Genetics • Sirius Black

Chapter Fifty Three: I'm Tired.

"Do you mind if I have this duel?"

A voice called in front of Freya Grey as she retied her shoelaces. Her eyes moved before her head did. Standing to her feet, she only offered a slight nod to Barty Crouch Jr, though he seemed satisfied with the small gesture. Both of them moved to the ends of their small dueling mats as they were supposed to practice gentle block spells with one another (the ministry would not want to risk a student getting hurt in the middle of a war).

She straightened her shoulders and waited for him to start, but his mouth moved faster than his hand. "Sirius Black's a prat." Her cool eyes meeting his was the only indication that she'd heard him. "I should have hexed him the moment he started talking about you." With a crooked smile, Barty tilted his head. "Up until then, I say our date went well, wouldn't you agree?"

Date. Freya had almost forgotten about it... or so she tried. In fact, she had thought about it quite a few times since that night. And every night since when he stopped talking to her. Not that that mattered anyways. She, apparently having seduced both Black brothers, was now the Slytherin Slag, and he was a Ministry's Head's son. Chances of a second date seemed slim to none.

However, who needed a second date when they had one of the most complex potions in Wizarding History near her fingertips. That's where her head should be.

Still, it would be a shame to throw good networking away.

"I suppose."

"Good." A dimple formed on his cheek, then he saw her gaze catch on something at the far end of the classroom. Sure enough, a few boys in Slytherin robes were watching them both and whispering. "Don't mind them." Leaning his boy forward, he added a hushed tone to his words. "They're just jealous I'm talking to a pretty girl."

She rolled her eyes and cast a soft hex at him, but that did not stop him from blocking and continuing his little flirty charade.

With an expression that seemed like he had munched on coffee beans, Sirius Black silently mimicked one of Barty's lines he heard across the classroom. 

Merlin, drop your trousers, why don't you? Sirius thought to himself, finding Barty's voice positively annoying. Even more annoying was Freya standing there, almost dead silent, only gently curling her lips up at every comment or offering what Sirius hoped was a snarky remark to the clear attempts to shag her.

If only Barty heard comments when she was in private and away from prying eyes, his body would be black and blue from her verbal lashings. Barty's probably never even spoken adequately with that insufferable girl, or else he'd know she's not going to be wooed by a few kind words and a well-fitting shirt. Not that it was any of his business. They hadn't spoken in days, and he, while he fully admits to being wrong about what happened at the dance, stands by the fact she should at least be somewhat grateful that she can even still glare at him with her near-black eyes instead of being a corpse rotting at the lab.

"Now, I just think you're showing off." Barty teased with a smirk at Freya.

As if second nature, Sirius mumbled the phrase while making crude expressions.

"Are you okay?" Asked one of Sirius's colleagues, snapping Sirius's attention off the two Slytherins.

Having finally noticed what he was doing, Sirius touched his finger to his mouth. "Bad lip cramp."

Class went on as usual, with more flirting on Barty's part and more scowling on Sirius's end.

"Pleasure speaking with you as always, Freya." Were the words Barty had said when he parted ways with her at the door, and Freya was confident that it was the first time those exact words were uttered to her without being sarcastic. It also did not escape her notice that Barty smelled like smoked wood and cologne as he pressed past her through the doorway, and it was not unpleasant.