Chapter 1
Lily likes to be organised. By the time she is thirteen, she has mastered the art of a perfect Gantt chart, orderly spreadsheets, and a detailed day-by-day calendar. And now, at eighteen, only ten months away from her A-levels, she has gotten her routine to a finite degree.
Breakfast is first, consisting of two slices of buttered toast, with jam to keep her energy up, orange juice and a mug of Tetley’s tea in her mug covered in lilies; she got it for Christmas when she was little.
She pulls the teabag against the side of her mug, watching as the water swirls brown. Using her hip to knock the bin open, she deposits the tea bag just as her toast pops up from the toaster. She grabs the jam out of the fridge along with the butter and orange juice.
See, her routine has a perfected rhythm to it.
By the time she finally sits down to eat, chemistry book in hand, it is already 7 o’clock. Perfectly on time, considering she is already showered and dressed. All there is to do now is her makeup and put her shoes on, and then she can catch the train.
“You're back to school today? I thought you had half term?” Petunia mumbles, turning the kettle back on; her hair is wrapped around the belt of her dressing gown in an effort to curl it. She has done it for the past few weeks, and it has only worked once. Lily tried to tell her that she needs to dry her hair first, but it just caused an argument. As usual.
“Yuh-huh,” Lily nods through a mouthful of piping hot tea as she swallows. She asks, “Isn’t Oliver Bonas reopening today?”
Tunie has been there for a few weeks, which is longer than any other jobs she has had, so her parents are very impressed.
“No, tomorrow,” Petunia states as she pushes an escaped coil of hair back in. “Mum can’t believe it. I mean, I was only there two weeks, and then it floods.”
“That is unbelievable,” Lily nonchalantly mutters as she skims her textbook. It’s definitely not that unbelievable.
“Mum says I should ask for compensation,” Her sister yawns, pouring the water into her own flower mug, which is covered in petunias, “Because I haven’t gotten paid for the time the shop was closed.”
“I thought it was closed on the days you don’t work,” Lily asks, watching her sister burn her finger on the boiling coffee she was making.
“Still, I deserve compensation,” Petunia says, blowing on her finger, “That’s what Mum said.”
‘That’s what mum said’ is Tunie’s favourite idiom.
“Maybe then,” Lily half-heartedly says to her sister as she places her dirty plate and cup by the sink, “Ask your manager.”
“Maybe,” Petunia mutters as she stares at her finger.
Lily runs a tea towel under the cold tap till it’s soaking wet. “Put this on your finger.”
-
Barty doesn’t really care, which is probably why he is 20 minutes late to lesson. It’s not on purpose, or at least that’s what he tells his dad. Not that his father believes it. The man laid out Barty’s whole morning routine at the beginning of the year and expressed that he expected his son to follow it.
He had tried to. But who in their right mind is up before seven, let alone showered, dressed and ready to leave the house?
He refuses to be a sycophant to his father’s pristine ideations. Which is exactly what he tells Dorcas in English.
“A sycophant to his pristine ideations?” Dorcas says with a raised eyebrow, “That your excuse? Because Miss McGonagall isn’t going to listen to that for a second.”
“Trust me, she wi-,” Barty starts but is interrupted.
“Mr Crouch, if you are already going to be late, please do not also distract the other students who are trying to learn,” Miss says, glaring at him as the PowerPoint falters behind her. Gods. His parents shelve out however much for this Sixth form annually; the least that they could do is have the screens working.
“Apologise, Miss,” He says with a grin.
He hears a scoff from in front of him, coming from a particularly bright red-haired girl.
He can’t help the way he snarls. Lily “holier than thou” Evans is the very bane of A-level English, especially during first period on a Wednesday.
Since he was eleven years old in year seven, Lily Evan’s has haunted him. Every lesson, every after-school activity, everywhere and anywhere, it doesn’t matter where she has been. They managed to take the exact same GSCEs and nearly identical A-levels. It infuriates him to no end. Well, it used to…
Now he sees it as more of a game, ‘how much can I piss off Lily Evans by the end of term’. Annoyingly, he has only gotten a rise out of her once, in year nine, on a school trip to the Tate. In which he had followed her to every painting and flirted with her. Namely, he kept calling her princess. Well, more at her. She had turned the same colour as her hair and snapped at him, “Would you stop that!”
“Stop staring at Lily,” Dorcas hisses at him, leaning over so she is right by his ear.
“No. I’m plotting which tests I want to beat her in,” Barty hushes back.
“She’s Marlene’s friend, so don’t,” Dorcas says firmly.
Barty rolls his eyes, “I don’t care if she’s your girlfriend’s friend; this goes way back.”
“She hardly notices you; all you are to her is a nuisance,” Dorcas whispers.
“A nuisance that beats her in every test,” He declares.
“You are both the best in the class; leave it at that,” Dorcas says with raised eyebrows.
“Miss Meadows!” McGonagall exclaims, “Mr Crouch, please stop talking!”
Neither Dorcas nor him bother with a response.
-
Lily sways awkwardly, her hand wrapped around the strap of her backpack, as she stands against the wall, waiting for Mr Binns to read out the seating plan.
“Lily Evans!” He announces, pointing at a seat in the back of the classroom, “And next to her shall be...” He flips over the page, “Barty Crouch.”
She feels her eyes widen as she slips into her seat. Some part of her wants to grab the chair next to her and not let him sit down. She obviously doesn’t, but as he sits down, she slyly kicks him in the leg, “Sorry, I thought that was my bag.”
He is grinning, and as he speaks, you can hear it in his voice: “Sure you did, Evans.”
Crouch has a reputation, not that she cares about those sorts of things, but she does mind when his devil-may-care attitude and flirt-with-anyone outlook directly affect her, which they had back on a school trip back in year nine. She remembers that day when she snapped. He made her look crazy, and while he may have the money and status to look insane, she certainly doesn’t. She can remember the heat of her face and the tears in her eyes as the teacher told her that it wasn’t acceptable to shout at another student. That was the first and only time she got detention.
And it was all his fault.
He is beyond infuriating. She ignores him and reaches for her copy of the Iliad, turning to book four. When Lily realises what book it is, she nearly groans out loud.
Crouch seems to have a similar reaction, and he looks over her shoulder at her copy. She turns slightly, “Don’t you have your own?”
“Nope, left it at home,” Barty states merrily.
“Of course, you haven’t,” She mutters, moving the book so it is between them.
“What’s that supposed to mean? What if I was a poor little orphan who couldn’t afford a book?”
“You’re not,” Lily rolls her eyes. “Your father is a very successful politician, so I highly doubt you can’t afford a copy of the Iliad.”
“How do you know all that, Evans? Sounds obsessive,” Barty teases.
