Barty had been in Malfoy Manor before. When he was still a boy, wearing the mask. Of course, officially they all weren't supposed to know one another, but truthfully that had never held entirely true for any of the followers with more influence. They were all from the same circle of pureblood families, after all. Most of them had gone to the same school, the same parties, the same events. Grown up together. Of course, Barty was a better observer than some. How could he ever have missed the way Regulus always fidgeted in those small, almost undetectable ways, when he had spent so much time watching him in school? How could he have mistaken a weasel like Lucius for anything other than he was, no matter the mask he was wearing?
And then, of course, they had also met without masks, on their own behest. Like the times he had been in Malfoy Manor before. Back then he had been young, the youngest for a while even. Holding a lot of promise, but his Lord didn't want to favour him in front of the others, at least not yet. He had to prove himself. He had to navigate these powerful people, show that he was not his father's son. Show himself for who he really was.
And he had. He had in so many more ways than anyone had predicted and now when he walked through the manor, it wasn't him having to act as if he respected the others. It was them respecting him. Fearing him. Barty was enjoying the contrast. The present was better than the past. That hadn't been true in a long, long time, but here he was now.
Of course, he still couldn't sleep easily. Nightmares haunted him and shadows of the past pulled on his mind. And so it was that he walked around at night, for no particular reason, waiting for his restless soul to settle down. Instead he caught sight of Draco Malfoy. And he smiled.
What was the boy doing up at this hour? Well, he could imagine. A lot of things weighing at his mind too.
"Malfoy." He said the name and there was a sneer in it and no need to mask it. "What are you up to?"
It was near impossible to have any kind of well rested sleep when he had all of these people crawling around his home. Draco supposed the reality was a lot worse than the vision. He always saw himself as just riding along as his father sat on high but, in reality, his father wasn't as strong as he'd expected. He did not ride on high and the dark lord didn't much seem to care for them either. And that left him in a rather awkward situation.
Namely that life wasn't easy or simple and he really didn't like being a death eater.
No, really, he thought the cause was right and just but he just didn't like any part of it. He liked to be more of a backseat sort of fellow, not out in the centre. And yet, things kept conspiring against him. Everything kept backfiring. And he hated it.
He had been downstairs, trying to sneak a snack, food crammed in his pockets when Barty caught him out. God, no, not that psychopath. Really, Death Eaters and their cause attracted the most odious of people. Turning around slowly, Draco tried his best to not seem bothered by Barty's presence. Though he was. Big time. God, that sneer.
"Just walking about... it is our manor so--" So he should be allowed to go for a bloody walk.
"Really? I'd have thought it'd be past your bedtime." Barty walked closer, stopping a few feet away from the boy. He was very much still a boy, younger even than his years. Or perhaps that was just the standard Barty was going with, a standard by which Draco here very much fell into the category of 'pathetic'. "You should be asleep. Or, you know, studying. If your grades haven't improved a lot since I taught you."
It was fun, he thought. Reminding the boy of how he'd been his teacher. Especially because he punctuated the sentence by subtly moving his finger up and down, not unlike a certain bouncing ferret.
"My grades are fine." They weren't but he didn't care much. It wasn't like they needed to be fine cause he'd get a good job no matter what. Or so he told himself. He was pretty sure he was going to get something comfortable regardless of his schooling. "Father will help me find employment, doesn't seem worth the hard work to study."
Yes, he was boldly flaunting that but, well, Barty was also a pureblood. Surely he got it. Wizards like them didn't have to try hard, not really. Even if his father yelled at him for bad grades, what was he going to do? Disown him? Pfft. He was the heir. "And I don't have a bed time." He did. Taking a big step back, he eyed up his escape plan. "If you'll excuse me..."
"I don't excuse you. I really don't. You bother me." And that, Barty found, was pretty inexcusable. Here he was again, talking about his privilege as if he deserved it. What a little prick. "What you need is a lesson. Or several, really, but I don't have that much free time on my hands."
All his life, Barty had been angry and resentful. Most of his life he had had to bury that. But now? There was really no need to hold back, especially not with someone like Draco. His hand moved, sudden and quick, grabbing the boy's wrist tightly. He pulled his sleeve up, staring at the dark mark and huffing.
