Barty Crouch, Jr. is not Oedipus Rex. (culling) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-06-26 22:09:00 |
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No matter how hard Regulus tried, he could not yet fully adjust to the knowledge that Barty was being forced to work -- and not just any job, but a job with Potter. Barty was not the first of his friends forced into earning a living himself (after all, Severus, Aquila, and Georgina all worked, as well), but it was different in this case. Barty was being forced by his father, and it was not fair to cut Barty off from the family gold simply because his wretched father had a skewed idea of what it takes to be an adult.
In all honesty, it was quite likely that the connection to Potter was a very large contributer to Regulus's distress in the whole ordeal (that and the ever-vexing fact that he and Barty's father would never see Eye To Eye), but even so, that did not stop Regulus from resolving to visit Barty at Quality Quidditch Supplies. He still felt a lingering guilt from the night before when he unintentionally insulting Barty in Astra's journal; he had not meant Barty of course, as Barty was not an incompetent florist, but it seemed to upset his friend, so he supposed the least he could do would be to visit Barty at work and help him look good in front of his boss, if possible (even if Barty oughtn't be working in the first place). In much the same way as he had made James look bad in front of the very same boss.
After a swift Apparition to Diagon Alley, Regulus made a beeline for Quality Quidditch Supplies. He was not certain what he would buy, but there was bound to be something he could make a very insignificant sacrifice for. Opening the door and spotting Barty, he walked over, not bothering to pay any mind to whether Potter was there or not. He wasn't worth the effort, of course.
Barty honestly did not mind the fact that he was being forced to work. He was a naturally restless person, prone to getting bored rather easily, and he likely would have found something with which to occupy himself until his NEWTs scores came, using whatever reason he could to justify it, whether said reason would have been that his having a job was useful for the Cause or that he simply wanted the employee discount that Flourish and Blott's offered. As it stood, though, he rather minded the circumstances under which he had come to this job. Working at Quality Quidditch Supplies did not seem to be entirely complicated or difficult, beyond two things: the customers, and having to answer to James Potter.
And that was what Barty certainly would have called it. After all, he was not sure if the hierarchy specifically stated that James was his direct superior, and of course they both had to answer to Mr Jackson, but there were several other factors to consider: 1. Barty had only started yesterday; 2. James's position was, technically, above his own; 3. Barty owed the fact of his swift employment to James; 4. James rather inexplicably kept bringing Barty a lunch that his mother had apparently made (even if James had said that he would offer someone lunch to be a coworker, Barty had hardly thought the older boy had been serious); and 5. James had been working at the shop longer, so his knowledge of procedure was, in all likelihood, better than Barty's own. There didn't seem to be much to the whole thing, but Barty was sure that, being new to this place and to working in a service position at all, there were still things he didn't know.
Like Tempting Trousers Thursday, for example. Had Barty paid more attention to his journal on Wednesday, he would have found ample evidence to suggest that Tempting Trousers Thursday was not actually some weekly ritual at the shop... but James seemed rather taken with the idea and had spent nearly an hour badgering Barty about it, in between assisting customers and the like. Finally, Barty had given up and taken a quick break to duck into the back room and transfigure his trousers to tighter than normal. Far tighter than normal. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea -- maybe James was enthralled by it, but Barty was not at all certain that he belonged in overly tight trousers; all they did was emphasize the fact that he was incredibly thin. ...But James was acting as though it were something that needed to be done, and so Barty figured that he would just suffer the indignity until he got back to his flat and could put on something that wasn't attempting to be closer to him than his skin.
When Regulus came in, Barty was crouching near the floor, reorganizing a low-sitting shelf of Snitches that a group of young siblings had entirely cast asunder while their mother had had her back turned. As he was prone to doing, he'd gotten too absorbed in his work and didn't even notice that his best friend was right next to him until he looked at the floor, saw Regulus's shoe, and followed his eyes up until he was looking at Regulus's face. Breaking into a very genuine smile, he stood up quickly and smoothed himself out. "Hello, Regulus," he said, somewhat brightly but not overly so. Even though it was only his second day, he instinctively tacked on, "Is there anything I can help you find today?"