“Just bring the book next time,” She mumbles, annoyed. But she has the urge to correct him on just how wrong he is. Her family goes to the same church as his parents, and his father constantly complains about service running over and disturbing his working hours. Of course, Barty doesn’t know that because he doesn't go to Sunday service with his parents. Seeing Barty at church would be like seeing a Mormon at a Louis Tomlinson gig. Technically, it's allowed, but it would almost be inappropriate for him to be there.
“Okay, Sixth formers,” Mr Binns claps his hands together, “New term. New start!”
Lily listens eagerly despite Binns’ boring teaching methods; he is at least not completely incompetent, unlike her chemistry teacher. But even in that lesson, she doesn’t miss a word they say; she worked ridiculously hard to get a scholarship for this school, and she won’t let herself throw it away just because of a teacher.
“Is everyone on book four?” He asks the class as he peers over a few of the other students’ shoulders at their copies.
There is a general hum of agreement in response.
“I hope that everyone has read it over the half-term as I asked on Teams,” Binns says, “Your exams are closer than ever; I want everything consolidated in your memory.”
They did the Iliad in year twelve, and Lily has read it thrice since then, not even for revision, but because she genuinely enjoys it, it is the best Epic they read at A-level.
“This is why we will be doing a project to start this term. In pairs, you shall produce a ten marker, 20 marker and 30 marker essays,” Binns explains. And as if by Homeric fate, she knows the next words, “You will be working with the person you sit next to.”
She is going to lose her mind.
Lily turns to Barty, who, in all fairness, looks equally as startled as her. He is lazy and always late, and she has seen just how horrific his handwriting is. Gods, this is going to be hell on earth.
It’s all she can think about for the next hour. Despite her need to concentrate, all she can focus on is Barty Crouch sitting next to her. Hilariously, with that smug smile wiped off his face, rightfully so.
She can’t stop all the possibilities running through her head. Is he going to have to come to her house? Is she going to have to go to his? Maybe they can go to Costa and work on the essays. But her schedule is so busy, and she has to revise. She can’t miss any revision time, not if she wants to follow her life plan and get into Cambridge. Why has Binns done this? Or perhaps it’s the universe’s fault, a balance of karmic debt.
“So...” Barty drawls as the lesson comes to an end, “How are we gonna do this?”
“Do what?” Lily asks, suddenly stressing ten times more. She had hoped Barty might let the workload fall onto her, and she could simply get it done over a few weekends.
“The project? You alright, Evans?” He grins. That stupid fucking smile is back, what an arrogant prick.
“I mean, what about it? I’ll do it; it’s fine,” She says, grabbing her bag.
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” He huffs, following her into the corridor.
“Why not?” Lily snaps, turning to him in the very crowded hallway.
“Because I don’t trust you,” Barty says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“I am smart, you do know that, Crouch,” Lily retorts, “And I’m not going to sabotage this just to be petty.”
“I know that, Evans, but I don’t know that you wouldn’t run to Binns and tell him that I made you do all the work,” Barty barks, leaning against the wall. “You are a right lick-ass to teachers, Evans.”
“I won’t do that.” Lily rolls her eyes, mildly offended but she is friends with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin she has heard worse vulgarity.
She thinks she could be on the other end of the earth, and he would find her just to irritate her with her posh, twatty, little voice. She is usually very kind to most people, but something about Crouch pisses her off. And no, it’s not that he is the only person to ever beat her on a test.
“See, I would believe that, but I don’t trust you, Princess,” Barty grins as he adjusts the strap of his bag.
“Don’t you dare call me that!” She snaps. Then, she can feel her face heating up with the sting of embarrassment and composes herself. “Fine.” She throws her hands in the air. “We can meet over the weekend and work on it. How is that?”
“Why can’t we just do it during the week?”
“Because I have to revise or do homework or go to football practice,” Lily smarmily says. She doesn't even care if she is being rude at this point.
“I can only do Sundays,” Barty resigns.
Despite Sunday being the day that she actually makes time to see her friends, she agrees, “Fine, we can meet on Sunday. I know a few coffee shops that aren’t too loud.”
“Great,” Barty agrees tenaciously and slides past her.
She would gladly throw herself in front of a bus by Sunday just so she doesn’t have to go, but that would knock her off schedule. So, she guesses she will have to make do.
The Cafeteria is universally loud, but she manages to spot Mary and Marlene trying to flag her down.
“Hullo,” Lily nods, dropping her bag to the floor and slipping onto the bench.
“Morning, Hun,” Mary smiles, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just a stupid project.” Lily smiles, pulling out the sandwiches she packed the night before. School food is ridiculously expensive, and the Sainsbury across the road got robbed over half term and is now shut until further notice.
Marlene gasped, “Did Lily Evans just call something school-related stupid?”
“It’s not the project that is stupid, more so it’s who I am doing it with that is stupid,” Lily corrects.
“And who is this person?” Mary asks, pointing her spoon at Lily.
“A certain Barty Crouch Jr?” Marlene raises an eyebrow.
Lily turns to her friend, astounded, “How on do you know that?”
“I could see it in your face,” Marlene says smugly.
“That’s not true,” Mary tilts her head, “Dorcas texted her to say she wished you good luck considering that you were partnered with Crouch.”
“I thought Crouch and Dorcas were friends,” Lily says, confused.
Marlene talks through a mouthful of apple, “They are, but it’s more of a sibling relationship than a friendship.”
“Right,” Lily nods. She couldn’t really care less about Barty Crouch’s friendships. All she knows about him is that he is in the same group as Regulus despite them being a year apart.
“James is coming to my party, by the way,” Marlene says, not subtly.
Mary wiggles her eyebrows at Lily.
“For the hundredth time, it’s not going to happen with James and I. Not again,” Lily strongly affirms.
“You could just shag him, Lils?” Mary presses.
“You definitely can’t,” Marlene exclaims. “He will become obsessed, even more than he already is.”
“He isn’t obsessed, Marls,” Lily adds, “We broke up for a reason.”
“A reason that you won’t tell us,” Mary states, dipping her spoon in and out of her yoghurt.
“It’s hardly important,” Lily says. It definitely is important, but she isn’t about to tell her friends she broke up with her perfect boyfriend because she had a freakish breakdown, “So forget about it.”
She catches Mary and Marlene sharing a look.
“What was that look for?” Lily asks.
“Nothing,” Mary smiles and reaches out her hand to Lily. Suddenly, her face lights up, “Oh my god, I haven’t told you, have I?”
“Told me what?”
“So, I may have a date,” Mary drawls with a huge grin plastered across her face.
Mary hasn’t been on a date since before Christmas, “What? With who?”
“Just a certain Ralph Romano,” Mary brightly says.
“Oh god, Mary,” Lily complains, “Ralph is the biggest twat to exist.”
“That’s what I said,” Marlene chimes in.
“He’s dated half of our year and a third of the year below,” Lily says with wide eyes, “You could do so much better.”
