of this.”

There was something about her that Barty couldn’t quite point his finger at. Even though she
referred everyone with respect, Barty sensed a bit of a prissiness in the way she acted,
especially towards Barty. Her words were worded kindly yet the way she held up her head
high with confidence was intimidating even for the people who she worked for. Barty could
see Evan cared about her opinion on the matter by the way he smiled at her in gratitude due
to her words.

“Same goes for me.” Mary added. “Whatever Miss Pandora decides, I’ll be there for her.”

“I’m not sure I understand what is happening but saying I’m at Mr. Black’s service would be
underestimating my capabilities.” Frank added. Barty found his cluelessness rather charming.

“Brilliant.” Barty smiled with pride. “Now that I’m the only one without a supporter, I will
have to work twice as much to make myself heard.”

Regulus completely ignored Barty’s self-depreciation and looked at Frank. “Frank just
continue working on the Potter issue, please.” He ordered and in response Frank nodded
enthusiastically.

“Have you talked to Meadows?” Evan asked Regulus.

“I have.” Regulus breathed out. “She asked me to trust her and Peter’s services are for our
own sake. Whatever that means.”

“I’m assuming we don’t trust her, at all.” Barty suggested.

“Of course not.” Regulus was quick in his answer. “But we’ll pretend we do. If he’s spying
on us, we may as well use it to our advantage.”

“We did the same thing with Potter.” Barty cut in; happy he’d found a defend their actions.
“You called us stupid.”

“You were impulsive.” Regulus rolled his eyes. “I plan this thoroughly.”

“Evan don’t do this.” Pandora changed the subject to the engagement issue once more. “We
can find another way.”
“Les Rosiers se soutiennent mutuellement.” Evan looked confident in the way he looked to
her eyes. Confident. Barty remembered the sentence. They had said it to each other during
dinner.

"I won't support this," Pandora asserted, crossing her arms with determination. Her words
carried a sense of finality as she held her chin up.

“I don’t like this anymore than you do but I’m doing this, Dora.” Evan’s voice was almost
begging which weirded Barty out. He wasn’t really the person that could handle heart-to-
heart talks. He leaned on the wall as he crossed his feet and arms, simply listening the
conversation, not able to interfere. “But I’m doing this. I’d hate it if you hated me for it.”

“Je ne te hais pas. Je le hais.” Her gazes did not leave Evan for one second.

Not understanding a word she said, Barty leaned on Frank who was standing next to him.

“Do you speak this nonsense of a language?” he whispered.

“I do not, unfortunately.” Frank was apologetic but his response made Barty happy. Finally,
not being the only baffled one.

“Do they?” he meant Emmeline and Mary.

“I think they know the basics, having to learn over the years.”

Barty got irritated. He hadn’t liked the fact that they had a precedence over him.

“What on earth are you two whispering about?” Evan asked, looking at the Barty and Frank
who were leaned on each other, in front of the wall against Evan’s office desk. Barty hadn’t
realised Evan and others had stopped their conversations to look at them. Pulling away from
Frank’s ear, Barty grinned in amusement.

“Gossiping about you.” He enjoyed to say. “Jealous?”

“In deed.” Evan was sarcastic. “Very jealous. So jealous that I want to kill you.”

Barty sent him a mocking kiss in return.

“Pay attention, Crouch. Don’t make me regret this.” Evan was much more serious compared
to Barty himself.

“You will most definitely regret this.” Barty casually said. “But it’s going to be fun.”

“I bet it will be.” Evan muttered, completely lacking faith in his own words. Without
distracting himself too much with Frank and Barty, he once again turned at Pandora.

“Everyone else seems to be on board.” He smiled kindly at his sister. “Will you be as well?”

Regulus interjected. “I never fucking said I’m back on board.”

Evan looked at Regulus with a funny expression. “Dear Reg, we all know you can’t stop
yourself from interfering. Let’s not kid ourselves.”

To Barty’s surprise, Regulus did not object or refuse Evan’s words. If it was him, he’d have
to work way too much to convince Regulus. It became obvious that Regulus valued Evan’s
perspectives more than he did Barty’s. And it was okay. Barty did not care. Any sane person
would put anyone else’s thoughts over him. It was the sensible choice at the end of the day.

“Pandora?” Evan once again looked at her, anticipating her response. Because her mostly
back was turned at Barty he couldn’t quite see the expression on her face but even only the
1/3 of it showed hesitation, fear and anger all at the same time. She looked as if she was
having an inner fight whether to say yes or no.

Barty found himself at a loss, realizing he barely knew Pandora, let alone being able to
fathom her inner thoughts. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but wonder about her motivations,
and his initial hunch was that she would be unwilling to let her brother go through with this
plan just to get her out of it. But Evan was far from backing out. Which was odd itself. Not
more than days ago Evan’s response was a definite no. Now seeing him, trying to convince
everyone else to go along with it was not easy to believe. Barty wasn’t the type to scrutinize
though. He was happy as long as he got his way in the end.

“Are you sure you want to do this, frérot?” She asked. Barty could sense her voice was on
the verge of giving up.

“I’m already doing it ma chérie.”

Pandora turned her head back to look at Barty. As usual, her eyes were filled with belittling
and disgust as she looked but this time, plea was also apparent. Without saying anything to
Barty, she turned back at Evan.

“If you truly believe there’s no other way.” She breathed out, defeated. “Fine.”

Barty couldn’t help but to feel a type of excitement. Everyone in the room was on board with
their plan which made it a plan most likely to achieve success.

“Really?” Barty heard the same excitement on Evan’s voice as he asked for assurance.

“I’m not happy with it.” Pandora stated the obvious. “But I will not make it harder for you if
you’re determined.”

Evan smiled genuinely at Pandora and Barty saw the gratitude in the way his lips were
curled.

“This calls for a celebration.” Barty announced, very pleased to have finally put an end to the
conflict. Conflicts and chaos were his things and he loved them but only when they did not
fucking put his plan on danger.

“Reg,” Barty looked at him. “I’m assuming Miss Meadows is alive and we’re still allowed at
Riddle’s Place.” His was a little scared of Regulus’s answer and it had reflected on his voice.
“We are more than welcomed there.” Regulus’s grin was almost devilish. It excited Barty.

“What went down between you and Dorcas?” Barty asked. Before Regulus could answer, the
glass door of Evan’s office opened, causing everyone to look at the direction. It was no other
than Frederic Rosier.

If Barty thought he was intimidating during the dinner, his attitude in the company was much
worse. His very expensive looking grey suit was probably tailored to for his body. His
presence in the room was cold, very threatening. Barty could feel others tense up as he
walked in, especially Evan and Pandora.

“Is there a meeting that I’m unaware of?” He asked, very intimidating yet somehow skittish.

“We were merely chatting, father.” Evan replied, fixing his posture on the chair.

“Hello, Mr. Rosier.” Barty stepped near him as he was the closest standing to the door. Only
realising his presence, Frederic’s face lit up with slight shock.

“Bartemius.” He greeted him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Barty smiled, kindly. “I was visiting your children, sir.” Barty was somewhat honest. “I
figured it would be best to spend more time together, getting to know each other.”

Frederic looked indifferent as rest of the room waited nervously for his reaction. Only one
seemingly confident and relax was Barty himself.

“That’s a great idea.” Frederic’s face didn’t carry the same enthusiasm as his words. “But
don’t you think work is a bit from the ideal place for that.”

“Of course, you’re right.” Barty was quick to agree. “I merely thought they can be off early
today so we can go out?” he almost sounded innocent to the ones who did not actually know
him.

“I know you’re new to the family, Mr. Crouch but we value our work above all.” Rosier was
slightly warning.

“I can tell by your great success.” Barty did not hesitate to use flattering card. “I just couldn’t
wait to spend time with Pandora. And others too, of course.” He looked at Evan for a
millisecond just to piss him off but was careful enough for Frederic to not catch the gaze.

“I would love for you to spend time with our family.” Frederic still looked indifferent; he was
a man that was hard to read. “Nonetheless, your understanding of spending time might be
inappropriate for us.”

Barty wanted to chuckle out of anger. Lucky for him, he had a lot practice on swallowing his
anger down to hide it. Pretend that nothing was wrong. He was bloody good at playing for
the crowd.

So, when he talked, he was still very respectful towards Mr. Rosier. “I understand and share
your concern, sir. But I promise we’ll just have fun, safely of course. Nothing to harm your
reputation.”

Barty Crouch Jr. was pretty damn incredible at lying.

Most likely, it was an inheritance.

“Does your father approve, Mr. Black?” Frederic asked Regulus.

Barty thanked himself for everyday he’d spend his father to give up on him. It was hard
dealing with Frederic even for a one time, he couldn’t stand constantly answering for his
actions or getting permissions to have a night out.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Regulus answered. “I’ve already finished my work for the
day.”

“Very well then.” Frederic gave in. “As long as you don’t get yourselves into trouble, you
may take the day off.”

It was past afternoon so Barty found Frederic’s favour a bit hypocritical.

“Thank you, father.” Evan obviously did not share Barty’s thoughts.

“Hope to see you around more, Barty.” Frederic said, not realising he would very soon regret
his words.

“I promise to visit often.” Barty smiled.

After Frederic left the room, everyone fell into a moment of silence mostly because of
confusion.

“How did you convince him?” Evan asked in a slight shock.

“I think I have a way of convincing Rosiers with my charm, don’t I?” he grinned.

“Piss off.” Pandora rolled her eyes.

“Hate me all you want, dear Pandora.” Barty’s smile was unfazed. “But I still rescued you out
of work, did I not?”

“Let’s just go.” Regulus interfered, bored. No one insisted. Although Barty wasn't
particularly fond of them, he enjoyed the vibrant atmosphere of a lively night out with a big
crowd. For him, the larger the gathering, the more intriguing it became, as new faces brought
fresh energy to the occasion—a prospect that never failed to captivate Barty.

They opted to travel in two cars, with one being Pandora's car, as Barty had discovered that
Mary was working as her driver. Emmeline and Frank joined them in Pandora's car.
Meanwhile, Barty drove his own car, with Regulus seated on his left and Evan in the
backseat. The anticipation of the night ahead filled the air as they set off towards their
destination.
One of the appealing qualities of Riddle’s Place was that it was never out of use except for
the few hours in the early morning when the place was going through cleaning. Of course, in
the mornings the atmosphere was slightly different. More formal. Service of bar-girls and
bar-boys was less required and the place itself was mostly used for business inurnments. It
was way less crowded than the night but it was still alive, maintaining its charm.

After they walked in, they settled down on to their regular loot. To their surprise, instead of
Peter a girl was coming to serve them. It was a tall girl with long legs. Her body was
wrapped by a white dress just as any other workers. She was smiling though her smile was as
not kind as Peter’s. She looked more ferocious, though she hadn’t made any moves that could
be considered disrespectful. Her honey blonde hair was cut in a mullet and it worked in her
favour to make her appear bold.

“Hello,” she greeted them. “Is there anything I can get you.”

“Who are you?” Evan tilted his head to look at her.

“My name is Marlene McKinnon, sir.”

“Are you new here?” Barty asked a follow up question.

“No, I’m generally dancing on the pole. This is my day-shift.” She explained. She did not
look bothered by the questions. It was almost like she was expecting to be questioned.

“Where’s Peter?” Regulus asked, much sterner compared to Evan and Regulus.

“Workers don’t spend the entire day here, sir. It’s not time for his shift.”

So, Barty was correct in his assumptions. She was in fact much more quick-witted compared
to Peter. Unlike him her responses continued hints of sarcasm in it.

“Very well. You can get me a boulevardier.” Regulus was distant while saying, obvious he
didn’t trust Marlene to be a regular server. If Peter was replaced it must’ve been for a good
reason and Barty didn’t believe she was any less of a spy than he was.

“Of course.” Marlene answered, not breaking the eye contact with Regulus even for a second
was a daring move. “Something else?” she asked.

The rest also placed their orders, all different from each other. When Marlene went to bring
them, Barty asked.

“Is it really because it’s not Peter’s shift?”

“Of course not.” Regulus answered. “They are playing us a game but if studying together for
4 years taught her anything, Meadows will realise she’s messing the wrong person.”

Barty responded with a flirtatious smirk directed at Regulus. "You're quite the charmer when
provoked."

Regulus stared back at him, a glare that could pierce steel. The air bristled with tension.
Evan chimed in, his tone teasing. “Hasn’t anyone told you drooling over everyone is an
irritating trait?”

Barty shot back, unfazed. "Generally, people seem to enjoy it."

“You are disgusting.” Pandora rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "You're utterly
repulsive," she remarked, her manner reminiscent of an adolescent, despite the years that had
passed since she hit puberty. Perhaps her assertiveness stemmed from being coddled. Barty's
response was a mere smile, undeterred by her disapproval.

Once Marlene was back with their drinks Emmeline turned her focus at Evan and Pandora.

“Your father will hear we came to Riddle’s place.” She pointed out.

Pandora shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, we're already here. Might as well make the most of
it." She took a hefty gulp of her vodka and slammed the glass back onto the counter.

Barty found her reaction surprising. He had anticipated her becoming uneasy at Emmeline's
reminder, given his preconceived notion that the Rosier twins despised behaving recklessly.
Slowly, he came to realize his judgment was completely off the mark. Slowly, he was
realising he was utterly wrong.

Noticing his lingering gaze, Pandora offered a sly smile. " “Don’t look at me all shocked,
Crouch. Some of us possess the intelligence to have fun without getting caught.”

Barty raised an eyebrow. “So, what you’re suggesting is you are more than just a pretty
face?”

“Careful.” Evan warned, interjecting. Barty brushed it off entirely, his gaze mocking, lasting
only a moment.

“I’m saying, if it were up to me, I would not be reckless enough to come here and instead
would go to a place that is more than just seductive lightning.”

Barty's smile took on a self-assured tilt. “I’ll take that as your promise for a date darling.”

Both Mary and Emmeline were looking Barty with examining stares. Barty did not blame
them. He was a stranger openly threating and teasing both their bosses. Their sense of unease
was likely well-founded. Still, he was ready to aim them if they came between him and his
plan.

Sipping his whiskey, Regulus looked at them all, bored. “Barty, Pandora, enough.” He
commended. “Frank, you know you can drink too, right? I can call my father’s driver to take
us home.” He reminded Frank who hadn’t ordered anything other than a lemonade.

“I wouldn’t want to cause the trouble.”

Barty knew Frank was also from a respected family. Probably so were Mary and Emmeline
because otherwise they would not be able to secure jobs in the Empyrean. Yet, there was a
certain irony to it all. Even if one came from a distinguished background, there were always
loftier titles to hold in high regard. Regulus, he knew, wasn't the sort to wield his own status
as a weapon against Frank's, as buried as that care might be. Frank's sense of inferiority,
despite his rightful place in the hierarchy, was a reflection of the societal absurdities that had
become deeply ingrained.

“Like it or not,” Evan took the lead, looking at Emmeline, Mary and Frank one by one, “You
three happened to be working for the wrong people in the wrong time. If you’re in our secret,
you’re not just assistants anymore.”

Barty’s gazes lingered on Marlene who stood by them, ready to serve. Even though she
looked uninterested in their conversation, Barty would bet on his own life that she was
listening every word.

“Mary was never just an assistant to me.” Pandora shrugged. “She’s a dear friend and will
always will be.”

Mary looked at Pandora with a genuine smile on her face.

“Regulus used to bring you food upstairs when you were grounded and you still don’t
consider him a friend.” Evan mocked both Regulus and Pandora at the same time.

“He doesn’t deserve it yet.” Pandora said but something in her smile made Barty think that
was nothing but a lie. Even though it was hard to imagine them as friends, he thought they
were closer than he initially assumed.

"I didn't do anything of the sort; that must have been Sirius," Regulus casually shrugged, as if
attempting to brush aside the accusations like dust from his shoulder.

“You’re just scared we’ll think you’re soft.” Barty smirked, very amused by Evan’s recent
revelation.

“Not even my willy is soft, Barty.”

"Oh, my stars!" Barty erupted into laughter; the mirth infectious as it spread around the
group. "Did you really just say that?"

"Merely a jest," Regulus remained stoic, his stern expression trying to quell the laughter
around him.

“You just joked about your willy.” Evan laughed in disbelief.

“You can’t prove it.”

“We’re six people here. We are the proof.” Barty was still laughing.

“No one else will believe you.”

“Don’t get me wrong, sir,” Even Frank was trying to hold back a chuckle. “But I would say
the people interested in the joke are already present here.”
As soon as he was done, Frank straight up, likely thinking he’d done something wrong. At
first, Regulus’s expression was about to prove him right. Frank waited nervously for Regulus
as the rest of the table stood silent.

However, even though Regulus Black was a lot of things, he wasn’t the person that couldn’t
take a joke. The corners of his lips curled with a trace of sarcasm, and Barty sensed Frank's
relief.

“Is that so, Mr. Longbottom?” Regulus's voice carried a playful undertone, revealing that he
was relishing the situation despite the veneer of frostiness. “So, there would be no one else
interested if I started telling everyone about your first interaction with my father?”

“Exactly,” Frank didn’t back down. “Respectfully, I would suggest no one’s reactions would
be worse than people here.”

"In that case," Mary chimed in, the sparkle in her eyes indicating her readiness to join the
fray, "what if Emmeline and I were to have a candid conversation with Alice Fortescue from
the human resources department?"

Barty didn’t know who Alice was but by the way Frank’s face turned red, he had a fair guess.
Neither Mary nor Regulus pushed the matter further, content to have triumphed in their good-
natured exchange. As Frank retreated into his seat, the tension dissipated, leaving behind an
atmosphere brimming with camaraderie and a shared sense of amusement.

For the rest of the night, they fell into their practiced roles. Each one became an actor in their
own carefully scripted performance. They smiled and laughed as if the weight of their
individual secrets wasn't suffocating, as if the shadows of their intertwined lives weren't
growing darker.

Around the table, the facade of camaraderie held strong. They spoke and joked, their words
dancing on the surface, concealing the deeper currents of doubt and mistrust that swirled
beneath. The glasses clinked, the drinks flowed, and for a brief moment, the artificial warmth
of the bar seemed to melt away their reservations.

But even as they laughed, their eyes held secrets—secrets that had brought them together,
secrets that could tear them apart. Marlene's presence, like an unspoken spectre, lingered on
the fringes, a constant reminder that their words weren't truly their own. Every glance, every
exchange, was dissected and analysed, a dangerous game of manipulation and survival.

Yet, through it all, they pretended. They pretended that they were a united front, allies in a
world that sought to unravel them. They pretended that Marlene's, Peter’s, James’s and
Dorcas’s roles were inconsequential, that their motives were clear. They pretended that they
could find solace and purpose in this alliance of convenience, despite the darkness that
loomed ahead.
Chapter End Notes

he sent ROSES
HE SENT ROSES
Mary, Marlene, ily both so much loves.
everyone is on board so that's something.
I think this chapter marks a turning point for the story. It reveals a lot about character's
stance on, well, everything. So I would love to hear your thoughts on them.
imagining marlene pole-dancing does things to me ngl.
starting this i had no idea the world-building would come this far, I was initially
enjoying the characters but now, I'm starting to get proud of the plot as well omg.
Finally, I know there's not that much rosekiller this chapter (or overall tbh) but I promise
you have no idea what's coming next chapter. And afterwards too, of course. I'm asking
you to bear with me. When I said slowburn I meant it lol
See you next week
 what you’re given, what you live in
Chapter Notes

I dont remember the exact day I uploaded next week. It was either Friday or Saturday.
So I decided to upload at 00.31 am Saturday. Why not, right?
I read and watched Red White and Royal Blue for the first time today in less than 20
hours. All I could think was they were a rosekiller varient in so many ways. Much less
toxic but yearh. Am I the only one? Anyway.
Enjoy the chapter, see you at the end.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Barty was very young when he discovered the potent allure of provoking emotions, realizing
that to truly seize people's attention, he needed to evoke their anger. Empathy, love, pity, and
yearning were transient, fleeting emotions that held little lasting fascination. In contrast,
anger was enduring, its fiery grip refusing to release its hold. He understood the power of
withholding—giving people what they desired sated them momentarily, while denial stirred a
hunger within them. It was this unquenchable thirst that fuelled wars, perpetuated rivalries,
and maintained the fragile balance in Godric's Hollow. Relationships crumbled under the
weight of unmet expectations, while fleeting emotions found refuge in the depths of anger's
flame.

He was used to it all his life. Only way for him to get his father’s attention was to get him
mad. An action he was insanely successful at. Now, it was time to put his practice to good
use. Now, he had a bigger audience.

Walking down in the streets of London with Evan, they were going to get a whole town
angry. Barty knew the payoff was going to be like no other.

“Any updates on the James Potter case?" Barty inquired of Evan as they strolled down
Oxford Street. It had been two days since their night at the Riddle's Place. Over the
subsequent days, Pandora and Evan had worked diligently to assure their parents that
everything was normal and their presence at Riddle's Place held no significance. The initial
buzz around Evan's rumoured relationship had begun to fade, aligning perfectly with their
plan. The seeds of their subterfuge were sown and now lay forgotten, patiently awaiting
fruition. Meanwhile, Regulus immersed himself in the task of delving into Peter and
Marlene's backgrounds, with assistance from Frank. Evan and Barty had decided to take
stroll on London streets. If people saw them in public as friends, it would be easier to
convince them that they were in a relationship.

"I spoke to him this morning," Evan responded. "Frank followed Peter after work yesterday.
It turns out he's James Potter's neighbour. He still lives with his mother: Daisy Pettigrew.”
“I don’t remember hearing a Pettigrew family.” Barty remarked.

“She runs the private school in town.” Evan explained. “Regulus mentioned that his father
has passed away, and his mother remains the headmistress.”

“These hold no significance though, do they?” Barty asked. “We already knew he was close
with James from the start.”

“Correct.” Evan approved. “But isn’t being a server slightly an odd choice coming from a
family of educators?”

“Does he have a degree or anything like that?” Barty asked, realising Evan’s point was fair
enough.

"Regulus says his pre-existing records are inaccessible," Evan replied. "They're still working
on it."

“Are you scared of them?” Barty asked, producing a fag from his pocket. A shared glance
confirmed Evan's desire for one, and Barty obliged.

“Not at all.” Evan didn’t even hesitate to answer. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

"Do you not fear they might pose a threat to the Empyrean? If this revolves around Sirius, he
could attempt to tarnish his family's reputation."

"Our parents aren't saints," Evan conceded, "but they're not naive. Trust me, any potentially
damaging information about the company is safeguarded."

“If you say so.” Barty shrugged. He discerned Sirius's motivations and recognized their
gravity. Parents often underestimated the danger posed by a child they had failed to raise; the
children's resentment often surpassed that of their parents.

“The ball is tomorrow.” Evan reminded, completely changing the subject.

“Indeed.”

“What will you be wearing?” Evan asked almost with a belittling expression. “We’ll be
making headlines, look good.”

“I always look good.” Barty retorted, interpreting Evan's question as a slight.

“I’m serious.” Evan insisted. “If you show up in ripped jeans, the deal is off.”

“Chill out. Have you seen me? I know how to pull off an outfit.” Barty flattered himself. “I
have a Valentino tux.”

"You won't be wearing Valentino," Evan asserted with conviction.

"I certainly will. It's a meticulously crafted tuxedo in impeccable condition," Barty insisted,
then chuckled derisively. "I'm wearing it."
Evan shook his head while taking a drag from his cigarette.

“You’re marrying into the Rosier family your debut into society cannot be in an Italian
designer.”

Barty turned to him in utter disbelief as they continued walking. "Fashion's heart is
undeniably in Italy, Rosier."

"You jest, surely. It's centred in France," Evan corrected. Barty studied the expression on
Evan’s face to make sure he wasn’t joking. Clearly, he was very much certain.

“You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“I’m not. Either way, like it or not, you’re wearing French.”

Barty stopped walking in the middle of the street. “You wear Italian.” He ordered. “Times of
equality in marriages.”

“Your father will never accept the marriage. There’s a chance mine may accept it for the
public eye.”

Barty grinned, triumphant. "I said that to sway you from the start. You've just aligned with
my stance."

"Don't flatter yourself, Crouch. Even a broken clock is right twice a day," Evan quipped,
resuming his walk without waiting for Barty, who had to hasten to catch up.

“Like it or not, you’ll go out there in French.” Evan was persistent.

Unbeknownst to Evan, he hadn't realized the wordplay in his statement. Barty, on the other
hand, couldn't let the opportunity slip.

“You bet I’ll get in some French soon.” He held back a laughter. Evan looked at him with
terror in his eyes.

“Get your bloody mind out of the gutter. I meant attire.”

"Of course," Barty's tone dripped with sarcasm. "I understand perfectly."

“We’re going to the Selfridges and getting you a suit, Barty.” Evan started to get faster while
walking.

Barty had to catch him up again. When he did, he didn’t insist on not getting a suit. He was
enjoying himself enough not to care. “So will you be in French yourself or can I offer you a
piece of Italian?” he asked, still mocking Evan’s last statement.

“If you keep talking, I will kill you.” Evan threatened. “But if you really want an actual
answer, our family seamster is French as well.”

“You have a family seamster?” Barty asked, his mocking expression still very present.
"Had I known about your lack of taste, I would've had him craft something for you as well,"
Evan responded, unaware that Barty was teasing him for his opulence. He only realized
Barty's jest when he saw his expression.

“You do realise I still can back out of this, right?” Evan asked as a warning for Barty to
behave.

“But you won’t.” Barty was certain.

“"Don't be so certain. You didn't think I'd agree in the first place. I've proven you wrong
before; I can do it again."

"But you won't. You don't want to," Barty playfully pouted.

“What I really want is to punch you in the face.”

“You wouldn’t bear to hurt this pretty face.”

Evan gave Barty a look implying he was done with the conversation and started to walk
towards the Selfridges. Barty didn’t object. He really didn’t mind Italian, French, English or
any other designers at all as long as they looked good. He just found the amusement in
teasing Evan.

Once they were in, Evan started to wander around isles in the search for appropriate clothes.
He didn’t accept help from Barty or sales associates. He was wandering around as if he knew
the place like the back of his hand. Barty followed him around, keep saying he wanted to
choose his own clothing but Evan didn’t listen to him. Eventually, he was sent to the
changing room with pieces from Givenchy, Issey Miyake and Jacquemus. He changed into
one of the trousers and shirts and stepped out of the changing room.

Evan's discerning eye immediately noticed something missing. “Where’s the blazer I
picked?” he asked as soon as Barty was out as he was sat down on a couch, looking at the
way Barty carried the outfit.

“I’m not wearing any.”

“Barty.” Evan's tone turned slightly ominous. “You are wearing a blazer and a tie.”

Barty crossed his arms in front, looking at Evan nonchalant. “You do realise people will not
talk about our outfits but of our fucking queer engagement, right?”

“Appearance is everything.”

“I agree.” Barty was quick. “But I also know I will look pretty astonishing without blazer and
a tie too, Rosier. You want me to wear them not because you think they look good but
because you still care about what they told you about how to behave, act and look.”

“This is not a bloody therapy session which you can guilt-trip me into accepting what you
want.” Evan responded without losing time and added. “Wear the damn blazer and the damn
tie.”
“You’re mad I’m right.” Barty quipped, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m mad because you’re talking insane.”

“I agreed to French. I will not wear a tie.” Barty maintained.

“Go try something else.” Evan ordered, studying the white Jacquemus shirt and black
trousers he was wearing. “These don’t fit you properly.”

“Careful, Rosier.” Barty warned. “I don’t take criticism on fashion.”

“You’re not the one Jean Paul Gaultier complimented in his own show, are you?” Evan
boasted, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

That couldn't possibly have happened," Barty scoffed, disbelief evident in his voice.

“Only it did.” Evan grinned. “On his last show before retirement too.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I have no reason to lie.” Evan raised an eyebrow. “Now go change.”

“You’re funny.” Barty was sarcastic. “Thinking that you can boss me around.”

“You’re funnier.” Evan matched his energy. “If you think that shirt is doing you any favours.”

Evan was right, the shirt looked horrendous on him. It was loose on all the wrong places,
ruining his natural figure. The trousers were somewhat acceptable in shape but they were not
the tone of black Barty was thrilled about.

While admitting defeat wasn't typically on Barty's agenda, he recognized that there was
something more significant than winning an argument—dressing well. Thus, Barty complied
and retreated into the changing room to make the necessary adjustments.

He changed into all Givenchy. He wore an all-black button up shirt that fitted perfectly as
well as the black trousers that fit like a glove. Once he was out, he didn’t wait for Evan to
comment.

“I’m getting these.” He was confident.

“It would look better with a blazer.” Evan’s voice was offering.

