"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.
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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."
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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."
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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."
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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!
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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."
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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.
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