ROSEMARY || ROSEKILLER

MARCH 9TH, 2007.

Evan Rosier wasn’t a typical detention resident. He might look like it, he might dress like the kind of child that would be, he might smoke out the bathroom window, get in semi-regular fights, and miss a lot of his homework; but he only ever gets detention for the stupid things, like calling a kid a ‘cumstain on the face of the earth’ in the hallway.

At seventeen, Evan Rosier had been in detention more than Barty Crouch Jr had been to classes in his entire life.

Barty had always told everyone that ‘college just isn’t his place’. And, honestly? He wasn’t wrong. His attendance, ‘breaking of dress code’ and incessant need to talk back to teachers lands him in trouble at every possible opportunity. For him, detention was a regular thing, attending it was another question.

The two being put in detention together, and both actually going, was a one in a million chance. Once in a lifetime, you might say.

Barty had been in there for his missing homework, and in his defence, how was he supposed to know it had been set if he hadn’t been in his lessons? But he had gone, for some strange reason, however, with no intention of doing any work, or being quiet. With his headphones on, his shitty little iPod, with his collection of bands his father hated; his favourites. He was on time, surprisingly, but only because he’d skipped his class beforehand, and knew a teacher would just come looking for him; he’d rather make his own way than have to be escorted. Barty changes his mind on that immediately as he recounts the choice, thinking about how cool he’d look being taken to his lesson by a teacher.

Any imagery of Barty actually looking remotely cool were interrupted by the door swinging open, with a teacher, tall and slim, typical librarian glasses (which Barty has to stifle a laugh at), and a shiny bald spot right on the top of his head. As Barty was imagining polishing it, giving it a nice cracking slap, his thoughts were very inconveniently interrupted by a very convenient distraction from his two hours in detention. Evan Rosier was, in no way, a boy Barty had ever lay eyes on before. Slim, his skin contrasted delightfully from his hair, and his eyes clashing both prior mentioned tones and sending some sort of electrical shock down Barty’s spine, that had him sit up straight, at attention, and stare.

Barty never had any shame in staring, oh no, never. And that would not be changing any time soon. Not when he could stare at whoever the fuck this kid was. This kid who was moving closer, and sitting at the table next to his, and, and.. Glaring at him? Glaring at him. Like that’s going to stop him.
“What do you want?” The voice was hushed, but sliced through the silence hanging in the air, not at all loud enough for anybody but Barty to hear; but exactly loud enough that Barty got the message that Evan wanted nothing to do with him.

Oh, he was going to have to learn quickly that that’s just not how Barty works.

“Your name, preferably.” Barty’s grin traced his lips, tugging them upwards as his tongue traced his teeth, tasting the metal of the piercings either side of his bottom lip. He was gazing at the side of this mysterious kid’s face, temple rested on fist, elbow on his table. Evan kept his head forward, but even then his eye rolling was obvious.

Evan opened his mouth, presumably to hiss an insult or another implied instruction for Barty to shut it, but was cut off by the teacher, yes the bald-spot teacher, who was running the detention. “Rosier. You’re only here for an hour and a half. Crouch, two hours. Understood?” Evan gave a nod, and slipped his hand into his bag, presumably to grab his headphones, or his class notes or something. He did come back with both, but Barty wasn’t having that, he wasn’t having being ignored.

“Rosier. That’s cute. Rosie, huh?” With Evan’s attention grabbed, held in his hands to be able to mould and shape into whatever he wanted, Barty moved to act. Almost like he’d been practising this in the mirror for months (he has). “Why on Earth are you here, hm Rosie? Hit someone?” Barty interrupted himself with an awfully melodramatic gasp, pressing his hand to his chest. “Did you hit a teacher? God, Rosie, you hit a teacher, didn’t you?”

He’d probably never admit it, but Evan was just the smallest bit charmed by how quickly Barty took to talking to him as if they’d known each other for years. And he was just the smallest bit more charmed by how overt Barty’s flirting was. It’s not like it hadn’t happened before; don’t get it all wrong, Evan knew he was quite attractive and he knew he could probably get any person he wanted to, but he never wanted to. He just found that chase, the back and forth quite fun. He also knew when somebody only wanted a shag, and he recognised every sign of that in Barty; so he wasn’t entirely interested. But definitely interested enough to let Barty keep trying.