“Not a chance.” Barty replied. After that he didn’t wait for Evan’s response but went in to
change. He hadn’t given him a chance to object but Evan didn’t look as if he was about to do
so anyway. After securing the clothing, they went up to the rooftop of Selfridges. They were
pretty exhausted of having walked the entire Oxford Street and around the store as well.
Barty was the one to beg Evan to have some refreshers before returning back to Godric’s
Hollow despite Evan’s insists on going back to work. Eventually Barty had convinced him
the company wouldn’t go bankruptcy because Evan had missed work one regular Friday
afternoon.
“Can I get a cup of cappuccino please, thank you.” Evan ordered as the server approached.

“You’re joking, I hope.” Barty interjected, not allowing the server to take down his order.

“Unlike you, some of us are not alcoholics, Barty. I can enjoy myself a cup of coffee as
well.”

“It’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon. You cannot drink cappuccino.” Barty explained. He saw the
shift of emotions signing Evan had just understood the reasoning behind Barty’s comment.

“Oh, so now you happen to care about your heritage? Italian my arse.”

“Get us two Caffé Macchiatos, please.” Barty gave the order, ignoring Evan’s mockery. The
server walked away, looking pleased to getting away from Barty and Evan’s nonsense.

“I am perfectly capable of ordering my own drinks.” Evan looked irritated.

“I was perfectly capable of picking my own clothes but sometimes that’s life.” Barty leaned
back a nonchalant demeanour masking his internal satisfaction.

Once their coffees had arrived, Barty thought they could have a moment of peace without
bickering or arguing. Silence had seemed too sweet to ignore. However, he was utterly
wrong. The gleam of silver caught the light, drawing Barty's gaze. As he caught the object in
his hand, a sense of weight and history seemed to settle within his palm.

The silver piece was a ring, its metal worn smooth by time and adorned with intricate
patterns that spoke of craftsmanship and generations gone by. It wasn't a grand and
ostentatious piece, but rather one of subtle elegance, its beauty found in the delicate details
etched into the metal. The band was finely wrought, with gentle curves and lines that seemed
to dance in the light. Two roses were engraved on the sides of the ring and in the middle,
there was a family crest.

“The bloody hell is this?”

“Family heirloom.” Evan shrugged casually. “My dad had given it to me when I was 18.”

Barty's gaze lingered on Evan, his features a blend of surprise and curiosity. Evan's
nonchalant explanation didn't quite match the weight of the heirloom ring now resting in
Barty's hand. He turned the ring over once more, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns as
he processed Evan's words.

“Wear it tomorrow. It’ll show I see you as a part of the family.” Evan explained. Barty looked
away from the ring and turned his gaze at Evan.

“Am I dreaming or is Evan Rosier asking me to marry him?” Barty’s sarcastic expression
was mimicking a delusional teenager.

“Shut it.” Evan’s expression was bland. You proposed first, so technically, I win.”
“You don’t win a shite.” Barty grinned. “I’m wearing the ring; I will tell people you
proposed.”

Evan rolled his eyes, seemingly regretting the decision to give him the ring. "I didn't propose,
you twit. It's a gesture, a bloody gesture of inclusion."

Barty's grin grew wider, clearly relishing Evan's discomfort. "Sure, sure. So, when's the
wedding?"

Evan groaned, shaking his head. "You're insufferable."

Barty chuckled, then his expression softened slightly as he studied the heirloom ring again.
He twisted it around his finger, feeling its weight and significance. "I'll wear it tomorrow. But
only because I think it looks pretty good."

“Of course it looks good. It’s been in the family for centuries.”

Barty's brow arched, a mock expression of disgust crossing his face. "Should I be concerned
about how many unwashed hands have touched it throughout those centuries

“I’m not sure if you heard it before but there’s an invention called soap. You activate it with
water and it creates bubbles-“

“Fine.” Barty cut in Evan’s mockery. “I get it. It’s clean.”

“Now,” Evan breathed out, achieved smile on his face. “We’ve got the clothing and the ring
covered. You said you knew how to dance. The only thing left to plan is how we act.”

Barty wondered if it was the right time to tell Evan about his stance on dancing. He figured
he didn’t want Evan’s mockery and commentary so he left the issue for his future self to deal
with.

“I will act as I always do.” He said instead. “They all love me.”

Evan's blunt honesty cut through Barty's self-assured demeanour. "Almost every man in this
town despises you. You've either publicly humiliated them or bedded their heirs." “Not just
their heirs.” Barty corrected. “I’ve slept with the wives of couple of them as well.”

A mixture of exasperation and amusement played across Evan's face. "You're utterly
repugnant."

Barty's self-satisfied smirk remained intact. "I prefer the term charmingly irreverent."

“That only means you are wrong.”

“You reckon Regulus is out of work yet?” Barty asked, changing the topic completely.

“Depends on the workload.” Evan responded. “Why?”

"I've been missing his company," Barty jested. "Jealous much?"

Evan's frustration was palpable. "I'd sooner tear my own tongue out."

“You’re a delight.” Barty grinned slyly. “Maybe you should consider being jealous. We’re
going to get married and all.”

“I’m jealous of people who has never met you.”

As much as Barty enjoyed seeing the annoyed look on Evan’s faces, he couldn’t overlook his
own problem on dancing. He needed to go back home and get Regulus to remind him the
moves. Knowing that it had been years since he last stepped into a ballroom was not the most
satisfying information. So, he insisted they should leave once their coffees were over. Evan
didn’t object, looking as if he’d prefer being away from Barty as much as possible. They had
driven there with Evan’s car, hence naturally he was the one to bring them back. During the
road, Evan played Aretha Franklin and Stevie Wonder. When his mixed-playlist started off to
9 to 5 by Dolly Parton, Barty teased him for it until they arrived. Finally, he dropped Barty
off to his own house saying he needed to meet Emmeline and Pandora before the ball.

His father was at home when Barty stepped in. Immediately he looked at the shopping bags
Barty was holding.

“What nonsense did you spend my money on again?” he asked, a disappointed look on his
face. “You’re not studying. You’re not working. You’re nothing than a waste of my money
and energy. “

“You’re forgetting something.” Barty grinned with amusement. “I’m marrying Rosier. That
also makes me a pawn you can trade.”

“You’ll find a way to fail in this too, Bartemius. I have no doubt.” His father shot back.

“You’re wrong father.” Barty held his chin up high. “I will be a Rosier even if you beg me
not to.”

His father’s lips curled up with triumph. “I knew you would sell yourself even for money.”
He spitted out, looking at the Selfridges bags he was holding.

“I’m my father’s son after all.” Barty challenged his father. “And if you really want to know,
I was with Evan Rosier today. He helped me buy a suit for the ball Pandora is hosting
tomorrow.”

“Will you be attending?” his father asked suspiciously.

“Yes, I will.” Barty revealed. “You should come too. We thought it was a good place to reveal
the engagement to the public.”

“You did?” he asked. “What made you think we’d agree to it?”

“We didn’t care if you did, father. You may have decided on the engagement but we’re still
adults capable of making our own decisions.”

“Yet, uncapable of affording your own clothes.” His father pointed out.
“You’re wrong. You signed a deal, if I marry Rosier, it will be my money. Being a housewife
is a hard work as well.” Barty mocked; his voice very calm.

“You’re lucky she accepted this. You can thank me for it. You’re not the eligible bachelor
compared to Regulus, Rabastan or Avery.”

“Thank you for your complete faith in me father.” Barty was mocking. “Now if you excuse
me, I will meet Regulus.”

“To go to that ridiculous place?”

"We're both aware that you would readily go to that place if you were convinced that even the
bar girls don't find you repulsive.”

“Get out of my sight.” His father ordered. “I have no doubt one day you’ll rot alone drunk in
some street.”

Barty, afraid he would be unable to control his temper took out his car keys and left his
house. As he got into his car, he clenched the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning
white. The heated exchange with his father had stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within
him.

Driving through the familiar streets, Barty couldn't shake off the feeling of being trapped,
both in his family's expectations and in the role, he was about to step into. The weight of his
engagement to Evan hung heavily on his shoulders. He didn’t regret his decision. On the
contrary every word his father spoke about it made him even more eager to it to prove them
he was not going to marry Pandora. Yet, he knew his engagement to Evan was only going to
infuriate his father as well as the Rosier parents. While he was putting on a brave face and
trying to show defiance, deep down, he was grappling with the reality of his situation.
Usually, it was easy. It was easy to ignore his father, overlook the importance of the situation.
While with Evan, it was easy to joke around, finding amusement in his irritation. However, in
the times like this, things became unbearable. He was satisfied of not doing as his father
asked yet he still knew his situation was far from ideal. His father wasn’t going to be
successful at getting him to wed Pandora but Barty had ended up in a situation far from his
own liking as well. He had cursed every member of their society for putting an act. Now, he
had the centre-role in the biggest play that was put on.

The memory of his father's cutting words replayed in his mind, each sentence a dagger to his
pride and self-worth. The years of being belittled and controlled had taken a toll on him,
eroding his confidence and sense of individuality. Barty's hands trembled as he navigated the
streets, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

He pulled up in front of the Black Manor, aware that the parents were at the town meeting as
every Friday. It took only couple of deep breaths for him to came back to reality. He was very
experienced in the matter.

As Barty rang the bell, servant of the Black’s, Kreacher, answered.

“Welcome, Mr. Crouch.” he greeted Barty with a nod, carrying an air of formality.
“Is Regulus home?” Barty asked without losing any time.

"Master Regulus has just returned," Kreacher responded, his voice servile. "Shall I inform
him of your arrival?"

“No need.” Barty said, inviting himself in as he entered the manor. Ignoring any protest from
Kreacher, he went upstairs to Regulus’s room. He walked in without knocking the door.

Regulus hurriedly closed his book, sitting straight on his bed.

“Jesus, Crouch. What in the bloody hell are you doing here unannounced?” he burst out, his
annoyance evident. Barty casually took a seat in the armchair positioned within Regulus's
room.

“What? It’s not like you bring boys home, Black.” he taunted with a smirk.

“I might’ve been unavailable.” Regulus pointed out.

Barty chuckled in return. “You’re 23 and reading a book by E.M. Forster on a Friday
evening. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re aware what I’m capable of, Barty.” Regulus was daring which amused Barty quite a
bit.

“I am.” Barty nodded. “But you’re nothing without me as your wingman.”

“I didn’t need you seducing the Burke son yesterday evening.” Regulus replied calmly, a
statement that caught Barty off guard, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Godric’s sword! First joking about your willy now this? Who are you and what have you
done with Regulus?”

“What do you want?” Regulus was nonchalant. When Barty looked at him with a confused
look on his face, he continued. “You came here for a reason. Speak.” He ordered.

“I need your help.” Barty complied.

“Figured as much. What is it?”

“I don’t remember how to waltz.” Barty admitted, relinquishing any pretence and laying his
cards on the table.

“I don’t remember how to be congenial. People can forget things it’s not a big deal.” Regulus
answered, completely missing the point in Barty’s sentence.

“Please help me. I know you’re a great dancer.” If one did not know Barty, they might’ve
thought he was begging.

“I would rather lock myself in a tomb and spend the eternity in it.” Regulus retorted dryly.
“There must be something I could offer in return.” Barty tried again. “Consider it a favour
owned. Say you need my help and I will be there, no questions asked.”

“Are you that desperate?” Regulus was belittling. Barty didn’t answer but the expression in
his eyes were approving.

“I’ll call Frank.” Regulus breathed out. “He’ll help.”

“Really?” Barty's excitement was palpable as he sat up straighter. Regulus offered no verbal
confirmation but reached for his cell phone, presumably to call Frank.

Not long after, Frank showed up, confused by the reason of his presence yet still looking
eager to help. Barty felt a mixture of gratitude and mild embarrassment as Frank entered the
room. He hadn't expected his plea for assistance to be so quickly answered, and the situation
seemed somewhat surreal to him. He had always been the one to stir up chaos and challenge
norms, but now, here he was, seeking guidance on waltzing of all things.

"I figured if I'm going to make a fool of myself at the ball, I might as well do it with some
guidance." Barty joked. “I want the attention to be on my engagement, can’t distract them
with bad dancing.”

“He just doesn’t want Evan to tease him for it.” Regulus interjected.

Frank laughed warmly. "Well, I appreciate the honesty. Don't worry, Mr. Crouch, I'll do my
best to help you avoid any major mishaps on the dance floor."

“I told you to call me Barty.”

Frank avoided eye contact due respect and discomfort. He then, changed the topic.

"Before we begin," he started, his tone professional yet friendly, "waltzing is all about the
connection between partners. The steps might seem complicated, but it's about working
together."

As Frank explained the basic waltzing steps, he gently directed Barty's feet, guiding him
through the graceful movement. "You start with a box step, forward with your left foot, slide
your right foot to the side, bring your left foot together, then take a step back with your right
foot." He demonstrated the steps with precision, making it seem effortless.

Barty followed along, his movements awkward and hesitant at first. "This feels like trying to
walk and chew gum at the same time," he commented with a self-deprecating chuckle hiding
the hint of anger.

Regulus couldn't resist interjecting, his tone playful. "Well, you're certainly mastering the art
of the two left feet."

Barty looked at him mockingly, leaving his commentary unanswered.

"Alright, alright, let's focus," Frank interjected, his patience and good humor evident. "Now,
the key to leading is in your hand placement and guiding the steps. Barty, your left hand goes
on my waist, and your right hand holds my right hand."

As Barty and Frank assumed their positions, Frank continued to guide them through the
waltzing steps. "Now, remember, Barty, you're leading the dance. Keep a steady pace and be
sure to guide me with your hand."

The room echoed with chuckles and light-hearted banter as they navigated the steps,
occasionally colliding in their attempts. Frank's expert guidance and Regulus's dry humour
made for an interesting contrast. Still, despite their determined endeavours, Barty's
coordination left something to be desired.

The trio persisted, each round of waltzing slightly smoother than the last. Frank was patient,
offering words of encouragement and correcting Barty's missteps. Regulus, on the other hand,
couldn't resist the occasional sarcastic comment.

After what felt like an eternity of waltzing, Barty's movements began to resemble something
less chaotic and more coordinated.

"You're getting the hang of it," Frank finally said, a proud smile on his face as he and Barty
executed a nearly flawless turn.

"I told you I'm a quick learner," Barty boasted, though his tone was far from serious.

"Quick might be an overstatement," Regulus retorted, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

"I think I've officially lost hope," Frank admitted, wiping his forehead with a sigh, realizing
Barty’s one improvement brought several deteriorations.

"You're hopeless," Regulus finally declared, his tone carrying a mix of annoyance and
resignation.

Barty glared at him, his patience wearing thin. "I'm trying my best here, you know."

"And your best is painfully inadequate," Regulus retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Frank let out an exasperated sigh. "Alright, maybe it's time we take a break. I don't think
anyone's ankles can withstand much more of this."

Barty dropped down into a chair; his frustration evident in his scowl. "This is ridiculous. I've
danced at clubs, parties, and even on tables. But waltzing is like trying to dance with a
straightjacket on."

"Perhaps that's the problem," Regulus quipped, his tone dry.

Barty shot him an annoyed look, his retort dying on his lips when he noticed Regulus's
expression. Despite the sarcasm, there was something in Regulus's eyes that hinted at a trace
of amusement. It was as if Regulus was begrudgingly finding some entertainment in Barty's
predicament.
With a heavy sigh, Barty slouched in his chair, feeling defeated. He had underestimated the
complexity of waltzing, and his attempts had only led to frustration.

Barty's scowl deepened, but before he could retort, Regulus closed the distance between
them, stepping towards him. Barty raised an eyebrow in surprise as Regulus extended his
hand, a silent invitation.

"What are you doing?" Barty asked, his suspicion evident.

"Teaching you how to waltz," Regulus replied, his tone oddly matter-of-fact.

Barty blinked, taken aback by the unexpected offer. "You're going to dance with me?"

Regulus's gaze turned icy. "Don't get any ideas. This is purely educational."

Barty couldn't suppress a smirk. "Wouldn't dream of it."

With a sigh that clearly communicated his lack of enthusiasm, Regulus took Barty's hand and
led him to the centre of the room. Their proximity felt strange, the tension between them
palpable as Regulus positioned them for the dance.

"Fine, listen carefully," Regulus began, his voice clipped. "Follow my lead and try not to step
on my feet."

Barty nodded; his smirk replaced by determination.

As the music resumed, Regulus's hand settled on Barty's waist, his touch surprisingly firm.
Barty's hand found its place on Regulus's shoulder, and they began to move, albeit
awkwardly.

Regulus's steps were precise and controlled, and Barty struggled to keep up. But Regulus's
grip on his waist guided him, and slowly, Barty found himself falling into the rhythm. Their
movements were tentative at first, a hesitant waltz that was a far cry from the grace and
fluidity the dance demanded.

"You're still offbeat," Regulus remarked, his tone a mix of irritation and begrudging
assistance.

Barty shot him a glare. "I'm trying, alright?"

“Now I know why you stopped coming to the balls and events.”

The music played on, and as Barty concentrated on the steps, his body seemed to sync with
Regulus's movements. Gradually, the awkwardness began to dissipate, replaced by a
surprising sense of unity.

Regulus's voice cut through the music again, this time with a hint of genuine patience. "Don't
focus on the individual steps. Let the music guide you. It's all about the flow."
 Barty nodded, his focus shifting from the mechanics of the dance to the music itself. He let
himself be led by Regulus, his movements growing smoother, more natural. It was an
unexpected transformation—one that he hadn't anticipated.

As the final notes played out, Barty executed a surprisingly graceful spin, his gaze meeting
Regulus's in a mix of triumph and surprise.

Regulus's expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—
something that might have been approval. Without a word, he released his hold on Barty,
stepping back with an air of nonchalance.

"Well, you managed to stumble your way through a waltz without completely embarrassing
yourself," Regulus commented, his tone a blend of indifference and something else Barty
couldn't quite place.

Barty grinned, a sense of accomplishment settling in his chest. "High praise coming from
you, Black."

Regulus rolled his eyes, though the barest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. "Don't let it get to
your head. You're still a novice."

"Maybe," Barty conceded, his grin widening. "But I've got a world-class teacher now."

Regulus's smirk turned into a scowl. "Don't push it, Crouch."

As the banter continued, Frank watched from a distance, his surprise evident in his raised
eyebrows. He never thought he'd see the day when Barty Crouch Jr. and Regulus Black
would dance together, let alone engage in something that resembled it.

The remainder of the evening drifted past; each moment pregnant with anticipation for the
dawn of a new day. Barty valiantly endeavoured to cast aside the burden of the impending
morrow, along with the unresolved clash with his father and the myriad of other troubles that
had taken residence in his heart. Instead, he found solace in playfully taunting Regulus for his
unexpected dance instruction. To an outsider, their interactions might have borne the
semblance of flirtation, an illusion carefully crafted. Yet, in truth, Barty derived a peculiar
satisfaction from observing Regulus' evident aversion to physical contact, all while an
irrepressible compulsion to intervene seemed to possess him—an embodiment of his
relentless pursuit of perfection.

Chapter End Notes

BY FAR this chapter was the closest they were. I'm excited.
Idk if the fandom has decided on a name but Peter's mom is so Daisy to me. Not sure
why but she is just Daisy because I said so.
They went shopping together pppppfpfpfpfpfppft.
THE RING
THE RING
technically it doesn't mean anything but to me it does. Okay????
I love Frank with all my heart.
Regulus not being able to stop himself from interfering is so real. He is me and I'm him
so writing him is the easiest tbh.
feeding bartylus for no reason whatsoever. Completely platonic tho, in case you haven't
noticed. This fiction is everything but a love triangle. Bye
SO EVERYONE THE BALL IS NEXT CHAPTER
I already finished writing it and it is well... Something to wait for, to say the least. It
took us 50K words to get to the chapter that they'll reveal the fake relationship so I think
the slow burn is slow burning.
Not related to the story, or the plor, or the fandom. But today I got accepted to my first
ever internship and I'm so excited damn. This was unrelated. Sorry. I'm going now. Take
care. <3
 rite of movement
Chapter Notes

Hey everyone!
This chapter marks an important turn in the story, and I'm very excited for you to read it.
Before we start, I want to say for the next two months, I have two internships and a part-
time job; with my school starting in two weeks, my schedule will be hell. I will do my
best to stick to weekly updates, but there's a possibility it can turn into once every two
weeks. I'll give updates on my Tumblr about the schedule so if you want you can check
it out at @asterialunarr

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens began by a very simple paragraph.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of
foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of
light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

The book was set in 1775 in England and France. It was centuries later; the locations had not
changed. Evan Rosier had spent his entire life drifting between two countries. Two lives.
Barty knew his life was more than the desired. His life was the unimaginable. Yet, he was
about to destroy all of it. Barty’s strongest guess was that his so-called perfect life wasn’t
enough to cover the storms of his inner world.

Barty on the other hand had lived his entire life in England. Among the richest, most
successful people. People who made sure their lives were hell. Barty found the fun. He
created the chaos, seemingly destroying the perfect life of others. All he did was to create the
life only he was in control of.

Then, there were the residents of the Godric’s Hollows. The ones who valued themselves
more than their worth. The ones who perceived their intelligence above all. They were
nothing but a bunch of fools who still played house as adults, because growing up they didn’t
have the time as their parents had spent their entire childhood on meaningless education.
They were taught how to act, what to wear, when to behave. What they weren’t taught was to
live. Live an actual life. Because life was not supposed to be perfect. Perfect was boring. Life
needed mistakes. The thrill. Living a life followed by a book of rules was nothing more than
a wasted time. People needed to feel guilt, regret, sorrow. It consumed a person but it made
more sense than not feeling anything at all. Barty had spent his entire life in misery yet he
wouldn’t prefer it any other way. His personal hell was at least amusing compared to the
people filling the ballroom in.
He hadn’t spoken to Evan for the all day. Instead, he had gotten ready himself, wearing the
clothes they’d bought the day before. The ring felt heavier than its actual weight as it rested
on the pocket of his trousers.

His father had insisted on their arrival together. Barty’s sole reaction was to laugh. It was
funny how after all these years his father cared about appearing as family more than he cared
about actually being one. Barty went with it, though. The calm before the storm.

The ballroom was decorated extraordinarily

with opulent chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the proceedings. Elegant
tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grandeur and history. The air was alive with
hushed conversations, tinkling laughter, and the soft strains of classical music drifting from
an orchestra tucked away in a corner. It was a scene that screamed of refinement and
affluence.

Barty surveyed the room with his characteristic air of detached amusement. He observed the
well-dressed guests, their masks of civility hiding the complex lives they led. To him, this
display was akin to a beautifully staged theatre, with everyone playing their roles with
practiced precision. It was the façade of perfection, concealing the human messiness beneath.

He caught glimpses of Evan Rosier across the room, engaged in conversation with an
elegantly dressed woman. Evan's polished demeanour belied the turbulence Barty knew was
churning within him. Their eyes met briefly, a silent acknowledgment passing between them
– a recognition of shared struggles and secrets. Barty realised Evan getting visibly disturbed
by his presence. He had shifted the weight of his body from one foot to both, standing
straighter as he arched his back. Even when he turned his gazes back at the woman, his body
remained uncomfortable.

He'd worn a light blue tux with a white shirt underneath. The trousers and the jacket were
fitted perfectly. Barty found amusement in his attire because even when they were about to
stand up against the tradition, he was following its rules.

Barty watched the girl walk away and saw Evan pulling out his phone. Not more than a
minute later, he got a text.

Follow me.

“Excuse me, father.” Barty was overly kind, fighting hard to hide sarcasm behind his
statement. “I’ll go find Regulus.”

He did as Evan had instructed; his gaze unwavering as he followed Evan's lead. Navigating
through the bustling crowd while maintaining his focus on Evan was a challenge, yet one he
was determined to conquer. Amidst the ebb and flow of elegant gowns and polished suits,
Barty continued to follow the thread of Evan's presence. He noticed the curious glances that
some of the guests shot their way – whispers of intrigue following them like a shadow. It was
clear that the departure of two such prominent figures from the heart of the celebration hadn't
gone unnoticed.

Eventually, the elegant opulence of the grand ballroom gave way to the more muted tones of
the Savoy's corridors. The transition from vibrant excess to quiet solitude was palpable,
casting an atmosphere of intimacy around them. The soft lighting illuminated their path,
revealing ornate details on the walls and the gentle curve of the hallways.

“Is everything all right?” Barty asked, refusing to follow Evan aimlessly anymore. Evan
stopped walking and turned back at Barty. His first instinct was to check the presence of
others. Once he saw no one but they were in the corridors, he began talking.

“Just wanted to make sure we’re still doing this.” To Barty’s surprise, his voice sounded
slightly anxious. He would’ve thought all the years of growing up in the Rosier household
would help him hide his emotions better.

"We are," Barty affirmed with certainty. He remained steadfast in his decision to continue
their course of action. "You better stop walking around as if you're a criminal who just
committed their first murder."

“It’s not every day a man reveals his fake engagement to hundreds of people who will not
approve it.” Evan’s attempt at making a joke failed miserably.

"Exactly," Barty agreed, taking a step closer to Evan. "They won't approve either way. So,
you can relax – there's nothing you can do to screw it up."

Evan, seeking distance, moved closer to the wall behind him. His gaze shifted to Barty's
hand. "Where's your ring?" he inquired. Barty retrieved the ring from his pocket and held it
up.

“Do you want to put it on?” he raised an eyebrow playfully.

“I'd rather chop your hand off," Evan quipped, a hint of a forced smile tugging at his lips.

Barty laughed in return and put the ring on his left hand. Once again, he took a step closer to
Evan, his hands making their way towards Evan’s tie. He lightly grasped the light blue fabric,
his intentions unclear as he paused.

Evan's eyes shifted from Barty's hand to his eyes, his curiosity tinged with caution. "What the
hell are you doing?" he asked, his words direct.

“Let loose. Literally.” Barty’s body language was calmer compared to Evan as his words. His
hands did not shake as he pulled the tie knot slightly to loosen the tie before removing it
completely. His focus was on the piece of fabric but he could feel Evan’s gazes at him.

“What is it with you and the bloody ties?” Evan asked once Barty was over.

Barty stepped back, creating a modest distance between them. "I'm not fond of formality," he
answered simply. The discarded tie lay in his hand like a symbol of rebellion against the
constraints of societal expectations, a visual testament to his refusal to be bound by the
strictures that had shaped their lives.

Evan's lips twitched in the shadow of a smile, as if acknowledging the subtle act of defiance.
The corridor's quiet solitude bore witness to this exchange, as two individuals dared to break
free from the roles they were expected to play and began to explore the authenticity that lay
beneath the surface.

“I should leave before my disappearance is realised.” Evan left the place between Barty and
the wall.

“See you in the dance floor, Rosier.” Barty smiled and walked away.

Without losing much time, he found himself on the grand ballroom once again. Guests were
enjoying martinis and canapés all around. As he was gazing across, a slightly familiar voice
had appeared next to him.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Barty turned his head to his right to see it was none other than James Potter.

“How are you invited here?” Barty asked, shocked.

“You’re forgetting I have connections.” James replied. After studying Barty’s expression, he
added enthusiastically. “Come on, Barty. I admit Jackson Porter was not the smartest cover
name.”

“Does Regulus know you’re here?” Barty asked, hoping Regulus’s name would be a
threatening tool for James yet the boy preserved his attitude.

“Not yet.” James smiled. “I was hoping I’d meet him in the dancefloor.”

“He’d rip your legs apart if you dare to ask.” Barty pointed out.

“I doubt he would.”

Barty turned his body completely at James. “I don’t know what damn game you and Sirius
are playing but if harms any of us, I wouldn’t wait for Regulus to kill you.” He was
whispering but his threat was intimidating.

James tilted his head to right, still carrying the smile on his face. “You care about him.”

His statement irritated Barty. “I care of our plan. You’re not destroying it.”

“You really think we want to destroy it? It’s the perfect plan, Barty. Better than we could
plan.”

“How many people are you referring to by saying we.” Barty asked, hissing.

“You don’t trust me.” James pointed out. “Why should I trust you?”
“Indeed.” Barty raised both his eyebrows, his expression hinting insanity. “You shouldn’t.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You should be.” Barty smiled. “If you really are a good paparazzi as you claim.”

“I’m not a paparazzi.” James corrected.

“Too bad.” Barty’s grin widened. “I was going to put hell of a show tonight.”

He walked away without waiting for James’s response. He searched the room with his eyes,
hoping to come across Regulus’s silhouette. He saw him standing next to Pandora. Regulus -
unsurprisingly- was in a perfect black tux as well as a black shirt and a tie. Pandora on the
other hand was wearing a light-purple gown. She moved around delicately, her silky-blonde
hair falling off perfectly from her shoulders.

Barty went near them and interrupted their conversation. Looking at the unpleasant
expression on Pandora’s face, Barty grinned.

“You look delighted to see me.”

“I’d hoped you changed your mind.” She said slyly.

“Never. I can’t wait to be your brother-in-law.”

“Barty, not now.” Regulus warned, gazing across the people around.