Still holding him, nails digging into his skin, he looked directly into the boy's eyes. Coward. Throwing curses at someone's back and too little backbone to stand up to anything or anyone without using his father to hide behind. His father was nowhere now. Barty had drawn his wand and he used it, first to point at the dark mark - not touching it - and then to point at Draco as he hissed quietly. "Tell me what this means to you."
Draco's eyes went wide as he was suddenly grabbed, not expecting such a move and remembering all too well how dangerous this psychotic loon was. His mother kept saying to be respectful and not to upset anyone so he had to bite his tongue not to throw insults. Not that he could had dared right now, all his desire to stand up for himself drained right out of him and he paled. Well, paled more than normal.
Shrinking away, he whimpered as the nails dug into his skin and squirmed, trying to yank his arm back. "You're hurting me!" Well, duh. Even so, he felt like pointing it out. He looked down at the dark mark then Barty, his wand far too close and he tried not to just straight out scream for his parents. This was bad. This felt pretty bad. Well, he could do this. He could get out of this mess. "It means -- loyalty. I'm a pure blood, I stand with dark lord!"
That was the right answer, right? He ticked every box. Loyal, dark lord, pure blood.
Barty laughed, not letting go of him. He wanted to hurt him. He felt that was part of the point he was making. "Your blood is pure. I'll say that much. Although that has never kept anyone from being a cowardly sycophant. Runs in the family just as the blood does."
Idly he wondered whether Draco even knew what sycophant meant. Maybe he'd have to ask his mommy later. There was an entertaining thought. "You've never had to fight for anything, have you?"
No wonder he was soft. Spoiled and useless, a coward filled with doubt. Easy enough to see. Barty let go of him at long last and then he smiled. "Do you think you are up for the fight, Malfoy?"
Draco wanted to tell his father almost instantly about this vile mistreatment but he knew better to threaten that right now. He recoiled and pulled his arm close to his chest, looking at Barty with horror. He attacked him! Not a violent attack as such but in his head, it rather was. He moved back slowly as he kept his arm close to himself, not sure if he should answer or just run for it.
But he felt he wouldn't actually get too far. "A--A fight?"
No. God no, he was not up for a fight. Unless it was a fight on his terms. He liked to hit from behind and run. Or just fight weaker people. If he was fighting some children, perhaps. Not really people his own age. Or older. Or stronger. He supposed he could take old people if he had to... if they were unarmed, he could just shove them. Ha. "I'm not a coward, I can fight." Ehhhhhh. Kinda. "I just have no cause to."
"No cause? Do you need me to give you a cause, you spineless little ferret? You really are your father's son." And, no, there wasn't even an attempt to make that sound like anything other than an insult. "How about if I turned around? Will you feel better attacking from the back? That seems more on your level."
Barty's voice sounded cold rather than furious. Mocking, really, he had no actual stake in this, other than feeling that this boy could stand to learn. "What are you going to do when you've run out of people actually lesser than yourself to stand near you? Trust me, in your case? It won't take that long."
"You shouldn't insult my father." He spoke it quiet and without conviction because he wasn't sure if he should pick a fight but Barty berating him was starting to get on his nerves a little. What had he done? He hadn't even started anything against the lunatic and he was trying to fight him. He moved his hand subtly to be closer to his wand, just in case. "And I'm not a spineless ferret. I am my father's son. My father is loyal and earned what he has."
So there. He gritted his teeth, flittering between fear and annoyance non-stop. "I won't run out of people. I have a lot of friends. More than you, I'd bet."
"That's not a difficult feat to accomplish. I'm hardly looking for friendship." It was the most endearing thing he had ever seen the boy too, arguing back like that. Showed a lack of awareness and foresight, sure, but it was almost... cute. "How many people respect you, Malfoy? Think hard and think fast. Because in the world we are headed for, that's what is going to matter."
And he knew Draco, better than he cared to. Likely better than the boy knew himself. "Your father has earned about as much as you have. And he'll get what's coming for him."
