My fists are turning coal to diamonds
Character: Barty Summary: Barty reflects on his recent encounter
It was breezy in the gardens that overlooked the bay, but it felt good on Barty's skin, blowing all the cobwebs away. The fishy smell of drying seaweed and the catches being sorted on the beach below him was strong but not unpleasant. He supposed that bracing was the word.
Enjoying the sun, sea and salt of the Devon coast, Barty thought that he had made the right decision in retreating to this place. He'd had no wounds to lick thanks to whom he assumed was the Longbottom boy's wife, but he had needed to get as far away from London and the site of his encounter as possible.
On reflection, the boy had not done as much as Barty should have expected. A punch in the face was nothing compared to what Barty might have claimed in revenge from his enemies had he still been so inclined. Still, it had shaken him to be confronted with his crimes like that and made him realise that despite all his talk while in custody, he really hadn't been prepared to face recriminations, after all.
The Longbottom child... Well, child no longer.
Barty's memories of life prior to the Kiss had returned with his own soul, and settled with the fusion of both. He knew what he, Bella and the others had done to the Longbottoms. He also knew that he had pretended to comfort their son when he had been plotting to aid in the Dark Lord's return. However, the emotional memory was distant. He remembered that he had enjoyed the boy's tears at the time, but he felt no such glee now. If anything at all, he felt sick.
Frowning, Barty remembered what the blond woman had said to him when she had healed his nose. It seemed that she knew more about him than she should. In other circumstances he might have been tempted to seek her out and ask why that was, but he knew that he should follow her advice and stay as far away from Neville Longbottom as possible.
The sudden dip in light made Barty look beyond his thoughts and at the gathering clouds above him. Rain was threatening and the gurgle from his stomach made him think a trip to the Anchor for lunch was advisable. Perhaps after that he would be able to concentrate on the job advertisements in the papers more fully.