“He’s here.” Barty turned at Regulus, focusing his attention on him.

“Who’s he?”

“Jackson Porter.” His voice was filled with disgust as he answered.

“I’m aware. Frank already told me.” Regulus was calm.

“What are we going to do about it then?” Barty asked, implying that they should take action.

“We are not going to do anything. I’ll take care of it.” Regulus replied, emphasizing the word
we.

“Can’t we just burry him alive?” Barty asked, sounding scarily genuine. “Then you may find
a more entertaining hobby for Frank.”

Pandora looked at him in utter disbelief.

“I was thinking of holding him hostage until he comes clean about everything.” Regulus
spoke.

“Wait really?” Barty was excited.

“It’s real that I’ve been thinking it.” Regulus admitted. “Toutefois, thinking does not mean
I’ll do it. Some of us can control our impulses.”

“You two are insane.” Pandora interrupted their conversation. “No one is killing or capturing
anyone in my bal des debutantes. Do what you want to do once the ball is done.”

Barty looked at her with a look that hinted pride. “You are no saint yourself, dear Pandora.
You keep surprising me.”

Pandora gave him a very-much-fake smile. “Thanks, but I’d rather scare you off.”

“Dora, do you have access to the guest list?” Regulus asked, putting an end to their bickering.

“Bien-sûr.” Pandora replied immediately.

“Can you ask Mary to check if any James Potter or Jackson Porter is listed?”

“Of course.” Pandora was quick. Barty was surprised to see Regulus and Pandora were very
coherent. It seemed like an odd trait for both of their personalities to possess.

“Merci.”

“De rien.” Pandora smiled before walking off.

“That was oddly kind of her.” Barty commented, watching her leave.

“I know how to ask.” Regulus was not humble in the slightest.

Barty spent the following half an hour alongside Regulus. Enjoying Martinis and chatting
with other peers that Regulus looked as if he hated but had to engage because it was more
appropriate. Barty caught glimpses of Evan greeting guests with Pandora but never lingering
around for more than 5 minutes talking to a single person.

As Mary and Emmeline approached, Regulus and Barty were in the middle of a meaningless
conversation about which cocktail was the best.

Barty saw Mary wearing a red dress with a heart neckline that was fitted on the waist and tule
for the skirt. Her bold colour of choice was most likely to grab more attention than the
debutantes. Only thing she did with her curly hair was to put two front parts to bobby pins in
the back. Emmeline on the other hand had not chosen to wear a gown. Instead, she was
wearing a black suit. Without wearing a shirt, she had a matching vest on inside her blazer.
Her long hair was falling down on her shoulder without possessing any waves or curls.

“He is here as a plus one, not a guest.” Mary didn’t lose any time to reveal.

“Whose?” Barty asked, not allowing time for Regulus to do so.

“Xenophilius Lovegood.” Mary answered.

“Why is he here?” Regulus was the one to ask. “He’s most definitely not respected at all.”
“Because of him, probably.” Emmeline looked at Barty. “They know he’ll throw the biggest
façade of the century. They’ll use it in the Quibbler.”

“Then its good, isn’t it?” Barty asked, ignoring Emmeline’s accusing tone. “We need the
publicity.”

“What we need is to know their motivation.” Regulus made it clear he was displeased by
James and Xenopihilius’s presence.

Marry checked her phone before looking back at them. “According to Miss Rosier’s
schedule, the first dance of guests will be in 20 minutes. After the debutantes are presented.”

“Good.” Barty breathed in. “Let the show commence.”

“I just hope none of you regrets this.” Emmeline looked at Barty and then Regulus. “Mr.
Black you know best that work is all Mr. Rosier has. I’m trusting you to not let him let it go
for a cause that doesn’t worth it.”

“No offense taken.” Barty mocked.

“This isn’t about you, Mr. Crouch.” Emmeline fixed her posture. “I merely have been
working with Mr. Rosier for years. I wouldn’t let anything or anyone ruin his career.”

“I’m helping him by teaching him how to make his own decisions, Miss Vance. That’s saving
his career, not ruining it.” Barty challenged Emmeline.

“I can only hope you are right.” Emmeline’s voice got softer to Barty’s surprise.

Before they could move on with their conversation, they heard a mic opening. It was an
enchanting scene, with Pandora gracing the gathering with her presence, extending warm
greetings to all attendees. She also took a moment to pay homage to the previous year's
debutante and delivered an eloquent speech underscoring the significance of the ball.
Following her speech, the stage was set for the grand presentation of each debutante. As
Barty observed, the young women elegantly adorned in pristine white gowns were
accompanied by their male counterparts, exuding palpable joy as they stepped into the
limelight of the esteemed assembly. Yet, it was hard to ignore the pervasive overtones of
conformity to traditional gender roles and class distinctions that the event seemed to uphold,
which were inextricably woven into its fabric.

Remarkably, this time, Barty found an unexpected solace in openly acknowledging their own
"engagement" amidst the ball's opulence. As the waltz of debutantes commenced, Barty
confided in Regulus, expressing the intention to locate Evan before the dance began.

As the music enveloped the air, Barty's focus remained unyielding, his steps carrying him
through the crowd.

Finally, his gaze landed on Evan standing by one of the tall windows, his composed exterior
belying the turmoil that Barty knew churned beneath the surface. Without hesitation, Barty
made his way towards Evan, navigating through the throng of guests with practiced ease.
As he approached, Evan's eyes met his, a mixture of surprise and relief flashing in their
depths. Barty's lips curved into a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment passing between
them – a recognition of the unspoken connection that tied them together in the midst of the
chaos.

"Couldn't handle the crowd?" Barty's voice was laced with amusement as he stood beside
Evan.

Evan's lips twitched in response, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Knowing they will all curse behind my back tomorrow isn’t really a welcoming feeling.”

Barty's tone held a note of camaraderie as he teased, "You mean you're not enjoying all the
attention and admiration?"

“That’s you, Barty. Not me.” Evan's mock-serious expression matched Barty's tone.

The waltz of debutantes reached its crescendo, and the applause that followed marked its
conclusion.

Evan's gaze turned to the dancers, his voice carrying a touch of nostalgia. "I remember when
I used to watch the waltz as a child, dreaming of the day I'd be a part of it."

Barty's voice held a touch of warmth. "Dreams have a funny way of transforming when they
meet reality."

Evan's eyes returned to Barty's, a mixture of emotions swirling in their depths. "Yes, they do.
I was Andromeda Black’s date when she was presented. Sirius was Pandora’s and now I’m
here to dance with you. "

“You Rosiers must’ve a thing for rebels then,” Barty’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous
flicker. Evan rolled his eyes, slowly chuckling.

“The first two was arranged, Barty. Andromeda is 4 years older than me.”

“So are you saying this is by choice?” Barty asked.

The moment was interrupted by the gentle applause that filled the room before Evan could
answer. The debutantes curtsied, their partners bowing as they received the admiration of the
attendees. Amidst the applause, Evan turned back to Barty, his expression determined.

"Shall we?" he extended his arm, his gaze fixed on Barty.

Barty's lips curved into a confident smile as he accepted the invitation, placing his hand in
Evan's. "Let's give them something to talk about."

As they made their way to the dance floor, their presence did not go unnoticed. Whispers and
surprised glances followed them, the sight of Barty and Evan walking together raising
eyebrows and sparking curiosity. With every step, Barty felt people turning their heads at
him. No one dared to stop. Maybe they were in shock, maybe they were in denial to think this
was platonic. They didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were staring shamelessly.
Judging, belittling. Even with fear. Every step they took to the dancefloor, they got closer to
the inevitable. As they positioned themselves against each other, Barty knew even other
dancers were focused on them.

Evan's grip on Barty's hand tightened slightly as they took their positions, ready to begin the
dance. Barty's voice, soft but confident, reached Evan's ears. "Remember, Rosier, we're not
just dancing for them. We're dancing for our future without them."

The eyes of the attendees followed them, some with curiosity, others with shock, but most
with a mixture of intrigue and speculation.

When the music commenced, they were both aware nothing was ever going to be the same.
To Barty, it was the only thing he could ask for. Evan’s thoughts remained unknown for him
still. Barty's steps, while not the most polished, held a certain charm that matched his
demeanour.

"You're shaking," Barty observed, his grip on Evan's waist slightly unsteady as they moved in
a simple box step, the pace easy and comfortable.

Evan's fingers tightened slightly on Barty's shoulder as he admitted, "I'm nervous."

Barty's footsteps faltered slightly, but his voice remained reassuring, "Don't be. This is the
last time they have control over your emotions."

Their movements took on a slightly hesitant quality as they executed a gentle turn, Evan's
gaze searching Barty's eyes for comfort. It was a dangerous place to look for comfort. Barty
was the most restless, relentless and distant person to have ever walked the earth. He had not
felt comfort a single day in his life. He wasn’t going to be able to give it to Evan, no matter
how much he searched for it.

"Things are only starting, Barty. It'll get worse," Evan confessed, his vulnerability mirrored in
the sway of their steps as they transitioned into a basic promenade.

Barty's response was gentle to his own surprise as his lead guided them into a few basic waltz
steps, "Nothing is worse than turning into these people who think this ball decides their
worth."

Their promenade became more fluid, as Evan found his rhythm within Barty's imperfect
steps. "Can you change the topic? Don't talk about the ball, the people, or their reactions. Just
talk about something else, please."

It was weird to hear Evan ask for things, be vulnerable. Barty could tell he was genuinely
nervous, maybe even scared. Usually, he wouldn’t care. Empathy had never been his strong
suit. However, he needed Evan to feel confident. He couldn’t let anyone else see Evan’s
hesitance. Barty wasn’t the most comforting person. However, playing to people’s needs,
acting as if he knew what they asked for was his speciality just as distracting them.

His fingers held Evan's waist with a touch of assurance as they moved into a simple pivot
turn, his words flowing naturally. "Fine. Let's talk about your assistant."
As they resumed their waltz, Evan's curiosity grew. "Emmeline? Why?"

Their steps flowed into a series of small twirls, mirroring the easy-going nature of their
conversation. Barty's playful tone continued the dialogue, "She hates me."

Evan's laughter punctuated their dance. "She doesn't hate you."

A subtle dip followed, Evan's trust in Barty's lead evident as they navigated the movement
with a touch of grace. "Well, Emmeline can get protective."

The dance of their conversation shifted once more, as they moved into a basic reverse turn.
Barty's voice held a note of contemplation, "So I've realized."

Evan's twirl brought them back to face each other, his voice softened with understanding.
"You make it sound like it's a problem."

Their steps transitioned into a slow spin, reflecting their shared camaraderie. Barty's playful
words carried a hint of intrigue, "She's too protective."

Their movements turned into a simple box step, each step echoing their dialogue. Evan's
response reflected his insight, leading them into a basic open box step. "What do you mean?"

Barty's words flowed seamlessly as they entered a gentle sway, their dance mirroring their
comfortable rapport. "I don't know. Why would someone care about their boss's personal
life?" "This isn't just my personal life; it affects my work too. Besides, what are you
implying?"

Barty led them into an easy-going turn, his words and movements matching Evan's "She
seems to care too much."

Their conversation danced in harmony with their movements. Evan's response came as a
playful tease, a simple spin reflecting their words. "Wait, are you implying that she has
feelings for me?"

Barty's fingers rested gently on Evan's waist, as they moved into a gentle sway. "I'm saying it
is a possibility."

Barty's fingers rested gently on Evan's waist, as they moved into a gentle sway. In a quick
sequence of small turns, Evan's laughter echoed in the air almost managing to overpower the
music, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"She has been dating Mary for three years now."

In response, Barty led them into a basic underarm turn, Evan's laughter mingling with the
music. "Can't believe you just said that. Tu es désemparé."

The dance continued, their steps reflecting the playful banter between them. Barty's
confusion came to the forefront, as they executed a series of simple twirls. "What does that
mean?"
Evan's laughter flowed like a gentle waltz, the atmosphere light and carefree. As they moved
into a slow spin, he responded with an enigmatic smile. "Never mind."

Just as Evan began to find his rhythm and his movements grew more confident, Barty seized
the opportunity to disrupt the newfound ease. With a mixture of mischief and tenderness, he
deftly leaned in, his lips brushing against Evan's cheek in a fleeting kiss. The contact was
subtle yet electric, and Barty couldn't help but notice the tell-tale tension that rippled through
Evan's body, palpable between their still-linked arms.

"Why would you do that?" Evan's voice was hushed, a mixture of surprise and emotion.

Barty's voice was steady as he replied, leading them into a gentle turn. "So that they have no
doubt."

The waltz's tempo quickened slightly, as if the waltz was aware of Evan’s tension. Barty's
playful tease was evident, leading them into a series of quick fleckerls. "Rosier? Are you
getting red?"

Evan's response was firm, a fleckerl reflecting his retort. "I'm not a playboy or a man-whore
like some of us. Next time you do that, inform me first."

With graceful motions, they moved into a fluid natural turn, their closeness revealing a hint
of vulnerability. Barty's voice held a touch of intrigue, a playful turn of words matching their
dance. "Next time? Are you saying you want there to be a next-time?"

Evan's words were swift, his tone both teasing and defensive. "I didn't say that."

Their waltz flowed into a final sequence of elegant movements. Barty's words held a note of
challenge, the dance of their dialogue drawing to a close as they moved into a beautiful,
sweeping finale. "I believe you did."

Evan's laughter intertwined with the final notes of the waltz, their movements slowing, their
connection lingering as they executed a graceful dip. "Then you must be insane."

As the music faded away, and the dance came to an end, the world felt like it came back. The
bubble had popped. Evan’s expression shifted. He wasn’t teasing or mocking anymore. All
Barty saw was fear.

Even Barty himself was found in an uncertainty. As soon as they walked away from each
other, they were going to face the reaction that they’d been so afraid of.

Barty had dreaded the dancing for so long that he’d forgotten the afterword was the actual
deal. Regulus was helpful to teach him the moves. There was going to be no one to teach
them how to act from now on.

In a world full of sins, they were going to be punished for not hiding theirs’. Barty knew it
wasn’t real. It wasn’t real love. It wasn’t a real relationship, even. However, it was enough to
piss people off. They weren’t going to question its sincerity. They were going to punish them,
hate them not caring if they were faking it or madly in love with each other.
Barty did not believe in love. Even if it was real, he didn’t think he was capable of it. Loving
someone enough to face the world because of them wasn’t going to happen to him. He knew
he was too dangerous to love. Nothing about him was well balanced. His anger wasn’t
tempered, his thoughts were messy. His sexual desires were intense. If he loved, it would be
the end. He would lose himself, destroying the other person on the way. So, he wasn’t
capable of love. He was thankful for it. Because deep down he knew even if he loved, he
wouldn’t be loved in return.

He was the only person in Godric’s Hollow who could fucking dance with another boy in the
middle of a ball. And this was all he could have. A fake engagement to a person he didn’t
properly know. Unlucky for Evan, he had happened to be in the wrong place in the wrong
time. This was Barty’s uprising. He’d trained himself for it all his life.

Evan on the other hand was nothing but an amateur. A 24 years old man only finding his
inner teenager who rebelled against his parents. If his temper fell short, he was going to
regret all. Barty was going to be the only one winning something out of this. He didn’t mind
that. He was his father’s son. He hated it but it was the truth. He didn’t care what happened to
anyone else as long as he got his way. This time, he was going to get his way no matter what.

Evan and Barty only pulled apart when three others came next to their side. Barty lifted his
head only to see rest of the ballroom focused on them. He couldn’t see his father around. He
saw Emmeline and Frank on the dancefloor, standing close to each other and looking ready to
make a move if anyone attempted to came near Evan and Barty. Pandora and Regulus pulled
them apart, Mary checking around. Pandora held on to Evan’s arm, directing him out.

“We should leave now.” Regulus told Barty. “You shot the fire. Let’s go before they respond
to it.”

So, Barty followed. He started to walk towards the exit of the ballroom amongst staring eyes.
When the dance was over people had stood still in curiosity but as soon as Evan had started
to walk and Barty followed, the whole room turned into chaos. Everyone asking each other
questions. Speculations being heard all around. He felt Emmeline and Frank following them.

No one dared to stop them except for no other than James Potter.

“You actually went with it.” He told Barty with an expression mixed with surprise and
amusement. He was walking at their pace to keep up.

“Go away!” Regulus didn’t shout but his tone was almost roaring.

“And you actually are standing with them.” The amusement had washed away from James’s
voice. It was only surprise now.

“I will literally stand on you if you don’t get the hell out of our way.” Regulus shoved James
off, finally managing to get out of the ballroom.

“Am I dreaming or did you just protect me?” Barty asked, joking despite the tense air.

“You two stood there like idiots. We had to get you out before your fathers got to you first.”
“I paid the butler to lock the door for 10 minutes.” Emmeline reached them.

“I had booked a room prior to today.” Frank revealed. “Let’s go.”

“As you were dancing, I might’ve paid another butler to hide your phones to the garden so if
they check your GPS’s, it’ll lead them there.”

“How much is this costing me again?” Regulus asked. Barty knew money wasn’t a problem.
Regulus just liked to complain, about everything in general.

Barty shouted to Evan, who was around 20 steps away from them as he was speed walking
next to Pandora. “People working for your company are smarter than ones ruling it.”

“This is not the time to joke about the company.” Regulus warned him. “As there may be no
company to joke about tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe I let you ruin my ball.” Pandora sounded as if she could almost cry. “Je suis
ruiné. Je ne pourrai plus jamais regarder quelqu'un en face.”

“Calme-toi. Nous allons surmonter cela." Regulus was the one to answer her. They had
slowed down their steps as they were now in the second floor on an empty hallway. Just as
they were about to enter the room Frank had book, another voice that didn’t belong to any of
them was heard from behind. To Barty’s annoyance, it was once again in French.

“C'est bon de voir qu'ils n'ont pas enlevé ton sens de l'empathie, petite étoile."

Barty felt Regulus tensing up by his side. He could feel the tension vibrating from him. He
only understood why as he turned back to see Sirius Black. After all these years, in the flesh.

The years had behaved good to him. Barty had always thought Regulus’s older brother had an
annoying charm about him. Now maturity had only added to it.

“What are you doing here?” Evan was the one to ask, to Barty’s surprise. He hadn’t taken
him for someone who’d attack first.

“I wanted to congratulate you.” He grinned at Evan. He looked insincere. Dangerous too. He

turned at Barty. “And of course, you too, our groom to be.”

“Would you want to leave at your own will or should I do the honours?” Barty hissed,
threatening. Regulus was still awfully silent. His flaming eyes directed at no one else but
Sirius.

“I’ll leave when I please.” Sirius was cocky, his voice possessing a silent threat. “This is an
awfully familiar situation, brother. Don’t you think?” he took a step near Regulus who still
hadn’t said a word.

“You met James, told him to stay away, I hear.” Sirius commented, as if he found amusement
in the situation. This was a language Barty understood. He had invented it. So, if Sirius
wanted to play, he could play.
“We met all of your pets, Sirius. They’re not cowards like you I’ll give them that.” Barty was
mocking and humiliating Sirius just as he’d asked for. When Sirius didn’t answer, Barty
pushed further.

“They didn’t wait for our weakest moment to attack like you did.”

Sirius laughed. “You’re just as I remembered, Crouch. Not afraid to speak his mind yet
painfully wrong.” His laughter turned into a sly smile. “This isn’t your weakest moment. It is
your strongest. Am I wrong, brother?" he turned at Regulus again.

“Go away.” Pandora looked at Sirius, as equally mad as Evan. Barty knew they were all
childhood friends. Pandora and Sirius were engaged before they were even born for Godric’s
sake. Yet they both looked at him with nothing but hatred. Yet, there were something else in
Sirius’s eyes. Unlike the other three he looked at them with envy. It was hidden but it was
there.

“Dear Pandora. You know I love you, right?”

“You don’t get to talk to my sister.” Evan interjected.

“Sir, the time is running out, your father may find us any minute. We should get inside.”
Frank warned Regulus though Regulus didn’t seem to pay attention.

“Should I make him leave by force?” Mary asked, sounding intimidating. “My heels have a
way of stabbing people to death.”

“No need to dirt your beautiful shoes with blood, Mademoiselle.” Sirius’s grin widened
before he turned back at Regulus. “You can tell them, brother. You can tell them how you told
me to go the first time. You can tell them it’s okay. I’ll go when you tell me to.”

“Today is not about you. Fuck the bloody hell of!” Barty threatened.

“You’re wrong once again, darling. It is about me. Isn’t it, Reggie? You can’t tell me you
didn’t think of me even once today.”

Regulus did not say a word.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t remind me when you escorted them out safely. You reminded
how dad pulled my arm and shoved me out after you told me to go, didn’t you?” Sirius took
another step closer to Regulus. They stared each other in the eyes with a never-ending hellfire
visible behind them.

“That’s it.” Frank was the one to say. “You’re going out with me.” He attempted to grab
Sirius’s arm.

“No need, Frank, my old mate. I can escort myself out. Alone, again.”

So, he did. He left them all standing out of the hotel room, confused in emotions. He left
them with many things to solve. The situation was already tough to handle. Before they could
come to the terms with the weight of the dance, they were burdened with Regulus’s family
 issues. Barty could only fervently hope that Regulus remained unaffected by this turmoil, as
he was the mastermind behind their endeavours. If Sirius’s words had indeed swayed Regulus
to withdraw, it would signify a defeat in the war before they even had a chance to step onto
the battlefield.

Chapter End Notes

i dont even know where to start

THE TIE
James what're you doing here sir?
Pandora and Reg's relationship mean everything to me.
THE DANCE OMG THERE'S SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT THE DANCE.
bUt I'm only gonna say the kiss because THE KISS
emmary are adorablllllleeee. Barty is stupid to thing emmeline is anything other than a
raging sapphic tbh.
I wrote Barty's inner monologue during a very dark time forme lol. I think it shows.
Annnnyway live laugh barty ig
OF COURSE SIRIUS MADE A DRAMATIC ENTRANCE. as he should
Sirius, baby, I love you with all my heart but the rest protecting Regulus meant so much
to me, I hope you understand.
LOLOLOL
this is only the beginning. see you next time
 staring into open flame
Chapter Notes

CONTENT WARNING:
Hi, I'm usually really bad at giving proper content warnings. However this chapter is
really dark general.
There's a one short nsfw paragraph. It's not too graphic or explicit yet it contains mature
elements.
There's also mention of physical and psychological parental abuse. Both current and
past.
Just wanted to inform you. Enjoy.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

In the midst of war, fighting on the battlefield was the easy part. Shooting guns, taking cover
behind bushes, spotting enemies – all seemed straightforward, especially when tensions ran
high. Collateral damages could be pushed aside.

The aftermath's repercussions, though, extended beyond the physical realm. The struggle for
democracy, the intricacies of the Cold War's ideological chessboard, and the arduous journey
of healing superseded the simplicity of combat. They mattered more than the battles
themselves. Fixing the physical destruction from war was manageable. Taking lives felt less
difficult than honouring the dead.

Burying the fallen, both physically and emotionally, was harder than the act of killing.

Now, the swords had fallen down, guns were given up on. They had won the battle the
minute they’d stepped on the dancefloor. They had to be ready to win the war as a whole,
democratically, socially and infinitely.

The game was twisted. They had to find a way to fix it. Barty knew his own stance on
everything. He knew the risks he could take. He didn’t trust Evan or Pandora. He didn’t know
their capacity, neither did he know when they would back out. He knew Mary, Emmeline and
Frank were devoted to their employers. However, he knew better than to think they were
trustworthy. When the right prize is offered, anyone was capable of betrayal.

Then there was Regulus. Only person on earth Barty could bring himself to trust. Not
because he was a good and loyal person. Not because Barty believed Regulus cared him
enough to help him no matter what. But because he knew Regulus was more dedicated and
dangerous if he’s truly persuaded on the matter. For a while Barty had believed Regulus was
convinced to do this. He thought his belief on the plan was solid. However, with Sirius’s
unexpected appearance, Barty had no idea what went through Regulus’s head. Barty knew
Regulus enough to expect his reactions to current events. He had no idea how he would react
to the sins of the past.

“Mr. Black, do you want me to chase him down?” Frank asked, standing, his back leaning on
a wall next to Mary.

Evan and Pandora were sat down at the edge of the bed, Pandora’s dress was taking up more
than half of the space. Emmeline was standing their side. Regulus had sat down on the
armchair, not looking at anyone else. Barty was marching back and forth, since it had felt as
if the most sensible thing to do.

“No need, Frank. We have more important stuff do deal with his tantrums.” Regulus arched
his back, sitting up straight, his chin held up high.

“Are you sure, sir?” Frank asked once more, looking worried of Regulus’s possible reactions.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Regulus answered with a question. There was a dangerous calmness in
his voice. “My brother had always loved making everything about him. Turns out the years
had no positive effect on him.”

“But-” Frank attempted to object. However, Evan’s angry voice put an end to his sentence.

“Would you sit the fuck down?” He looked at Barty, looking annoyed. Barty stopped walking
in the middle of the room, standing.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was far away from sorry. “I did not know walking was prohibited.”

“What’s prohibited is you walking around like a butterfly around a light.”

Barty couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “Did you just call me a butterfly?”

“How can you laugh in a situation like this?” Pandora asked, she looked angry, annoyed,
confused and nervous all at the same time.

Barty jumped on the empty armchair, sitting himself down comfortably.

“Being an annoying bitch is no help. At least I’m good for comedic relief.”

“The only relief I can get out of this is if your father decides to lock you up forever. Besides,
you’re the bitch.” Pandora united her arms at her front.

“Can you not bicker for a fucking moment?” Evan interjected. “What’s done is done, now
we’ve got to plan what we do now.”

“I assume you’ll be on the news tomorrow,” Mary took the lead in the conversation. “Both
Xenophilius and James were here, they will not let this go unnoticed. I have to double check
to see if other publicists were invited but even if they aren’t everyone will talk.”

“How do you plan to face your parents?” Emmeline directed her question at Pandora and
Evan.
“I know my father.” Evan breathed out. “He will be mad but he won’t give any reaction to
public without talking to me first. He wouldn’t risk anything that would harm the company.”

“It’ll not be a pleasant conversation.” Emmeline pointed out.

“I know.” Evan nodded. “But it’s too late to tap out.”

Barty smiled in triumph even though he doubted anyone saw it.

“How about you, Regulus? How do you think your parents will react?” Barty asked.

“They’ll hate that I was seen helping you. However, I think they saw the whole thing with
Sirius harmed their reputation. Besides no matter what they think and how much they hate,
they need me as the last heir. It’s time they realise that.”

Barty was surprised at Regulus’s words. He’d think Sirius’s return would make him doubt the
situation and hesitate the plan. Yet, all he could see in Regulus’s eyes was burning revenge.
Barty wasn’t sure if it was directed at his parents or at Sirius.

“My father will go nuts.” Barty laughed. “Truly. He must be searching for the farthest
catholic exorcism camps right now.”

“Aren’t you worried even the slightest?” Pandora was the one to ask.

“What can he do?” Barty sounded confident as he asked. “I have a signed document that says
if I marry a Rosier, I can inherit his money.”

“I have a strong guess you’ll need a lawyer for that, Mr. Crouch. I’ll check suitable
candidates.” Mary said.

“Call me Barty, all of you. I’m never fond of formalities.” Barty ordered as he looked at
Mary, Emmeline and Frank.

“We need a gameplan.” Emmeline changed the topic. “I’ll try to contact as many presses as I
can to avoid biased or unwanted news. If people realise this is fake, your reputations would
be worse than they are now.”

“Thank you, Emmeline.” Evan thanked her with gratitude. Emmeline smiled in return.

“I’ll be keeping track of your brother and his friends, Mr. Black Frank revealed. “To ensure
they don’t do anything to mess it up, I think it would be better if we worked together.”

“Fine.” Regulus gave in. “Keep your enemies closer, I guess.”

“I’ll talk to society members.” Pandora said. “Do a damage control. I believe there’re few
families that would be willing to support you publicly.”

“So, everything is settled.” Regulus announced. “Once we walk out of this room, you all
have to be ready and intact.”
“Wait no!” Barty interjected. Looking at Regulus first and then at Evan. “What do we do?”

“Be a couple, don’t make a scene, avoid your parents as much as possible.” Regulus said all
at once.

“You make it sound easy.” Evan rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t start this now, have I?” Regulus looked at Barty, deadpan. Clearly accusing him for
all of this.

“Dear Reggie, you do know if I refused all this, you would be Frederic’s next choice to wed
Pandora, do you not?”

“Certainement, I would’ve handled it better than you’re doing now.”

“Of course, you would.” Barty said, with an exaggerated mocking. “Your babies would look
lovely.”

“You’re disgusting me.” Pandora said, blinking her eyes couple of times with disgust, her lips
in a thin line.

“Always a pleasure.” Barty grinned.

“I’ll go and talk to my father before you do.” Pandora directed her words at Evan. “You
handle mum. It’ll be easier.”