He wasn't sure what of or why but he felt like throwing something at him and going on the attack. Perhaps because he knew, deep down, that Barty was right. But that was deep down. Deep, deep down where Draco never ventured. He was very much a surface level person, he didn't care to dig deep or know himself. "You're jealous that my father has had a good life and you haven't." Was that it? Probably. Who wouldn't be jealous of the Malfoys? They had a great life!
"I haven't had a good life," Barty agreed, "I haven't had a good death either. I haven't had a father's support or a mother who'd fight battles for me. But that has made me strong. So, perhaps that is what you are lacking."
He looked at Draco, making a show of how he was pondering the matter. "Is that it? It makes sense. Have you ever suffered pain? I could get you used to it."
Shit. He didn't like where this was going. He took another big step back and debating running towards his mom's room. Though that did seem kind of childish - he was a man now, a death eater... he should be fighting his own battled. Though he'd really rather his mother did it for him. "I'm strong enough, I don't-- don't need than. I... I want to go." He should have been firmer on that. He tried to say it with more conviction. "I need to go, I'm -- it's late." And he didn't want any pain.
"Then ask me properly. Politely. Maybe I'll give you permission." He could have flung a curse right then, but Barty preferred the psychological torture for now, the build-up. And making that arrogant little prick beg for freedom of movement in his own home? There was a lot of satisfaction in that, he'd admit it. He watched Draco, even smiling. Wand in hand, but not pointed. Waiting to be shown however much respect he felt like asking for.
"But it's my house..." He shouldn't have to ask. Yet there was that wand. Looming, ready to strike... he really didn't want to end up a ferret for the rest of the night. It was horrible enough the first time. Politely. He just had to ask politely. Lowering his head, he tried his best not to have to look in this prick's eyes. "Can I go to my room now?"
"Run along then. And do some studying, you're an embarrassment." Barty exhaled, watching the boy to see what he'd do, because he didn't lower his wand just yet. He liked terrifying him. Very, very low-hanging fruit, but still. Fun nonetheless and he did deserve it. He wondered if there was anyone in that generation who actually knew how to fight the fight on their side.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
And then, of course, they had also met without masks, on their own behest. Like the times he had been in Malfoy Manor before. Back then he had been young, the youngest for a while even. Holding a lot of promise, but his Lord didn't want to favour him in front of the others, at least not yet. He had to prove himself. He had to navigate these powerful people, show that he was not his father's son. Show himself for who he really was.
And he had. He had in so many more ways than anyone had predicted and now when he walked through the manor, it wasn't him having to act as if he respected the others. It was them respecting him. Fearing him. Barty was enjoying the contrast. The present was better than the past. That hadn't been true in a long, long time, but here he was now.
Of course, he still couldn't sleep easily. Nightmares haunted him and shadows of the past pulled on his mind. And so it was that he walked around at night, for no particular reason, waiting for his restless soul to settle down. Instead he caught sight of Draco Malfoy. And he smiled.
What was the boy doing up at this hour? Well, he could imagine. A lot of things weighing at his mind too.
"Malfoy." He said the name and there was a sneer in it and no need to mask it. "What are you up to?"
no subject
Namely that life wasn't easy or simple and he really didn't like being a death eater.
No, really, he thought the cause was right and just but he just didn't like any part of it. He liked to be more of a backseat sort of fellow, not out in the centre. And yet, things kept conspiring against him. Everything kept backfiring. And he hated it.
He had been downstairs, trying to sneak a snack, food crammed in his pockets when Barty caught him out. God, no, not that psychopath. Really, Death Eaters and their cause attracted the most odious of people. Turning around slowly, Draco tried his best to not seem bothered by Barty's presence. Though he was. Big time. God, that sneer.