“Who could?”
Lily practically jumps out of her skin, as do Mary and Marlene. “Christ, Pandora,” Lily laughs with a hand over her rapid heart. “You nearly sent me to an early grave.”
“Oh, sorry, Lily,” Pandora beams, gently taking a seat, “I always seem to do that. You see, I think people know that I'm there, and then I speak, and suddenly everyone screams.”
Lily can’t hide her smile, “It’s fine, Where are Regulus and your brother?”
“Busy, I suppose,” Pandora waves her hand haphazardly in the air, “They are away with the fairies.”
“Right,” Marlene nods, “And Dorcas?”
“With Barty, I would suspect,” Pandora wistfully adds, “Does anyone have a penny?”
“Did you want to buy something at the cafeteria?” Mary asks as she roams around her pockets, searching for loose change.
“Oh no, I need to choose between doing my maths homework or my art?” Pandora smiles.
“And that requires a coin, because?” Marlene raises an eyebrow.
“I need to flip it,” Pandora states. As much as Lily adores Pandora, in the short time she has known her, she is rather eerie. Always floating about with that twin of hers, who hardly ever speaks, “I’m letting fate decide.”
“Right,” Marlene nods as if she understands. Which Lily can see she clearly doesn’t.
Mary hands Pandora a bronze coin, “Here.”
“Oh, thank you, Mary,” Pandora grins, holding the 1p as if it were a precious stone, “I’m very appreciative.”
-
Sunday rolls around quicker than he would have liked. Lily had told Dorcas to tell him where to meet. Why she didn’t just get Dorcas to give him her snap or number is beyond him.
But that’s how he ends up sitting in some artisan café at 8:57 on his Sunday morning. The oak walls are lined with shit art, and the smell of cappuccinos and lattes is fucking smothering. If she doesn’t show up in three minutes, he is leaving.
As if the gods have heard him, the door clinks open, and Lily walks through with several binders in her hands and a tote bag filled to the brim with books.
“We’re only here for a few hours, Evans, not a week,” He remarks. He knows it’s a cunty move, but well… he doesn't really have an excuse.
“What? Oh, well, we need all the resources we can get,” Lily says, looking over her folders.
He grabs a few out of her arms, which causes her eyebrows to fly to her hairline, “I’m not nicking them; calm down.”
“I didn’t think you were,” She says shyly.
“We need a bigger table,” he mutters, scanning the free tables, “We should have just done this at yours.”
“What, why?” Lily panickily urges.
“Because then you wouldn’t have had to lug them across town,” He smirks.
“I can manage just fine, thank you,” Lily states with her head held high.
“Never said you couldn’t, Evans,” Barty replies. He takes a seat at a table in the corner, far away from a group of squabbling girls and mums, and places Lily’s folders down. Barty had only brought his phone with him, which sat in his back pocket.
Lily takes a seat opposite him, “So I think we should get the 30 marker done first.”
He awkwardly laughs and runs a hand through the back of his hair, “What was the question for that one?”
“Gods, do you not listen in lesson,” Lily huffs as she flips through her binder and starts to read, “Explain whether you think Hector behaves in a more human way than heroic way in the Iliad… Justify your response.”
“I hate Hector,” Barty half-heartedly says, “Right, so we should start with-.”
“How do you hate Hector?” Lily exclaims, and the look on her face nearly makes Barty bark out a laugh. She appears genuinely horrified.
“Course you like him,” Barty smirks, looking down at the notes Lily had written out.
“Everyone likes Hector,” Lily projects as if she is denying something bigger.
“That’s a blanket statement,” Barty points out, “Yeah, he’s practically the only good character if any of them are good, but he’s also a prick.”
“How? That’s so stupid; this is thousands of years old! It’s practically scripture, and nearly everyone likes Hector,” Lily argues, her cheeks starting to go red.
“Oh, so just because that’s what everyone says, you have to agree,” Barty grins and raises an eyebrow.
“If it’s a correct opinion, then yes!” Lily cries with rounded eyes full of frustration.
“He abandons his wife on the walls of Troy, and I can’t let that go,” Barty taunts. He doesn’t like Hector, he thinks him arrogant, and it pisses him off that everyone ‘loves’ him. But he doesn’t have many more arguments against him, so he hopes Lily stops pushing.
“He did what was right for the city; he sacrificed himself,” Lily contends back.
“And what for, I mean, Achilles rips him to shreds. If he stayed, he could have died saving his wife and son or at least died with them, but he had to be the hero, and poor Andromache dies alone,” Barty crows.
Lily is silent for a second, then she tilts her head and blinks, “You’re oddly surprising.”
Barty feels his brain falter for a millisecond, “You want a drink or something?”
“What?” Lily blanches, staring at him like he’s grown a second head.
He pulls out his phone and starts to get up, “I am getting a coffee, so do you want anything?”
“I didn’t bring any money, so I'm fine,” Lily says, looking down at her notebook.
“I’m offering to pay, Evans,” He doesn’t know why he is.
“I’m not letting you buy me anything,” Lily declares, finally making eye contact with him.
“What do you want? Tea? Food?” He asks as he hovers by the table. God, this girl is stubborn. Not that he’s not used to it; for example, when Reg left home and had all of £2.50 to his name, he wouldn’t let any of them buy him anything. Not even James’s mum or dad could get him to take money, and he lives with them.
“No, I don’t want anything, thank you,” She says as she looks back down at her hands.
“Evans?”
“Hmm?” Lily says.
“What do you want?” Barty asks.
“Nothing, Crouch, really nothing at all.”
“Suit yourself, Princess.”
“Stop with the nickname,” She calls out.
-
Lily doesn’t hold back her surprise when a muffin is slid in front of her, “Crouch. I told you I didn’t want anything.”
“It’s not for you,” Crouch responds as Lily feels her face heat up with embarrassment.
“Oh,” Is the only noise Lily can get past her shame-barred teeth.
Barty rips off a chunk of the muffin and begins to chew obnoxiously as he flicks through the notes Lily has made, “So we emphasise Hector being a father and husband, right? Which shows he’s more human than a typical Homeric hero.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought,” Lily says through flustered breaths, “The whole 'Hero in name, human by nature’ thing. But then we could bring in his death.”
“How that follows the heroic code,” Barty adds and not so subtly pushes the cake towards her.
“Exactly, but then we could counter that with the fact that he is still inclined to show more human responses to the challenges of heroism in comparison to Achilles,” Lily says back, reading from her notes.
When she looks up, Barty smiles at her, “You’re oddly smart, Evans.”
Lily rolls her eyes, “Just write this down for the introduction.”
“Yes, yes,” Barty chuckles and starts scribbling down her words, “And I don’t want that.”
“Don’t want what?” She says, looking around them.