“Fine.” Evan breathed out. “Let’s do this.”

After that, Barty found himself as the only one not assigned with a duty. The rest seemed to
find their proper place in the plan and even though he liked to believe he was the mastermind;
he was somehow left alone to deal his side of it. It was fair, considering he was probably the
most likely to make a bad decision. Their mistrust was quite heart-warming, Barty thought to
himself.

He didn’t complain. He was thrilled to postpone the conversation with his father. He could
use a day of relaxation, to observe media’s reaction. As much as he wanted to see his father’s
face filled with shame and anger towards him, he knew things weren’t going to be pleasant.
They never were.

People left the hotel room one by one, each one walking off to complete their assigned part.
First, Regulus had Frank left. Then it was Mary and Emmeline. Barty had observed their
interactions more deeply after Evan’s revelation. He’d expected the be surprised to see all the
clues that he’d missed previously but Mary and Emmeline had been laying out zero clues.
There were no superfluous brushes of skin, no playful banter, no undertones of flirtation that
might be construed as casual. Subtle manifestations of their connection solely lingered in
stolen glances and concealed smiles, nestled deep beneath the surface. Only a discerning gaze
could uncover the enigma they shared. Barty couldn't suppress his contemplation regarding
whether their behaviour stemmed from an aspiration for professionalism or if the intricacy of
their same-sex relationship was at play.
Pandora and Evan decided it was best Pandora did the damage control before Evan showed
up. Consecutively, Barty and Evan had found themselves alone in the room, facing the weight
of the situation.

“Stop staring at me as if you want to kill me.” Barty broke the silence, pointing out the weird
look on Evan’s face.

“I think we already died.” Evan shrugged joking despite the tense atmosphere. “This is hell.”

Evan was sitting on the bed. Barty hadn’t moved on the armchair ever since he sat down.

“No, it’s hell because I’m still breathing. I’ll make sure they all know that.”

“Your hatred will consume you one day.” Evan pointed out. He didn’t sound worried or
judgmental. Just pointing out facts, calmly. “Vengeance will satisfy you to a limited extend.”

“I don’t care if it consumes me or not. I care of my triumph. And don’t forget, Rosier: You’re
now in this with me too, you’re the one who should be careful.”

"I'm aware," Evan affirmed with a nod. "Yet my motivations possess a greater sense of well-
being than yours."

Barty emitted a chuckle infused with derision, belittling Evan's assertion. "A wrong remains a
wrong, regardless. Motivations never make it right."

“Either way,” Evan intended to put an end to the conversation. “Just make sure your priorities
are to the plan.”

“Of course.” Barty gave him a sly grin.

After their conversation it didn’t take long for Evan’s phone to ring and inform him that
Pandora had talked to his father and Evan was expected on the premise, finally leading to
Barty’s solitude in the hotel room. One thought led to another. One cigarette led to another.
Barty found himself pacing around the overly-luxurious room. He was used to his thoughts
being loud, not making sense most of the time. They tended to flow in meaningless
structures. He had learned to make sense of them over the years. He had adapted to his own
personality, learning to live with the voices. However, his thoughts became louder and faster
as his pacing steps did. He felt everything and nothing at the same time. Numbness tried to
take over his body yet the thrill didn’t allow it. His body was at war. He continued to breathe
steadily though his lungs kept asking for more air. His hands were not shaky as he held the
cigarette yet his lips were barely able to press the thin tobacco in between. A person gazing
over him would think he was the calmest person to ever walked on earth. Beneath his skin it
felt like there were fire fighting against a rain storm. He knew he ought to eventually go
home. It was a face off which he had no escape from. But he took his time. Barty was a lot of
things but he wasn’t the one to waste a perfectly decorated hotel room.

Not much later he found himself spreading his legs apart for a maid of the hotel, his back
completely plastered to the armchair, his pants down at his knees and his knuckles turning
white from pulling the boy’s hair. Barty arched his back and tilted his head back as the maid
moved his mouth around. The tension, the rush, the anger, the satisfaction all rushed through
his blood, causing his movement to be stern and feisty. Images from the night passed through
his eyes as he thrusted his hips. He felt the maid’s hands hang on to his calves to balance
himself. Finally, Barty reached out to the boy’s neck, pulling him for a kiss as he made him
sit on his laps. He had found the perfect way to postpone going home. He created a mental
note to thank Frank for his brilliant idea to book the room the next time he saw him.

It was couple of hours later when Barty laid down naked on the silk sheets, completely alone.
The maid had gotten back to work. Barty hadn’t expected him to stay for the cuddle time.
With a contemplative gaze, he surveyed the cityscape beyond the expansive windows of the
Savoy's luxurious suite.

The view stretched out over London's enchanting urban expanse. The city, veiled in the
shroud of midnight, unfolded in a mesmerizing display. The streets below, a labyrinth of
history and ambition, were illuminated by a meticulous web of streetlights.

He lit himself another cigarette. He was running out of them; it meant his cue to live the
room and face the reality. He knew even if he desired to stay in the exquisite room forever
and kept the maids coming, it wasn’t possible. Yet, a chance for a future unburdened awaited
him—a future emancipated from the weight of his father's expectations. Maybe it wasn’t in
the most ideal but it was a cost he was willing to pay. So, he got up and put his clothes back
on, taking breaths in from his cigarette in between. He knew despite the substandard hour, his
father was waiting for him at home, wide awake. He knew what to expect as he took a taxi to
his house. He had been through it all before. The psychologic challenge was much harder to
deal with than the physical one. In the past it was harder because his father’s words actually
had impact on Barty. As he grew older, it was harder because he needed to temper his control.
He knew the only way to win against his father was to play by his rules. Answer his mind-
games with more complicated ones. Mock him more than he mocked you. Like a mirror
reflecting his actions but more extremely. In order to do that Barty always had to keep calm.
It wasn’t his strongest suit, so it was hard. It was hard to smile through his father’s piercing
words. Barty had grown immune to it yet he knew this time was not comparable to any of the
previous ones.

He used his keys to enter the house, using every second spent without his father’s face to his
advantage. Finally, it happened.

His father, hearing the door open, had walked towards his direction. It wasn’t anything like
Barty had seen before. The mockery, the belittling expression that was plastered to Barty
Senior Crouch’s face had washed off, leaving its place to complete anger and terror. Barty
saw flames bursting through his eyes.

First slap was harsh. Clear reflection of his father’s fuming anger. It brough a smile to Barty’s
face, along with an undeniable redness.

“I did it.” Barty grinned harder, not afraid to maintain eye contact. “I set myself free.”

Second slap was not as strong as the first one. Barty knew he’d managed to shake off his
father.
“Your sins are beyond what our family has seen over the centuries.” His father hissed,
continuing the daring eye contact. Barty shifted his weight from one leg to another, his grin
turning into a small chuckle.

“Oh please, father. Spare me the talk about Adam and Eve. We all know Uncle Alessandro
paid teenage boys to have sex with him. Tell me why you’re really angry?”

Third slap had lost its affect completely. Barty realised his fear of losing temper was for no
reason. His father was the one to lose control to his temper. Allowing Barty’s each word
shake him.

“You’ve humiliated me and our family.” He roared. Not even a millimetre of Barty’s grin
disappeared.

“I’ve done what you asked me to.” He continued to carry the amusing tone of his voice.
“Your next moves will determine the level of humiliation.”

“You have ruined everything!” his father’s anger was reflecting on his voice. Barty knew he
could combust at any minute. “Ever since you were born you’ve done nothing than to betray
our family name.”

Barty laughed, quite enjoying himself this time. “Not to worry, father. The name will end
with me so no off-springs that’ll be ashamed of the name or you will ever exist.”

Even though he raised his hands, his father didn’t bother to the fourth slap. Even he knew it
was a waste of his own energy, seeing Barty hadn’t flinched in the previous three times.

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to teach you the importance of our family.” His father
breathed in and out loudly. “It was my mistake to think you were capable of learning
anything.”

"You couldn't care less about family," Barty's voice, slightly raised for the first time since the
argument began, pierced through. "You merely relish the benefits it provides, without ever
having to lift a finger."

“I worked for everything I own!” his father shouted so loudly that Barty believed their
neighbours had heard.

"Seizing the mayor's seat that my grandpa’s ass warmed for you hardly qualifies as a lifetime
of toil," Barty's tone was casually dismissive.

The expected slap was harder than the third one, a result of Barty’s harsh words. When he
was younger it was much more than slaps. He remembered crawling under the sofa to hide,
late in the evenings. He’d grown to learn running away from it only made things worse. As
he grew up it had only turned into slaps to his cheek. Barty liked to think the reason behind
the change on his father’s pattern was because he was scared of how Barty could respond in
return.
“You are nothing but a petty child who would do anything to have attention. You did this to
ruin my career didn’t you?”

“Not everything is about you, father.” Barty grinned, ignoring the pain his muscles caused as
his lips twirled. “Maybe we’re really in love. Maybe your signed paper gave me the
opportunity to live my truth.”

Barty was bluffing however he could see he’d gotten through to his dad.

“No one can love you.” He was quick to respond. “Not the girls, not the boys.”

“People will think different.” Barty raised an eyebrow. “No matter the reality they will fall
for the epic love we’ll play. So, what are you going to do father? Which campaign is it going
to be?”

“Don’t keep calling me father.” Barty Senior frowned deeply. “You’re not my son anymore.”
He spitted out.

“Oh but you see,” Barty mocked. “I am. You said it takes me to marry Rosier for you to stop
interfering with my life and we could be happily ever after yourself.”

“I meant Pandora.” He hissed between his teeth.

“You should’ve written so.” Barty tilted his head to the side, making his father even more
rageous.

“You are a fool.”

Barty found himself wanting to laugh. He must’ve really pissed of his dad if the only insult
he could come up with was a fool. It was clear Barty was the winner. Finally, he’d won.
Finally, he wasn’t the one to lose control with anger.

“It’s up to you how you handle the public image.” Barty smiled. “Curse on us, support us. I
don’t care. Just know that I’m still your son and you’re obliged to support me financially.”

“Go away!” his father yelled at him. “Get out of my sight!”

“Sure.” Barty shrugged. “Just don’t be surprised when the hotel bills come in.”

Barty knew it was his cue to leave when his father threw the glass standing on the coffee
table towards the wall just above Barty’s shoulder.

He left the house knowing that his father was a mess. He knew his father was a coward man,
hungry for power yet was foolish enough to believe he could have it just by a stupid surname.
Crouch family were nothing like the rest of the founding families. They were used by them,
manipulated for their sake throughout the centuries. Barty had never understood his father’s
pride in being a Crouch because to him, the family was nothing but a pawn pretending to be
the king. For better or worse, Barty was the only person in the lineage who had actually done
something worth talking. For some, it was going to be considered an epic revolution. To
others it was going to be a shameful story in history.
Barty didn’t go to a hotel as he told his father he would. Instead, he drove his car to the
Riddle’s Place. One place he knew was alive at that hour. He didn’t want to sit on their
regular loot in order to avoid Peter or Marlene. Instead, he placed himself down on a different
loot. Only after he was sat down, he realised the loot was across the pole. He saw Marlene
dancing with other dancers in the grand area.

A random server asked for his order. He was in the mood for scotch. It took longer than usual
for his drink to arrive. It was odd, considering the place wasn’t as busy as the usual. Barty
understood the reason when he saw Dorcas Meadows arriving with two scotches in her hand.
She walked elegantly on her white stilettos.

“Welcome back, Mr. Crouch.” She sat down without waiting for an invitation.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Barty asked, accepting the scotch she offered him.

“Word has it you've put quite a show out there.” Dorcas smiled. Her back perfectly arched;
chin held up high.

“Merely living up to my reputation.” Barty grinned; a tone of cautiousness apparent in his

voice.

“I know you’re not any less sceptical than my dear friend Regulus.” Her voice was kind and
understanding yet Barty could still feel the danger he felt any time he spoke to her.

“We have our reasons.”

Dorcas conceded, her gaze turning to the dance floor momentarily before she spoke, "But rest
assured, neither I nor my associates will jeopardize your 'plan.'"

“Your friends are bunch of wankers.” Barty was still smiling. “No offense, of course.”

“Non taken.” Dorcas let out a graceful chuckle. “But we all have your best interests at heart.”

Barty took a sip from his scotch. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe after Black’s
charade.”

“I admit Sirius’s agenda may differ from mine but you must admit he had every reason to do
as he did.”

“You keep saying Regulus is ‘a dear friend of yours’ yet here you’re siding with his brother.”
Barty pointed out; no accusation apparent on his voice.

Dorcas leaned back, crossing her legs slowly. "Their family matters aren't of concern to me."

“What does concern you exactly?” Barty asked.

Dorcas laughed gently. “You’re quite the curious one.”

With a touch of impatience, Barty responded, "And I'd rather have answers."
"Answers will come," Dorcas assured with gentleness. "For everyone."

Barty challenged, "You better hope they come before Regulus and I run out of patience."
Dorcas didn’t respond. Instead, she continued to sip her scotch as he watched the dancers. A
couple of minutes later, she was the one to break their silence.

“Shall I call Peter for ice?” she asked. Barty realised she was looking at him when he turned
his gazes over from the dancers.

“For what?”

Barty saw her eyes lingering around his cheek, just below his mask.

“The lights aren’t enough to cover what you’re hiding.” Dorcas's voice held a unique
empathy, one that stirred an odd anger within Barty.

“I don’t know if I ever gave you the impression but we’re not friends. Don’t interfere with
our personal matters.” Barty’s words were covering more than their recent conversation and
they were both aware of that.

“This is my club.” Dorcas revealed the already-known. “It is my responsibility to ensure the
well-being of my customers.”

“That’s bollocks.”

“Believe it or not, Mr. Crouch, that I came here to celebrate your success.” Barty wasn’t sure
if Dorcas was annoyed by his reactions.

“So, I may expect to see positive news about us on the Quibbler tomorrow?”

Dorcas rose from her seat, her movement deliberate and elegant. "Have a pleasant evening,
and convey my celebrations to Mr. Rosier."

With that, she departed without waiting for Barty's response, melting back into the small
crowd.

Barty spent the rest of the night with bar-girls and boys. When the sun started to rise Barty
left Riddle’s Place. For a while he wandered around the Godric’s Hollow in silence. He felt
the urge to go knock on Evan’s door. However, he knew there was a high chance he was at
his parent’s house.

He could go sneak to Regulus’s room. He’d done it for multiple times in the past. The Black
mansion was awfully grand, allowing anyone to sneak in and off easily. He decided not to
bother. Even though Regulus was probably awake Barty didn’t feel he could handle his
commentary. Especially after Sirius had come in and ruined his entire system.

So, he was alone. It was not a rare occurrence. Barty was accustomed to his routine in which
he’d been acquainted with multiple people during the day, laughing, having fun, only to have
nowhere to go once the night was over.
He kept his promise to his dad, renting a room in a hotel in Godric’s Hollow. Weary and fully
dressed, he stretched out on the bed, attempting to drift into slumber. Yet, it was a peculiar
state — his body reclined in slumber while his mind remained sharply awake. He wasn’t sure
how many hours he’d spent in bed and in how many of those hours he’d actually managed to
fall deep into sleep. It was around 10 am when his telephone rang. He answered it without
looking at the name. He realised it was Evan when he heard the one talking.

“Where have you been?” he heard his voice through the phone.

“Here and there.” Barty answered, his voice raspy. He heard Evan breathing out through the
phone.

“Been trying to contact you all night. It’s terrible here.”

“Really? Because my father has already started to plan our wedding gift.” Barty was
sarcastic.

“Be serious for a moment.” Evan warned. “Everything is a mess.”

“That means it’s all going according to the plan,” Barty sat straight on the bed, leaning over
the side-table to reach his cigarettes. He lit one before continuing to talk. “Look, be calm, all
right? Don’t do anything stupid to fuck this up.”

“Easy for you to say.” Evan didn’t hesitate to say. “You enjoy this. You love chaos.”

“Once everything cools down, you’ll realise the allure.”

“I doubt it. Nothing was pleasant about last night.” Evan sounded nervous even to think
about the recent memory.

“Are you still at your parents place?” Barty asked, his mind rushing to plan the next steps.

“I have just left. Pandora calmed my father down for me to spend the night. Currently driving
to my place, actually.”

Barty didn’t respond to Evan, mainly because he had nothing to say. He didn’t know what
exactly had gone down between Evan and his family but it couldn’t have been that bad if
Evan hadn’t felt the need to escape the place. Or maybe their house was big enough to create
his own space. Either way, Barty had more hope on Rosier family’s way of survival the
scandal they created.

“Do you want to come over?” Evan asked after a while of shared silence. “I’ll ask others as
well.”

“Have you heard from Regulus?” Barty asked, ignoring Evan’s offer.

“Dora said she talked to him.” Evan was quick to respond. “He’s still alive; we should take
that as a win. How was your night?”

“I talked to Meadows," Barty revealed. Well, she talked to me." he corrected soon after.
“Meadows as in Dorcas Meadows?” Evan sounded confused as well as intrigued.

“The one and only.” Barty breathed out.

Evan let out a low whistle. "Bloody hell, Barty, what did she want?"

Barty took a drag from his cigarette before answering. "Seems she's interested in our little
rebellion, or at least in keeping tabs on it. She assured me that she and her associates won't
jeopardize our plan."

“Tell me you don’t believe her.”

“The fuck I don’t.” Barty spitted out. “But for now, it might be in our best interest to keep her
on our side. Fake allies are still allies.”

“Until they betray us.” Evan pointed.

“Betrayal is sacred to those whom we trust, Rosier. They can’t betray us if we don’t give
them the opportunity.”

“So, we’ll use their publicity power to our sake?” Evan sounded sceptical.

“We can use the Quibbler to our advantage. I don’t assume Rita Skeeter will be as charming
with her words about us.”

“She definitely will not.” Evan approved. Even though his voice contained a bit of a chuckle,
the tiredness was overcoming every emotion. Barty knew Evan’s night wasn’t likely to have
been easy either.

“When shall I show up?” Barty asked, finally going back to Evan’s initial offer.

“No matter what I say you’ll arrive whenever you want, Crouch.” Barty imagined Evan
nodding disapprovingly.

“Probably.” Barty pouted. “But it’s more amusing when you don’t anticipate it.”

“You’re insufferable.” Evan sounded bored.

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

With that, they hung up, and Barty stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. He knew that the
path they had chosen was fraught with danger, but he also knew that they couldn't turn back
now. The rebellion was in motion, and they had to see it through to the end.

As he got up from the bed and started to prepare for the meeting with Evan and the others,
Barty couldn't help but think about the events of the past night. The confrontation with his
father, the unexpected encounter with Dorcas Meadows, and the growing tension within their
unusual and very unorthodox group—it all weighed heavily on his mind.
 But Barty was determined. He had a vision, a plan, and he wasn't about to let anything or
anyone stand in his way.

Chapter End Notes

They're such a powerful group of people. I love love LOVE them tbh.
Evan and Barty arent married yet but Pandora and Barty have already started to act and
bicker like siblings help.
Emmeline, Mary and Frank being the smartest assistants ever <3
Barty having stress-sex is the realest thing. I don't make the rules. (tbh he can use
everything as an excuse for sex ngl)
If i had the chance, I'd kill Barty's father without a second thought.
Marlene is so hot. I love her. I live for her. Thank you very much.
Dorcas bby making an appearance again.
 like the ashes of the ash
Chapter Notes

Hi everyone...
I'm back.
I'm terribly sorry for the long break. I hadn't anticipated it. For so many reasons this
chapter turned out to be so hard for me to write. I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I try to
update information on tumblr as much as I can so make sure to check there if you're
interested in.
Anyway, I won't be keeping you any more away from the chapter.
Enjoy

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Purgatory was the name they gave to the place between heaven and hell. Barty did not
believe heaven and hell. He didn’t believe in death. To him purgatory was the life itself.
Always stuck. Time always moved on. Clocks ticked; hours passed. But he was stuck. He
was stuck in himself. He did not move on. He lived each day as if it was the first. He lived
them as if it was the last. He lived, not being able to reach anywhere. He was lost in life. He
was lost in himself. He died each minute. He was born again in the next. He didn’t know
what it was to move on. It was a cycle and he was stuck.

He was in a room full of people. People who didn’t get him. People who he didn’t get. Yet
they had all decided to join him in not moving on. They weren’t going to forget, forgive. This
was not an uprising. It was not a revolution. What they did wasn’t going to change the world.
Change wasn’t enough to save it anyway.

What they did was justice. Justice to their parents, to their society. They had started the fire of
hell on earth. Barty was ready to go down with them all. As long as he saw his father
suffering, burning in the flames he created, Barty was ready to turn into ashes.

“Everyone is talking about you.” Emmeline commented, not looking up for a moment from
her tablet. Mary had sat on the side of her seat, leaning over to read whatever was in
Emmeline’s screen.

“Let them.” Regulus breathed out a cigarette smoke into the room.

“It’s going to be all right.” Barty saw Pandora say as she rubbed Evan’s arm. It was the exact
moment he realised that only odd one out in the room was himself. He realised all the others
were related to each other. By blood, by work. Regulus had grown with them. Even Regulus
who was colder than everyone, who never let people get to him was their friend. Barty saw
everyone in the room trusted each other. He was the only one who did not. He was the
antichrist. All these people were content with the way they lived. Not happy, but content.

He was the one to destroy their stable life. He felt proud of himself. As if this was his
purpose in life. Destruction. Uprising.

“My mum talked to me last night.” Evan said as his eyes lingered on Barty. “She wasn’t
happy but she said she’d support me if I’m sure I’m in love with you.”

“What did you say?” Barty asked.

“I told her that you were the love of my life.”

Evan’s words stood heavy in the tense atmosphere of the room.

“Good.” Barty cleared his throat. “One more ally to the game.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to pull this off?” Mary asked. “Faking an engagement is one
thing, acting in love is a whole other.”

“We’ll put hell of a show.” Barty was certain while saying. He sounded more confident than
he expected from himself.

Evan looked at Mary, Emmeline and Frank. “You don’t have to be a part of this.” He came
clean. “You have no gain. It may cost you your jobs.”

“Sometimes doing the right thing has a cost we’re ready to pay.” Frank showed his support.
Barty interrupted.

“That’s where you’re wrong Longbottom.” he said. “This isn’t the right thing.”

“Fine then.” Frank dared. “Sometimes the wrong thing to do is what brings you to success.”

Barty grinned with pride. “You’re tougher than I expected.”

“He’s been working with me for years now.” Regulus rolled his eyes. “Naive isn’t a part of
his job description.”

Barty observed them for a while. He had no idea of Regulus’s dirty work yet he was sure they
were not easy to endure. He realised Frank had become immune to dangerous decisions.

Barty lit himself a cigarette.

“So here’s what we’re going to do. You’ll all say you knew about our relationship. That it
was going on for a while now. That you saw us stealing glances, forbidden touches. You’ll
say you kept quiet because you were all loyal to us. Because they’ll ask. They’ll ask you
things that they can’t ask us.”

“What about us?” Evan asked as he lit himself a cigarette, looking at the one between Barty’s
fingers. “What do we do;?”
“Act madly in love.” Barty was quick to respond. “Always look at me as if I’m the only one
who’s worth looking at. Should be easy.” He grinned, not white succeeding at breaking the
tension.

“You say that as if love is an easy thing.” Evan rolled his eyes.

“It is. People had arranged marriages all the time, Rosier. Get over it.”

Evan didn’t respond him. Pandora was the one to break the silence instead.

“You’ll have to be convincing fort his to work.” She spoke. “If we started this it can’t be for
nothing.”

“It won’t be.” Regulus engaged in the conversation. “I’ll write poems for you to use for each
other if I have to. This will not fail.”

Regulus was a strange person. He was complex. His motivations were never clear. You’d
never know what he was plotting. He’d let you believe you were the winner until he made
you realise; he had been steps ahead of you from the start. Barty wanted to believe Sirius’s
appearance hadn’t changed his motivations. He wanted to believe it’d only fuelled his rage.
He wanted to believe Regulus ensured Dorcas and her so called team were no threats. That he
knew what James, Marlene and Peter were exactly up to. It was a huge amount of pressure to
load on to a single man. Barty wanted to believe Regulus was the one who was capable of
doing so.

“The public is very half to half on this.” Emmeline breathed out. “Regulus’s involvement is
very dear to the public eye. The ones who have no problem with homosexual intimacy now
blames Sirius for his disownment rather than his family.” Her eyes lingered on Regulus.

“Good.” He breathed out. “This gives my family a reason to support your engagement. They
can clear out their names and not seem as monstrous.”

“So now Sirius is the scapegoat.” Pandora pointed out. “Are you sure you’re okay with that
Reg?” she sounded sympathetic. It was a weird emotion to hear from her voice.

“Believe me,” Regulus was confident. “He’ll like that he managed to grab attention without
moving a finger. My brother has a desire to make a scene. He always had.”

Barty didn’t really know much about Sirius rather than things Regulus and the press had said
about him. Yet he had a sense which made him believe they could get along if the bastard
was not a complete show off. Because Barty had his reasons to act out. He had fun in causing
a scene. Whereas Sirius was desperate. Barty pitied him for always failing. He didn’t have
fun as much as Barty did. He was never going to be talked as much. His desperate attempts in
making people remember him was going to bring him no success. Because Sirius was never
as smart. There was a line between being reckless and stupid. Barty was reckless yet
calculative. He knew how to control himself in order to manipulate others. Sirius on the other
hand always acted on impulses and nothing else. It was why he was doomed to be forgotten.
He had heard him founding pride in being brave. It was the most atrocious thing Barty had
ever heard. Sirius was not brave. He had run away. Regulus had every right to be mad at him.
Barty didn’t care about the ethics of it. He knew the only one who worth saving was the
person itself. However what Sirius did was coward. He had left without a trace. He’d let them
win.

Barty was not going to.

“I’ll arrange a press for you.” Mary revealed. “It only makes sense. We need a public source
we can control.”

“Call James Potter.” Regulus said without a single emotion on his face. Evan on the other
hand was completely surprised by Regulus’s offer.

“You got mad at us for talking to him in the first place.” He said, a hint of betrayal apparent.

“Because it was stupid and reckless. Now it’s smart.” Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“How?” Barty asked. “What changed.”

“Dorcas is working with Riddle.” Regulus pointed out. “And James is working with Dorcas.
They’ll do anything to ruin the reputations of the founders.”

“Do we want to work with Riddle?” Evan asked, looking uneasy by the idea. “He is the one
who destroyed our families in the first place.”

“We won’t be working with Riddle.” Regulus looked bored. He had an expression as if all
this was easy for him, demanding others got his motives as easily.

“Look.” He breathed out, fixing up his posture. “We have a shared enemy. Our families
destroyed Riddle as much as he destroyed them. He’ll want revenge. We want it too. Besides
making him the enemy is never the smartest move.”

“What if he gains too much power like the last time?” Pandora asked, looking concerned.

“Then we’ll be the ones to take him down.” Regulus looked dangerous.

“This is more than what we planned. Your parents are one thing. Riddle is not the one to mess
with.” Frank warned.

“Regulus is right.” Barty cut in before Regulus could answer. “A powerful enemy makes the
strongest ally.”

“Okay then.” Mary approved. “James and the Quibbler it is.”

“I contacted Lily Evans. “Emmeline said. “The lawyer from the Empyrean. She saved
company from a lot of mess after Riddle. I looked into her previous cases. Her clients are
morally questionable. She’s on board if the price is right.”

“The price is always right.” Evan said. “Everyone has a cost.”

“Tell her to look into the paper my father singed.” Barty said. “I want to make sure I’ll be
getting out of this with his fortune.”

“You’re thinking small.” Regulus belittled him. “We’ll have everything, Barty. The money,
the companies, the reputation. All of it. We’re the descendants of the founding fathers of the
town. We’ll have everything they own and more.” He sounded as if he was getting ready for a
war. “We’ll get everything we want.”

“What is it?” Pandora asked. “That you want?”

For a split-second Regulus was taken by surprise. As if this was the first time he was asked
such a question. He quickly pulled himself together.

“I want to own the Black last name.” He answered. “I want it to be what I make it. Away
from the terrible reputation.”

“You mean away from the inbreeding.” Barty joked.

“Sure.” Regulus grinned slyly. “Toujours pur.”

“Wait a moment.” Emmeline got distracted. Her gazes focused on her screen. She lifted her
head up to look at Barty. “Your father declared he’ll have a public announcement tomorrow
morning. On the live news.”

Barty moved around on his seat.

“What do people say about it?” he asked. His father’s move was unexpected. Barty had
thought he had more time. That his father had crawled in a cave, hiding.

“They’re excited. Some families threaten him with backing down their votes in the upcoming
decision based on his reaction. Minority supports you; majority supports him.”

“He’ll find a way to victimize himself. We cannot let him.” Barty said.