"Just walking about... it is our manor so--" So he should be allowed to go for a bloody walk.
no subject
It was fun, he thought. Reminding the boy of how he'd been his teacher. Especially because he punctuated the sentence by subtly moving his finger up and down, not unlike a certain bouncing ferret.
no subject
Yes, he was boldly flaunting that but, well, Barty was also a pureblood. Surely he got it. Wizards like them didn't have to try hard, not really. Even if his father yelled at him for bad grades, what was he going to do? Disown him? Pfft. He was the heir. "And I don't have a bed time." He did. Taking a big step back, he eyed up his escape plan. "If you'll excuse me..."
no subject
All his life, Barty had been angry and resentful. Most of his life he had had to bury that. But now? There was really no need to hold back, especially not with someone like Draco. His hand moved, sudden and quick, grabbing the boy's wrist tightly. He pulled his sleeve up, staring at the dark mark and huffing.
Still holding him, nails digging into his skin, he looked directly into the boy's eyes. Coward. Throwing curses at someone's back and too little backbone to stand up to anything or anyone without using his father to hide behind. His father was nowhere now. Barty had drawn his wand and he used it, first to point at the dark mark - not touching it - and then to point at Draco as he hissed quietly. "Tell me what this means to you."
no subject
Draco's eyes went wide as he was suddenly grabbed, not expecting such a move and remembering all too well how dangerous this psychotic loon was. His mother kept saying to be respectful and not to upset anyone so he had to bite his tongue not to throw insults. Not that he could had dared right now, all his desire to stand up for himself drained right out of him and he paled. Well, paled more than normal.
Shrinking away, he whimpered as the nails dug into his skin and squirmed, trying to yank his arm back. "You're hurting me!" Well, duh. Even so, he felt like pointing it out. He looked down at the dark mark then Barty, his wand far too close and he tried not to just straight out scream for his parents. This was bad. This felt pretty bad. Well, he could do this. He could get out of this mess. "It means -- loyalty. I'm a pure blood, I stand with dark lord!"
That was the right answer, right? He ticked every box. Loyal, dark lord, pure blood.
no subject
Idly he wondered whether Draco even knew what sycophant meant. Maybe he'd have to ask his mommy later. There was an entertaining thought. "You've never had to fight for anything, have you?"
No wonder he was soft. Spoiled and useless, a coward filled with doubt. Easy enough to see. Barty let go of him at long last and then he smiled. "Do you think you are up for the fight, Malfoy?"
no subject
But he felt he wouldn't actually get too far. "A--A fight?"
No. God no, he was not up for a fight. Unless it was a fight on his terms. He liked to hit from behind and run. Or just fight weaker people. If he was fighting some children, perhaps. Not really people his own age. Or older. Or stronger. He supposed he could take old people if he had to... if they were unarmed, he could just shove them. Ha. "I'm not a coward, I can fight." Ehhhhhh. Kinda. "I just have no cause to."
no subject
Barty's voice sounded cold rather than furious. Mocking, really, he had no actual stake in this, other than feeling that this boy could stand to learn. "What are you going to do when you've run out of people actually lesser than yourself to stand near you? Trust me, in your case? It won't take that long."
no subject
So there. He gritted his teeth, flittering between fear and annoyance non-stop. "I won't run out of people. I have a lot of friends. More than you, I'd bet."
no subject
And he knew Draco, better than he cared to. Likely better than the boy knew himself. "Your father has earned about as much as you have. And he'll get what's coming for him."
no subject
He wasn't sure what of or why but he felt like throwing something at him and going on the attack. Perhaps because he knew, deep down, that Barty was right. But that was deep down. Deep, deep down where Draco never ventured. He was very much a surface level person, he didn't care to dig deep or know himself. "You're jealous that my father has had a good life and you haven't." Was that it? Probably. Who wouldn't be jealous of the Malfoys? They had a great life!
no subject
He looked at Draco, making a show of how he was pondering the matter. "Is that it? It makes sense. Have you ever suffered pain? I could get you used to it."
no subject
Shit. He didn't like where this was going. He took another big step back and debating running towards his mom's room. Though that did seem kind of childish - he was a man now, a death eater... he should be fighting his own battled. Though he'd really rather his mother did it for him. "I'm strong enough, I don't-- don't need than. I... I want to go." He should have been firmer on that. He tried to say it with more conviction. "I need to go, I'm -- it's late." And he didn't want any pain.
no subject
no subject
no subject