"Hello, Barty," Regulus responded pleasantly, "Nothing in particular just yet." There were no large or troublesome crowds moving about the shop at the moment -- a fact Regulus was very grateful for, at that, as he would have been very vexed indeed if he had come to visit, only to find Barty busy or something dreadful like that. He supposed it was not entirely fair to expect everything to be dropped for him while Barty was working, but that did not stop him from being relieved that such was in fact the case. "How has your second day bee-" Regulus paused, noticing that there was something...strange about Barty when he stood up, and it only took a moment's inspection to notice that it appeared Barty seemed to be wearing trousers that did not fit properly. With a rather perplexed expression, he supposed that perhaps Barty's father restricted what clothes he was permitting to bring with him as well. It could very well be a question to ask about later, if it was not explained soon.
It was nearing close, and the crowds were gone, leaving James with little more to do than turn around every once in a while to stare at his tempting trousers in the glass case near the back of the store. Barty did about five times as much work as Beans had ever done, so even without slacking, the store was mostly taking care of itself for the evening. Mr. Jackson was already gone for the day even, trusting James to make sure everything was closed up, so he was feeling quite pleased with the day in general when suddenly he realized exactly who it was who had come in to speak with Barty.
Ordinarily James would have harrassed Regulus instantly, but Barty was turning out to be not such a bad bloke to work with, and it seemed rude (even for James) to assault someone's best friend when they'd come to visit. He didn't imagine Barty liked Sirius much, but he had been exceedingly polite, even as James had danced around ridiculously to show off his trousers and Sirius had been nearly on the floor with laughter.
He watched them quietly from the corner, nearly hidden by a display of discount brooms, and a brilliant prank (harmless as could be of course) came to mind. Lifting his wand, he aimed it at Regulus's rear, and whispered a writing spell he'd perfect in his fourth year at Hogwarts. Immediately a sparkling gold stream of letters appeared on the back of Regulus's pants. Tempting.
At first the word merely hovered in neat golden script, but with a flick of his wand the word flashed away and then back into place... away and then back into place... away and then back into place. James only intended for Barty to see it and be able to read it, and when he noted that most likely Barty had (He couldn't completely see his face and could only guess by his body language) he ended the spell and began stocking the shelf again. He even whistled a cheerful little tune to accentuate his innocence.
Barty was, suffice to say, relieved to see Regulus, even if his best friend wasn't interested in doing business to keep up any pretenses of being on the job. Despite not needing to give particular attention to said pretenses -- after all, Mr Jackson had gone home for the evening, and, after Sirius's visit earlier that afternoon, James hardly had any room to chastise Barty and Regulus for having a pleasant, unobtrusive chat -- Barty still cared for them, somewhat. Rules were rules, after all, and as freely as he broke some so-called 'important' rules, such as those about taking other people's lives, torturing other people, cavorting with the Death Eaters in general, et cetera, Barty had always found it difficult to willingly break other rules -- such as those about using time on the job for leisure activities.
That aside, though, Barty was very much in need of some time with Regulus after his first two days of working in a shop. The customers were utterly wretched, at their worst, and their best was hardly any better, and Barty just wanted to go back to his flat with Regulus and the remainder of his lunch from Mrs. Potter, offer up some of Astra's quiche, and just have a quiet evening in with his best friend. He was about to answer the question posed to him and ask if Regulus was alright after such an abrupt pause, but then he saw It.
He hadn't seen It, initially -- It'd looked like an odd flash of color in the corner of his eye, and he had only let his eyes follow It because he was sure that It would be nothing. When they followed It to Its completion, though, Barty's eyes had to linger: there, right across the rear of Regulus's trousers, in flashing, golden letters was one word. Tempting -- and then, just as soon as Barty had fully registered just what in the world he was looking at, the word was gone. While his eyes doubled in size, his mouth fell ever so slightly open and he slumped from the hips and shoulders, as though he had suddenly been laden down with several heavy bags. He gave a very small gasp and quickly shot James a highly scandalized look, which he quickly allowed to disappear in a little shake of his head. ...Merlin! That was just uncalled for!
Noticing a strange and rather violent reaction to something, Regulus turned look behind himself, wondering if something had happened that he had simply missed...but nothing was to be seen. It looked like a nearly empty shop, just as it had been when he first entered, and certainly nothing to cause such a jolt in Barty.