Evan’s lack of response didn’t deter Barty, both to Evan’s gratitude and surprise. “Oh, you did! You did!” His melodrama was quite entertaining, though Evan would seldom admit it. “You punched a teacher! Who was it? The art teacher? You look like you take art. I’m not specifying whether that’s a compliment or not-”

For the first time, and certainly not the last for the next hour and twenty-five minutes, Barty was told to keep his mouth firmly shut by the man he’d now named, mentally, Mr Balding. Evan did have to stifle a laugh, though it was fairly easy for him, simply sealing his lips tight together, and biting on the inside of the upper. “Sorry, sorry-” Barty excused, through a small chuckle of a laugh as he swung his head around to momentarily face the window, long enough Mr Balding turned his head back to his work. It probably isn’t work, Barty thinks to himself, tapping his fingers to his desk to still annoy whilst not speaking, it’s probably just some weird middle-aged man porn. He felt his eyebrows furrow with the thought, and repressed the urge to gag at the idea of Playboy magazines hidden under Mr Balding’s bed, in a shoebox, hidden from the wife he hasn’t touched in six years. Barty finishes that train of thought with a very confident; I’m going to off myself before I go six years without sex.

It only took about ten more minutes of Barty attempting to distract Evan from the work he was doing before yet another once in a lifetime event struck Barty Crouch Jr solidly in the face. Twice in one day, how lucky.

There was an unearthly screech in the corridor just outside of the classroom, enough to make Barty and Evan both strip their headphones from their ears in unison, and make Mr Balding stand up without hesitation and leave the room, ordering a quick “You two, stay here, or else.” and taking off down the corridor after a check in both directions.

Barty took a moment to process, immediately getting ready to pack up and leave, but was stopped by Evan, who held his hand out, bag already entirely packed up and slung over his shoulder. “Wait.” Was the only word he used, and Barty complied to the authority in his tone; possibly for the first time in his seventeen years of life. So they waited. It didn’t take long, not long enough for Barty to wonder why they were waiting, but eventually, the door swung back open, a lot more gentle than Mr Balding’s middle aged white man’s attempt at brute force. In walked a girl just taller than Evan, possibly because of the platformed shoes she was wearing, dressed head to toe in bright reds, greens, oranges, yellows, radiating with the complete opposite aesthetics to the two boys now standing across from her.

“Okay, the coast's clear! Let’s go, Ev.” She had a much brighter disposition to Evan, despite the same mostly monotone expression in her voice. “Oh. You’re not alone? Who’s this?” She gave Barty a smile, and a little wave, but then used the same hand to quickly gesture them both toward her, and then started walking through the school corridor at a decent speed, Evan and Barty having to make quicker paces to keep up.

“He’s no one special, Panda.” Evan took a few jogging steps to meet her at her side, the two interlocking fingers as they walked.

“No one special. Ah, I love it when somebody’s ‘nobody special’.” With a giggle, this Panda girl quickened her paces to a run, Evan following her. Only one looked back, and when Barty got a look on her face, he came to the conclusion that there was only one correct answer to who she was - Evan’s sister. Twin sister, to be more precise. They were identical, except for the hair, with Pandora’s lengthening right down to her lower back, braids she clearly looks after with beads braided in here and there, little pieces of glittery string and ribbon. She was beautiful - there was no doubt about it.

It wasn’t until after their run out of the school gates that they all stopped to take a breath, and Barty could drink in the sight of just how similar these two looked. Every inch of them was the same, down to matching beauty marks on their jaw, and a distinct birthmark on their neck; as if a mirror had been placed between the two, with perfectly reflected attributes. Barty found it a little dizzying, admittedly. If they were both wearing the same outfit, down to a hat, he probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

“I’m Pandora.” She wasn’t breathless, wasn’t panting, just smiling directly across at Barty as he caught his breath and held it deep in his chest. “It’s nice to meet you. Apologies for my brother, he forgets his manners sometimes.” That comment in itself was met with Evan rolling his eyes, making Pandora give the same light laugh she gave in the corridor just a minute or two prior.

“That is absolutely nothing to worry about, Pandora. Your brother’s attitude is quite charming. I’m Barty.” That same grin etched itself onto Barty’s expression, the same one that had mildly charmed Evan during detention.

