September and October of 1978, the beginning of Barty's Seventh Year.
Seventh year. The final year all Hogwarts students looked forward to, for the lack of homework and abundance of free time, at least for most of those who took only the required courses. A fair amount had chosen to continue on to N.E.W.T's, "punishing" themselves, as some students joked. Glares were often cast; some of the students still working hard were determined to be Aurors and fight back against what had happened to friends or family. All-nighters were common and even became a form of social activity for classmates, regardless of House.
To Barty, Seventh Year was the time he knew what it meant to need coffee to function and spending more time in the library or Common Room than he did anywhere else. Academic stress was nothing new and it gave him a purpose.
He didn't think about his sick mother and her doctor visits, or how his father couldn't even be bothered to take her to them and instead spent his days hunting down the very people his son wanted to join. Critics called Crouch's methods cruel and only managing to fight fire with fire after he allowed the use of Unforgiveable Curses on suspected Death Eaters. Others considered him a revolutionary and exactly what the Ministry needed in these dark times.
If he didn't fill his head with words, Audrey would occasionally come to the front of his mind. They had five classes together last year and the same five this year; all of those had been N.E.W.T level. They were seated close to each other and yet they had not spoken one word to each other since they got back.
He listened to the radio more frequently now since that summer night. Occasionally, he would let his father catch him in the few weeks he had before he left. With the tension of blood status and views of Muggles on high, he contented himself to be stuck with wizarding rock, even though he longed much more for Muggle contemporaries.
Regulus had given him a look of pity when he saw his friend's schedule in the beginning of the year after their first day back. "You're not doing this for your father right? Don't you want a break?"
"I'm not and no, I don't. I spent all summer 'taking a break'." Barty snatched the piece of paper back and tucked it into the top book on a stack he had on the table beside him. He was trying (and failing) to read the assigned pages of Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration because of the all of the noise and because his mind would not stop wandering.
"And I bet it still involved books and staying up until dawn."
"I was preparing."
The silence between them was full of understanding in the crowded Common Room, preparing not for N.E.W.T's but for his Mark and for a lifetime of servitude to a blood purist and usage of Dark Magic.
A week after graduation, he would take his Mark and join.
"And you're sure you want to do this?" Regulus lowered his voice as he leaned onto the armchair casually.
"I've been sure for two years now, Black." Barty's tone of finality ended whatever doubts Regulus wanted to voice. He appreciated the concern but he did not need doubt. Not now. "How was the meeting?"
"Full of the usual. He's looking forward to you proving your usefulness and loyalty. Don't be surprised if trust is hard to build at first, being the son of a Ministry figure." Regulus murmured, his words nearly lost in the commotion of excited First Years and old friends reconnecting. "I'll be gone for something next weekend, could you cover for me?"
"Of course. Get me a list of what you'll need done assignment-wise and I'll figure something out." Barty replied, peeling his eyes from his book to look up at his friend.
"Thanks, mate." Regulus offered a smile that did not reach his eyes. "I'm going to go see if there's anything good left in the Hall before the food goes back to the kitchen, I'll be back later."
Barty nodded, trying to regain his focus on Transfiguration. A stray thought wondered if Audrey was having this much trouble getting ahead of all of their work.
The next morning at breakfast, he glanced at the Ravenclaw table and saw the tell-tale signs of a late night on Audrey's face. Most of the time, the dark circles under her eyes disappeared over the weekend, but they seemed to occur more frequently. Which made him wonder if all of her stress was purely academic or more personal regarding the current political climate.
This was ridiculous; they had classes together in a group of fifteen students. He'd talk to her the next time he saw her, he decided.
Thursdays were the days he spent outside studying by the Black Lake, weather permitting. He had one class right after breakfast and double-Potions in the afternoon, leaving a gaping hole in his schedule. He might as well make it a productive gaping hole.
Thursdays were also the days he saw Audrey twice. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun by the time Slughorn's class rolled around, her robes abandoned on the back of her chair and tie tucked into her shirt if she decided against her jumper.