“The muffin, it’s yours?” He says, pushing it towards her, “I don’t like chocolate.”
“Why did you get a chocolate muffin then?” Lily raises an eyebrow.
“Forgot, I guess,” Barty says, not looking up.
How could someone so stupid be nearly as smart as her?
Within a good two hours, they put together the intro and the first and second paragraphs. It’s rather impressive if you ask her, considering if you had asked her this morning how this would go, she would have described a small fire and her screaming.
Though there is some screaming, a group of children are running around, screeching while their mum sits exhausted, helplessly watching.
“That poor mum,” Lily comments as she watches them.
“I know it’s impossible to get anything done with that noise,” Barty remarks.
“Don’t be so horrible; she’s probably shattered,” Lily says, turning to him.
“I’m shattered, she is not controlling those devils,” Barty nods his head in the direction of the rampant toddlers.
“Why am I not surprised,” Lily says, feeling a flush of anger at her project partner.
“Huh?” Barty grumbles, running a hand through his hair.
“Nothing,” Lily turns her nose up at him, “If you have the noise so much, why can’t we do this at yours next time?”
She doesn’t actually want to go to Barty’s house, not even if the world is ending. But his comment has rubbed her the wrong way. She knows he is an entitled prick, even if she had forgotten that momentarily.
Lily assumes Crouch will bow out, but she hadn’t anticipated that he would be just as stubborn as her, “Fine next week, mine?”
“What?” She splutters.
“Next week, we can meet at my house,” Barty repeats.
“Fine,” She doubles down.
Gods. This will be hellish. He probably lives in some modern mansion where you can’t touch anything, and his bedroom will be pristine. Not that there is anything wrong with success, but that kind of house alone reminds her of everything she is not. She lives in her nan’s council house from back in the 90s that she brought and passed down to her dad in the will. It’s home but nothing fancy.
“Good,” He smirks.
-
On his drive to school, Barty realises just how fucked he is. Evans is coming around this Sunday, so now he has to tidy his whole bedroom because there is no way they are sitting at the kitchen counter where his parents could be. He might even wash his sheets just to be polite. He also has to tell his dad, who probably won’t let her in the door. It’s nothing against Evans; he just hates it when people are at the house. He doesn’t even let Mum’s parents stay around; he just puts them up in a nice hotel.
“Fuck,” He mutters.
“What?” Evan says, not even looking away from his phone as he sits in the passenger seat. His face is lit up by the blue light of his phone.
“Just... think we might be late,” Barty lies.
“What!” Regulus says, leaning between the driver and passenger seat, “How do you always manage to be late?”
“It’s a talent, Reg,” Barty coos back, turning to look at him.
“Eyes on the road, please,” Pandora cried from the seat next to Reg.
“Sorry,” Barty smirks and then purposefully swerves just a tad.
“Barty!” Pandora shouts and whacks his shoulder, “I am dissecting a pig’s heart later, and I want to be alive for it.”
“I thought you didn’t have biology today, Panda,” Barty hears Dorcas ask.
“I don’t,” Pandora says happily, “Daddy promised to get me one from work.”
“Course he did,” Dorcas breathes out the words reluctantly.
The twin’s parents own a very successful vet clinic, which rather morbidly inspired a passion for dissection in Pandora.
“Evan asked for a rib cage, but he said he can’t get one from the clinic,” Pandora mutters. Speaking for her half-mute brother as she often does. Evan doesn’t mind; Barty knows that, but it really adds to the creepy twin thing they have going on.
“I wanted to put it in resin,” Evan comments in his raspy voice.
“I thought you kept messing that up?” Barty asks.
“He did, but then I showed him a YouTube video on it,” Pandora rebuts, pulling Regulus back into his seat.
“Hurry up, Crouch,” Regulus snarls, “If I wanted to be late, I would have taken the bus, not your shitty Fiat Punto.”
“Hey!” Barty exclaims, “I worked for this car.”
“Should have worked harder,” Regulus mutters in response.
“Prick,” Barty snaps back, “I don’t see you with a car.”
“Yes, because I can’t drive,” Regulus pulls a smug little face.
“Reg, stop making Barty feel insecure about his car,” Dorcas drawls.
“Thank you, Dorcas,” Barty grins at her, “Tell you what, Dorcas, you have been promoted. You can sit in the passenger seat on the way home.”
“Keep your eyes on the road!” Pandora repeats.
“Why am I being punished for something Reg said?” Evan says as he finally looks up.
“Because, my rose, as much as I enjoy your company,” Barty says, “You don’t actually contribute anything, verbally speaking.”
“He controls the aux,” Pandora argues on Evan’s behalf.
“He can do that from the backseat,” Dorcas smiles smugly.
“Barty, don’t make him, you know he hates the back seat”, Pandora says with those bright, big eyes of hers and well, Barty’s an empath, so…
“Fine, Evan stays.”
“What!” Dorcas shrieks.
“I’m sorry,” Barty says as he keeps his eyes on the road.
“Oh, this feels great,” Dorcas replies sarcastically, “I’ve been promoted and demoted within a minute.”
Barty hears Reg chuckling from the back seat, which makes Evan break, too.
“Don’t you start laughing, passenger princess?” Dorcas points at Evan.
Evan raises his hands in surrender just as they pull into the sixth-form car park.
“Finally,” Regulus cries as he clambers to get out and to lesson, “Barty, open the boot!”
Barty clicks his keys as he looks into the mirror of his sun visor at his hair, just as Dorcas sticks her hand in and ruffles his fringe, “Dorcas!”
He can hear her laughing as they start to walk into the crowded building.
-
Lily’s dad drops her at Barty’s house that Sunday. He had told her the address in Classics on Friday, and she had Googled it as soon as she got to lunch. The pictures on Rightmove proved her initial suspicions right. But now, as she pulled up to the massive fucking house, she couldn’t believe it. There was no way only three people lived here. It was shaped like an oversized block of Lego and all black and white as if it were from the future.
“Gosh,” Her dad comments as he leans over the dashboard to look at the mansion, “You sure you got the right address, Lils?”
“Yeah,” Lily swallows, pulling out her phone just to double-check.
“Well, your new fellow is minted,” Her dad laughs and wiggles his eyebrows.
“He is definitely not my new fellow, Dad,” She laughs.
“Why on earth not? Look at this place,” Her dad says, “You would be set for life.”
“He’s Crouch’s son.”
“Who? Bartimus Crouch?” Her dad says, perplexed.
“You know many other Crouches?” Lily teases.
“Don’t have cheek with me,” Her dad smiles, “I’ve just spent a fortune in petrol to drive you here.”
“It’s a ten-minute drive,” Lily retorts.
“You don’t drive. You don’t know the petrol prices,” Her dad smirks in a way that makes the creases around his eyes stand out and his rosy cheeks shine.
She opens the car door and steps out, “Pick me up later?”