Turning his attention back, he regarded Barty with a slanted mouth. It was all so very puzzling, and while the scandalized look to James (or at least that was Reg's assumption, considering how often Potter was deserving of such Looks) suggested it was indeed something...Regulus could only imagine that it was something to do with the store inventory that he simply did not understand.
"Is something the matter?" Regulus asked, raising a single eyebrow just enough to subtly emphasize the puzzlement of the question.
It was rather unfortunate that this job wasn't doing anything to redeem James, in Barty's eyes. As though it weren't bad enough for someone so obviously talented and intelligent to be such an awful, unmotivated, family-destroying waste of space, James just had to look into being utterly vexing for no reason other than he could. And to imply that Barty would ever find Regulus's trousers tempting! He wasn't a homosexual degenerate! Merlin! "It's nothing, Regulus," Barty excused himself quickly, keeping his voice low enough that only he and Regulus could hear. "Nothing. ...I'll tell you later."
James couldn't hear what Barty was saying, and he was trying not to look at the two younger boys more than he had to, but he did catch the scandalized look on his face and the disapproving head shake, and it was all James could do to keep a wide smirk off his face. He'd definitely given Barty enough hell for one day, and deciding to give him a reprieve he pushed himself up from the floor.
"Oi, Barty, go home! We've got it all wrapped up here!" he called loudly. Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed the bag of galleons he'd been carrying around with him and took them back to the stock room to charm them into the safe.
Oh, thank Merlin. While he was well aware that his shift was, most likely, not completely over, Barty was absolutely grateful for the chance to get out of Quality Quidditch Supplies, get away from James Infuriating Potter, and get back to his tiny little studio flat where he could put on trousers that hadn't been sacrificed to this insane ritual and, as such, fit properly. His second day had, admittedly, been better than the first, if James's involvement was subtracted from the calculations, but... Merlin, it was obviously going to take a lot of time and effort to become accustomed to dealing with James Potter on a daily basis, for extended periods of time, and Barty was fairly sure that he would need a good many evenings alone and a good deal of tea to do so properly. He'd fouled up and left his Calming Draughts at the family home when he'd been kicked out, and he doubted that Father would allow Mother to send them to him, but... he was capable of handling this without obtaining assistance from potions.
At any rate, James had said that he no longer needed to be in the shop, and he had absolutely no desire to continue being here. Relaxing somewhat, he turned back to Regulus and forced a small smile. "Would you like to come see my flat?" he offered hopefully, just as an easy way to get them out of there and something entirely innocuous, in case James could still hear them speaking.
Regulus was not so certain that 'nothing' was enough to warrant that sort of response, but an 'I'll tell you later' suggested it was for whatever reason private -- and Regulus very much understood Privacy. He did not want to spend more time in the general vicinity of Potter than was absolutely necessary, anyway, so he felt no qualms in the least with leaving the shop. The supervisor had not shown himself, so he did not need to pretend as though he was shopping. There was now no reason to remain if Barty was leaving.
"That sounds like a splendid idea," Regulus said with curt but pleasant nod. "I have been meaning to see the place you secured, after all, so now is as fitting a time as any."
Barty was even more relieved when Regulus agreed to leave. Without waiting for any further affirmation or direction, Barty made for the door and let himself and Regulus into Diagon Alley. All things considered, he had to admit that it was an oddly fulfilling feeling, to get off from an all-day-with-breaks shift at the shop. It was hardly as good a feeling as a well-completed double murder, no, but it was about on the same level as finishing a lengthy essay for a difficult class. And when accompanied with the promise of taking Regulus to see his flat? It was doubly rewarding.
"All things considered, it really is not a terrible place," Barty explained idly. "It is rather small, but... it has its own sort of charm, I think; the neighbors I have met are tolerable enough, and it is rather conveniently placed." In more ways then one, at that. Not only was he close to Quality Quidditch Supplies, but he also happened to share a building with Croaker, which, he imagined, would only work in his favor.
