Barty Crouch, Jr. is not Oedipus Rex. (culling) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-09-07 17:21:00 |
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Following his discussion with Aquila, Barty could honestly say that he felt happier than he had felt in a decently long time -- certainly since he had started the Healer Training Programme, and likely in even longer. Excellent -- this was just simply excellent news -- Aquila was coming back to England after far too long in wretched France -- which was, naturally, not to say that Marius's homeland was anything short of lovely, though Barty had never been and could not say with any accuracy, but it was certainly not where Aquila belonged. Aquila belonged back home, in England, working for the Cause as he was meant to be -- and he was finally going to come home!
Of course, he had promised on Mother's eyes that he would not breathe a word of this to anyone, especially not Astra, but that did not mean that he could not be in an exceptionally good mood. Which he was. There were not even proper words for what a good mood he was in, although it was apparently enough not only to inspire him to leave his room, but to inspire him to have a veritable bounce in his step that had almost certainly not been there previously.
Antonin had been downstairs, speaking with the housekeeper about ordering more apples -- Anzhelina did seem fond of feeding them to her horse, but he had no intention of letting that stop the humans of the household from having enough fruit each day -- and, as he was returning to his study, he passed Barty in the hall.
"Good afternoon," he greeted the young man, smiling. It was good to see Barty looking happy.
Barty was somewhat startled by the apparently sudden presence of someone else -- he had, admittedly, not been paying the best attention to his surroundings, and he had rather not expected to come into contact with Mister Dolohov or Anzhelina -- but noting his unofficial mentor's pleasant expression, he grinned broadly. Under most normal circumstances, he would have stopped to think about his actions first, but the overwhelming surge of pure happiness got the better of him first.
Before he could think to do anything else, he was hugging Mister Dolohov tightly around the shoulders and he practically burst out: "Sir, I just received the most wonderful news!"
As happy as Barty had seemed, Antonin had hardly expected to be hugged; the only person he had close contact with was Anzhelina, and Barty had always seemed much less tactile than Antonin's daughter.
A little awkwardly, due to the surprise more than anything else, he returned the hug, pulling back a little afterwards to ask with a smile, "What news is that, Barty? And please, you do not need to call me 'sir' outside of work. I would like you to think of Whitechapel as home for as long as you are here."
Under most normal circumstances, Barty honestly was not a tactile person -- he hugged his mother and, occasionally, under the influence of three concentrated doses of Calming Draught, held Regulus's hand -- but these were hardly normal circumstances! Short of learning that Mother's illness had completely resolved, or that the Dark Lord had finally won the war once and for all, Aquila's return was the best news that entered Barty's mind as plausible.
Momentarily, he was stunned by the gentle admonition against addressing Mister Dolohov as 'sir' -- even after learning to address Aloysius as such, it rarely entered into Barty's mind not to address older men, respectable (or not, in the case of Pepper, who Barty simply needed to pretend to respect) as 'sir.' "Really? What would you prefer?" Almost as soon as he had asked this, Barty chided himself, as which name Mister Dolohov preferred was certainly not the point.
Grinning broadly, he exclaimed, "Aquila is returning to England sooner than he expected!"
"That is indeed wonderful news," Antonin said sincerely, his smile brightening. "I know his sister must have missed him terribly, and you no doubt will be glad to have your friend back. As to what I would like you to call me, my name is not so difficult," he added, his tone almost teasing. "You English can hardly mangle 'Antonin' the way my poor sisters' names get mistreated, after all."
His sister? ...Oh. Right. At the mentioning of Astra, Barty's grin faded into something more sheepish and he hastily added, "I am sure that she has, of course, but... for the time being, this must remain between us; it is likely a precaution, to keep his entry into the country as unsuspected as possible, but regardless... Aquila has asked me to keep quiet."
With that matter handled, Barty felt free to give a small, but appreciative, laugh at Mister Dolohov's jest. "I suppose not, sir, but... well... really?" It was a daunting prospect, theoretically being allowed to address Mister Dolohov by his full name.
"Of course. I would hardly want to put him at risk, after all. Please assure him, the next time you speak, that any assistance I may offer is his at the asking."
While he didn't know Aquila as well as he knew Barty, the young man was a credit to their cause, and it had hardly been his fault that his departure had been necessary. The man at whose feet that blame lay was out of reach for the time being, but Azkaban would not protect Goyle forever.
"And certainly. I would not ask a colleague to call me sir, and so neither would I ask you to."
Of course Azkaban would not protect Goyle forever, and Barty sorely hoped to assist in punishing that wretched, cowardly, traitorous filth when the time came, but, for now, there were slightly more important things. Such as this new development of apparently being allowed to address Mister Dolohov as 'Antonin'... which would certainly take some adjustment, Barty could already tell. "I... well. Thank you, si-- Antonin."
"You are not just an apprentice Healer or one of the younger Death Eaters to me," Antonin said quietly. "I do not open my home to just anybody, Barty."
Barty could not help but beam at what Mister Dolohov had to say to him. Of course, Mister Dolohov had complimented him before, and he had said, after Father had announced Mother's pregnancy, that Barty 'had become like a son to him' -- but that did not make it any less thrilling to hear. Once again, Barty allowed his happiness to overwhelm him and he, once again, hugged Mister Dolohov around the shoulders.
Antonin had been expecting it this time, and returned the hug rather more firmly than he had the first one. He'd long ago grown used to being hugged by taller people -- you did, when your growth spurt stopped at five feet five inches -- and besides, it was Barty. He was fond of Barty.