“Will do. Have a nice time,” Her dad says as he turns the car key.
Lily is about to knock on the all-glass front door when it suddenly swings open.
“Princess,” Barty smiles at her and sort of looks her up and down. She can only assume he is assessing if she is dressed nicely enough to come in.
Pretentious prick.
His striped shirt is half unbuttoned. One of the buttons is missing. There is always something missing from his clothes. He constantly looks like he has just thrown something on, as if he has stumbled out of bed and escaped grasping hands.
“How did you know I was here?” She asks as she walks in.
The whole house smells fresh, as if everything is squeaky clean. It probably is. It certainly looks that way with the fancy black-and-white artwork on the walls and the laminate flooring.
“Ring doorbell,” Barty comments.
Thank god she didn’t knock then.
Nervously, she says, “Your house is nice.”
Which is the understatement of the century: this place is like heaven. A rich fucking heaven. It’s everything she can hope for. When she has finished her law degree and becomes a barrister, this is what she wants. Sure, it lacks character, but it’s huge and beautiful in a bleak way that only wealthy people understand.
“Mm, thanks,” He nods, “I hate it.”
Which weirdly feels like the most honest thing he’s ever said, but Lily chooses not to focus on that part, “You're so privileged. Go-.”
She nearly said God but thankfully remembers his parents are religious. She doesn’t want them overhearing and thinking she is rude. She has this startling need to appease almost everyone and piss off the rest.
She realises Barty hasn’t said anything for a few seconds, and she stops admiring the hallway to look at him. His brow is scrunched as he looks at her, and she notices he is picking at the side of his thumb haphazardly.
When he notices her staring, he says, “Can you take your shoes off?”
Lily flushes, “I was going to.”
If this was her house, she would kick them off with no thought, but she’s already managed to annoy him, and this is his house after all. So, she crouches down and starts undoing her laces.
“Thanks,” He nods, quieter than usual, “My dad is home, so we will have to do it in my room.”
“Okay,” She nods as she puts her Converse on the white, metal shoe rack and stands, brushing her knees. She doesn't know why she does. This place is pristine after all; it’s not like a speck of dirt is on her. If anything, she’s probably brought dirt inside with her.
He starts to walk through the house, presumably leading her to the stairs, and she follows. As soon as she sees the stairs, she understands why he asked her to take her shoes off. The place is carpeted in a plush white.
“My bedroom’s just here,” He says, pulling on a door handle by the staircase.
For the first time today, what she expects is not what she sees. The walls are perfectly white but covered in posters and pieces of paper with doodles or drawings. There is a large bohemian rug in the middle of the floor that looks ancient and grand. She notes the bookcase that has piles and piles of books stacked and crammed into it. Every copy is well-worn, with each spine cracked, and some are nearly falling apart. Lily also sees a bong resting on his nightstand, surrounded by lighters and rolling papers. His window is also half open despite the dreary weather.
It feels oddly intimate to be in his bedroom, mostly because it wasn’t what she was expecting. When she first went to James’ house, his room had been just as she pictured, with a neat bed and football posters. Rather bland, to be honest. With James, it felt like decoration. Compared to this, it feels like half of Barty’s soul was on these walls and in these books.
She assures herself that the only reason she is comparing Barty to her ex-boyfriend is because that is the only other boy’s bedroom that she has been in.
“Sorry for the mess,” He notes, kicking his school bag out of the way, “You can put your stuff on my bed; there is not much room on the desk.”
She follows his eyes and sees an oak desk sitting in the corner, but it is littered with even more books and papers.
“We will have to work on the bed,” He says uncharacteristically shyly.
“That’s fine,” She says, easing the embarrassment that is seemingly written across his face. She drops onto the corner of his bed as he sits crossed-legged by the pillows, “I thought we could finish the 30 marker today, you know, get it done.”
“Well, the less time you spend with me, Evans, the more grateful you will be, I’m sure,” He smirks.
“Damn straight, Crouch,” She smiles back.
-
He has been through worse things than this, like when he broke his arm, for example. That wasn’t great, but it was definitely worse than this.
Worse than the constant edge he is on right now, it’s a combination of stress that his dad is going to walk in and the feeling that this low-cut top she is wearing is giving him.
He needs Lily to stop leaning forward when she is reading the passages out loud to him because the number of times he has lost focus and asked her to repeat herself is frankly undignified.
“I think your hearing is going,” Lily comments as she uses her finger to hold the page as she writes.
“Yeah,” He half-heartedly chuckles, “Something like that.”
She sighs and looks up at him, “I know we have been doing this for what four hours now, but I need this perfect, okay?”
“Aye, aye,” He nods and looks away.
“I mean it, Crouch,” She seriously says and clicks her fingers in front of him, “Focus, please.”
“You know this isn’t coursework, Evans. It doesn't change your grade,” He says, just to be a prick.
“Still,” She explains, “I need Binns to write a good statement for me.”
“Why?” He asks as he leans back into the pillows.
“Because Classics is the closest subject to law that I do, so it needs to look good for Unis,” She answers and starts looking back at her books.
“Haven’t you already been accepted to Cambridge?” He smirks at her. She looks so concentrated at the page, and it’s rather sweet.
“I have a conditional offer, yes,” Lily states, “But I want to be perfect.”
“Great or nothing, aye,” He quotes ‘Little Women’.
Lily’s head snaps up fast enough to have gotten whiplash, “Did you just quote Little Women?”
“Um,” He scratches the back of his head, “Yeah, I didn’t shoot your parents, so no need to look so scared.”
But she doesn’t stop. Her eyes are wide, and her eyebrows could touch her hairline. She blinks a few times, “Have you seen the film?”
“Um, yes... and I read the book,” He slowly says. He thinks that’s the right thing to say.
But that only seems to startle her more, “You read the book...”
“Yes, Evans,” He can’t stop the smile that is overtaking his face.
Slowly, as if she were talking to a startled animal, she says, “Joe with Laurie or Amy with Laurie?”
“Oh, Amy and Laurie, obviously,” He states. Which is the truth, “Anyone who thinks differently hasn’t read the books.”
“Exactly,” She sits up excitedly. Then, as if she realises who she is talking to, she sits back.
“Evans, you gonna have to explain to me what just happened,” He smirks at her.
“Nothing happened,” She denies.
“Right, well, that’s a lie. I quoted Little Women, and you acted like a crazy person,” He says brightly, “So either you are insane, or you’re going to have to explain.”
Hesitantly, she says, “I’ve just never met a boy who watched Little Women of their own free will. Let alone read it.”
He smiles, “Oh, see, now you make sense. Was that hard?” He teases.
“Shut up,” She smiles, and her cheeks start to blush prettily.
He lets out a laugh, and to his fucking horror or perhaps joy, so does she. Her head falls back, and her red hair spills out onto the bed. When she looks back at him, her eyes are bright and creased in the corners.