"I should hope it is not too terrible for you," Regulus said with a nod. He did not approve of the situation, that was for certain, but in particular, he did not wish for his best friend to suffer wretched and unfavourable conditions. Even his own ancient and noble home was cursed with Muggle surroundings, and it could be positively dreadful just knowing they were there. "Where did you end up choosing as your new place to live? Is it a flat here in Diagon Alley?"
Barty nodded at Regulus's questions and concern. He rather liked to fancy that, all things considered, he was managing this fairly well for having been so unceremoniously evicted from his and his family's home -- Persephone certainly seemed to think so, at least, as did Severus and Croaker -- and he was doing so, was he not? He had a clean, well-lighted flat to call his own, regardless of how small it was. He had not fallen to pieces and come crawling home, as his father no doubt expected him to do. Even though his so-called 'junk job' was tiring and involved putting up with fairly considerable bouts of idiocy, both from Potter and from others, at least he had a job, so that he could continue eating and calling aforementioned flat his own. He possibly stood, as Marius had theorized, a chance of infiltrating the unsuspecting other side for the benefit of the Cause. ...All in all, things could have been much worse.
"I found a flat in Grindylow Gardens, yes," he explained as he directed himself and Regulus up the high street, towards the flat-building. With perhaps an unbecoming little swell of pride, Barty reached into his trousers pocket (which was a rather uncomfortable process, given how absurdly tight he'd made the accursed things) and pulled out a small silver key on a small silver chain. As he held it between himself and Regulus, Barty gave a small smile. "I have my own key and everything. ...I will just warn you: it is rather on the small side. ...But I will also admit: the privacy is rather nice." Not that privacy or lack thereof had ever been a wildly important issue in the Crouch home, but at least here, Barty did not need to worry about having his reading, journaling, or other activities interrupted by Father with some absurd dictum for him, or Grandfather with some ludicrous story or the demand for him to go do obscene things with a nice, Pureblood girl already, or anyone else.
Regulus nodded quite sincerely, admiring the key. He could easily respect the enjoyment of privacy, as it was a rarity that anyone was allowed in the personal space of his own room back at Grimmauld Place -- but he pitied, certainly, that Barty would have no elf or no extensive library or any of the other perks to living in a large home. If he was content enough, however, Regulus would make an effort to not be offensive. Again.
"I'm sure it is quite advantageous and enjoyable in its own right. At least you are guaranteed to under no circumstances come in contact with your father, even accidentally," Regulus pointed out rather easily. It sounded like a definite perk in his own mind, even if Barty's father was never at their home.
It was a perk in its own right, as Barty was quickly coming to find out. While it was certainly true that he almost never had to deal with Father, even accidentally, they had, until very recently, still had to, technically, share a living space and run the risk of one of their highly awkward interactions. He could hardly say that he was not worried about Mother -- today, he had thought of her no less than seven times while in the midst of his work -- and, under ideal circumstances, he would still be at home, where he belonged... but he figured that he could not allow himself to be defeated by a bad situation. What sort of use to the Dark Lord would he be if he allowed himself to fall apart just because his father was an unspeakable wretch?
"I would not wish to make the move permanent, not by any stretch of the imagination," Barty said pensively. "But it really is pleasant, in its way. Quaint, but... at least it's clean." After all, Barty could have been living in the Hag's Hovel, which was traumatic enough as a thought. The reality of it had to be much worse.
"I can appreciate cleanliness," Regulus responded with a nod as they approached Grindylow Gardens. The last and only time he had ever been inside was when they had raided Marlene McKinnon's flat in search of Agnes O'Hare -- and that had been for a very different reason. It was not the fanciest flats about, but it was certainly not the worst and did not appear dangerous. Not that Barty was incapable of protecting himself, but that was beside the point. "How is everything going without Winky around?" he asked delicately, as he knew that he himself would be distressed were he to be flung out on his own without Kreacher. But he did wish to know, and was naturally concerned.