“Oh, Evan, he is definitely coming with us.”
Both twins looked at each other in a synchronised fashion, Evan’s face souring with disagreement, but before he could shake his head, Barty filled the silence.

“Evan! That’s your name. I’ll stick to Rosie, if that’s perfectly alright with you.” He gave a wink, and received that flustering eye roll in response.

“No, it’s not okay with-”
“Good, good. I’m glad, Rosie. Nothing but the best for my favourite delinquent.” Barty gave a laugh, which strengthened as Pandora did the same, despite Evan’s clear displeasure with the situation. “Now, where is it that we’re going, Pandora? Where am I accompanying you both to?”

Pandora gave a little jump of excitement, completely contrasted to the lack of tone in her voice as she continued to speak. “We’re going skating! Evan, I put your board over-” She drew out the word as she looked around with one pointed finger, her other hand still intertwined with her brothers, as if both reminding each other that they were present in the moment, that if they looked to their side, their reflection would still be looking back at them; always. “Here! It’s over here.” She started walking, pulling Evan with her, who followed dutifully. A small smile grew on his face, Barty could see it, as he spotted something sticking out of the bushes. A skateboard, and a pair of rollerblades, with the foliage surrounding it to keep it hidden from someone who would’ve just been walking by, and not looking for it. “And she’s unscathed, you don’t have to worry. I made sure to put her somewhere that you deem safe this time.” She smiled at her brother, who smiled back, and Barty was knocked flat on his feet. Metaphorically, it is. The literal interpretation of that would come later. Oh, he was definitely going to shag him; whether it was the last thing he did. Evan’s smile was immediately wiped when he lay eyes on Barty gawking at him, letting go of Pandora’s hand to pick the board up from it’s place in the bushes, and then handing his sister what were presumably her rollerblades.

“Thanks, Panda. If you got her scratched again, I might’ve killed you.”
“Oh, Evan. There’s no you without me.” She gave a laugh, and then pressed a soft kiss to his cheek with an overexaggerated mwah! sound, the smile lingering on her lips just as her lipstick did on his cheek. Evan tried to resist the tug on his lips, and when he realised doing so wasn’t going to go his way, he turned his whole body away from Barty to start walking. He picked up his pace, and Barty only had to blink before he was coasting down the street on his skateboard, leaving Barty and Pandora to speak to each other for the first time.

“He’s like that. You get used to it.” Pandora filled the momentary silence before Barty got the chance to, who turned his head to look at her, then glanced down at the rollerblades in her hand. “Do you skate, Mr Barty?”

“Oh yeah, yeah, course I do. Don’t have a board on me though, didn’t expect to be going anywhere but detention.” That’s a lie. Two lies, actually.

“Good, that’s where we’re going.” Pandora smiled, a soft smile, just a curve of her painted lips, plump with a cherry colour.

The walk wasn’t long, and Barty grew to like Pandora in a way he had only ever really liked one person before, his best friend. The company was nice, rather than walking the streets more or less alone and just.. Looking edgy. Smoking, drink in hand, something like that. They bonded quite nicely, almost as if Pandora always knew what to say and how to respond, react, when to smile and laugh and when to nod and agree.

Barty had thought he’d seen all of this town until they arrived. The park he’d been brought to was a whole new air, a whole breath of fresh air, an entire different community within a town of rich assholes and their even more pretentious kids. Spray painted lined every wall, every floor, the people dressed well instead of the same casual suits and dress shoes, and no one looked at Barty with disapproval as he walked past. It felt.. strange, it felt weird, it felt right. Barty cracked a genuine smile, with no flirty undertones, for the first time in a few days.
There seemed to be a specific ‘spot’ that Evan was walking to, giving nods and handshakes to people he walked past. He knew everyone, almost as if he was in his element, greeting everyone like a blood-bonded best friend he hasn’t seen in far too long. Barty found himself a little jealous, but repressed it and refocused himself on his goal to divide and conquer. Divide legs and shag.

Evan placed his bag down in one spot, then his jacket, revealing a much more tight fitted, cropped shirt beneath the clothing that had looked six sizes far too big for him. He let Pandora sit down to put her rollerblades on, then looked at Barty with a waiting look.