“He is a politician, he needs allies.” Evan said. “His strongest ally is my father. He won’t do
anything to harm it.”

“Then we should ensure your father is on board with this.” Barty answered.

“You know our father, Evan.” Pandora said. “Company comes above all. He is not stupid
enough to tell public that this happened without his knowledge.”

“We’ll see.” Evan breathed out, looking concerned.

“Why do you want their supports?” Frank asked. “Isn’t what you want to destroy them? What
good it would make if they seem happy about this?”

“When someone dies, they start to decompose from the inside.” Regulus answered instead of
Evan or Barty. “We released the bacteria. It’ll take time until the external damage starts to
show up.”
After that, it was all calculations, planning. Regulus led the way. Evan was more sceptical
than the rest. Barty could see he still had his doubts on everything. He couldn’t let out his
anger. He wasn’t in the place where Barty needed him to be. His concerns spread on
Emmeline too. The others on the other hand looked surer. Even Pandora was more vengeful.
Barty realised she’d been wanting to get free. Waiting for the right time. In the beginning she
was the one to react first to their plan harshly. Now, Barty could see in her eyes that she could
wipe out anyone and everyone who got her way. Barty wasn’t sure if it was her own goals or
if she did this for her brother. He didn’t care as long as she stood still alongside with the plan.
They spent the day together. Examining the press reaction. They made the list of families
who did and didn’t support them. They drank their whiskeys. Smoked their fags. As the
smoke filled the small room, so did their anger. They had a cause. A bad one. They weren’t
going to conquer the world. They weren’t going to save it. Yet, this was going to be the
turning point of their lives. People weren’t going to remember their names or their great
work. But their parents were going to curse the days they were born and it was going to be
enough.

Everyone had gotten their roles suited for them. They were only expected to act on it.
Luckily, acting was all they were taught throughout their lives.

It was around 6 pm when everyone started to leave. Emmeline and Mary left first. Holding
hands until the second they opened the door to leave. Frank and Regulus followed shortly
after, Frank to spy on James, Regulus to Riddle’s place to talk to Dorcas.

Barty was left alone with Pandora and Evan, having nowhere to go.

Evan filled them all another round of whiskey.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Rosier?” Barty asked, mockingly. “It won’t work.”

“No actually I put poison in it.”

Barty chugged the whole thing at once.

“Too bad. Turns out I’m immune.”

“I’m not surprised.” Pandora rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t expect something bad would kill
you. I say all it takes to kill you would be an herbal tea or something of the sort.”

Barty smirked. “You know me too well. I should’ve married to you instead.”

“Maybe I should’ve let you.” Evan looked annoyed. “You both look enthusiastic.”

“Are you jealous?” Barty asked with an obvious teasing.

“I am but of the people who never met you.”

Barty laughed. Evan joined him, making it clear that he was joking. They sat for a while
more before Pandora looked ready to leave.
“I should go.” She spoke. “I’m hosting the French companies for London fashion week next
month. I have work to do.”

“Nepotism is a bastard.” Barty said. “Aren’t there people more qualified for the job?”

Pandora looked genuinely annoyed. “I’m in the industry since the moment I was born,
Crouch.”

“My point exactly.” Barty fixed his position to sit more comfortably on the seat.

“Your point is bullshit.”

He laughed as a response. She left not too much later. It was around 7 pm when Barty and
Evan were alone in the house.

“Is this my cue to leave?” Barty asked. “What would people think if I stayed the night over?”
His words a clear mocking of their situation.

“You’re insufferable.”

“But you love me.” Barty pouted.

“No.” Evan was certain. “No I don’t.”

“You have to, you poor thing.” Barty grinned.

“This is a mutual thing you know that don’t you?” Evan looked drill. “You keep demanding
that I should act madly in love with you yet you never show the same affection you ask for.”

“My game hasn’t started Rosier. I’ll rock your world.”

“I don’t believe you.” Evan said, he didn’t sound mad or disappointed. “I don’t imagine you
having any romance built in you.”

“Don’t underestimate me.” Barty grinned. “Never had any complaints from my ex-lovers.”

“That’s because you never had any.”

“You can’t know that.” Barty protested even though what Evan said was partially true.

“Really?” Evan asked in belittling disbelief. “You had lovers?”

“I did.” Barty answered with a great pride on his face.

“People you’ve slept with are not lovers you know that right?”

“I do. I did have lovers.” Barty continued, finding amusement by the surprised look on
Evan’s face. “They actually loved me. I didn’t love them.”

There it was. The surprise disappearing from Evan’s face, leaving its place to a knowing
disappointment.
“Did you?” Barty asked.

“What?”

“Had lovers?”

“Does my 19 years old au-pair from when I was 5 count?” Evan asked.

His words made Barty laugh loudly.

“I’m kidding.” Evan interrupted his laugh. “I wasn’t in love with her. I thought I did back
then though. Pandora still teases me about it.”

“For a bloody good reason.” Barty continued to laugh.

“Shut up.” Evan looked embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“No, you really shouldn’t have.”

“I fell in love once.” Evan tried to change the topic.

“When?” Barty asked.

“When I was a freshman in college. Her name was Desiree.”

“What happened?” Barty found himself asking a meaningless question.

“She graduated and moved back to her home town.” Evan looked upset by the thought.

“Should I be surprised you like older girls?” Barty asked, amused. Evan rolled his eyes. He
took a sip from his whiskey that was still sitting there since he’d filled when Pandora was
with them.

“How did you know you liked boys?” Evan asked, a clear implication that he once again
wanted to change the topic.

“When I found myself jerking off to the pictures of boys during puberty.”

“You’re disgusting.” Evan grimaced.

“You’re a prude.” Barty shrugged his shoulders.

“I am most certainly not.” Evan objected. “I just don’t go flaunting about my sex life.”

“You asked me first.” Barty frowned, putting the blame on Evan

“I thought you had a story about having a cute crush on a boy at high school or something
like that.” Evan still sounded disgusted, carrying the grimace.

“From me?” Barty was over-dramatically shocked. “I’m offended.”

“No Barty you’re not.” Evan looked at him nonchalant.

“You’re right. I really am not.” Barty gave in.

“Is it different?” Evan asked. “To be with a boy?”

“Why?” Barty asked with a mischievous grin on his face. “Are you curious?”

“No.” Evan was annoyed Barty’s mind was always on the gutter. “I just wonder why people
make it a big deal; you know? Why does it matter who’s with who? Why do they care?”

“People care about a lot of things, Evan.” Barty pointed out. “Doesn’t mean they’re always
important things.”

“I guess you’re right.” Evan gave in. “Still, I find it odd that all it took for us to ruin our
parents was to declare a romance that’s not even real. There’d be fireworks if you were
engaged to Pandora.”

“If you want fireworks, we can have them in our wedding.” Barty shrugged.

“We will not have a wedding.”

“We won’t?” Barty was fake disappointed. “Never thought Evan Rosier was the type to
elope.”

“We won’t get married.” Evan corrected himself. “It’ll not came down to that.”

“You sound certain.” Barty was content to see the determination on Evan’s face that he’d
thought lacked all day.

“I am. They’ll give up before we do.”

“What will we do then?” Barty asked. “When we get what we want.”

“Have a break-up.” Evan was quick to reply.

“Sounds about right.” Barty approved. “But no going back until we achieve the destination.”

“No.” Evan repeated. “No going back.”

They talked for a while more. The clocks hit midnight. At first Barty had genuinely joked
about staying the night over. However, the truth of not having anywhere to go hit him as he
spent the night just talking to Evan. He couldn’t go home. He didn’t want to see his father
before his public announcement. He weighed his options down. He could once again book a
hotel room. Or go to the Riddle’s place and find someone to spend the night with. It would
make sense. It was the way he’d spent his entire life. Yet, there was something smart about
spending the night together. Because people were going to talk. They were going to examine
their every move from now on. They were going to post every minute they spent together on
social media. Oblivious people were going to continue to deny. Girls in love with Evan were
going to say their dance meant nothing, that they were just friends. They had to keep planting
to seeds until one day very soon they walked through the streets hand in hand.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Barty asked as he sipped a coffee from his cup. The
whiskey had finally left its place to warmer things.

“I don’t have any. Usually, I would be expected at the Empyrean though I’m not sure if that’s
the case still.”

“Do we go out together?” Barty offered.

“Isn’t it to soon?” Evan asked, looking concerned.

“We can’t let the initial shock cool off.” Barty answered quickly. “They can’t forget.”

Evan dropped his shoulders. “Believe me, the people of Godric’s Hollow never forget.”

“What do you mean?” Barty asked, not being able to make a clear point from Evan’s words.

“I’ve worked with these people my entire life, Barty. And believe me, they talk. Even when
they don’t, they wait for the opportunity for when they can.”

“Lucky for them.” Barty shrugged. “We’ll be giving them a hell lot to talk about.”

His words lingered around the room for a while. They both stayed silent. This was a thing
that happened quite often. Apart from the plan they had nothing to talk about. There was only
a certain limited amount one could talk about a single plan. Usually, Barty would be the one
to break the silence, cracking a joke, teasing Evan about a stupid thing. That time Evan took
the lead. Not by a joke but with an actual offer.

“It’s getting late.” He took a deep breath. “I have a spare blanket if you’d like.”

Barty thought about it for short moment. He wasn’t quite sure of the sensible thing to do. He
accepted it anyway.

“Don’t make it so obvious that you want me to spend the night.” He grinned.

“Exactly.” Evan went with it. “I want to fall asleep and wake up by your side every morning
and night. Can’t imagine spending a night apart.”

“It’s almost as if you want to marry me.” Barty’s grin turned wider.

“Almost.” Evan scrunched his face. “Not quite.”

It wasn’t too long after when Evan brought Barty a blanket and went in to his room to sleep.
Barty on the other hand did not feel a single bone in his body ready to fall asleep. His mind
was wide awake. The amount of alcohol and coffee running through his veins made him want
to just run around. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the upcoming war. He spent more hours
awake, smoking cigarettes in the silence of Evan’s house. The place had grown on Barty
quite a bit. The decorations were still not the best according to him but having a crowd in it
was helpful to make the place feel like warmer.

He had no idea what time it was when his body felt defeated to being awake for hours.

As he started to process his surroundings his eyelids worked way too much to be kept close.
However, the sounds coming around the house made it impossible to stay asleep. It was
music, Barty soon realised. Very loud one too.

“What the bloody fuck is going on?” He asked as he raised on the couch. His voice had come
out much raspier than he’d anticipated, blocking his way of sounding angry.

"Il est midi. Les gens normaux se réveillent à cette heure-là.” He heard Evan’s voice coming
through the kitchen. He turned his body back on the couch to look at his direction.

He frowned as he talked. “You know I understood none of that right?”

Evan dropped the utensils on his hand to the counter and turned slightly to his side to look at
Barty. “Wake up. The day is almost over.”

Barty -unsure of trustworthiness of Evan- checked his watch. It was only 13.21.

“It’s noon. Which is my morning. Now turn off the music so I can go to sleep?” He pulled the
blanket over to his legs as he was still sat down.

“I prepared breakfast.” Evan offered.

When he paid attention, Barty could feel the smell of what he thought was a toast?

“People have breakfast when they wake up. They don’t wake up to have breakfast.”

Evan dropped his shoulders, visibly annoyed. “People don’t sleep until noon. I woke up at
8.30”

“People are stupid.” Barty grimaced. “Sleep is good. They need it.”

“Fine. Go back to sleep. I’m not turning on the music though.”

Even though he hated to admit it Barty’s sleepiness had washed off. His body was ready to
wake up and start the day but he didn’t want to accept the defeat.

“Fine.” He said the word in the exact copy of Evan. “But put on something good at least.”

“Quoi?” Evan said with a shock apparent on his face. “George Michael is a legend.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Barty rolled his eyes as he jumped up from his seat.

“I thought you were going to sleep.” Evan’s tone was questioning.

“I can’t under these horrible circumstances.” Barty replied as he walked towards Evan who
was still in the kitchen.
Barty saw he’d prepared toasted brioche along with some omelette and coffee.

“Are those safe to eat?” he asked in doubt.

“Maybe they aren’t. Shoot your shot.” Evan was nonchalant.

Barty grinned as he sat down on the table. Evan was still standing.

“Are you turning into a housewife?”

“You’re a guest and I have manners.” Evan sat down as well.

“So, these are all for me?”

“I don’t know what goes on in your stupid mind but I don’t starve myself to death and cook
food.”

“Don’t you have maids running around to help you?” Barty asked, mocking. However,
Evan’s response was more serious.

“I grew up in a house where staying alone was impossible. I like my privacy, thank you very
much.”

Not pushing it further Barty took a bite from the omelette. It was not bad. Barty remembered
Regulus mentioning Evan was a cook. He wasn’t wrong.

“I’ve eaten better.” He commented. “It’s not terrible though.” He added as he continued
chewing.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Evan let out a small laughter. “I expected you to force
yourself to spit it out.”

“You’re over-estimating my standards of living.” Barty took another bite.

Evan didn’t respond. They ate in silence for a while before what he assumed was a brilliant
idea popped into Barty’s mind. He got up from his chair with the purpose of looking for his
phone.

“What are you doing?” Evan asked, not being able to figure out Barty’s motivation. Barty
hushed him, telling him to be patient. He found his phone resting on the coffee table. He went
back to the kitchen as he opened his camera.

“Are you going to post online?” Evan asked, finally figuring out what Barty was up to. He
didn’t reply. Instead, he took a picture of the breakfast. He made sure to capture his hand, his
finger with Evan’s ring specifically. He didn’t place Evan’s face on the picture but his arms
were resting on the table. It wasn’t too obvious yet anyone capable of using their minds
would understand that it was him. He wrote a caption, subtle yet clear.

Mornings start late when you have the night ahead of you.
He showed it to Evan and waited for his reaction for a small moment.

“Are you going to tag me?” he asked. Barty shook his head.

“No. Not yet.”

“It’s smart.” Evan finally gave in, his eyes still lingering on the phone screen.

“You’ve accepted that I’m a genius.” Barty grinned with triumph.

“No, you’re the daftest person I’ve ever met.”

“Is that why you’re following my plan?” Barty challenged.

“You’re lucky Regulus is on board.” Evan admitted. “Otherwise ,the whole thing would’ve
blown up in our hands before it started.”

The sound of George Michael's music filled the room, creating a comfortable atmosphere.
Barty, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile, finally broke the silence. "You know, I
never thought I'd say this, but George Michael isn't half bad."

Evan chuckled. "See? I knew you'd come around."

They continued to eat their breakfast in companionable silence, occasionally exchanging

glances and small teases. It was a strange feeling, knowing that they had just pulled off a
daring plan that had shaken their families to their core. Barty felt exhausted. Exhausted yet in
peace, knowing that the first steps had all been successful.

Barty finished his meal and pushed his plate aside. Leaning forward, he propped his chin on
his hand and studied Evan with an amused expression. "You know, Rosier, I have to admit
that you surprised me. I didn't think you had it in you to be such a good actor."

Evan raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "And what's that supposed to
mean?"

Barty chuckled. "I mean, you’re playing the role of my loving fiancé quite convincingly. I
was starting to believe it myself."

Evan's smirk grew wider. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but acting is a part of my life. I've
had to play many roles before.

Barty leaned even closer, their faces just inches apart. "So, does this mean you've been
practicing your kissing scenes as well?”

Evan's cheeks flushed slightly, and he leaned back, breaking their proximity. "Don't get any
funny ideas, Crouch."

Barty laughed, clearly enjoying Evan's discomfort. "Relax, Rosier. I'm just messing with
you."
Evan took a sip of his coffee, trying to regain his composure.

As they discussed their plans, a sense of relief mixed with danger washed over them. They
had played their parts brilliantly, and the outcome was the way they’d been anticipating.

Evan got up from the table and began to clear the dishes

As they finished cleaning up, Barty couldn't help but feel a sense of optimism about the plan
of their future. It wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to have.

And so, in that quiet moment, with George Michael's music playing softly in the background,
Barty and Evan both knew that they were emerging from the ashes of their pasts stronger and
more determined than ever before.

As the afternoon turned into evening, Barty and Evan found themselves sitting on the couch,
exhausted but determined. The weight of their actions hung in the air, they both knew that
they were on a dangerous path. Yet Barty was not going to let the dangers stop them. It was
not a possibility.

He took off from Evan’s place with nowhere to go. He still hadn’t found a solution to his
living condition. However, he was free to use his father’s credit card by over-expensive hotel
rooms. As he made his way to a hotel he had a particular fondness for, Barty couldn't resist
the temptation to check the reactions to his earlier post. He observed with a certain delight
that those who were in on their plan applauded their bold move. The speculations and
conjectures swirling around their supposed romance amused him immensely. It felt as if he
were orchestrating a grand narrative, with him in the role of the mastermind.

The feeling of being in control, of having the knowledge that only he possessed the real truth
behind Evan and Barty's fabricated relationship, gave him a rush of exhilaration. It was akin
to being the director of a grand theatrical production, pulling the strings behind the scenes
and watching the drama unfold on the stage of public opinion.

He relished the art of manipulation, skilfully crafting a facade for the world to see while
keeping the true intentions hidden beneath the surface. Throughout his life, he had been a
player in this intricate game, and now, as the orchestrator of this elaborate charade, he found
a sense of satisfaction in steering the narrative to his advantage.

Lying to the world had always been his forte, and he revelled in the power it bestowed upon
him. With each passing moment, he felt more like a puppet master, manipulating the threads
of the story to his liking. As he continued to read through comments and analyse the public's
reactions, a mischievous smile played on his lips. This was his stage, and he intended to play
his part to perfection.

The evening sun began to dip below the horizon as Barty finally reached the luxurious hotel
he had in mind. He entered the grand lobby, where a chandelier sparkled with a thousand
crystals, and the receptionist greeted him with a warm smile. His father's credit card
effortlessly secured him a lavish suite.

As he entered his opulent room with a view of the city lights, Barty couldn't help but reflect
on the events of the day. The plan had been set into motion, and they were now in a
precarious game of deception. It was a game he was determined to win.

Taking a moment to relax, he decided to indulge in a long, hot bath. The marble bathroom
was a masterpiece of modern design, and Barty couldn't help but admire the luxury
surrounding him. He sank into the warm water, letting it ease the tension from his muscles.
The events of the day replayed in his mind, and he couldn't deny that he was excited about
the chaos they had sown.

As the bathwater began to cool, Barty reluctantly stepped out. Wrapped in a plush hotel robe,
he decided to continue monitoring the reactions to their fabricated engagement on social
media. The speculation and rumours were spreading like wildfire, and Barty revelled in the
chaos they had unleashed.

Hours passed as he lounged in the suite, sipping on a glass of fine whiskey. He was engrossed
in his phone, reading comments and analysing public reactions. Evan's role in their plan
weighed on his mind. He wondered how Evan was handling the situation. They had both
taken on a dangerous game, and the stakes were high.

Just as he was about to message Evan, his phone rang. To his surprise, it was Regulus on the
other end.

"Barty," Regulus's voice was calm and controlled, "I wanted to check in and see how things
are progressing."

Barty leaned back in his chair, swirling his whiskey glass as he spoke, "Everything's going
according to plan. The public is eating up the story. The chaos is spreading."

Regulus let out a satisfied chuckle. "Good. Chaos is what we want. Remember, we have a
shared goal now, and we need to keep the pressure on them."

Barty nodded, even though Regulus couldn't see him. "I know. We won't let up. But what
about Evan? How's he holding up? I still cannot read his emotions."

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then Regulus responded, "Evan is doing fine.
He's a resilient one. Just make sure you both stay in character, and don't let your guard
down.”

Barty agreed and hung up the call.

As the night wore on, Barty continued to bask in the chaos they had created. He knew there
would be challenges ahead, but he was ready to face them head-on. This was their
opportunity to reshape their destinies, and he wasn't about to let it slip away.
 With that resolve in mind, Barty had one more thing to do before turning off his phone and
setting it aside. He called the florist and asked for a bouquet of white roses to be delivered on
Evan’s door the next day.

After the long day and the week, he knew the one and only way he could find relaxation in.
That’s why he put on proper clothes and walked down to the hotel bar. The night was young
and so was he. It wasn’t hard to find two people willing to go upstairs with him. A boy and a
girl. He directed them both to the elevators. He hadn’t lied in the caption to his previous post.

Mornings start late when you have the night ahead of you.

The only lie he had made people to believe that his nights were not preserved for Evan
Rosier.

Barty indulged in the night's pleasures, losing himself in the fleeting moments of passion
with his companions. It was a distraction, a way to temporarily silence the thoughts that
lingered in the corners of his mind. He revelled in the sensation of being desired, of losing
himself in the physicality of the encounters.

As the night slowly gave way to the early hours of the morning, Barty found himself alone in
his luxurious hotel room once more. The exhaustion of the day and night washed over him,
and he couldn't help but think about the complexities of the plan they had set in motion. It
was a web of lies and deceptions, and the stakes were higher than ever.

Chapter End Notes

THIS CHAPTER HAD IT ALL.

but mostly them being a married couple without realising.
 sharpen your knife
Chapter Notes

Hellloooo,
I wrote most of this chapter in library, when I should be studying for my statistics
midterm that's the day after tomorrow.
Anyyyyywhoooo
I'll not fail it, thank you very much.
Rosekiller was more important and I felt like writing so bad.
Hope you enjoy.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“You’re stupid.”

It was a phrase that had echoed through Barty's existence, a refrain he'd grown accustomed to
hearing from his father, from his teachers. A straightforward statement, not open to much
interpretation. People said that if you repeated something long enough, it took root as truth—
an immutable law of nature.

But Barty had never bought into the notion that he was unintelligent. Perhaps he was
delusional, perhaps his self-esteem ran a tad high, but he was never under the illusion that he
lacked mental acumen. His brand of intelligence simply diverged from the conventional.

For the first time in his life, he could comprehend why he'd been labelled as such, though he
had no intention of admitting it.

"You're being a bit dramatic, Regulus," he drawled, reclining on Evan's sofa. It was just
Regulus, Evan, and himself; the others were occupied with their own affairs.

"I'm not being dramatic," Regulus retorted, his brow furrowing. "If I can discover your
liaisons with those two individuals, so can others.

“I’m a whore, who cares.” Barty quipped, though he knew why his words lacked meaning
given recent developments. "Besides, you knew because you had me tailed by Frank," he
added, pausing for effect before raising a single finger. "Which, by the way, is illegal. I could
have you arrested."

"You're engaged to Evan, deeply in love, by all accounts," Regulus pointed out, sidestepping
Barty's empty threat.

“Monogamy is dreadfully dull.”

“Are you a sex addict?” Evan asked, with a genuinely wondering tone. “I feel like I should
know.”

“No I’m not a bloody sex addict. What is this? An intervention?” Barty grimaced.

"It might as well be," Regulus snapped. "Do you not perceive the problem here?"

Barty shook his head.

“You can’t go around screwing people. You’re in love with Evan.”

“So what? People cheat on their spouses all the time.” Barty shrugged.

“Barty if I could have you followed, so can others. All eyes are on you. You keep telling
everyone to not fuck this up yet you don’t think before you act.”

Barty shook his head. "I do think, Regulus, just not with my brain."

"I'll take a blade to your bits if necessary," Regulus rolled his eyes.

Barty frowned by the idea. “Okay fine.” He breathed out. “I’ll be careful with who I sleep
with.”

“Don’t sleep with anyone for a while.” Regulus interjected. “Celibacy wouldn’t kill you.”

Barty settled further into the couch. "Just because you can't get anyone to hop into bed with
you, don't be envious of me."

Regulus raised an eyebrow, issuing a clear threat.

"What if I have them sign some sort of non-disclosure agreement?" Barty ventured.

“Barty,” Regulus’s tone was dangerous. “No.”

“You’re expecting me to give up on so much.” Barty pouted like a petulant child.

Neither Evan nor Regulus gave in.

“Fine.” Barty dropped his shoulders. “Can I at least get some action in Riddle’s club?”

“No.” Regulus was certain. “Peter and Marlene are spying on you both.”

“They already know this is fake. What difference would it make? Isn’t the whole deal of the
club indulgence”

“Whether we like it or not, they’re a part of the plan. They should ensure it’ll work.” Regulus
explained.

“You mean Dorcas.” Barty corrected. “Dorcas should ensure it’ll work.”

“Yes. Potter too. Eventually, Riddle, of course.” Regulus didn’t oppose.

"Turn on the telly," Evan redirected the conversation, his gaze fixed on his Patek Philippe.
"It's time."

Barty's mood shifted, anger simmering within him. It was time for his father's speech. As his
father's face appeared on the screen, Barty was reminded of why he was doing all this. His
father symbolized everything he detested. Those moments when his father had taunted and
belittled him, insisting he'd never amount to anything—they all came flooding back.

Barty was determined to prove him wrong, whatever it took.

Dear public of Godric’s Hollow… Most prestigious members of London.

I have always been a respected member of our community. The Crouch name remained
sacred since the founding of the town. I gave up my life to become a suitable politician for
our town, city and country, just like my ancestors.

I dedicated my life to preserve the well-being of our society. The society I believe is
constructed by one valuable structure. A family. Consisting of a mother, a father and their
children. Anything else is disturbing to our peace, against our morals and ethics. The recent
events are caused nothing but by my son’s way of acting out. His adolescent defiance is a
private family matter, unrelated to my standing as a politician. While I do not condone his
actions, rest assured that the situation is under control. It will be resolved.

The events are nothing but a teenager foolishly trying to get back at his father. Mr. Frederic
Rosier and I are on very great terms. A union, unshakeable since centuries. These events will
not harm any political stance of our families. We as parents are responsible of our children.
I’m not mad at my son for pulling a shenanigan. I’m asking you, our citizens, to recognize the
situation as a small family matter and nothing more.

Thank you for your time. Be safe. Have a great week.

Barty couldn't contain his satisfaction at his father's speech. Although witnessing his father
masquerading as a public hero irked him to no end, the speech itself couldn't have served
their cause better. In his bid to play the politician, Barty Crouch Sr. had unwittingly driven
himself underground, implying that this was a temporary setback he could manage. Barty was
determined to prove him wrong. Through this speech, his father had effectively pitted the
civil populace against him. He had declared war on queer allies. And when Barty was
finished, his father's authority among conservatives would crumble. Everything he had built
would come crashing down, and he would be buried beneath the rubble.

Barty wasn’t going to die without making sure his father never made to the President’s office
even if it was the last thing he did.
Barty's father's speech had set the stage for a battle of wills, and Barty knew he couldn't back
down now. He glanced at Regulus and Evan, the weight of their collective determination
hanging in the air.

Regulus leaned forward, his voice low and intense. "We can't let him control the narrative,
Barty. We need to seize the initiative and shape the public perception.”

“Public perception will determine he’s an asshole.” Barty rolled his eyes.

“I should talk to my father.” Evan pointed out. “He’ll be more careful with his words; he
wouldn’t risk going through what Blacks did after Sirius.” He gave a look at Regulus. “No
offense.”

“Non taken.” Regulus stretched his arms to both sides.

Evan pulled out his phone. Barty assumed it was to check the public opinion after his father’s
speech.

“I’ll brew some coffee.” Barty stood up as he waited for Evan to inform them about the
public view. He walked towards the kitchen. He’d learned where the utensils were located so
he didn’t have any difficulties in finding three mugs, the coffee maker and the coffee itself.

“As always, people are divided on this. It won’t be long until the French press takes up on the
news. I’m assuming they’ll support us.”

“N'en sois pas si sûr. French are judgmental.” Regulus pointed out.

Instead of joining in on their conversation, Barty's gaze fixated on the vase adorning the
kitchen table. It held the bouquet of white roses he had personally arranged.

“I see you received my gifts.” He grinned, cockiness dripping from his voice.

“I did.” Evan grinned back. “Thank you.”

“They don’t serve a purpose if you don’t post them.” Barty retorted.

“Fine. I will.” Evan stood up from the couch and came near the counter, holding his phone
between his fingers. Barty stepped out from the frame but Evan stopped him.

“No don’t move away. Turn your back on the roses as if you’re actually making us coffee.”

“I am actually making us coffee.” Barty said.

“All right then, carry on.”

So, Barty did. He paid attention to acting slowly so that the picture was clear. Once he took
the picture Evan spent a minute to caption it before showing it to him.

Se réveiller a un nouveau but

That’s what Evan had written. Barty had no idea what it meant. He didn’t ask.
Instead, he said, “My ass looks hot.”

Evan rolled his eyes in response.

Once the coffees were ready, they went back in the living room. They were getting more
obvious. Acting like an actual couple. Dancing was one thing. It would’ve been forgotten if
the aftermath stood weak. These little things were necessary to convince everyone that this
was not a short-term rebellion as his father promised.

Shortly after, the sound of Regulus's phone interrupted the room. He glanced at the caller's
name before putting it on speaker.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the news.” A boy spoke on the opposite line. Barty saw the contact’s
name was James Potter.