Barty wrinkled his nose disapprovingly at Regulus's questioning about Winky. It was hardly anything that Regulus had done, and naturally Barty didn't disapprove of his best friend -- but it had, admittedly, been difficult to adjust to not having Winky around. Keeping things clean was hardly troublesome, and Barty even enjoyed that task. Remembering to keep himself fed was also not that difficult, given that Astra had sent him her delicious mince pie and one of his neighbours seemed content to leave food outside his door every morning. ...The only real trouble was much more simple. "It has been difficult, I will admit," Barty said with a small sigh. "The tasks themselves are not much trouble, I just... I miss her and my mother." It was something that Barty did not particularly want to think about, but he felt comfortable with telling Regulus. Regulus would never do anything with the knowledge that Barty was sensitive about his mother and their House Elf.
Sensing the strain, Regulus opted to cease that line of questioning. Barty's response did not surprise him in the least, and it seemed as though the subject was not something that he desired to discuss...so he would not press unless Barty seemed receptive to the discussion. "I am always free enough for a visit if you ever wish for company -- much like right now, of course." He turned to look at Barty, distancing them from the uncomfortable bit of the conversation. "So which level are you on?"
"The fourth," Barty answered directly as he and Regulus finally came to the building and went through the doors. It was hardly instinct yet, the same way that Barty instinctively knew his way to anywhere in the family home, but he at least knew where the stairs were and, without hesitating, he led Regulus to and up them. "As for visiting, I have no doubt that I will ask you over at some point. Besides now, of course. I can have company over whenever I want, now." Not that Barty particularly wanted to have people over in his flat every night -- he was hardly a 'life of the party' sort of person, and he just didn't understand the antics that some people around his own age got into when trusted with a space and a bit of alcohol. ...Still, though: he did not have to ask permission to have Regulus over anymore. That, in itself, was a comforting thought.
"Might as well take advantage of the fact that there isn't all that much that your father can do to you for us spending time together, considering the current situation." Regulus supposed that was not the train of thought he really ought to be thinking along, but he could not help but feel an element of satisfaction that his mere association with Barty irritated the man, and there were only so many ways he could successfully make jabs -- even if he was the only one who could probably enjoy it.
When they arrived at Barty's flat, Regulus waited for the door to be opened, adding in, "I imagine that bit is quite nice."
Barty gave a small laugh and a grin as he put his key in the lock. "Of course it is," he affirmed pleasantly. As though he would not have been pleased to have more time to spend with his best friend without needing to request permission, or needing to be wary of discussion topics, lest Mother, Father, or Winky intrude and necessitate several questionable explanations. Such a thought was laughable, entirely. After spending the better part of the past six-and-a-half years living with Regulus and, as such, being able to spend as much time with him as either of them wanted, Barty was glad to finally have such unmonitored access to his best friend returned to him.
After he turned the key in the lock and opened the door, Barty entered the flat before Regulus, just so he could see to turning on the lighting charms. Everything was, as could be expected of his living space, clean and well-organised, with Barty's bed in the far corner of the living space and the two full bookshelves he had managed to get out with him between the foot of the bed and the window. His dresser had finally wound up against the wall opposite the foot of the bed and, rather than bring the wardrobe from his bedroom, he had put the rest of his clothes, his sheets, and his towels into the closet area. Barty had split up the basket from the first neighbour he'd met, transfiguring the pieces into a desk (against the wall, near the bed), a small table, and chairs, but there was still an odd, lacking feeling about the whole flat that had nothing to do with how much Barty missed his mother and Winky. The space was small, true, but, nevertheless, it felt as though it was missing something, just given the relatively large empty space. "It is not much yet," Barty explained, holding the door open for Regulus. "But... it's mine. I can say that much for it."
...Maybe it was missing a sofa. By Barty's reckoning, that would have filled the empty space quite nicely.
Surveying the area, Regulus allowed his gaze to graze the various pieces of furniture as he walked through the door. It was a modest living space, but he did not suppose it was any worse than living in the dormitories at Hogwarts. That had been quite an adjustment for him, going from an entire room to himself and a large townhouse at his disposal to a single room shared with four other boys. Granted, at least the school had house-elves to cook, but he repeatedly told himself that it was an adjustment, that Barty was adjusting, that he would be careful not to say anything offensive. After all, if there was anyone that he would put such mental effort into the avoidance of their distress, it was Barty.
"I imagine you will be able to fit it to properly suit your needs as you become more comfortable with it," he replied agreeably. The cleanliness in itself was very characteristic of his friend, so it was only a matter of time that any other needs were met.