“What?”
“Are you going to sit down? You don’t have a board, do you?”
There was silence, answering Evan’s question in itself, before Barty finally decided to finish it.

“You listen to Korn?”
“What? Yeah. Why?”
“Your shirt.”
“It’s a Korn shirt.”
“Yeah, so I asked if you listened to them.”
“Why would I wear the shirt if I didn’t?”
Once again, Evan had stunned Barty into silence, with nothing to say. He had no clue what to respond with, out of his comfort zone entirely.

“I’m going to skate. You can have my board when I sit back down.”
And so he left. Pandora followed soon after, managing just as many tricks as her brother was. They were in sync at some points, on opposite sides of what Barty later learned was called the ‘bowl’ of a skatepark; the big dip where they come up the other side and do something cool. They even high fived a few times when they passed each other, and Barty found himself sitting on Evan’s jacket to watch. He felt quite out of place, admittedly, but just reminded himself: I’m Barty Crouch fucking Jr, I can conquer any fucking place I want to go. It’s in my genes. I was literally made for this.

Only about ten minutes later, and three minutes of watching the Rosier twins share glances with each other that clearly held the weight of an entire conversation, Barty was once again approached by Evan, who just rolled his skateboard over in his direction. “Go on, then.”
With a pause, Barty eyed him up, a singular, pierced eyebrow raised. He was about to reject it, make up some shit lie about a sprain or an injury, but instead mentally reminded himself that he was Barty Crouch fucking Jr, and he could do anything he fucking wanted to.

So he stood, and he took one step onto the board, almost slipped, saved himself, and found his footing. Barty kept one arm out to his side, for balance, and as he picked up speed, found himself self-appraising.

Woah, I’m actually so fucking good at this. What the fuck? I’m so fucking good, I knew I could do it. Fucking look at me. God, dad would fucking love this, wouldn’t he?

Barty wasn’t sure if it was the fact he was lost in thought, or a general lack of talent that caused it. He’d found himself up in the air, then on something gritted and hard, and then the concrete. It hurt, like fuck did it hurt. But he was Barty Crouch fucking Jr, he could do anything he wanted to.

“Oh, fuck.” He was expecting at least a small crowd of people, not just Pandora watching over him when his eyes opened. Barty went to sit up, but she gently shook her head, looking like she was completely lost in thought. And that was probably right, because despite her physical interaction with him, of gently placing her hand on his chest to keep him lay down, it was a few seconds later, when Barty groaned loud due to a pressure on his arm, which stung tightly throughout his whole body, that she acknowledged him fully.

“Gosh, oh, dear, are you quite alright? Can you hear me okay?” The ringing in Barty’s ears subsided, and the world gradually came into more focus. The sky was blue, clear. He didn’t like that. He much preferred the regular droning monotony of shitty English weather. “Stay lay down. You’re in big trouble with Evan, but he’s good at medical stuff, you’re in good hands as long as he doesn’t remember what you did.” Her voice was gentle, despite the warning she gave, almost motherly in her consolation. Barty realised then, with her looking down at him, how gentle her whole demeanour was. From her sense of style, to her smile, to her laugh, down to the very laces of her shoes; mismatched in such a heartwarming way, because it all feels so very Pandora, that it’s hard to ignore, and even harder not to love.

Pandora’s soft concern made Barty momentarily forget about the pain in his body, until he glanced down and saw blood coming from a cut on his arm, then glanced to his side and spotted Evan, head down, focused, though the clear outline of a pair of glasses on his face. Clear frames, with a little yellow gemstone in the far corner by each lens.

“You’re gorgeous” are the first words Barty utters that grab Evan’s attention enough to make him look up, his eyebrows gradually furrowing.

“God, you must’ve lost enough blood to make you delirious.” While laughing at him, Barty felt that spike of pain through his body again, wincing, groaning, and finally laying his head back onto what he thinks is Pandora’s sweater, as she’s missing the one she was wearing beforehand. He eyes the sky, then slowly lets his eyes shut, blinded by the light of the literal ball of fire shining down on him, before getting gently patted on the cheek a few times, making him start all over again.