“No, we haven’t.” Barty replied with a clear sarcasm.

“Crouch?” James inquired. “Is that you.”

"No, he's shuffled off this mortal coil.," Barty responded, rolling his eyes as if dealing with a
pesky owl.

“Good.” James breathed out. “You’re there too.” He paused. “I’ll have the news published on
Quibbler tomorrow.”

“Is that why you called?” Regulus asked, disturbed.

“No, I actually called to hear your delightful voice.” James replied, mocking.

“Get to the point.” Regulus sounded bored.

“I called if there’s anything you want published specifically. And also because we think it’s a
good idea if either of you gave an interview.”

Regulus checked up on Evan and Barty’s faces before giving out a response.

“You’re the publicist. You arrange the details. That’s why we’re paying you.” Barty talked.

“You’re not paying me.” James cut in.

“Don’t take everything for literal Potter. It’s boring.” Barty rolled his eyes.

“Very well. I’ll write as I please then.”

“I’ll do the interview.” Evan interjected.

“Do it together.” Regulus fixated his gazes on Barty. “People will like it.”

“Yes, actually.” James approved. “It’s a brilliant idea.”

“I’m game.” Barty didn’t oppose the idea. “However, we need time. Doing it right after my
father’s speech would give out wrong impressions on public.”

“Fine. I’ll contact you for time and date later then.”

No one replied.

“Take care.” James was the one to speak again. Regulus hung up the phone.

They whiled away the morning sipping their brews. When the clock hands pointed to noon,
Regulus took his leave. He always had somewhere to be, and Barty knew better than to pry
into his affairs.

"The house is starting to feel a bit dull," Barty remarked, his coffee now a distant memory as
he lit a fag.

"Apologies for not arranging a cavalcade of gigolos for your amusement," Evan replied, his
tone nonchalant. His words brought a wry grin to Barty's face.

"Hold on a tick! Are you getting all green-eyed over my extracurricular activities?" Barty
teased. He realized that the house wasn't dull at all; he'd just found himself a new source of
entertainment.

"Yeah, I'm positively envious, Barty. I thought our matrimonial union was sacred," Evan
quipped, still maintaining his casual demeanour.

“You’re jealous.” Barty laughed; his face plastered with a grin.

“I’m not.” Evan frowned. “As Regulus said, you have to be careful.”

“I was.” Barty objected. “Regulus is a prick who can’t trust anyone.”

“Because you’re so trustworthy yourself.” Evan mocked.

“Can we be over with my sex life?” Barty changed the topic. “Let’s go out. Have a drink.”

"Isn't it a bit soon?" Evan inquired.

"What's 'soon'?" Barty scrunched up his face as he posed a rhetorical question.

“Fine.” Evan gave in. “But I should meet Pandora later on.”

“Perfect.” Barty rose from his seat. “A family union.”

“Stop saying that.” Evan also got up.

“Face it, Rosier. You’re stuck with me.” Barty smirked as they both started to collect their
stuff before going out. Evan didn’t respond.

They took Evan’s car with them. They picked up Pandora from the Empyrean to drove
downtown. Barty had caught up on the glances towards them as Evan had pulled the car in
front of the tall building. The valet had stared at them, curious. So had other people who
walked in and out of the company. All dressed up in awfully expensive attire. As Pandora got
in, her voice filled in the car as her perfume did.

“What are you doing here?” She directed her question at Barty.

“I missed you too my darling sister.” Barty grinned.

“I mean it.” She frowned. “If papa had seen you, we’d be driving to your funeral. Which
wouldn’t be bad now that I think about it.”

“Is he still mad?” Evan asked.

“Bien-sûr.” Pandora nodded. “A quoi t'attendais-tu?” Her emphasis implemented a question.

Despite her French, Evan answered in English.

“Maybe maman called him down?”

“Not yet.” Barty saw Pandora shaking her head negatively through the rear-view mirror.

“Where are you Rosier twins taking me?” Barty changed the topic. He heard Pandora letting
out a muffled sound.

“I was thinking we could have couple of drinks at the Savoy.” Evan offered as his hands
moved around the wheel.”

“Your idea of entertainment gives me pain.” Barty rolled his eyes. “Besides, you’re a terrible
driver.”

He really wasn’t near bad. Barty merely enjoyed making him doubt himself.

“What about flat-iron square?” Barty offered seeing as Evan hadn’t attempted to his previous
statement.

“At 1 pm on a weekday?” Evan asked, looking at Barty through the rear-view. Barty
shrugged.

“Why do we have to go somewhere to hang out again?” Pandora asked. “I thought this was
supposed to be a sibling event.”

Barty grinned. “It is. I’m your brother-in-law.”

“You’re not my anything.” Pandora sounded tense.

“Thanks to my brilliance. Or else I would be your husband.”

Pandora huffed in response to Barty's comment, clearly not in the mood for his playful banter.
Evan, on the other hand, couldn't help but smirk at the ongoing exchange between them.
Trying to ease the tension, he cut in "Come on, you two, can we just have a peaceful outing
for once?"

Barty feigned innocence. "I'm always pleasant, Evan. It's Pandora who's grumpy."

“Va te faire foutre.” Pandora huffled.

Barty frowned. “Wait. I think I know what that means.”

“Pandora gave him a fake grin. “Aren’t you a smart boy?” she pouted, mockingly.

“I don’t understand your obsession with French. We have delightful swear words in English
as well. For example saying go fuck yourself-“

Evan cut in before Barty could finish his sentence. “Easy.” He warned, frowning. Barty
crossed his arms.

“If you warn me, warn her too.” He frowned. “Gender-equality.”

“Swearing in French sounds chic.” Pandora grinned.

“My ass is chic.” Barty spoke out like a child. Evan gave him a pointed look, again, through
the mirror.

Before their bickering could go on further, Evan stopped the car in front of an elegant-yet
warm looking café-pub. Even though it was on a familiar street in London, it was the first
Barty had seen of it. The place had a dark atmosphere to it which Barty enjoyed. It looked
like a place in which important business men held secret meetings in.

The three sat down under the questioning gazes of the workers. The man greeting them had
called Pandora and Evan by their name and by the looks of it he was completely aware of
Barty’s identity as well.

As they settled into their seats, Barty couldn't help but notice the discreet glances they
received from both the staff and the patrons. It was clear that his recent public antics had not
gone unnoticed. He leaned back in his chair, a sly smile playing on his lips, relishing the
attention.

Evan ordered a glass of red wine, Pandora chose a classic gin and tonic, and Barty ordered an
Old Fashioned. The drinks arrived swiftly, and the conversation tried to find its path. It was
uneasy since they had nothing to talk about. Barty knew keeping up a reputation as a couple
was going to be hard. Their behaviours were not intimate. Their conversations did not move
past talking about the plan. Even when it did, it was mostly teasing and mockery. So, Barty
did what he did best.

“It’s foul to drink red wine at noon.” He commented on Evan’s choice of drink.

“I’m sorry.” Evan was not sorry at all. “Would you prefer a candle-lit romantic dinner?”
Barty rolled his eyes. “Your idea of romance is as cliché as your idea of entertainment.” He
retorted, reminding them of the conversation they had earlier.

Before they could continue their banter, they noticed Pandora's gaze fixed on something
across the table, her expression shifting.

"Is everything all right?" Evan inquired, concern in his voice.

"The Lestrange siblings," Pandora hissed, her tone growing tense. "They're here, all three of
them."

Barty frowned. He knew Rabastan and Rodolphulus. He wasn’t aware of a third one.

“Three?” he asked in confusion.

“Shut up.” Pandora cut in. “Get closer to Evan. Do something. They haven’t seen us yet.”

“Do what?” Barty asked, confusion still apparent on his face and voice. Evan and his chairs
were turned back from the entrance so he couldn’t see anything. He felt Evan’s chair moving
close towards his.

Turning toward Evan, Barty found that Evan wasn't looking at him. Instead, Evan's gaze was
fixed on a spot near their laps. It was only when Barty felt a warmth between his fingers that
he realized Evan had discreetly taken his hand.

Before he could question what was happening, he felt three bodies walking near their table.
As he lifted his head up to see, he saw Rabastan, Rodolphulus and a girl who Barty assumed
was the third sibling, all dressed in formal black attire. They looked as if they had just left a
funeral. No, they all looked as if they’d caused one.

“Good evening,” Rabastan greeted them with a feigned kindness. Though being the younger
one, he looked taller and tougher than his brother. His facial structure was chiselled, his eyes
narrow, and his thin lips formed a sly smile. Barty had always considered the Lestranges as
the worst of them all, maybe even darker than the Blacks. He didn't know much about them,
but he knew their family business was nothing but a façade to conceal their actual
malevolence. He remembered Rabastan and Rodolphulus as children, even then they exuded
an icy demeanour, often keeping to themselves in a corner at town gatherings, silently
observing others.

“What do you want?” Pandora hissed.

"Nothing," Rabastan continued, maintaining an unsettling calm and kindness. His coat was
unnaturally thick for the current weather. "We came to entertain ourselves at our favourite
café. It would be rude not to greet our family friends, don't you think?"

“Friend is not what I would call you,” Evan matched the grin on Rabastan’s face. “Last, I
remember, your father had no shame in publicly shaming my father over a trivial business
deal.”

Rodolphulus chuckled, annoyed. “Please, Rosier. Let us not be like our parents.”
“Of course.” Pandora smiled. “We’re nothing like them. Do rest assured, however, we’re
worse.”

“I can tell, by the company you keep.” Rodolphulus’s piercing eyes wandered around on
Barty for a short while.

Barty watched the two pairs of siblings argue over matters he had no idea about. He found
himself observing the girl. She didn’t resemble the other two as much yet the expression on
her eyes was the same. Her dirty-blonde hair created a contrast of the jet-black hair of the
brothers’.

"Always as kind as I remember. Tell me, dear Dora," Rabastan said, gesturing, his eyes
focused on Barty and Evan's hands. "I see your family is fond of inconvenient relationships.
How about you and I add one more to them."

Barty felt Evan's hand tense up; he was nearly squeezing Barty's hand painfully. Barty didn't
withdraw it.

“I suggest you leave.” Pandora held his chin up high. “You have enough inconvenience in
your own family.” Her eyes lingered on the girl, clear implication of a threat. Barty could feel
the girl wasn’t as confident as the brothers. She looked nervous, avoiding eye contact with
either of them.

“I suggest you pay attention to your words.” Rabastan’s smile erased off of his face. “We
wouldn’t want to cross any borders, would we?”

"I suppose we haven't been properly introduced," Barty interjected, partly to ease the tension,
but mostly out of boredom. He extended his free hand toward the brothers, holding Evan's
hand with the other.

“Barty Crouch, a pleasure.” Rodolphulus shook his hand first.

“Your reputation precedes you.” Rabastan was second.

Barty smiled at both of them, his eyes spreading negativity despite his expression.

“I would except nothing less.” He replied. He looked at the girl who seemed to have no
intention of shaking his hand. He cleared his throat.

“I wouldn’t want to be left without having the pleasure of meeting such a graceful lady.” He
spoke, his hand remaining arisen. He felt piercing eyes of Pandora on his face. Evan subtly
kicked his foot under the table. Perhaps flirting with her while trying to convince everyone he
loved Evan wasn't the right move, but it came naturally to him. It was how his DNA was
coded.

“I’m Sybill. A pleasure to meet you.” She reluctantly shook his hand. “Congratulations on
your relationship.” She sounded kinder and more genuine compared to the others.

Her words brought her a warning stare from Rabastan.

“Yeah,” Rodolphulus engaged. “Congratulations,” his words were condescending as was his
face. “I must assume, it was unexpected.”

“Maybe you weren’t smart enough to expect it.” Barty tilted his head. “Don’t see so highly of
yourself.”

Rodolphulus let out a small chuckle. “I know you and I haven’t found the chance to get to
know each other. Yet I’d expect you to be smarter than to belittle me.”

Barty grinned. “Your expectations seem to continuously disappoint you. I suggest you
reconsider them.”

Rodolphulus seemed genuinely annoyed. The overly polite façade had worn thin.

“Come on, brother.” Rabastan cut in. “Our reservation was for ten minutes ago.”

Barty smiled with triumph. He’d won his first encounter with Lestrange brothers. Because to
him, every first encounter was a battle you either won or lost.

“Until next time.” Rodolphulus said, hinting at a desire for a rematch.

“See you later.” Sybill muffled.

“Always a pleasure.” Rabastan winked at Pandora, which again, caused Evan’s body to tense
up.

Neither of them responded and waited for them to walk off in silence. Barty was the one to
break it.

“Here I thought Regulus was annoying.” He breathed out.

“Lestranges are dangerous.” Pandora cleared his throat. “They did all the dirty works of
Riddle.”

“Are they like the mafia?” Barty grimaced, attempting humour.

“Could be.” Evan’s voice was much serious than he expected. “You shouldn’t have tease him
like that, Barty.”

“The bastard had it coming.” He shrugged.

"True, but they're not the type you want to provoke," Evan warned, glancing over at the
Lestranges, who were now settling at a nearby table.

Pandora sighed. "You have no idea what they're capable of. The Lestranges are notorious for
their ruthless loyalty to each other and to him.”

By him it was clear she’d meant Riddle.

“They don’t know what I’m capable of either.” He replied. Neither of the Rosier twins
responded. Barty gazed over Sybill for a moment.

“Who is she?”

“No Barty.” Evan sounded fed up. “You cannot sleep with her; we’ve talked about this.”

Barty rolled his eyes. “That’s not bloody why I asked. It’s just, I wasn’t aware of a Lestrange
sister.”

“That’s because she isn’t a Lestrange.” Evan explained.

“How?”

“They share the same mom, different fathers. She cheated on Darenne Lestrange. She’s a
Trelawney. That’s why she was sent to Germany most of her life. Banished, basically.”

Instead of focusing the new information about Sybill’s past, Barty paid attention to a different
matter.

“Look.” He turned at Evan. “People cheat all the time.”

Evan rolled his eyes. Barty realised they were still holding hands even though the Lestranges
were too far to see it.

“Your hands are sweaty, by the way.” He added.

Evan quickly pulled his hand back between Barty’s after realising they were in deed still
holding hands.

“Sorry, it was the first thing I thought of.”

“Relax.” Barty grinned. “You haven’t destroyed my girlhood or anything.”

“You’re insufferably misogynistic.” Pandora frowned.

“I’m joking.” Barty was deadpan. “You should try it sometimes. You’re at the ripe age of 24
yet I can see your wrinkles from frowning too much.”

Before Pandora could argue back, Evan cut in.

“You’re missing the point.” He spoke.

“They don’t share the same father. So what?”

“You didn’t know before we told you.” Evan said.

“Thank you for granting me this valuable information?” Barty was hesitant, not
understanding what Evan tried to imply.

“You didn’t know because no one does. Because it’s a secret.”

Barty was starting to put the pieces together.

“And what makes you special that you do?”

“Josette and my mum were close at the time. She first told her the pregnancy. Then the
business deals got broken off in time, so did friendships. That’s why they have an extra
hatred against us.”

“You have a leverage on them.”

“Exactly.” Pandora approved. “We know the one and only thing even the Malfoy’s and
Riddle’s don’t.”

“How is she here then?” Barty asked. “If she is banished.”

“I’m not certain. However, Josette still cares about her and sees her the same as her sons. She
might’ve convinced Darenne to bring her for a limited time every once in a while.” Pandora
was the one to talk.

As the conversation continued, Barty couldn't help but feel like he was gradually being
initiated into a complex world of family secrets, rivalries, and political machinations. The
revelation about Sybill's true lineage added an intriguing layer to the enigmatic Lestranges,
and the fact that Evan's family possessed such valuable knowledge was both fascinating and
potentially dangerous.

Evan, Pandora, and Barty delicately savoured their drinks, the palpable tension from their
encounter with the Lestranges still haunting the atmosphere. Amidst their light-hearted
banter, an unspoken understanding hung heavy, reminding them that their lives had taken an
unforeseen twist, plunging them into a far more intricate situation than Barty had initially
envisioned. Such a revelation didn't surprise him; Godric's Hollow was an enigmatic place,
its secrets, sins, and relationships intricately woven like an intricate spider's web. It seemed
inevitable not to become entangled. Barty had strived his entire life to remain aloof, to simply
drift through it all, and he couldn't help but wonder how Evan, Pandora, and Regulus had
managed to navigate the town's treacherous web without being ensnared and suffocated by it.
While he had always been a master of his own world, it seemed that this new path was
leading him into uncharted territory.

They enjoyed couple of drinks together. Trying to avoid any talk of their plan, knowing that
they might’ve been heard. Pandora talked about the upcoming fashion week. Barty and Evan
talked about who was a better driver and concluded it was Pandora even though Barty had
never saw her drive. Her persuading looks had won. They knew they were under inspecting
gazes by the Lestrange family. Barty tried his best to stood close to Evan.

Evan talked and complained about his school-work. Barty found it funny Evan was still
technically a student. Even though it was for a master’s degree and they barely had any age
difference, it was entertaining to mock him for it.

The conversation remained shallow; all the important matters buried under secrets.
They had seen the bottoms of the glasses for three times as clocks turned to evening.

“What are you off to from here?” Evan asked.

“Definitely not home.” Barty avoided an actual answer.

“You tease me for being a student yet you’re a man-child who lives with his father.” Evan
mocked.

“Father cut me off of my rent money when I dropped out of college.” Barty grinned. “He
punished himself more than he did me, to be honest. The man almost had a heart attack when
he first saw 2 people coming out of my room at the same time.”

“Putain.” Pandora commented.

“Hey!” Barty let out an offended exclamation. Having heard the word from Regulus multiple
times in different occasions.

“It’s the mere truth.” She grinned.

“Also, I use his credit card to book myself nice hotels so it’s delightful.” Barty went back to
the original conversation. “He can’t say anything about it now.”

“You will eventually have to go back you know that right?” Evan asked a question which
annoyed Barty. Thinking about future problems was no fun and he would much rather be
avoiding them.

“I’ll go back when I know I’ll see him in misery.”

“You’re mad.” Evan pointed out. Barty shrugged in response.

“We should go to Italy some time.” Evan said, out of nowhere. Barty wasn’t sure if it was
directed at only Pandora or at both of them.

“I miss Venice so much.” Pandora sounded excited, yearning for the place. “Lemonade made
by our lemon tree in the backyard. Not the appropriate season for it though.”

“I hate Italy.” Barty was the buzzkill.

“I repeat, you’re mad.”

“You would hate it too if you were forced to stay over nonnas and nonnos who did nothing
but comment on your life.” Barty crossed his arms.

“That’s our every summer in France, Barty. We still love it.” Pandora criticized his point.

“Regulus doesn’t.”

“That’s because he hates everything. Location doesn’t matter.” Evan made a fair comment.
After that, they didn't remain seated for long. Sensing that their departure might attract much-
wanted attention, Barty carefully calculated his next steps. To begin, he smoothly pulled
Evan's chair back, a subtle gesture to assist him in standing up. Leaning closer to Evan, he
whispered softly into his ear, concealed beneath his golden curls.

“Don’t panic. I can feel you’re scared every-time I get close.”

Evan remained silent. Barty keenly felt the piercing gazes of both Pandora and the Lestranges
upon them.

With deliberate finesse, Barty gently tucked Evan's hair behind his ears, ensuring that the
Lestranges could clearly see his face. As a final touch, he pressed a tender kiss to Evan's
cheekbone.

Evan's cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink at the affectionate gesture, but he managed to
maintain his composure, albeit with a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

Pandora, who had been observing their interaction with a hawk-like intensity, couldn't help
but raise an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Well, aren't you two just the picture of intimacy?" she purred, her tone dripping with
annoyance. The Lestranges, on the other hand, maintained their stoic facade, but their eyes
gleamed with a sinister glint.

Barty met Pandora's gaze with a charming smile.

"Oh, you know how it is, Pandora," he replied casually, though his voice held a subtle
undercurrent of warning. "When you're with someone as captivating as Evan, it's hard not to
get carried away."

“Shut up.” Evan interjected. “Let’s leave.”

So they did. Barty didn’t let Evan walk before him. Instead, he caught up and intervened their
fingers. Evan let him.

They walked hand in hand until the car was delivered to them by the valet-boy. The tension
was apparent as they all sat down in the car. This time Pandora on the front and Barty in the
back.

“Where do I drop you off?” Evan asked, looking nonchalant. Barty knew he was
uncomfortable by their recent position.

“The inn at the Godric’s Hollow would suffice.” He spoke. “The Leaky Cauldron.”

Evan nodded and continued to drive in silence. Barty tried to find a way to break the silence
by teasing and annoying him but weirdly enough he wasn’t able to do so.

Physical affection was not hard for Barty. With anyone, anywhere. Sex was an entertaining
act and physical touch meant nothing if you didn’t want it to mean something. He needed
Evan to be at the same place as him. Because these were going to happen. They were going
 to hold hands, hug and kiss when necessary. Not because they enjoyed it but because they
needed to convince everyone. Their conversations lacked meaning; their eyes showed
everyone they weren’t in love if they paid close attention. If they were careful enough anyone
would understand their façade. They had to change that one way or another.

The journey continued in silence, punctuated only by the occasional hum of the car's engine
and the distant sounds of the night. Barty's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, and he couldn't
help but wonder if their facade had been convincing enough in front of the Lestrange family.
The stakes were high, and he knew they needed to maintain the illusion.

Evan's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles slightly white, as he focused on the
road ahead. He glanced at Barty in the rear-view mirror, his eyes filled with a mixture of
concern and uncertainty. Barty, recognized discomfort.

"We did well in there," he said

Evan managed a faint smile, his eyes reflecting a hint of gratitude. "I just want us to get
through this without any trouble." Every mimic of him displaying tiredness.

Pandora, sensing the tension, chimed in from the front seat. "We've faced worse than the
Lestranges, you know. We'll be fine."

As they approached the inn, the dimly lit sign of the Leaky Cauldron came into view. Evan
smoothly pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine. They sat in the car for a
moment, exchanging glances that conveyed their mutual understanding of the upcoming
problems.

With a final nod to each other, Barty opened the car door and stepped out. He watched as
Evan and Pandora drove away, their taillights disappearing into the night.

Chapter End Notes

Barty's father is a little bitch.

Barty-Regulus-Evan and Barty-Pandora-Evan trios give me LIFE
Barty manwhore real
LESTRANGE SIBLINGS
i repeat
LESTRANGE SIBLINGS
they may be the villians of the narrative but idc.
Also I've never seen Sybill being a Lestrange or a half-sister but it suited so well in my
head to her character and it's going to be a blast for the plot.
Rosiers owning houses all across the globe so real.
I love my lil James moments sm.
THEY HELD HANDS.
THEY KISSED ON THE CHEEK.
but like fr we're 70k words in the slow-burn is slow-burning way too much.
Evan freaking out very real btw
 eat your young
Chapter Summary

CW: pyhsical parental abuse through the end. You can stop reading once they're out of
the car if you're not comfortable. It's pretty descriptive

Chapter Notes

its my midterm week but I CANNOT STOP WRITING.

I feel very inspired for some reason. Maybe because my uni campus is slowly turning so
dark-academia with autmn and I'm taking two classes involving literature. (humanities
in which we read odyssey, antigone, gilgamesh etc and theatre in which we're reading
oedipus, lysistrata etc) and i'm reading the secret history on my own.
Very pretentious era for me not gonna lie.
The dark atmosphere is reflecting on the chapters as well. I'm not sure if its a good thing
or a bad thing.
Anyway.
Hope you enjoy the chapter.
With love,
Asteria.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

A fatal flaw, often described as possessing a trait that inexorably led to one's eventual
downfall, was something Barty found to be nothing more than a fanciful notion propagated
by pretentious literary souls, seeking a way to rationalize their life's missteps. In his mind, he
refused to accept that he was fundamentally flawed. Rather, he believed that his perceived
downfall would ultimately become his greatest strength, his crowning achievement.
Mistakes, he maintained, were not to be buried in shame but to be embraced, a means of
navigating life's turbulent waters. He was determined to pursue one mistake after another,
confident that his seemingly bad decisions would eventually serve as the bedrock upon which
he'd build his success. While the world might brand it a "fatal flaw," Barty had another name
for it – a "mortal strength.

He was in desperate of someone’s physical company. His heart needed to race, his veins to
throb with the vitality of shared experiences, and his mind to escape the relentless ticking of
time.

He had made a promise.

Promises meant nothing. He broke them all the time. He gave them all the time.

He promised to behave, he promised to be a better student, a better person. He promised to

call back the next day. He promised to help, be there when needed.

He broke the promises throughout his whole life.

People got over it. He reasoned that as long as he refrained from nurturing their expectations,
he wasn't morally bound to fulfil them.

It was this rational detachment that kept guilt and shame at bay as a young man, whom he'd
met just half an hour ago, left an indelible mark on his body. Barty wasn't a fool; he was
resolute in not allowing his grand plan to be jeopardized. He knew that one could evade the
consequences of their actions if they possessed the knowledge of how to manipulate the
situation, and he was poised to exploit this wisdom to its fullest extent. In Barty's world, you
could get away with anything if you knew how.

“You’re good.” the boy moaned under him.

“Shut up.” Barty hushed him. “Don’t talk.”

The boy obeyed.

It was another hotel, another day and another person. It had been days now since Barty had
been exceeding his father’s credit card.

Money had never been an issue. It never had been the issue.

They weren’t loaded as the Blacks or the Rosiers. Yet being a family as old as theirs’ their
living standards were above average, to say the least.

He could have anything he wanted. Wear the designer clothes, eat the expensive food, drink
the fancy alcohol. He didn’t have to pull this charade to spend his father’s money. But this
had never been about the money itself. He needed to be the one to control it. He needed to
own it. Own his life.

He had never had to work a day in his life. So why would he bother doing so when he could
inherit the effortless money that his family had saved, not working much so themselves but
gaining it by pulling worse charades than himself.

His phone rang as he was in the middle of leaving fingerprints on the boy’s back.

He spared one of his hands from the job and answered the phone. It was no other than Evan
Rosier on the opposite line.

“What?” he answered as soon as he picked up.

“Why are you out of breath?” Evan asked.

“Do you want to know?” Barty asked, trying to let out a chuckle but it had come out very
shaky.

“You’re disgusting and Regulus will kill you.” Evan sounded nonchalant.

“He won’t if you don’t tell him.” Barty grinned to himself.

“Believe me or not I have more serious issues than gossiping to Regulus about your sexual
life.”

“Very well. Is that all?” Barty asked.

“No.” Evan sounded stern. “We have an issue.”

“Which is?”

“My dad. He wants to see you.”

“What?” Barty asked, surprised by the non-awaited offer.

“He says he needs to talk to you before talking to the public press. He’s not content with the
Quibbler’s last week issue.”

James Potter was keen to his word and had managed to publish an article, supporting their
love. It had brought up quite a sensation on the social media. People were starting to believe
more and more to their story. Barty’s father’s words of saying this was temporary was
starting to lose its credibility.

“It’s a tad bit early for meeting your parents don’t you think? Our relationship can’t handle
it.” Barty said. The boy who was occupied with his under body lifted his head up in
confusion. Barty made a hand move to tell him to continue and don’t mind his words.

“I’m serious, Barty. You’re expected at Empyrean this noon.”

“Fine. I’ll be there. What shall I bring?”

“White roses.” Evan’s answer was quick.

“I meant for your father.”

“Bring them for me to impress him.”

“I don’t think he is the type to find romantic gestures endearing.” Barty objected.

“He doesn’t have to. He only needs to see we’re in love.”

“Whatever.” Barty said, forcing himself to stop from moaning as the boy’s recent move.
“When should I come?”

“Be here in 1 hour.”

“See you there.” Barty hung up without waiting for Evan’s response.

After that, he made sure to finish his business with the boy. He wasn’t the type to left things
uncompleted. He took a quick shower.

He was running out of clothes. He had rewarded himself by few pieces from Ralph Lauren on
his dad’s account but his lack of clothes was eventually going to force him to go back home.
He wasn’t thrilled.

He adorned a sleek black button-up shirt paired with elegant burgundy wide-leg trousers,
opting to forgo a tie to preserve the enchanting allure of his pants. After meticulously tending
to his hair and dismissing the young attendant, he gracefully slipped behind the wheel of his
car and set a course for Empyrean. As he cruised through the picturesque streets of Godric's
Hollow, he ignited a cigarette, allowing the wind to serenely sweep through the open
windows.

With a penchant for speed, he was never one to dawdle on the road. He relished the
mellifluous purr of the engine, as it echoed the pulsating rhythm of his own coursing blood.

He pulled over when he reached the familiar building. He put on some cologne before
leaving his car and handing the keys to the valet.

Mary had been waiting for him at the entrance.

“Welcome, Mr. Crouch.” She said. “Mr. Rosier has asked me to accompany you upstairs.”

“Which one?” Barty asked, grinning.