He nearly tells her she looks pretty, but he abruptly closes his mouth. He shakes his head as if he can get the thoughts out. He tells himself, ‘Think about her tits, not her smile, you twat’.
He needs to smoke, and he decides, “If I smoke, are you gonna castrate me?”
Her brow creases, “We need to get this done.”
“Smoking makes me smarter, I promise,” He beams and reaches for his rolling stuff.
“Won’t you have to go outside?” She innocently asks.
“Nah, window,” He says and nods in the direction of it.
“Fine,” She says and pulls her hair over one of her freckled shoulders.
God, he needs to smoke. He grabs his grinder, which still has some weed in it from last night, and his roach and papers.
When he looks back over at her, she is watching him intently. Lily awkwardly coughs and says, “You want me to roll the roach?”
His eyebrows shoot up, and so do the corners of his mouth, “Do you know how?”
“Of course I do,” She says and rolls her eyes, “Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”
Then, to his surprise, she casually grabs the Raws from his lap and starts to roll the roach.
Which might be the fittest thing he has ever seen a woman do, and he isn’t quite sure why that is.
He lets out a spluttered sound, “Oh.”
“Oh,” She repeats him with a small smile on her face as she looks up at him.
He delicately pulls out one of the papers and holds his hand out for the roach. Which isn’t half bad, in fact, it is well rolled, “Do you smoke weed?”
“Occasionally,” She says, smiling.
“Occasionally,” He repeats to her, then says, “Evans, this is stunningly rolled. You can’t just roll like this, then sometimes smoke.”
All she says to that is, “If I’m doing something, I like to do it well... that includes rolling.”
“I think you’re the craziest person I’ve ever met,” He laughs, “And I know Pandora, so that says a lot.”
“I’m not crazy, just good,” She says and folds her arms.
“Yeah, what, whatever you say, crazy person,” He smirks. But in truth, it’s rich coming from him, considering he is the most competitive person to exist. Well, second to Lily, apparently.
He finishes rolling the joint, and then he stands up on the bed. As he lifts his arms over his head in a well-needed stretch, he says, “Grab that lighter for me.”
Lily is quiet for a second, and when he looks down at her, she is just staring at him. As soon as his eyes meet hers, she snaps out of it, “Which one? You have about twenty here.”
“Oh, um,” He says and looks over at his nightstand, “The pink one.”
“Ask nicely,” She orders, pointing the lighter at him.
“Please,” He says through a smile.
“Well done,” She praises and hands him the lighter.
He really shouldn’t dwell on the heat in his stomach when she said that. Instead, he climbs over the window ledge and onto his roof, which is covered in ash and fag butts, “You coming?”
She seems hesitant, looking back at her work, “How do I know this isn’t your distraction and that I will get high and then you do all the work?”
“Gods, Lily,” He laughs, “You ought to trust people more easily.”
She doesn’t respond, only stays standing in his bedroom with her arms crossed.
“Okay,” Barty says, “I promise I am not leering you out here to sabotage you.”
“Fine,” Lily gives in and starts walking towards the window. As she lands on the roof, she haphazardly says, “God, when did I start believing you?”
“Probably around the same time that quoted Little Women,” He quips as he lights the zoot.
“Good call,” She notes and sits down opposite him.
He looks over at the sky as he inhales; it’s only midday, considering Lily had arrived at nine. The sun is bright in the sky, but he can see dark clouds in the distance, so they should probably smoke this quickly.
His dad’s car is parked in the driveway right next to his, and even the reminder that he is home makes him want to crawl out of his skin. Not that his dad is home, but that Lily is also here. If he walked in right now, Barty would probably be ignored for a good week or two, and Lily’s parents would receive a deeply regretful apology email from his dad about how his son is a bad influence, and he can only apologise.
He and his dad are alright right now, and he doesn’t want to change that.
“You’re quiet,” Lily mumbles, and he notices her nervously biting on her lip.
He passes her the joint and lies, “I’m enjoying the view.”
She turns her head and stares at the sky, exactly where he was looking, “I guess it’s nice.”
He can’t stop the small laugh that escapes him, “Yeah.”
-
Lily starts to feel that fuzzy, soft-around-the-edges feeling after a few deep puffs and hands the joint back to Barty.
“Enough?” He asks softly.
She nods, “Yes, no more now.”
“Okay,” He smiles and takes a short toke, “I need you to tell me who these boys you forced to watch Little Women?”
“What?” Her head snaps up.
“You said you don’t know any boys who watched it voluntarily, so I assume you forced someone to watch it. Who?” He questions happily.
“James,” She admits and giggles. She doesn't know why she laughs; nothing is particularly funny. Well, she knows exactly why she is laughing. It’s the same reason she feels all fuzzy. The weed.
“Ah,” Barty nods, “The boyfriend.”
“No,” Lily laughs, “God, no!”
Barty’s face is very confusing; his eyebrows are all scrunched, and he seems frozen, “Since when have you and perfect Potter not been together?”
“Like... weeks at this point,” She chatters.
“Since when?”
“I just said. Weeks ago.”
“Who knows?” He asks and leans forward slightly.
“Everyone. Well, my friends,” Lily remarks, feeling proud she knows more than him.
“Does this make us friends, Lily?” Barty jokes with a small grin.
“Not in a million years, Barty,” She says smugly with a smile.
“Really?” His smile is bigger, she notices.
“Yes, really,” She declares.
“Then why did you just call me by my first name?” He asks cheerfully.
“I...” Did she?
Barty lets out a bark of laughter, “Calm down, Lily, don’t malfunction.”
She shoots him what she hopes is a sharp glare.
There is a second of silence that is filled with a comfortable buzzing feeling. Then, “So,” Barty says as he inhales, “Why’d you break up? He cheat? You cheat?”
“No, of course not,” She replies, “I just… I kind of... well.”
He seems to hear her struggling but doesn’t offer her an out; instead, he smiles and says, “Take your time, princess.”
“You’re such a prick,” She comments, “I had a bit of an emotional moment of clarity and realised he wasn’t what I wanted or something stupid like that.”
“It’s not stupid.”
She turns to look at him and raises an eyebrow.
“It’s not, really it’s not,” He says with what seems like genuine compassion. But it’s Barty Crouch Jr, so God knows what’s real.
“It is, he was perfect,” Lily rants, “And I know no one is perfect, but he was. Like properly good, but it just didn’t feel right. I can love someone more than that. You know?”
Before he has the chance to reply, she says, “It was nice, but that was it. Just nice and everything I wanted and should have. Everything I deserve. I’ve worked so so hard,” She emphasises, “But it wasn’t right. It wasn’t what I needed. And then I started to freak out because what if everything is like that? If he wasn’t what I wanted, how do I know everything else will be?”