“Don’t shut your eyes too long, not losing you, thank you very much.” Pandora gives him a smile, and a little laugh as her head tilted to the side a little. “You can’t skate at all, can you? You certainly didn’t look like you’ve ever touched a skateboard before.”

Barty took a little offence to that, groaning and shaking his head. “We’re never talking about that, not ever again. No thank you.”

“We will be.” Evan’s voice was sharp again, stopping was he was doing, seeming to have finished, sitting back up on his knees, then swinging himself backwards to stand up, and walk around to the other side of Barty’s body, obviously to treat any scratches there. “Because my board is in two pieces. We will be talking about it until you buy me a new one. Got it?” He eyes Barty with a glare to him that Barty could only laugh at, giving him a nod without any attempt to stifle how hilarious he found Evan’s anger. A little hot, too, but that thought was for later.

“Yessir, Yessir.” his tone a hum, Barty finally found himself stable enough to sit up, and continued to do so when Pandora didn’t stop him. Instead, she stood, and began packing her things.

She did come back to stand with them, though a few steps away, her bag over her shoulder and both of her hands resting comfortably on the strap. “I think, after you’re done, we should go home.” Pandora’s decision seemed final, as even Evan gave a nod in agreement, watching Pandora begin taking a few steps backwards. “I’m going to go and say hi to Dorcas, I’ll be back soon, then we can go.”

As she walked off, presumably to meet this friend of hers, Barty watched, and lay his eyes on whatever Dork person she was talking about. With his eyes squinted, Barty tried to make out the face of whoever Pandora was talking to; mostly just to see if he knew them. And to be nosy.

“You’re lucky I know how to do this stuff. I wouldn’t have if Panda didn’t tell me to. I genuinely would have left you here with an IOU for a new board and thirty quid taken out of your wallet.” Evan informed, with a very matter-of-fact tone, that Barty couldn’t help but think suited him very well. As he spoke, he was still working his way down Barty’s arm, picking small bits of concrete from his scrapes, cleaning them with some solution, and then placing a plaster over it. Barty’s right arm, the arm that Evan had first been looking at, just had one bandage down the whole way, apparently with more of an injury on it. He must’ve really scraped that side up.

“You have glasses.” Barty announced, as if it were shocking, lip twitching, eyebrows furrowed and focused on Evan’s face, his eyes specifically.

“You met me maybe an hour ago. Why, might I ask, is this devastating news to you?” Evan raised an eyebrow, biting his inner lip to stifle a laugh at just how funny it was that Barty was so incredibly bothered by it all. “I think you should be thanking me for taking care of you.”

“Thanks.” it was only a mutter, as if embarrassed to have to have been helped at all. Evan must’ve noticed the complete change in demeanour, but doesn’t comment.

“You’re alright, Barty. I don’t mind you.” Evan pushed himself to a stand, and then held his hand out for Barty to take, and when he did, he helped him to his feet. When he was up, Evan pulled him in close, gave him a sly smile that Barty was in no way used to, having only bore witness to the smallest, shyest of smiles directed at Pandora, and the rolling of the eyes. However, he’d take it. Evan was reciprocating his moves, wholeheartedly. It made him grin, tongue tracing the outside, then inside of his teeth until he bit down on it to keep himself from asking Evan to shag him right then and there. Because he would ask, and he would even more certainly do it.

He could feel Evan’s breath on him, could feel the hairs on his neck standing at attention, pricking up at any possible chance of sex. But, right as the moment was starting to feel right, Evan’s hand balled into a fist around Barty’s shirt, he let go. He let go, with a gentle push, and picked up his bag from the floor.

“You do owe me a new skateboard, though.”

Barty blinked, blinked again, and finally barked out a laugh. It must’ve echoed, because he could’ve sworn he could hear himself laughing ringing in his ears, but maybe that was the hit to the head.

“You, Rosie, are ineffable.”
“And you’re a dickhead, Barty. So I guess it’s evened out.”

Evan had his back turned to him now, but gestured his head for Barty to follow, who just continued to laugh as he picked up his bag from the floor (painful), and began to walk just a pace or two behind his new found infatuation (also painful).

Pandora appeared almost out of nowhere a few moments later, falling into step next to her brother and taking his hand. “Feeling better?” she asked Barty, having communicated all she needed to with Evan through eye contact and a few eyebrow movements.