“Evan.”

Barty’s grin got wider. “Is he scared they’ll kidnap me?”

Mary pouted her lips. “Could be.” She said, letting out a graceful grin. “Mr. Frederic Rosier
is furious, to say the least.”

She led the way to the lift after scanning her employee card through the turnstile.

“Is this a family or a business meeting?” Barty asked. “What shall I be expecting.”

“It’s a meeting to scare you off.” Mary was brutally honest.

“They’ve got the wrong lad then.” Barty smirked. Mary smiled with respect as a response.

The lift was filled with people in classical formal attire. They all had the same nonchalant
expression. Their heads held up high. People who thought their only success was working in
Empyrean. They deluded themselves into believing that this was the zenith of their existence
– that they were defined solely by their CVs and portfolios.

But it was all a facade, a load of nonsense. Not one of them had truly tasted happiness, not a
single day in their entire lives. They were mere cogs in the machinery of corporate life,
unable to recognize that life existed beyond the towering walls of that imposing edifice. They
were pawns, akin to emotionless automatons.

Their expressions were nonchalant yet they all looked at Barty as if he was a peasant. He
laughed to himself, knowing a month ago they all respected his surname. All it took to burst
their bubble was to be in an inconvenient relationship.

These individuals bestowed respect on others with no true comprehension of what they were
venerating, akin to docile goats following the lead of their shepherd. Life had never required
them to make a single decision of their own; they were dictated to, from their choice of major
to their professional path, by parents and teachers. Now, even in their corporate roles, the
decisions they believed they made were but illusory, as they were directed by the whims of
others.

They were goats of Barty Crouch Senior, Frederic Rosier and Orion Black.

Barty wondered what was going to happen to them once he took their shepherds away from
them. Surely, they were going to find another person to idealise, follow after. Barty wasn’t
going to let them. He was going to continue taking away from them until all they were left
was going to be themselves. Only then, they were going to realise they were hollow, aimless
vessels floating through life without a genuine purpose. He wasn’t going to stop until their
judgment returned back to them. He was going to make them go through the day of judgment
before they died.

Because these people were fond of judging. They were doing so as Barty took each breath in
and letting it out. They were sharing glances. Questioning Barty’s place in the company. They
were judging him for his decisions, his relationship and his words. Maybe even for his
clothes. Definitely the bouquet of white roses he was holding.

It was ingrained in them, a lesson learned from the day they first opened their eyes. The
capacity for discernment had not been endowed to them; they had been spoon-fed a moral
code. Barty was determined to facilitate their awakening. Stripped of a guiding shepherd,
they would be forced to confront their own actions and choices, and in that self-evaluation,
they would undoubtedly discover how much they loathed the person they had become. They
would realize the futility of their existence, a life dedicated to an elusive and irrational goal,
too late to enact meaningful change.

Hope not ever to see Heaven. I have come to lead you to the
other shore; into eternal darkness; into fire and into ice.

Dante’s words echoed through his mind as he smiled kindly at employees of the Empyrean.
He was going to engrave these words to their minds.

The lift doors slid open, and Barty stepped out into the bustling world of Empyrean. He
navigated the pristine, sterile corridors, his footsteps echoing in the hallowed halls of
corporate authority. Mary followed him a step behind. A notion she had been motioning
without even realising.

It didn’t take for him to acknowledge his arrival was expected. Possibly long overdue.

“You’re late, Mr. Crouch.” Frederic Rosier rose from his seat, a stern expression gazing over
Barty. arty. His commanding presence was a far cry from the theatrical displays of power that
Barty's own father was fond of, or Orion Black's misconceived belief that physical strength
equated to respect. Frederic exuded true authority, a natural power that stemmed from the
strength of his dynasty. His confidence was evident in every move he made, from the
perfectly tailored suit to the impeccably combed hair, and most notably, in the unspoken
assertion of power that emanated from his eyes.

Barty checked his Rolex. It had been exactly an hour and ten minutes since he’d spoken to
Evan on the phone.

“Only by ten minutes, sir.”

Frederic emitted a condescending chuckle. "Seems your demeanour now differs from what it
was at dinner. Men do reveal their true colours rather swiftly, wouldn't you agree?"

“I see it as every person having a proper time to live their own truth, sir.” Barty tried to be
kinder.

“Who are they for?” Frederic cleared his throat.

Barty reminded he was still holding the roses. He searched the room to see Evan. He was
there, a true heir. Reflection of his father. Raised perfectly to take over when the time was
right. Hints of the same look of confidence as Frederic, yet not as strong.

“These are for you, my rose.” Barty took a step near Evan, handing him the bouquet as he
leaned over slightly to greet him with a small kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.” Evan smiled, looking genuine. “You’re too kind.”

Barty found pleasure in seeing Evan doing better than he’d expect. He had been getting at
playing the game.

“Who is our company?” Barty asked, gazing over the unfamiliar girl standing behind
Frederic Rosier.

She exuded charm, her emerald green eyes harbouring an enigmatic depth. Confidence,
strength, passion, and a deep well of empathy resided within her. Her dress, a shade darker
than her eyes, clung to her curves with flawless grace. Her wavy ginger hair was in a sleek
pony tail, attributing a formality to her appearance.

“I’m Lily.” She said. “Lily Evans. One of the lawyers of the company. It’s a pleasure to
finally meet you.”
Her gazes held on to Mary for couple of seconds. Barty knew of the name. They’d talked
about bringing her to their plan as their lawyer. By the looks of it, Mary or Emmeline had
already talked to her.

“Barty Crouch.” He introduced himself as he shook her hand. “Junior.” He added as if it was
not perfectly clear.

“I wasn’t aware we needed a lawyer, sir.” He looked at Frederic.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Mr. Crouch. Evan, you too. Miss Macdonald, you may be
excused.” Frederic ordered. They obeyed in silence and took their seats side by side on
Frederic’s office couch as Mary left as she was told.

“Do tell, Mr. Crouch, what are your motivations.” Frederic's voice carried a subtle threat.

“I’m in love with your son, sir.” Barty admitted. “I mean no harm to you, nor your family.”

Frederic responded with a derisive laugh. “Love is a strong choice of word for a man your
age.”

“I’m sure you’ll agree with me when I say love doesn’t catch the ones who’re ready. It
merely happens when it needs to.” Barty smiled, charming.

“Love can be taken under control.” Frederic countered.

“You’ll surely realised, I have never been the type to be in control of myself, sir.”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve seen.” Frederic agreed, though he didn't seem pleased with Barty's
response. It was clear that they were engaged in a strategic game of words. “It’s just, I’ve
never seen homoerotic tendencies from my son. Forgive me if I’m having a hard time to
process his claims of returning your love.”

His words came out of his mouth in a very kind manner. Almost poetic. However, Barty
could see the flames burning, clocks ticking behind his eyes. They were playing a game with
each other.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, sir, but perhaps you should have paid more attention.”

“Your claim is meaningless, Mr. Crouch. I was very much involved in my children’s life.” He
almost sounded offended.

“Maybe too involved, sir. But in the wrong ways. You should’ve guessed your daughter of all
people would do anything than to marry me.”

Evan shot Barty a warning look, but he stood his ground.

“You’re quick-witted, I’ll give you that.” Frederic praised him “You would make a good
business-man.”

“Not as good as you, surely.”

“However, you’re not careful with your words. You just told me; this façade is to stop the
marriage between you and my daughter.”

Barty chuckled. “Quite the contrary, sir. I brought the conversation to the engagement
because I knew you’ve been meaning to ask. I’m not reckless. I just know my next move.
Yours too.”

“If you’re so smart, then answer me this, Mr. Crouch. Why have we started to see your
relation to my son only after the engagement was on the issue?”

“There’s no meaning in saying our society is the most accepting one, sir. We have been
keeping it a secret for quite some time now.”

“You said you weren’t the type to be controlled yourself, how did you manage to control your
impulses? Love is everything but it’s not to be hide easily.”

Frederic Rosier had brought Lily Evans in as a lawyer but Barty realised this man was great
at catching clues, finding loopholes and attacking accordingly. He could’ve been his own
attorney when needed.

“I didn’t want to hurt your son, sir. I know family comes above all for him. If there’s anything
stronger than my impulses, it’s my love for Evan.” He gave a look to Evan, who was
carefully observing the ongoing conversation.

“Les Rosiers se soutiennent mutuellement.” He repeated the sentence Barty was familiar
with.

“So I’ve heard. I have no doubt.”

“You avoided an actual answer, Mr. Crouch. Why did you decide to tell everyone about your
love once the engagement was decided?”

Frederic Rosier lost no time to repeat and seek for the answer.

“As I said, I have no intention of hurting your son, sir. I wouldn’t let him live a life, seeing
his sister and me both in pain, married to each other. If I accepted the engagement all three of
us would be living a lie. I decided no societal pressure was enough to put us through it.”

“What was your plan before? Surely you must’ve talked about it. What were you going to do
if we never tried to engage you?”

This was now turning to an open interrogation.

“Do what we always had been doing. Two bachelors, in love discreetly. Maybe one day run
off to a different country. I know Evan misses France. Maybe we’d go there together. He’d
take over companies you have there. I would accompany him. It’s not a tale unheard of.”

Barty tried his best to leave hints about his love for Evan. Talk about
“Your personal life had always been on public’s eye, Mr. Crouch. It’s full of movement.
People too.”

“It was an act, sir. To hide our relationship. I have been nothing but faithful to your son.”

“Your answers are studied-well.” Frederic pointed out, almost making an accusation. They
were all aware of it. Barty raised one eyebrow.

“I’m not sure I understand where you’re trying to get at.” He said, lying completely. He knew
exactly what Frederic was trying to do. He reached Evan’s lap and grabbed his hand.

“I cannot think of my future without your son in it, sir. Family comes first, I agree. But he’s
my family and I’m not going to let anything change that.”

Frederic moved on his seat, his gaze focused on their interlocked hands. Barty didn’t dare to
look at Evan, scared his expression gave away their purpose.

“I’m never going to believe that this is real.” Frederic was honest. “Nor will I support it.”

Barty felt Evans shake beneath his.

“However, I’m not your father. Definitely I’m not Mr. Black.” Frederic’s words came slowly
out of his mouth. “Les Rosiers se soutiennent mutuellement. Whatever you do, you will not be
able to ruin our family.”

“I have no intention of doing so, sir.” Barty smiled kindly.

“Forgive me if I’m having a hard time believing that after all this, Mr. Crouch.” He was not
apologetic whatsoever.

“Barty didn’t ruin anything, father.” Evan broke his own silence for the first time. “He made
it better. I was given everything ever since the day I was born. I had everything yet lacked the
meaning of it all. He taught me-“

His words were mercilessly interrupted by Frederic.

“Your opinion was not asked, son.”

When Barty looked at Evan, he didn’t see the 24 years old boy. Instead, he saw Evan
shrinking on his seat, like a child upset by the words of his father. He could guess this was his
routine. A normal phenomenon that happened daily.

Being born in a dynasty meant having it all. But to be given, you had to be taken away. Not
monetarily but soulfully.

“He taught me to speak for myself.” Evan added, despite his father’s words. His voice was
almost cracking, he avoided eye contact, and his hands trembled between Barty's. But it was
a step, a step in the game where Barty's plan was to corrupt him, to corrupt the golden child
of the perfect dynasty. Barty couldn't help but feel a sense of pride.
Of all the lies that had come out of their mouths during the day, the single sentence of Evan
was the mere truth.

“Speaking is a meaningless act when you don’t have any idea about what you’re speaking
about.” His father belittled Evan.

Before any of them could say anything else, Frederic pushed a paper in front of Barty
through his office desk.

“I made Miss Evans prepare these documents.” He cleared his throat. Barty tried to read what
was written but failed to do so.

“What does it say?” he asked, unashamed.

“An agreement. I’m not the type to leave my business to mere luck.”

Barty gazed at Lily Evans, uncertain about how much they could trust her as an attorney. He
hoped they had her loyalty, but like Frederic Rosier, he wasn't one to leave things to chance, a
word coined by those trying to mask their insecurities.

"You won't be harmed by it unless you fail to comply, Mr. Crouch," Lily spoke, as if she had
detected Barty's hesitation.

“You’re making a mistake, father.” Evan used big words to Barty’s surprise. “Barty is the
love of my life. We wouldn’t be doing all this if he were a woman.”

"As always, you're mistaken, my son. I'm not doing this because he's a man. It's because he's
a Crouch."

"You're judging him based on his family. He's the love of my life, father. I won't let you turn
him into one of your employees," Evan stood up to his father. Barty wondered how many
times he had done such a thing before. Based on Frederic's expression, not often.

“What are the terms?” Barty asked. Instead of Frederic, Lily explained.

"The first half is a non-disclosure agreement. You cannot reveal any information regarding
the companies owned by the Rosier family or any conversations that occur within the Rosier
mansion."

Barty saw this as a manageable risk. He didn't have to share any information as long as
Regulus and Evan took care of it on his behalf.

"The second half contains passages of a standard prenuptial agreement. If you get married,
you cannot make claims on any of the Rosier assets. Houses, money, companies, factories,
and all assets will remain under Evan's control. In case of a divorce, he's allowed to file a
lawsuit, but you aren't."

"This is nonsense," Evan spat out.

"Continue," Barty remained calm. Nothing so far had threatened their plan. His focus was on
his father's assets; the Rosiers' assets didn't matter.

"You cannot do anything that would harm the reputation of the Rosier family," Lily said,
studying Barty carefully. Barty realized she had taken Mary and Emmeline's offer. She was
not only cautious in her gaze but also warning Barty to be cautious.

"That's an awfully broad expression," Barty remarked, looking at Frederic.

“Mr. Rosier is allowed to define it however he wants. He can see your public speeches, acts
and moves as a threat.” Lily continued.

"We're getting married to free our relationship from its constraints. I won't let it be controlled
by anyone again," Barty stated.

“If you’re serious on your claims and you have no intentions of harming the family, you have
nothing to be scared of.” Frederic clasped his hands and placed them on his desk.

“You don’t have to sign it, Barty.” Evan spoke. “We have nothing to hide or lose.”

That was the biggest lie that’d been told that way.

“Then I’m sorry but I have to follow the same path as Mr. Crouch Sr.” Frederic informed
them, posing a clear threat.

Barty looked at Lily Evans and scrutinized her expression. To sign, he needed to see in her
face that there was a loophole, that Frederic couldn't manipulate everything to his advantage.

“Not that I have any intention to do so, but what will happen if I sign and fail to follow the
agreement?” he asked.

“Then, Mr. Rosier will draw all his support and funding from your father’s election
campaign.” Lily began. It wasn’t a threat which was a concern for Barty.

“Also, he can file a lawsuit against you, and your father. Claim all your assets.”

“What do I get in return if I sign and comply?” Barty asked. “Other than earning a peaceful
life with Evan, of course. That’d be the biggest prize.”

"Your relationship will be publicly supported by the Rosier family. Any threats against you
both will be handled by the company's attorneys. The alliance between the Crouches and the
Rosiers will remain intact under any circumstances. Both families will stand together, as they
would have if Barty and Pandora had been engaged. Nothing will change."

Barty took a deep breath and weighed his options. He was never fond of agreements, words
limiting his actions was not his greatest pleasure. However there didn’t seem to be any other
option than to sign. He could see in Frederic’s eyes that the man would be unstoppable if not
played right. If Barty stormed out as his impulses told him to do, there would be no going
back from it. Frederic’s support was not necessary to win the game. However, his opposition
would be enough to lose it.

Barty took a deep breath and weighed his options. He was not fond of agreements; words that
limited his actions didn't sit well with him. However, it seemed that signing was the only
option. He could see in Frederic's eyes that the man would be unstoppable if not managed
carefully. If Barty stormed out, as his instincts told him to do, there would be no turning back.
Frederic's support wasn't necessary to win the game, but his opposition was enough to lose it.

Moreover, Barty didn't dislike the possibilities that could arise if the agreement were broken.
If calculated properly, Frederic's threats and lawsuits could be the very things to bring down
his father. Meanwhile, he would have to put on an act, as he always had. The only concern
was the potential loss of his inheritance. He knew that if he worked hard enough, he could
find a loophole. He could see in Lily's eyes that there was a loophole.

He wasn’t the best at reading people, understanding what they meant. However, through the
brief interaction they had, Barty could observe Lily Evans was great at telling people what
needs to be told but not heard.

Evan squeezed his hands once more.

“We’re out of here, father. You’re insane if I’ll allow this.”

Frederic didn’t even look at Evan for a second. His eyes were focused on Barty, observing
intimidating.

Even when his words -carrying belittlement- were directed at Evan, he continued to look at
Barty.

“What do you have to lose if you have nothing to hide, son?” he asked. Barty wasn’t sure if
he expected a real answer or not.

“You of all people know that neither winning nor losing mean anything if you’re the
croupier.”

Poker reference was not something Barty expected Evan to make. He couldn’t help but help
the side of his lip curl as he continued to look at Frederic.

Frederic's eyes bore into Barty's, and for a moment, a silent battle of wills raged between
them. Barty was well aware that he was stepping into a complex web of power, control, and
manipulation. Frederic Rosier, the master of his domain, was not to be underestimated.

They both knew Evan wasn’t going to be the one to have a say in this.

“I’ll do it.” Barty revealed. If he wasn’t looking at Frederic, he’d want to see Evan’s
expression. By the way he turned his head to him, he could guess the initial surprise.

“No, you’re not.” Evan insisted, strengthening his grip on Barty's hand as if trying to
physically halt any impulsive actions. His voice resonated with unwavering determination.
Barty shifted his body slightly to face Evan, cleared his throat, and hoped that Evan could
maintain his composure as Barty unfolded his plan. Gently, he raised his free hand and
established eye contact with Evan. His eyes conveyed a message: Trust me; I have a plan. He
hoped Frederic interpreted it as I'm prepared to sacrifice everything to be with you.

He placed his palm to Evan’s check while maintaining the eye contact. He could see the
worry and confusion behind them.

As he moved his thumb to rub Evan’s cheek he tried to look as natural as possible. As if this
wasn’t the first time and that they’d been doing things like this all the time.

He hoped Frederic hadn’t realised the way Evan’s breath turning shaky.

He was hoping for a lot that day. It wasn’t like him to leave things to uncertainty. However,
while playing a game with a man like Frederic Rosier, risks had to be taken to survive.

“Let me do this for you, mia rosa.” Barty spoke, not breaking the eye contact for a second.
He knew Evan was searching for a sign that meant the plan was safe. That Barty had planned
this thoroughly.

The fact was, Barty had not.

He was impulsive, maybe even intrusive. Yet he knew they could get out of this with success.
So, he gave Evan what he wanted. Eyes flaming with certainty, hints of trust and
determination.

Frederic cleared his throat, looking very annoyed.

“Endearing, aren’t you?” he asked, his words carrying a clear disgust. “However, I don’t feel
pleased when my time is wasted. So, Mr. Crouch?” He raised an eyebrow. “What is it going
to be.”

Barty slowly took his hand away from Evan’s cheek. His other hand was still interlocked to
Evan’s. He fixed his posture and raised his chin up.

“I’ll prove, I have nothing but the intentions of being a suited husband for your son, Mr.
Rosier.” Barty revealed as he pulled the papers in front of him. Frederic handed him out a
pen.

“Only time will tell.” Frederic Rosier’s voice was dangerous, carefully observing Barty’s
hand.

It never shook once as he signed his name under the document.

“Welcome to the family, Mr. Crouch.”

Barty gulped, looking back up at Frederic.

They left the office hand in hand shortly after, leaving Frederic and Lily behind.
“You’re mad.” Evan whispered as they walked through the hall.

“Just smile.” Barty ordered. “People are looking.”

In deed they were. Expressions very curious as they watched over. Mary and Frank
approached as they got closer to the lift.

“Macdonald,” Barty cleared his throat. “I’d love nothing more than to hear you’ve spoken to
Evans.”

“I did.” Her words were undeniable relief. “She’s on board.”

“Good.” Barty smiled; his eyes caught by an unfamiliar employee carefully observing them
from the corner of the room. Barty tilted his head and gave people what they wanted, a
greeting. Signification of the fact that he was going to be seen around more.

“Are you both all right?” Frank asked. “Mr. Black informed me you had a meeting with Mr.
Rosier.”

Evan still looked shaken by what had gone down. Barty, unlike him, looked very certain and
pleased.

“Tell Regulus that the war is won.” Barty smirked at Frank. He smiled in return.

“Very well, sir. I’m happy to hear.”

Barty looked at Mary. “Tell everyone. Emmeline, Regulus and even Potter. Riddle’s place.
Tomorrow evening.”

Mary didn’t object.

They took the crowded lift. Only couple minutes later, Barty and Evan were alone together in
Barty’s car.

“You’re mad.” Evan was the one speaking first, repeating his earlier sentence. Barty started
the engine.

“I’m going to continue to be so until they’re all as insane as me, Evan.” He said, not keeping
his focus out of the road as he started to drove to Evan’s flat.

“My father is no joke, Barty. He can take anything and everything he wants.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t have much to lose then.” He said, nonchalant. “Fear not. That
agreement made us win before we started.”

“Do you think he bought it?” Evan asked. “That we’re in love.”

“He didn’t.” Barty was quick. “But he’s sceptical. It’s better than for him to believe.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was counting on me not signing the document. Now he’s counting on me to violate it but
he saw once that I can dare. Love or not, he’s concerned. His concern will eventually
consume him.”

He heard Evan taking a deep breath. They were getting closer to Evan’s place.

“What will we do tomorrow at Riddle’s Place?” he asked.

“You’re asking to many questions today.” Barty rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me for wanting to know the details of the plan that’ll ruin my life.” Evan grimaced,
annoyed by Barty’s refusal to answer.

“You seemed quite content in there.” Barty smirked, changing the topic. “It didn’t seem like
anything was ruined.”

Evan fixed his posture. “Maybe I’m getting better at acting.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Good night, Evan.” Barty said, pulling over before the flat. “Pleasure doing business with
you.”

Evan opened the door and looked at Barty before getting out.

“Be careful, Crouch. You don’t want to burn in the fire you started.”

Barty only grinned in response.

Evan was utterly wrong. Barty wasn’t scared of burning. He was the fire itself, not its starter.

Once Evan was out of his sight, Barty drove. After a long while, his destination was not a
hotel or an inn.

He drove to his house. He was ready to face his father.

Barty Crouch Senior, a man of big words and bigger ego, was notorious for his ability to
wield language like a weapon, corrupting words, and manipulating people with ease. He
found pleasure in making his son feel small, his words serving as a constant reminder of his
perceived superiority.

However, if there was one thing both Crouches had in common, it was their impulse for rage
came above all.

That’s why when Barty showed up, greeting his father with nothing but that disarming smile,
despite the unease that churned within him, his father’s weapon was not his words.

A searing pain exploded across his left eye and cheekbone. His father's knuckles had made
contact, and the world briefly blurred. Barty's smile wavered, but he refused to let it fade. He
would not give his father the satisfaction of seeing him broken.
 The pain persisted as Barty Crouch Sr. grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him
into the house with an unrelenting grip. Barty's feet scraped against the floor, and the taste of
copper filled his mouth as he spat out a mouthful of blood.

With great effort, Barty managed to speak through the pain. "It's good to see you too, father,"
he said, the words laced with a blend of sarcasm and defiance. He wiped the blood from his
mouth with the back of his hand.

His father's face contorted with fury. "You don't get to call me father," he roared, his grip on
Barty's shirt tightening as he shoved his son against the wall.

Barty was barely standing, but his spirit remained unbroken. For the first time the taste of the
blood he was used to having in his mouth felt good. The taste of triumph, he taught to
himself. He had finally found the way to break free from the chains that had bound him for
too long. He was going to let his father have one last moment of satisfaction.

So, he didn’t fight back. He remained smiling as long as the muscles of his face allowed him.

The loud roars of his father reverberated through the house, a cacophonous storm of anger
and frustration. Barty remained silent, a defiant smile etched on his battered face. He had
decided that this would be the last time his father would think of him as weak, as a pawn to
tease, humiliate, and beat when boredom struck.

With every insult, every curse, Barty's resolve only grew stronger. He embraced the pain and
the taste of blood in his mouth as a symbol of triumph, the first step towards his liberation.
As his father's anger raged on, a deep sense of peace settled within him, masking the physical
pain he endured.

This was the day Barty took ownership of the Crouch surname. He would no longer be the
shadow in his own family, the perpetual victim. His father was going to become irrelevant, a
fading memory in the annals of their family history. From now on, when people spoke of the
Crouch family, only one name would come to mind—Barty's.

In that dark and tumultuous moment, a silent revolution occurred within Barty. He knew that
his battle had just begun, that the path to freedom would be fraught with challenges and
obstacles. But he also understood that he had found the strength to face them head-on.

As his father's tirade continued, Barty remained resolute, his spirit unbroken, and his smile
unwavering. The taste of triumph, no matter how bitter, was now his sustenance, and he was
ready to claim his place in the world, leaving the shackles of the past behind.

Chapter End Notes

WHAT A FUCKING CHAPTER.

not a lot happens to be honest but it has been one of my favourites so far.
I'm sorry latelty the chapters were more focused on the world-building, ı hope it doesn't
get boring for you. These are necessary for the future, trust me.
I want to talk about the chapter a little bit for those of you who want to learn my
perspective.
Chapter name eat your young, to begin with actually tells a lot about the chapter. I
wanted to show and remind you why they're doing this. If their purpose is unclear, than
nothing makes sense. I want to capture the toxicity of the enviroment. Muggle world,
wizarding world, even real world. Rich families, 'dynasties' will always use parental
abuse. Physically, mentally and all else. I wanted to show two different sides of it.
Approaches of Rosier's and Crouch's are very different yet equally bad. I think
understanding their families is important to give proper charachterization to Evan, Barty,
Pandora and Regulus.
Before moving on with the chapter I want to remind you if you feel any type of
problems -especially regarding family- and want someone to talk to, my tumblr
(@asterialunarr) dms are always open. Sometimes sharing things with a stranger is
easier than to share with those who know us. Feel free to reach out. I want you to feel
safe.
Moving on. I know the Rosekiller ship is feeding off of crumbs at this point but
WEREN'T THEY SO SWEET THIS CHAPTER?
Though pretending, the hand-on-the-cheek scene killed me internally.
ALSO mia rosa :'''''''''''''''''''
Casual drops of inferno quotes make me feel so giggly. Idk why. :'
I promise to write more light-hearted chapters to follow this one. Also, more and more
rosekiller scenes.
AND AND AND LASTLY
with Lily Evans on the plot can you spot who's missing :)))
Shouldn't be too hard.
I promise, I didnt forget anyone. I just need time and more of the plot to introduce our
last character. Their arrival will change everything, it's safe to say.
I talked too much. I should go and study for my linear algebra exam.
Till next time,
Asteria.
 the blood is rare
Chapter Summary

Homophobia and family abuse thorugh the end

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

In Ancient Greece, actors utilized masks to conceal their true identities when preparing for a
performance. These masks allowed them to assume various characters within a single play,
enhancing the authenticity of their acts.

Barty held a deep disdain for the Ancient Greeks, be it their theatrical works or literary
contributions. His aversion extended to their manner of thinking, particularly what they
considered diplomacy.

Nevertheless, as he donned a burgundy mask, it was as if he, too, became a participant in a

play. Concealing his physical wounds behind the mask, he joined in hearty laughter with
others at Riddle's club. Seated beside Evan, their proximity did not escape the watchful eyes
of onlookers. Evan's hand rested gently on Barty's leg, and Barty's arm encircled him as they
shared mirth over Emmeline's jest.

Yet, it was all a facade.

It was all a façade.

They were in a Greek comedy.

Emmeline, Mary, Regulus, Pandora, Frank. They were all there. James Potter and Dorcas too.
Peter was standing beside them ready to take orders. Even Lily Evans had joined them.

Marlene was in front of them, dancing around the pole.

They were in a one big Greek comedy.

“She is rather good.” Pandora commented, her eyes gazing at Marlene as she moved her body
gracefully. White clothing did do her good.

“All of my workers are.” Dorcas looked at the same direction as Pandora. “Do you have such
talents, Miss Rosier?” her gazes moved away from the pole to look at Pandora.

“Not that I’m aware of.” Pandora’s lip curled witfully. “People tend to say my talents are in
other specialties.”
Barty realised Evan getting uncomfortable. His hands had twitched between Barty’s fingers.

“So, Miss Meadows...” Barty cut in between Pandora and Dorcas’s conversation. He could
feel the change of glances between Evan and Regulus even though he couldn’t tell the reason
why. “Seeing as the attention the place is getting, I presume we will be seeing you around for
a while more.” He tried to ignore how much the mask hurt the bruised muscle behind it every
time he opened his mouth.

“Seeing as the attention you two are getting, I might presume the same thing.” Dorcas
smirked, knowingly. Yet, as always, her gazes carried a threat which Barty couldn’t fully
explain.

