Across the great hall, Sirius laughed obnoxiously loud with Regulus’ brother, a tall bloke covered in scars and moles alike, and a shorter boy who remained zoned out. At the Slytheirn table, not much was different. Barty Crouch jr laughed obnoxiously loud, a facade really. His eyes remained on the centre of Gryffindors attention through the several minutes Regulus rants about a younger Slytheirn and their lack of respect.
Surrounded by the only people he has ever truly been able to call family, both Barty and Sirius couldn’t be happier. Bartys laughter came to a stop, his breath halting, as he and Sirius made eye contact. Sirius, appearing rather off put, and Barty, intrigued. Regulus’ rant slowly died out as he sighed. “Fucking Sirius is looking at me, do i smile? Or just.. Ignore?”
Bartys head spun towards his best friend. His breathing continued, body untensing, and a nonchalant laugh rolling off his tongue like it was practiced. “Ignore — wouldn’t wanna create a problem bigger than its own, would you?” Evan snorted, “Barty Crouch Jr, not approving of disrespect towards Black?” “Unheard of,” Regulus joined in on his teasing.
Barty clenched his hand against his thigh, smiling thinly against a well hidden distaste. “I just really don’t think arguing with S- Black through a glare is the best way to torment him — y’know? I mean what’s the worst thing about a Gryffindor?” He smirks against his pottered mug, “Not being acknowledged.” Regulus glanced at Evan with a raised eyebrow, “perhaps we teased him too soon.”
Barty hadn’t felt this relieved since his father got in trouble at the Ministry.
—
“Barty Crouch,” “Jr.” Barty hissed through his teeth. He glanced up at the perpetrator. “Sirius Black,” “The third.” Sirius snorted.
“Names are very important in Slytherin, aren’t they,” He nearly cooed. Despite his tone being patronizing, Barty couldn’t get enough. Their relationship truly reminded him of a cat and its owner.
Sirius could hold something over his head, using it to condition Barty to come at the call of his name, and even knowing this, Barty would never hesitate to run to him at the sound of a crinkling bag.
“How’re you?” Barty asked, desperate for even a scrap of a conversation. Sirius smiled softly, his smile even more daunting than his voice. “Well, how is my brother doing?” He clenched his jaw, “well.”
“Crouch,” his tone was less patient, less lenient. “He’s good. He misses you.” “I’m sure.” Sirius scoffed. Laughing echoed through the library, Barty winced at the boysterous sound. “Any chance I can get you to quiet down your lions in exchange for information on Regulus?”
Sirius smiled genuinely at Barty, a rare sight to be seen. As soon as it came, it ended. Longing ached in Bartys chest, desperate to see how that smile consumed his face, his prominent moles moving as his cheeks swallowed the lower half of his face. “Is my presence not enough for you? Would you rather we exchange letters about him and I quiet down the lads?”
Barty frowned, a cat conditioned to come at the crinkle of a bag. “No.. No,"" So, what you’re saying is, you’re more than okay to be rewarded with my presence rather than the silence of Gryffindor? But wouldn’t the latter benefit Slytherin more?” Bartys face shuttered. “That is what you’re all about, no?”
“Your presence is enough.” And funnily enough, Barty wouldn’t rather it any other way.
Sirius bid him goodbye with not so much as a smirk, spinning on his heel and soon joining in with the taunting laughter of Gryffindor boys