“Much better.” that grin tugged at Barty’s cheeks again, pulling his lips upwards. “So much better, Pandora. Thank you very much for asking.”

Barty didn’t think she could understand, but the laugh she gave almost read like she did. “You are very, very welcome, Mr Barty.”

After about three cigarettes smoked just by Barty, and one by Evan, all three turned the final corner to what Barty assumes is the street the Rosier Twins live on, Evan seemed to finally sharply turn from where he was walking in comparison to Barty, furrowing his eyebrows. He’d been quiet the whole walk, headphones on, and Pandora and Barty had, once again, been talking. Pandora referred to it as Evan’s ‘recharging time’, so Barty had done his best not to bug him. He gets how that feels sometimes, just wanting the isolation for a minute.

“Wait, are you coming? Pandora, did you invite him over? Because I sure didn’t.”
Pandora only gave a laugh in response, nodding her head.
“I said, in the park ‘we should go home’. That doesn’t exclude Barty.”

All three had stopped, Barty ending up in between the two, feeling like he was standing between some argument between his parents when he was a kid. He did find that funny, honestly, that these twins were bickering like a married couple.

“I didn’t say yes to this.”
“Well, no you didn’t, but here we are!”

Evan’s face furrowed, almost as if he was resisting the urge to just give in to her, and his face showed the struggle with that feeling until he finally surrendered, groaning a little at her and rolling his eyes.

“Fine. But mum, nor dad can hear us. Got it? Or him.”
“Well, yes, obviously, we’ll go in the back window. Yes? And stay in our room.”

“You share a room?” Was all Barty had to say, and both twins looked at him with a look of partial confusion, before both laughing. It was the first time he’d ever heard Evan laugh, and laugh loud, and every time the two quietened down again, they’d make eye contact and start laughing again. Barty stood, lost to what he’d done, or said, letting out a few uncertain laughs in between. “I don’t get it. What did I do?”

“Take one look at us and tell us you think we don’t share a room.” Evan told him, after finally settling down, taking a few deeper breaths to find his feet again. “We have done since we were kids. We have rooms to have separate spaces, but we share a bedroom.” Evan explained it with his hand on his arm, pinching the skin as if to keep himself from laughing again. “God, come on, let’s go.”

After only about a minute more of walking, and Barty chittering on about the spat he’d gotten in with a teacher about his homework, that’d landed him in detention, Evan and Pandora cut down a small pathway behind a rather large house, and Barty followed without thinking. He did finally stop talking when Evan clasped his hands together by his fingers, lowered them so his palms were facing up, and let Pandora step on them. Evan sprung her up, and she grabbed a ladder attached to the side of the house, effortlessly, like they did this a thousand times every week. When she came to the ground, ladder in hand, she let Evan up first, and then gave Barty a politer little smile, lips forever shimmering in the light like she’s always just applied an extra layer of lipgloss.

“Welcome to the Rosier household, Barty. We really hope you enjoy your stay.” She giggled, like it was far more funny to her than it was to anyone else, like she was indulging in an inside joke with herself, that nobody else understood.

Barty could only laugh with her, getting himself up the ladder as quick as possible, hearing Pandora following him up.

When he landed through the windowsill, Barty was only really surprised that he hadn’t ever met these two beforehand. His father was so important in this place, and this family seems.. Loaded. Incredibly loaded. The room, what he could only assume was Evan and Pandora’s shared bedroom, was far bigger than he expected. All of the rich kids his father had had him meet in his youth all knew they were rich, dressed like they were rich and acted like they were rich. They knew they were rich and they owned it; that’s why Barty didn’t get along with any of them. But he had gone this long bonding with these two, with no prior judgements except the subconscious acceptance that they didn’t live anything his life. And weirdly, finding out that he was wrong was more comforting than he’d ever expected. They might have a lot more in common than Barty does with anybody he’s ever met.