“What do you mean by that?” Barty asks. God, she can’t believe she is saying all this to him of all people. She hasn’t even said this to Mary or Marlene.
“Like Cambridge, the law degree, the nice house, the life I want, what if it’s not right,” She finally admits.
“Well,” He slowly says, and she finally stops staring at the sky, “Knowing you, you will do it anyways and be great at it, by the way. And then maybe you will be 25 with everything you want, and it won’t feel right, so you will drop it and do something else, and annoyingly, you will be great at that too.”
She laughs at that, which smooths the tears that are threatening to fall. The laugh that escapes her is sort of cathartic.
“Or you will be 25 with everything you ever wanted, and as it turns out, James Potter is just a boy who wasn’t right for you, but everything else was exactly what you needed.”
She feels herself looking at him fondly and quoting, “When did you get so wise?”
“I always have been, You were just too busy noticing my faults,” He says back with a grin.
“Ugh,” She groans, “I love that film.”
“We could watch it,” He says with a smirk.
For a second, she is besotted with the idea, but then she resists temptation, “We have to finish the essay.”
“We will,” He promises, “We have all day.”
“Fine, but we have to work after.”
“Agreed.”
-
Barty knows he suggested it, but he isn’t quite sure how he ends up next to Lily Evans on a Sunday afternoon watching Little Women after smoking.
“I hate this part,” Lily murmurs. She has been drifting in and out of sleep for half an hour, and he keeps having to nudge her awake. Not that he minds if she falls asleep, but he promised they would get work done, and they can’t do that if she is dreaming.
He looks back to the screen and sees a sick Beth, “Mm,” He nods, “Me too.”
“Poor Jo,” Lily pouts as she relaxes back against the pillow.
“More like poor Beth,” He corrects her. He is sitting cross-legged, leaning forward so they aren’t lying next to each other. He doesn’t think sober Lily would appreciate it if they were.
“Beth has accepted it she’ll be okay, whereas Jo hasn’t, but yes, poor Beth,” Lily sleepily says.
He smiles and looks down at her, “Evans.”
“Huh,” She mumbles with shut eyes.
“Wake up,” He laughs and gently shakes her arm.
“Go away,” She says, pushing his hand away.
“Right, I’m getting you food and a mug of tea,” He says, cracking his finger and clambering out of bed.
“Food?” She sweetly says as she lifts her head to look at him.
“Yes, food, stay here,” He smiles as he opens the door.
He quickly dashes downstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. And swings around the wall into the kitchen. They don’t have much food in the house, but there is a tube of Pringles, which he grabs along with a packet of those sour watermelon sweets that have been there for a few months.
He lazily checks the date on them as he turns on the kettle.
“I thought you were doing a project?” He jumps as he looks up to see his dad standing in the doorway.
“We are,” He replies shortly as he gently kicks his socked foot into the corner of the cabinet just so he doesn’t have to make eye contact.
His father doesn’t reply. Instead, he stares at the food and raises an eyebrow.
“Refuelling.”
“What is this project?” His father questions.
“Classics. A few essays on the Iliad,” He curtly says.
“A series.”
“What?” He says, looking up.
“Don’t say a few. Say a series of essays,” His father corrects him.
“That just sounds pretentious,” Barty replies, just to piss him off.
“Would you rather sound like some bum living on the streets?” His father asks, and it sounds so genuine that it could be a threat.
“Nope,” He says as the kettle goes off, and he pulls out two mugs.
“No, not nope,” He orders as he watches Barty with a firm eye.
“No, father,” Barty replies as he reaches for the milk in the fridge.
“Look at me when you speak to me, or are you talking to the milk?”
He looks up, “I’m talking to you.”
“Good, then look at me.”
He does, but he can hardly face the look of his father these days. He is so stern, and he stares at Barty with such dislike that it physically hurts. He knows his parents love him, that much is obvious, but he also can tell they don’t like him. They don’t need to say it.
His dad nods his head, then says, “I am going out, Make sure your friend is gone when I get home.”
“When will you be home?” He can’t help but ask, even though he knows what the answer will be. It’s always the same.
“When I have done the work I need to do at the office.”
“Got it.”
“No say understood,” His father blandly says, but Barty can hear the drop of anger behind those words.
“Understood, Dad,” Barty replies.
“No, it’s father,” His dad says, “How many times must I tell you? I only want you to try.”
“I am trying,” Barty firmly says, gripping the spoon.
“It doesn’t appear so,” His father says, “Appearances are everything, and you do not appear your best. You don’t have to be. Just act like you are.”
He knows it’s good advice; it will make him successful. But Barty doesn’t particularly want to be great. He just wants his father to like him.
With that great exit line, his father grabs his car keys and walks towards the front door, “Lock the door behind me. If we get robbed without the door locked, insurance won’t pay out.”
Then the door closes shut, and Barty has to blink the tears out of his eyes.
He tucks the food under his arms and grabs the mug. As he makes his way to his room, he realises his door is ajar. Had his dad looked in, or worse, Lily looked out? When he pushes the door open, he realises it must be the latter as Lily is sitting cross-legged on his bed.
-
Lily definitely didn’t mean to hear that, and Barty definitely knows that she heard.
She knows his dad is cold. She had seen him at church, but God, that was harsh. Her dad had never once spoken to her like that, and if he did, she would probably blanch at the cruelty.
“Barty...” She starts.
“I come bearing food,” He cuts her off and hands her a mug.
“Thank you,” She says, If he wants to ignore it, then so will she. Lily hardly knows him; she won’t push into his personal life.
“You're so welcome, Evans,” He smirks. She notes that he is using her last name again. She is such a fool; why did she have to be so nosy and listen in?
“Are you going to Marlene’s party thing?” She asks just so she has something to say.
“Should be,” He remarks, “Dorcas is dragging the whole group.”
“You don’t want to go?” She asks, genuinely curious. People would kill to be at one of Marlene’s gatherings; she only invites a handful of people.
“Do I seem the type who gets along with Potter and his ensemble of marauders?”
Lily lets out a small laugh, “Not really, but it’ll be fun.”
“Sounds like you want me to go, Evans,” He smirks and takes a sip of his tea.
She rolls her eyes and mirrors him as she takes a mouthful of tea, “PG?”
“What?”
“The type of tea,” She says, looking at him over her mug, “It’s PG, no?”
“Are you also the best at identifying brands of tea?” He laughs, watching her.
“No,” She says as she jokingly turns her nose up, “I just like tea.”
“And what, O grand tea-connoisseur, is your preference?”
“Tetleys,” She says, knowing exactly what his reaction will be.
“You’re on crack, or you’re secretly seventy years old,” He burst out laughing, “What kind of choice is that!”
He is louder now that his dad has left, she notices.
“Shut up, stop it!” She exclaims through laughter, “It’s not that funny.”
