The Disturbingly Uneven Composition of Barty Crouch Jr.

Honeydukes and Broomsticks

Title: "Honeydukes and Broomsticks"
Rating: K+
Wandering around Hogsmead, you. . .
(Looking back, this is the only one I actually really like.)
~*~*~*~*~*~

You suppressed a shiver, clutching the fabric of your jumper closer to your body. Although it was early spring and the snow had let up some, it was still frightfully chilly. You glanced around the High Street for any sign of -- ah, there it was! The Three Broomsticks was just to your left and, a Honeydukes bag in hand, you trudged through the crisp layer of snow to the oh so welcoming building.

  You stepped warily past the shrunken head that insisted on governing the traffic in and out, silently marveling at how the snow on your boots immediately evaporated. The pub itself was clean and eternally warm, if a bit crowded. It was quite nice, actually, and smelled of sugar and a bit... musky. You waved the thought and looked for a place to sit. The bar was doubly packed and the tables were stuffed -- all for one, of which a bulky teen had just gotten up. He shoved past you without a thought as you made your way towards the half-empty table, although he was gone before you could say anything.

  The other boy was still sitting there, the blond one, as he hadn't followed his friend. It took you a moment to recognize him -- he was the guy who had been the first to fully transform people into animals during Transfiguration. Namely you.

  "Barty, right? I'm--"

  "Yeah, I know who you are," Barty cut you off dismissively, seemingly preoccupied. You stand there awkwardly, taking one last long look around the room -- still packed.

  "Are you just going to stand there? Sit down or go away," he seemed agitated, you briefly wondered what he had been talking about with that other student. You did, finally and rather gingerly, take the vacant seat.

  "Hello, would you like anything?"

  You jumped slightly at the waitress's sudden and very quick appearance. Has the service always been like this? "I, uh, one butterbeer, please," you coughed. Barty snickered to himself, watching you in mild amusement.

  "And for you, sir?"

  "Same." You noted the empty glass tankard that was already on the table. The woman smiled cheerily and walked off. She radiated 'sickening-happy-happy', Barty must've thought so too, as he grimaced as soon as her back was turned.

  He searched your eyes, his brown ones growing a bit wider. You re-tucked a piece of hair behind your ear in faint embarrassment. "So why are you here?"

  "Meeting a friend," was the vague reply. Anywhere that meager conversation could go was interrupted by drinks being set onto the table. And, you decided, probably for the best.

  "Four sickles," she said in her unconvincingly happy voice. That was both of your drinks. Had she really thought you and him were... together? Barty cocked an eyebrow, but was otherwise unfazed as he gave her the money before you could open your mouth or even reach into your pocket. The women walked away, grin broader.

  "Why? I could have paid for mine," it was your turn to raise your eyebrows at him. He took an uncaring sip from his butterbeer.

  "That would've been impolite of me."

  You paused as you raked your mind for a reply. "Well, we couldn't have that," you said sarcastically (very nearly regretting it), noticing he seemed to... for a lack of a better word, dislike the idea of being polite. The corners of Barty's mouth twitched up as you downed the last of your butterbeer.

  "No, we couldn't," he agreed in the same tone, quickly wiping the foam mustache from his upper lip. You attempted to suppress a giggle, trying to discreetly wipe your own with your sleeve. His amused smile broadened. You reached into your Honeydukes bag, popping one of the sweets into your mouth.

  "Want one?" you gestured toward the bag, already reaching back in again. Barty shrugged, you tossed him one of the little cream-filled balls. He caught it nimbly -- why shouldn't he have? You mean, he was a fair chaser. He chewed on it for a moment, making a soft sound akin to a moan. Well, they were good, weren't they?

  The awkwardness finally seemed to fade, though he was always so... quiet. It was weird to hear him say more than a few words when not elaborately answering a teacher's question. Come to think of it, he hasn't really said much... "Good?"

  He nodded. "Yeah. Mother insists that I stop eating junk food," he glanced down at his thin stomach as if to prove his mum wrong.

  "What does your father think?" you prompted, keen to make him talk. God knows why...

  Barty's gaze shifted to the floor, before muttering dryly: "he doesn't."

 Oh... You felt a twinge of guilt, possibly recalling overhearing a depressing conversation on the subject. His father would be busy. Too busy to deal with his son.

 "May I?" Barty gestured towards your bag, yanking you from your thoughts briefly.

  "Oh, uh, yeah," you hand him the wad of plastic instead of digging through it yourself. He grabbed a couple from the bad and put them into his mouth.

  "Here," a little to your dismay, he stood up and held the bag back out to you. Was he really that tall?

  "No, no you keep it," you say quickly, gently pushing it back towards him.

  He smiled. Genuinely. "Oh, well, see you at school."

  "Where are you going?" That one sentence made you feel like an idiot. You were supposed to be paying attention.

  "I said I was meeting someone, didn't I?" Barty said, making his way out. Wasn't he just...? Eh, it's none of your business. "I'll pay you back!"

  "See you..." you gathered your things and stood up. He waved at you with the back of his hand, just barely within earshot as he disappeared into the crowds.

  You waved back weakly, knowing full well he was already gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As I said, this is my first time writing in second person and I thought it would be a fun project. On the other hand, I was too lazy to go back and try to correct any mistakes. I should work on that.