The room was almost perfectly split in half; you can see what belongs to who. Two big double beds; Evan’s clearly with the darker colours, black with red stars, and Pandora’s greek with small white specs that almost look like fireflies. Pandora’s ‘side’, was neat, clean, though with wool and fabrics strewn over the corners of her bed, her desk, hung crystals and dreamcatchers with feathers and windchimes. Evan’s space, the same, neat and organised but with a completely different persona to it. A whole shelf stacked with books, colour coordinated, the shelf below with what Barty would come to know as skateboard wax and some screwdrivers; obviously just a fixing station, and a guitar propped up against the wall. Nearer the middle, between the two, a record player that looked shared between both of them, stacked on a shelf full of CD’s.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Evan was taking his jacket back off, leaving it on his bed, only to sit on top of it and kick his shoes off. “You have to be quiet, by the way. No like freaking out and shit.” he rubbed his eyes, then that hand ran through his hair, only for him to rest his eyes back onto Barty. “Sit down or something, don’t gawk, don’t be weird.”

Barty thought he must’ve looked tense, so he just sort of gave a bit of a laugh, shook himself off, and shed his jacket and shoes off on the way to Evan’s bed, making a point out of jumping up a bit and flopping himself down onto it, letting out a sharp exhale of breath as he hit the mattress. “You guys are like, rich.” The statement was obvious, and Evan and Pandora shared a look, an eyebrow each raised; once again perfectly mirroring each other.

“Yeah, we’re Rosier’s, dickhead.” Evan starts, and in sync, both twins finish his sentence; “Our dad owns like, half the buildings in this place.”

Coming to some sort of realisation, Barty sits up and watches them both, eyebrows furrowed in momentary thought.

“Woah, don’t think too hard, Crouch. Might hurt yourself.” Evan comments, earning a little laugh from his sister, and a groan from Barty.

“I think I’ve met your dad before. When I was a kid.”
“Yeah, he does business with your dad all the time.”
“What? You know my dad?”

Both twins laughed, but only Pandora answered.
“Everybody knows who you are, Barty. It’s sort of hard not to know Barty Crouch’s son, who does everything his father could ever want him not to do.”
Again, both laughed, leaving Barty with a frowning face so comical it only made them laugh more.

That air seemed to relax things a lot, and the next few hours proceeded in a similar manner. Barty would say something dumb, or try to hit on Evan the best he could, only for the twins to share a look and laugh at him; like they knew something he didn’t. It bugged Barty just a little, but that only made him more determined. Now, moreso, not just to shag Evan and be over and done with him, and Pandora; but to keep two friends he seems to have made by complete accident.

It was only when the moon was creeping up over the windowsill, and Pandora got up to shut the blinds, that they realised maybe Barty should go home. She was gentle about it, almost as if willing him to understand that if he needed to, he could stay; they’d make it work.

“I’m fine, I’ve got my way home, don’t worry.” Barty had given Evan an over wink as he slipped his jacket back on, before crouching down to tie his laces.

“Oh, I loved this, we should do this again.” Pandora gave a few claps of joy, bouncing on the balls of her feet and nodding. “Right, Ev?”
Evan, still on his bed, just gave a hum and a nod, not really moving his gaze from where he was watching the window. It was clear he wasn’t really listening, and was just agreeing with his sister, but of course Pandora took that as a sincere yes, because of course she did.

“How about I get your number then, Rosie? Hm?” That made Evan shift his gaze, eyes going a little colder, before of course being rolled to showcase his irritation.

“No. Fuck off.”
“Oh! Ev! What about your MySpace! You love posting on there, and I bet you two’d like it with all the interests you share.”
Evan’s face grew a dark red, a crimson that made Barty’s hairs stand back up to attention, as if his name had just been called from afar and was beckoning him closer. “No, Panda.”
“Aw, Rosie, come on! Gimme your MySpace, or I’ll find it myself. I bet I can.”
“Go on then, dickhead.”

Barty, taking that as a challenge, just gave a laugh, maybe a bit too loud, before shaking his head and raising one eyebrow directly at Evan, giving a softer hum under his breath. “I’ll see you on MySpace then, Rosie. Or in detention next week.”

“I won’t be in detention next week.”
“Oh, oh I’ll make sure of it.”

Barty only stuck around to watch Evan roll his eyes, and receive a tight, squeezing hug from Pandora to say goodbye.

And with that, he dipped out of the Rosier Twins’ bedroom window, down the ladder, and lit a cigarette for his walk home.

Oh, his dad was going to love his new friends.
Barty did, so why ever would his father not, just as much?