ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
"Well, whip it on out, then."
Always straight to it, with Bartimeus Crouch Jr. And so eloquently, too.
"Barty," chides Evan with a clicking of his tongue, shaking his head. "I thought you'd know better than to ask a bloke to put out on the first date."
"Thank you with the sexual euphemisms," Regulus cuts in, bored, shooting both Evan and Barty a matching glare. "And I know it's all for kicks now, but when Pandora and Cas are around, you both understand—"
"To hush up," Barty says with an exaggerated sigh. "Yes, yes, we're well aware. They wouldn't come up to our dorm, though; they're probably still unpacking. So... count of three?"
"Don't understand why you want to see it so bad when you've got one for yourself," Regulus mumbles, shaking his head as he sits up and prepares to pull the left sleeve of his jumper back. "Is this supposed to be some sort of bonding experience?"
"Something like that," Evan replied, in the same position on the edge of his own bed. He looks up at Regulus through his eyelashes, swallowing, looking probably the most unnerved Regulus has ever seen him. "Who's counting?"
Barty throws an arm around his bedpost, leaning onto it with a pleased grin. "Well, if either of you are too whingy to do it, I think I will."
He's counting down from three, so there's really no time for Regulus to prepare himself. He hasn't seen the Mark, though, not on his own arm; he looked away when they burned it and has had it covered up ever since. He doesn't really know why he hides it. From the general public, sure, nobody wants to see one of the Dark Lord's followers brandishing their claim around. But hiding it from himself runs deeper within Regulus, stems from something he hasn't quite found yet.
All he knows is he does not want to see the tattoo hidden beneath his jumper's sleeve.
So when Barty reaches one, Regulus looks anywhere else in the dormitory as he pulls the sleeve back. He feels the cool air hit his forearm, feels the burning stare of Barty and Evan as they appraise each other's Marks, feels something like that sensation Lyra taught him about—shame. Oddly enough.
"Bit haunting," Barty says, after a long moment's silence. He doesn't look at Reg or Evan. "Don't you think? They say it never comes off, even if... even if—"
"Even if what, Barty?" Evan cuts in with a sort of scathing tone, throwing his sleeve back down over the Mark and standing from his bed. "Even if the Dark Lord falls? Why would you think that way, anyway, Crouch? Don't tell me you got the Mark for nothing; got the Mark just to cower away when he ends up needing you—"
"Evan," Regulus says tightly, standing from his own bed. He's grateful to let his sleeve fall back down his arm when he reaches for his wand. "What's this about?"