“It’s fucking hilarious, is what it is,” Barty crows.
Then Lily feels her phone buzzing in her pocket. As she pulls it out, the word ‘Dad - ICE’ with a red heart next to it beams, and she quickly swipes right.
“Hullo,” She speaks.
“Hiya, Hun,” Her dad’s voice rings through the phone, “Do you need picking up?”
She looks at Barty, who is absentmindedly flicking through her notebook, “No, not yet.”
“Okay, just call me when you want picking up,” He says.
“Will do,” She replies.
“Alright, see you later.”
“See you later.” And she hangs up.
“Who’s that?” Barty asks, looking up at her with his sharp green eyes.
“My dad, he wanted to know when I want him to pick me up,” She gives him a short smile.
“Oh, okay,” He nods, “We should probably do some work then.”
“Probably,” She says as she opens the Pringles tube.
-
“How far is everyone into the assignment?” Binns asks the class on Thursday.
They had gotten two of the essays done on Sunday and only had the ten-marker left, which should be relatively quick. Barty should be relieved by that, but he felt an odd pang of disappointment instead.
“Everyone else is well behind us,” Lily whispers to him. Not only has the word count on their essays changed since Sunday, but so has Lily’s behaviour towards him. Now, she would randomly turn towards him in class and mutter something. He wasn’t complaining, if anything; it was better than sitting next to her, stewing about how many questions he got right on the quiz compared to her. Which is rather strange, considering Barty loves being right.
“I know,” He says back, nearly catching a mouthful of ginger hair.
“We’re so smart,” Lily smirks as she looks at him.
“We are,” He smiles, “They should throw us a parade or something.”
“Mm, I like that idea,” She jests, “I might have to suggest it at the next student council meeting.”
“Of course, you’re in student council,” He laughs.
“I am going to Cambridge. Obviously, I’m in student council,” She snaps back jokingly.
“Smarty Pants.”
“You’re such a child,” She grins at him.
He doesn’t reply instead, he settles on pulling her ponytail to further prove her point. She gasps, and her face flushes that pretty pink colour she tends to turn.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” She says, scandalised.
“Who is a child now?” He knows the answer.
“You! Definitely you,” She hisses.
“Mr Crouch and Miss Evans, if you would be so kind as to leave the flirting outside of my classroom, that would be appreciated,” Binns remarks as he gives both of them a sharp look.
Poor Lily turns the same colour as her hair, and Barty has to swallow his laughter for her sake.
“Please, sir, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, as if Evans would ever lower her standards, which are about as tight spandex,” He cries out.
The entire class erupts into laughter at that.
Lily whacks him, “Don’t say that about my standards. They are exactly where they need to be.”
Her cheeks are still rosy, and if he thought she looked scandalised before, she now looks in complete disarray.
He smirks as Mr Binns says, “Please don’t say spandex in my class, Mr Crouch; other students seem to find it comical.”
“Apologies, Sir, I won’t say spandex again,” He smiles.
There is another ripple of laughter at that, which only sets Binns off again, “Honestly, class, you are all soon-to-be adults or are already adults; it is truly not that funny.”
Lily burrows her head into her head, “This is humiliating.”
Barty smiles at that and leans closer to her to whisper, “Evans, it’s not that big of a deal, They find the word spandex funnier than the proposition of us dating.”
“You’re such a prick,” Lily mutters.
“Still want me at Marlene’s Party Tonight?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows even though she refuses to look at him.
“Yes,” She grits out.
“That’s what I thought,” He smirks.
“Alright, that’s it! The lesson is over. It’s 12:45, go enjoy your lunch!” Binns cries.
Barty grabs his backpack off the ground and Lily’s bag with it, “Come on, Evans.”
Lily reluctantly lets him drag her to her feet, “I can’t believe that just happened.”
“Is the prospect of dating me really that humiliating, Evans?” He jokingly asks as he pulls her out of the classroom and down the hallway.
“Yes, Barty, it is!” She cries with wide eyes as she unfortunately drops his hand.
“Okay, okay, don’t blow a fuzz in that tightly wound brain of yours,” He smirks.
“I hate you,” She says but leans into him slightly as they stop by the cafeteria.
“Sure, you do, Princess,” Barty teases, “See you later, yeah?”
“Mm huh?” She groans and pulls away from him as she walks over to her friends.
Barty walks over to his table as he watches Lily join Potter and the others. Why is she still friends with him if they broke up?
“What the fuck was that!” Dorcas shouts in his direction. He spins around and looks behind him, “That was directed at you, you half-wit.”
“What was what?” He confusedly asks.
Regulus pipes up from behind a book, “I believe she was referencing when Lily Evans was climbing you like a tree.”
Barty feels his face heat up, which hasn’t happened before, “She didn’t climb me like a tree.”
“No, she couldn’t have because she is Lily fucking Evans, and you are well you!” Dorcas exclaims, then very calmly says, “But I saw what I saw, Reg saw what I saw, the twins saw what I saw. So, either this is some group hallucination, like those dancing folk in France, or Lily fucking Evans climbed you like a tree.”
“She stood close to me. It’s not the same thing,” He retorts.
“Oh, that makes sense,” Dorcas says sarcastically, “Oh wait, no, no, it doesn’t because why is Lily fucking Evans anywhere near you.”
“Stop saying Lily fucking Evans,” Pandora adds, “You might accidentally summon her over, then she would know we are talking about her.”
“We have a project together,” Barty states.
“I know, I apologised for anything you may do during said project,” Dorcas says.
“We have become sort of friends or something. I don’t really know, to be honest,” Barty says, peeling an orange that Pandora handed him for her.
“Do you like her?” Regulus asks with a small smile.
“No!” Barty cries, “What! That crazy talk, Reggie, we need to get you to a doctor.”
“Is it?” Dorcas asks, “Because as much a pain in my ass as you are, I still love you deeply, so if you have a secret crush on Lily, then I would persuade you against it.”
“What? Why? Did she cut off Potter’s balls or something?” He jokes.
But Dorcas doesn’t crack, “I’m serious, she goes for… you know... the James Potters of the world, even when they don’t deserve it.”
“Why wouldn’t James deserve it?” Regulus asks, seeming genuinely offended.
“Ugh, Reg,” Dorcas says, “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t, what’s wrong with James?” Regulus pesters.
“Nothing, James is lovely,” Dorcas says, “That’s the point.”
“Oh, what, and I’m not lovely?” Barty asks.
“Of course you are, but to us, you know? Evan. Pandora. Back me up here.”
“I think Barty should go for it,” Pandora says with a sparkling smile. And Evan nods in agreement with his sister.
“Thank you, Panda,” He says as he passes her orange back to her, “But Dorcas, you have nothing to worry about because I don’t like Lily.”
“Mm. Sure you don’t,” She says suspiciously.