“It will die, you know?” James Potter cut in. Everyone stopped and looked at him as if he
was unwanted there and the way he talked irritated them all except for Dorcas and Peter.

“No one asked you, Mr. Potter.” Frank was the first to speak to Barty’s surprise. He hadn’t
taken Frank for a defensive one. Turns out, he was wrong.

“Do explain.” Evan breathed out, sounding bored. He acted as if he wanted to get it over with
and keep James shut for rest of the evening.

“The attention will die.” Potter started. “Eventually.” He added.

“Don’t took our time stalling.” Regulus was out of patience. “Just explain whatever you
mean.”

James Potter moved around and sat straight in the couch. Although the piercing eyes and the
humiliation he was getting, he continued to grin loosely and look confident as in what he
wanted to say.

“Look, now that Mr. Rosier has agreed to support you and your affair, it’ll no longer be
relevant to the public audience.” He now had started to make sense. “The only thing it made
your affair interesting was that you were the only descendants going up against their
families.” He stopped for a moment, giving a slight stare at Regulus only to look back at
Barty and Evan immediately. “Well, only descendants in a while at least.”

“I understand.” Lily Evans broke the silence of herself for the first time that night. “He is
right, actually. Now that Mr. Rosier has your back, no one will dare to say anything bad about
it. The impact will be lost.” In every way she talked she dripped with confidence. Not the
threatening confidence of Regulus, cocky confidence of James Potter, irritating like Dorcas or
know-it-all like Pandora. She had her own attitude that Barty had seen like no other. She
seemed like the person who you would trust your life with but she also seemed as if she could
end your life in a second without even lifting a finger. The yellow mask she wore
complimented her red hair which she’d put up in a ponytail perfectly. Her emerald green eyes
shone under with a knowledged confidence. If there were no lawyers left in the world, she
looked like she would still be one.

“Mr. Crouch is still very much against though.” Evan commented. Barty put his head to
Evan’s shoulder and sat comfortably.
“Well, my father is against everything all the time. People are used to it. I hate to admit but
Potter here might be saying smart for the first time.”

“But whatever else can you do?” Emmeline asked. “It’s not as if you will get married just to
stay in the news.”

“They’ll do that if it comes to it.” Regulus pointed out, sounding certain.

“Thanks mate.” Barty grinned. “Good to see a fellow friend being this supportive.” He was
sarcastic, of course.

“I mean it.” Regulus was quick to reply. “You can’t run away from this now that we’re all
involved in it.”

“No one is marrying anyone.” Pandora sound annoyed. “I mean it Reg, they’re not going to
get married. We will find a way.” It was touching how excited she was to be his sister-in-law,
Barty thought.

“You agreed to the interview.” Mary reminded them. “It’ll cause a blast. Not for a long time
though.”

“Well, there’s always an event Dora his hosting that you can go together.” Regulus offered.

“I’m not letting you destroy another event of mine.” Pandora was certain. Luckily, Evans’s
words helped her fears.

“Besides you need to be creative with this. Doing the same thing over and over again would
not have the same impact.”

Barty looked around the room. All this people that was this different from each other had
found a way to unite under a shared goal. It was quite odd, really that how ruined by their
families to do this. Because he had hated the Rosier twins ever since he knew they existed.
Regulus had talked James of his enemy for all those years since Sirius had run away and
there was a clear dispute between him and Dorcas as well. Pettigrew’s were banished from
society because of Rosiers, Blacks and Crouchs. Lily, Emmeline, Mary and Frank were all
merely workers who had been working under these families. And even though they had no
family feuds, no reason to have revenges from them, they were ready to put their entire
careers at risk because they knew how awful these families were.

Barty was the only one with his bruises visible yet all these people were damaged by the
terrible system of their society.

“You’re terribly quiet, Meadows.” Regulus cleared his throat. “Do you find it more
entertaining to listen us rather than coming up with a solution which I know you’re capable
of doing.”

Dorcas moved her eyes away from the pole to look at Regulus with a death-stare.

“I only place my stake in the horse I trust, Regulus. You of all people know that.”
Their silent battle continued by stares only for a moment before Evan talked.

“Move in with me.” He said, slowly turning at Barty while still holding hand to hand. Barty
could feel them sweating, maybe due to heat, maybe due to nerve.

“What?”

“Quoi?”

Barty and Pandora asked at the same time.

“It’ll give people something to talk about. It is also what’s expected of a couple who have
been claiming to be secretly together for a long time.” Evan’s voice sounded casual despite
the topic of his sentence.

Barty wondered if Evan had somehow learned about the suitcases he had hid in the back of
his car. He also believed he must have been imagining Evan’s split-second of stare to the
bruise around his neck.

“C’est une idée stupide.” Pandora spoke in French even though Barty was completely
capable of understanding the sentence.

“Fais-moi confiance là-dessus, sœur. Je sais ce que je fais.” Evan replied to Pandora.

“Ne crois pas que je ne sais pas ce que tu fais, Rosier.” Regulus engaged in their
conversation, again in French. He was carefully studying the expression of Evan even though
his eyes gazed over Barty for a short second.

“Ne le fais pas, Regulus. Je suis sérieux. Laisse-moi faire ça.” Evan sounded certain as he
looked confidently at Regulus. Barty was annoyed at not understanding any of the words.

“Have you people forgot this is England we’re living in. Not some F rance.” He mocked as
he emphasised on the word France.

“It’s irritating, really.” James Potter commented. Barty rolled his eyes at him.

“No one asked you, Potter. You don’t even understand when we talk in English. The problem
with you isn’t that you aren’t bilingual. It’s that you’re stupid.”

James laughed at Barty’s humiliation which made Barty only angrier and more annoyed.

“Although I don’t condone any living arrangement that would make Mr. Evan uncomfortable,
I do however believe this could be the action we need.” Emmeline spoke. It was touching,
really that how loyal she was to Evan.

“So, what do you say?” Evan looked at Barty.

“You snore.” Barty pouted. He didn’t feel comfortable that Evan had made such an offer. It
felt too much. He didn’t need anyone to pity him and take him under sheltering. But he knew
he could be overthinking it up. Evan probably didn’t offer because he knew Barty didn’t have
a place to live and had been living in hotels for the last couple days. He merely thought and
offered because it was a good plan.

“How do you know that?” Pandora raised an eyebrow. Questioning.

Barty shrugged and smirked.

“Oh, did you not know, lovely sister. Evan here and I have been sharing a bed and making
love for weeks. Did you know he has a back tattoo?” he mocked.

“That is a lie.” Evan immediately cut in but Barty could see everyone was entertained by his
little joke. Even Regulus had curled his lips slightly although he was too much of a bore to
actually laugh.

“Believe whatever you want to believe.” Evan rolled his eyes and looked at Barty. “And you,
stay wherever you want to stay. I don’t give a shite. I just thought it was smart.”

Barty took a deep breath. He weighed his options as he looked at Regulus, trying to
understand his stance on the situation.

“Do it.” Regulus spoke as if he had telepathically understood concerns of Barty. “Sometimes
a different living arrangement can bring all the attention you need.” His eyes pierced through
James for a moment. Barty understood what that meant. Everyone did. They all chose to
ignore, even James Potter.

“I need a silk robe, coffee every morning and a room with a view.” Barty finally gave in in
his own way.

“What else your highness?” Evan rolled his eyes though Barty could see he wasn’t actually
irritated. “Do you wish for anything else?”

“A personal cleaner would not hurt.” Barty smirked.

“You’ll sleep in the damn couch.” Evan spoke certain.

“What?” Barty burst out. “You have plenty of guest rooms.”

“Oui. I do. That’s for my guests. You are not guest. You let’s say are an irritating contribution
to the household merely for my own benefit.”

Barty was enjoying the conversation. He was glad Evan was making a joke out of this and
not make Barty feel like a pitied shelter dog.

“Your benefit?” He grinned widely. “So, you’ll use me to stare and wank off when I’m naked
in the shower.”

“You are disgusting.” Evan blurted. “I changed my mind. You’re no longer wished in my
house.”

“Pity.” Barty continued to grin. “I had a lot to offer.”

“Stop bickering.” Dorcas cut in the conversation. “You’re hurting my head.”

“Tell me about it.” Pandora rolled her eyes. “And to think I was going to marry into this…”

“You know I’d never let that happen.” Regulus spoke out to Barty’s surprise. Even Regulus
himself looked as if he hadn’t plan to say that, which was an odd occurrence. If Barty hadn’t
seen Regulus curling up under man due to joy and appreciating women only in the way of
appreciating pretty plant, he would think he was in love with her. He was never going to
understand the odd bond between the two.

“Mr. Crouch, I could get your stuff from your house if you wish.” Frank offered. Barty
appreciated how much of a workaholic Frank was.

“That would not be necessary Frank. And for the last time, call me Barty.”

Frank smiled and did not respond; Barty knew he was going to continue calling him by his
last name.

“About the interview…” Lily changed the topic. “I want to be there.”

“Miss Evans. I know we’ve asked you to be of legal advice. But you are still a part of the
Empyrean. How much can we trust you?” Mary asked.

“You are also a part of the same company Miss Macdonald. How much can we trust you?”

“We all trust her.” Emmeline was defensive of her girlfriend. “She has been nothing but loyal
to Miss Pandora, not to Empyrean.”

Lily smiled gracefully. “Being loyal to the Empyrean and Miss Pandora meant the same thing
until recently, has it not? So, no one knows how loyal anyone is as of current. We’ve all
witnessed the cards can always be redistributed.”

“What’s your reason to ask for your presence Miss Evans?” Regulus asked. “Surely if you
don’t have anything to hide, you wouldn’t mind sharing?”

“I’m a lawyer, Mr. Black. My clients are my priority and I don’t like losing a case. You’re
paying me more than the Empyrean. That makes you, my client. How good of a lawyer
would I be if I let my clients spoke to an interview without guidance?” Barty could see she
chose every word carefully.

“It would be great to have a lawyer present.” James supported Lily. “Speaking from a
business perspective.”

“Fine.” Regulus gave in. “When are we doing it?”

“You’re not coming.” Evan opposed. “It would be better if you didn’t.”

“I don’t trust any of these two with any kind of business matter.” He meant Lily and James.
“Neither do I trust both of you to not fucking it up by saying something stupid. I’ll be there.”
Regulus was certain.
“Regulus be smart. If you come your father would be informed. You do not want to be seen
talking to him.” His eyes pierced through James. “Just let me handle this.”

Barty could see the tension radiating between Regulus and Evan. He knew Regulus would
win the contest, the battle and the war. If it weren’t for Pandora supporting Evan on the
matter.

“Reg, Evan is right. We’re a fighting a battle but if you lose yours, we can’t win ours.”

For the first time since they sat down, Barty observed James Potter to be nervous. Usually,
the lad seemed as if he didn’t mind being talked about as if he wasn’t present in the room. He
didn’t mind the references made about Sirius or he didn’t do anything but smile when he was
being humiliated. However, in that certain moment, Barty could see he was at ease; nervously
wondering where the conversation was going.

Regulus looked annoyed on the other hand. Barty wasn’t the perfect at analysing emotions
and empathy was not his strongest suit yet he could very clearly see Regulus was annoyed
that the Rosier twins were right. Barty could tell why. Regulus was dominant. He liked to be
in charge and in control. However, his family learning he had been around James Potter
would be the end of him. It could even go down to his disownment. Everyone would think
his affair with Potter would mean his alliance with Sirius. It wasn’t something Regulus would
and should risk.

“Dora, you go.” Regulus ordered. “You’re smarter than these two.”

“Of course I am.” She smiled proudly. “But do I have to go?”

“Do you want me to go?” Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“Fine.” She gave up. “I’ll do it. Je te déteste."

“Je t'aime aussi.”

“Ladies.” Dorcas spoke. “Gentlemen.” She added. “This had been an unpleasant evening and
nothing but a waste of time. I do hope you find and come up with actual relevant plans.
Otherwise, this little arrangement will be no concern of mine and you can merely enjoy my
place as my guests.” She rose from her seat and started to walk away without waiting for any
response.

While on her way, she called out to Marlene. “Miss McKinnon, can I see you in my office?”

Barty watched as the two walked away.

“What’s her problem?” Emmeline asked. Barty saw Mary warning her by an elbow touch.

“She had always been such a delight.” Regulus rolled her eyes and looked at Peter. “Do not
hesitate to tell her we talk behind her back.”

“I would do no such thing sir.” Peter was quick to reply. “This is the club of secrets.”
“Yet you’re the spy of the boss.” Barty backed Regulus up.

“I’m not sure my job qualifications include being a spy, Mr. Crouch. Can I serve you another
drink?”

“I’ll pass.” Barty handed Peter the empty glass. “For now.” He added.

“Very well, sir.” Peter walked away with the tray of empty glasses.

“If you decide to leave like your friends, we wouldn’t be upset.” Pandora looked at James.

“Do you ask me to leave?” James pouted. “I thought you were one of the kind ones.”

“I’m disappointed if I gave you such an impression.” Pandora looked fake-upset. “I’m never
nice to outsiders.”

“She’s also an outsider.” James pointed at Lily. “You don’t tell her to go.”

“She’s still a part of the company I partially own. That makes her more of an acquaintance
than you are.”

Barty realised, this was one of the moments James Potter wasn’t being fake or pulling an act.
He didn’t know why but he could tell James was actually irritated by Pandora. It seemed odd,
considering the boy was joking around with everyone all the time. Yet, he could see the look
of disturbance while Potter looked at Pandora. Regulus and Evan were both carefully
examining their conversation.

“Maybe I would not be as stranger to you as I am now if you had played the game carefully,
Miss Pandora.” James smiled and grinned as always. With only the difference of the hidden
look behind his eyes. Barty had no idea what it meant.

“It isn’t called a game if both parties play it for entertainment. It can be a race, a battle or a
contest. I’m glad to be on the winning side.” Pandora smiled, matching James’s energy.

“Is it truly called winning if your collateral damages are not so collateral at all?” James
asked, not smiling as much as he used to.

“You’re right. It would not be winning if that was the case. But it wasn’t. All the damage was
quite collateral.” Pandora continued to smile despite James.

“I reckon I will be taking off.” James cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, Miss Evans, I’ll be
waiting to hear from you for the interview.” He completely disregarded the fact that Pandora
was going to attend as well. Before walking off he looked at Pandora one last time. “It
shouldn’t have been you.”

“What was that about?” Barty asked. He had never been good at asking the right thing at the
right places. Everyone ignored his question. Without saying anything, Pandora stormed out.
Barty felt Evan getting ready to follow her.

“Evan, don’t.” Regulus stood up. “I’ll talk to her.”

And he walked off without waiting for too long.

Barty was utterly confused by the events that went down in just a few minutes. He hated to
be the one not knowing anything at all just because of his curious nature, not because he
actually cared.

“I’ll go start the engine for Mr. Regulus. It has been a lovely evening.” Frank was the next
one to leave.

“If it’s not a problem we’ll take off too.” Emmeline. “There’s an early meeting at the
Empyrean tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Evan didn’t hesitate. No matter how close they were, Barty could see there was
a hierarchy between Mary, Emmeline, Pandora and Evan. They didn’t even leave the place
without asking first.

As Mary and Emmeline left the Riddle’s Place hand in hand, the only ones left were Barty,
Evan, Lily and Peter.

“I know you don’t trust me.” Lily commenced the conversation. “But I’m a paid worker. I
work for you.”

“Why?” Evan asked with the attitude of a serious businessman. “This is a serious matter.
Why risk it?”

“Being a lawyer is a risky occupation, Mr. Rosier.” She answered. “I do have a tendency to
like risky cases if I believe their matter.”

“Do you?” Barty asked. “Believe in our matter, I believe.”

“I believe there are certain things in our society that needs to be changed.” She sounded
certain, and kind to Barty’s surprise.

“You do know neither of these people you met will let you live a safe life if you betray this
case, do you not?” Evan made a clear threat.

“I’m well aware of the circumstances, not to worry, Mr. Rosier.” She was careful with her
words.

“Good. Now do tell, what exactly is the contract Barty signed.”

“It’s nothing to worry.” She was confident. “I prepared it myself. Mr. Rosier believes it to
secure his family name and assets. As explained to me by Emmeline and Mary, there is
nothing of concern for your future plans.”

“Let’s hope so.” Barty was the one to talk. “Otherwise, we would have serious problems.
Don’t think our problems would not be yours as well.”

Lily’s stares moved around Barty and Evan for a while. They were still holding hands and sat
closely to each other, considering the crowd in the Riddle’s place and the appearance they
made there. Barty felt disturbed by Lily’s stares. There was something about her that made
you think she could read into your soul. Barty wasn’t sure he had one but he still wanted to
hide it from her.

“I’ll prove you to be a good lawyer. Let’s hope to say it’s a pleasure to do business with you
tomorrow.”

“Good night, Miss Evans. See you tomorrow.” Evan let her go.

Barty and Evan finished off their drinks, mostly in silence. Barty wanted desperately to ask
about Pandora and James but he refrained. It wasn’t a discussion he wanted to have while
Peter was still around. Of course, Riddle’s Place was the place for secrets yet Barty had
understood those secrets always included Dorcas. Considering Regulus was somehow
included in all, he didn’t want Dorcas to be involved. So, he waited. He waited until they
drove to Evan’s place. They had taken Barty’s car because Evan had arrived with Regulus.
Barty had insisted it was safe for him to drive but Evan hadn’t listened to him and had called
in for a company driver.

As Evan’s keys made the click sound of opening the door, Barty felt the weight of the
luggage he was holding. Evan hadn’t made a comment about it. There were many things
unsolved and unspoken. Barty was glad. He had no desire to talk. At all. Not about himself or
the situation they were forced to be in.

“Do you want coffee?” Evan asked, stepping into the room.

“Do you have anything stronger?” Barty asked.

“I do but enough is enough, Crouch. Just try and be sober for a change.” Evan raised an
eyebrow.

“Hey, I didn’t agree to a sleepover for you to act like my mum.” Barty quipped, adding a
dramatic eyeroll. It wasn’t that he actually had a mother. Yet, his sentence made the point
clear.

“You do know that not every suggestion people make is to control you, right?” Evan asked,
looking slightly annoyed.

“Why else then?” Barty asked, bothered. He didn’t like when people asked too many
questions or tried to tell him what to do. He hated it, in fact.

“Never mind. Drink whatever you want.” Evan conceded, rolling his eyes and moving past
Barty to pour coffee for himself.

But when people set him free, it wasn’t as fun to do the thing. Having lost his appetite for a
drink, he sat on the sofa, slumping dramatically.

“What’s wrong between Pandora and James?” he asked to change the topic, not waiting for
the right moment to come.
“He’s just an asshole.” Evan avoided an actual answer as he poured coffee for both of them
after realising Barty had made no move to get a drink.

“I’m aware. But it was different between them and you know it.” Barty pushed further on the
matter, leaning forward with exaggerated interest.

“It’s not about you, Barty. Just leave it.” Evan handed him the mug and sat down on the
couch with a certain look on his face.

“It’s about Regulus, isn’t it?” Barty prodded, waggling his eyebrows in a comically
suggestive manner. He had no intention to leave it. Curiosity was sometimes an awfully
disturbing quality to have.

“You’re not going to stop bugging me without an answer, won’t you?” Evan asked
rhetorically, his voice laced with resignation. By the look of boredom on his face, Barty knew
he was so close to an answer so he merely grinned. Evan finally gave in.

“I think James Potter knows more than we think he might.” He finally said, leaning back in
his seat.

“Whatever does that supposed to mean?” Barty asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I never assumed Sirius told what went down with him and his family to others. Regulus
avoided to talk about it any chance he got. I think Sirius told James with every detail. That’s
why he acted out against Pandora more than he did to us.”

“I don’t understand anything at all. Why would he hate Pandora more than he hates Regulus.
The annoying lad jokes with Regulus any chance he gets. Surely Pandora didn’t betray Sirius
more than he did.”

Evan looked as if he considered such a possibility. Barty knew the basics of the whole Black
drama. He knew Sirius had run away, left Regulus behind because, well, because he was gay.
He remembered how distant Regulus was back at the time. He would get mad every time
someone mentioned the name of his brother. He would spend more time with the Rosiers
more than he did with Barty so there was a good chance Evan knew more than himself.

“How much do you know about Sirius’s disowning?” Evan asked.

“Just tell me as if I know nothing and make everything easier.” Barty ordered. To his surprise,
Evan didn’t insist on not telling.

“Pandora knew Sirius was queer before any of us did.” Evan finally began to tell the whole
story. The story everyone told in Godric’s Hollow without knowing anything at all. “They
were very close at the time. You know, with everyone in their family being problematic and
his favourite cousin recently engaged, Sirius spent a lot of time with Pandora when we were
around 13. I don’t know much about his experience on his sexuality but I think he felt more
comfortable around her than he did with me.”

“It’s a normal behaviour.” Barty cut in.

“What?”

“It’s normal for a queer lad to avoid other lads. It’s the fear of making the other person
uncomfortable.” He found himself explaining.

“I don’t understand.” Evan admitted, looking perplexed.

“And you should be happy for that.” Barty’s lips curled with a touch of misery. “Do go on.”

“Like I said. They were very close and she knew before we did. I think he told Regulus
himself when he was around 16. I don’t know what was his motivation. They had stopped
being close for a couple years back then. Sirius was always problematic. He even grew apart
from Pandora. Probably to cut all the ties from all of us.”

“That’s fair.” Barty smirked. His attempt at a poor joke was not found funny by Evan.

“It was few days after he told Regulus that his family learned about his orientation.”

Barty realised he had a good shot at understanding where the story was leading to. Yet, he
had a hard time acknowledging it. He wasn’t the one to put his trust in people but he would
bet on his life that Regulus would not rat Sirius out on something like this. Barty and Regulus
had never even had to come out to each other. One day they had merely started to talk to each
other about their sexual experiences in high school and that was that. Barty remembered to
guide the door of boy’s loo for Regulus to blow some guy. Regulus hadn’t even cared or put
any thought into it when Barty talked about both girls and boys. So, he knew it wasn’t
Regulus who told. He didn’t know what Evan know of Regulus’s orientation, though. He
preferred to keep his mouth shut. Maybe as the only right decision he ever made in his life.

“When it happened, they locked Sirius up for 4 days without telling anyone the reason. It was
awful really. Regulus had no idea what the hell happened. I remember him trying to sneak
food in to Sirius’s room. He was grounded for it.” Evan recounted, his expression grave.

Even for a person with little to no ethical rules like Barty, this sounded blood-curdling. The
extent families would go to prevent their offspring from doing things that had no effect on
them was insanely terrible.

“Believe this or not, Pandora is a natural rule-breaker.”

“I don’t believe that.” Barty retorted, raising an eyebrow sceptically.

“But she is. She used to sneak out all the time. She’s way too good to get caught.”

“How is this relevant to anything?” Barty asked.

“She used those skills to sneak in to the Black mansion. Sirius was convinced Regulus had
ratted him out.”

“I’m not going to claim he wouldn’t.” Barty interjected. “But I don’t think he would.”

“Dunno.” Evan sounded honest. “Never asked. He doesn’t know Sirius thought that.”
Barty was utterly confused. “How come?” he asked.

“Pandora told Sirius it was her who ratted.”

Barty sat in stunned silence, trying to process the situation. He hadn’t taken Pandora for
someone who would put herself at risk to protect others. He thought it to be a stupid act for
everyone, really. It wasn’t bravery. It was mere bullshit.

“Why would she do that?” He asked.

“I can only assume, Barty. Believe it or not we don’t have telepathic skills.” Evan miserably
failed at lighting the mood.

“I think she thought she could save the last bond Regulus and Sirius had.”

“I presume she failed?” Barty stated the obvious. Evan nodded; his gazes fixed on the mug.
He avoided to look at Barty as much as possible. Barty was glad that was the case. The room
wasn’t dark enough to hide the bruises he had and it had been a while since he’d removed his
mask. Neither had commented on it.

“I think Sirius wanted Regulus to tell him to stay. While he was leaving, he asked Regulus if
he should stay. Regulus told him to go.”

Barty remembered Sirius mentioning that after the ball.

“Why would he tell him to go if he wanted him to stay?” Barty asked, puzzled Saying things,
he didn’t mean was never like Regulus.

“Do you really not understand?” Evan asked in clear disbelief. Apparently, there was
something Barty hadn’t realised upon the matter.

“Regulus didn’t want Sirius to stay.” Evan explained after realising Barty was actually lost.
“He wanted Sirius to take him along.”

“That’s utter nonsense” Barty waited no time to comment. That was one of the stupidest
things Barty had ever heard. Regulus loved the life he lived. He liked to be a part of the
Black family. Of course, he didn’t love his parents but he loved the things they provided for
him. He was content with living his life in discreet while behaving as the perfect heir. He was
as bad as Barty for most days but he had never been foolish enough to get caught just because
he didn’t want to give the family a bad name. Hearing Evan say that Regulus wanted a way
out was nothing but bullshit.

“It’s not, Barty. I have known him my whole life.” Evan sounded empathetic.

“So did I. Regulus would not try to leave.” He crossed his arms. It was as if they were
arguing over who knew Regulus more and in an elementary-level-school friendship, it was
funny.

“Why would he be doing this with us if he didn’t want a way out?” Evan raised an eyebrow,
making a fair point. Yet, it still wasn’t enough to convince Barty.
“Because I’m charming and he can’t resist me?” he pouted.

“Joke all you want. This is what had gone through. Regulus still doesn’t know what Pandora
did but looking at Potter’s attitude at Dora, Sirius still holds the grudge.”

“I’ve never liked Sirius. Can’t believe he gossips about you lot to his equally imbecile
friends.” Barty shrugged, amused to have found the chance to belittle Sirius as well as James.

“I’m not fond of Sirius either, Barty, but what about telling your friends about what you went
through is gossiping?”

By Evan’s question, Barty realised the conversation was about to slip into something he
would rather kill himself than to talk about. He could realise Evan trying to bring himself to
ask things Barty would not answer. This was why he had to say no to coming to his house in
the first place. Because even the most selfless people would only help if they wanted
something in return. Evan, wasn’t the most selfless person, so he could ask Barty of things he
didn’t want to give. Like a conversation about Barty himself.

“Don’t know.” Barty shrugged. “Good thing I don’t have any friends.” He hoped that it was
obvious he tried to shake the conversation away from himself.

“Don’t you have any friends?” Evan asked, not interrogating but curious.

“I don’t.” Barty grimaced. Even the thought of calling someone a stupid name as a friend had
repulsed him.

“What about Regulus?” Evan was starting to become even more annoying than usual. Barty
hoped the living situation would come to an end quickly. “Is he not your friend?”

“What exactly are you trying to achieve here?” Barty was irritated by the conversation.
“Neither of you are my friends. None of you are actually friends anyway. We’re bunch of
people which are brought together by circumstances beyond ourselves.” There was no
mockery in his voice.

“What do you mean?” Evan asked, taken aback by Barty’s words.

“You will never get to be friends with Marry, Emmeline or Frank, you will always be their
bosses. You will never be friends with Regulus because he would never forgive you for
hiding what Pandora did. And well, I would never be your friend because I don’t plan to be a
part of any society of ours after we successfully take down the families.” Barty spoke all at
once. He had felt the need to make it clear that without a shared goal, he would not have any
acquaintance with any of these people. They merely were too much for him that he would
suffocate himself if he was with them at will.

“Do you believe that?” Evan asked.

“I do. Do you not?” Barty asked.

“Well, even if all that’s true, I’ll always have Pandora.” Evan was defensive. Almost blaming
Barty for speaking the truth. Almost reminding Barty that he was going to have no one. He
 knew Evan was naïve for believing Pandora was always going to be there. They had
witnessed over and over again that family didn’t mean always. He wanted to burst Evan’s
bubble but he thought it would be more fun to see it happen in real life. That’s why he
decided to wait. He decided to wait for the moment when all of them would drown in the
cracks they already had between them. He knew he could survive it. He was sure of it. He
just had to stay patient for a while more.

As the night wore on, it was long after Evan had fallen asleep when Barty found himself lost
in thought, contemplating the challenges that lay ahead. The path they had chosen was
fraught with danger and uncertainty, but he was determined to see it through to the end.
Whatever it took, whatever sacrifices needed to be made, he was ready to face them head-on.

Chapter End Notes

I know I havent uploaded in forever and you deserve an explanation for all of it. I'm
currently publishing in the midst of a mental crisis . I'll pop up in few days to fix the end
notes. Just know that I love you all for being kind and patient.
End Notes

Well, that was the first chapter.

I am so excited for you to meet everyone else. Especially the Rosier Twins. They have my
whole heart.
Let me know if you liked the first chapter or not. I will be reading every comment if you're
kind enough to give them.
You can also message me via tumblr by @asterialunarr for any kind of questions or thoughts.
I would love a chat.
Take care till next time. <3

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