Barty was nestled in his favorite spot under a tree with a great view of the lake and mountains and shady coverage all day. It was quieter outside of the castle, despite the multitudes of students killing time on the shores and trails of the grounds. Looking up from reading to give his neck a rest, he spotted a familiar Ravenclaw with a large pile of books at her side and a sketchpad on her lap, her gaze intensely focused on the common flower in front of her.
He read a sentence and then glanced up at her again for several pages before he grew frustrated with himself. He needed to be familiar, at the very least, with the assigned Potions reading he meant to do but instead had focused on Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration. He had other things he needed to worry about than a girl he danced with once over a year ago.
And yet he had resigned himself to talking to her the next time he saw her. He needed her out of his head.
Barty huffed, packed up his books and tidied his hair before walking over to where Audrey sat and sitting beside her. She was too involved in drawing the flower to even notice his presence until she heard the weight of his backpack on the ground. Her hand leapt over the page as she jumped from the surprise, a large, dark mark of graphite marring the flower she had painstakingly drawn. She hissed in annoyance, glaring at her own hand before looking sideways to see who had bothered her.
"Do you make a habit of scaring people, Barty?" She snapped, turning her head towards him.
"I didn't mean to; I thought you might want some company." He replied.
"Most people ask if someone wants company, it's rude to assume." Audrey closed the sketchbook and tossed her onto her pile of books off to her left, away from him. She sighed, pressing her thumb and middle finger to her eyes and rubbing.
"I just thought I'd be nice. If you prefer to be alone, I can go. We both have a lot of work—"
He went to go stand up but felt a tug on the sleeve of his robe. Looking back, he saw Audrey's other hand grasping at the material, her knuckles white.
"No, I'm sorry. Don't go. I wouldn't mind sitting with you, I'm merely surprised anyone wants to spend time with me." She paused to look up at him. "Please stay."
Barty sat back down, wondering what she meant. Why wouldn't anyone want to spend time with her? Her mood was certainly different than it had been that night but their dancing was years ago before things took a turn for the worst politically. A lot of students were worrying about family and friends, were passionate about joining the Aurors or the Ministry in general to get their chance (warned against making a career choice solely on vengeance, but not many were listening), or trying their best to escape the madness they were, supposedly, isolated from.
The presence of Aurors around the castle said otherwise.
She always had a small group of friends, eating with a small gaggle of Ravenclaws, laughing and talking on her way to class. Weren't they her friends? Had they chosen to leave her behind?
He reached for the book he had previously been reading, opened it, but found himself reading the same paragraph over and over.
"Why are you left alone so much?" He murmured, looking at her to find her staring off at the lake, knees to her chest with little intent to do her work.
"My father's gone missing," she replied, her words automatic, likely from having to answer the question so often. "Mother refuses to even get out of bed anymore. She's stopped writing. I live off the Prophet in hopes my father's name appears on the list of rescued, or the list of known prisoners, or the list of the dead." Her fingers went to the grass, grazing the blades as if she were petting an animal. "My friends look at me with pity. Some hate me. My mother's said many things to their parents while drunk and has managed to ruin whatever connections I have."
He was used to his father being out of the picture and his mother bed-ridden, but for different reasons. She had a loving relationship with them, or at least with her father considering her mother's behavior. He expected to feel envy that she had a father she could worry about. Rather, he found himself thinking of how heavy she must feel, how on edge and tired she must be.
Hesitantly, he reached around and put an arm on her shoulder, his left hand squeezing her left arm lightly.
"Thank you," she whispered, returning the gesture with her right arm around his shoulders.
"What, for this?" He replied, rocking her from side to side slightly, playfully.
"For not pitying me. For not going "Oh, poor Audrey", "I'm so sorry", or trying to undermine my pain by saying you have it worse. Or expecting tears at the drop of a hat. For not walking away when I gave you reason to." She paused, before adding, "And for dancing with me."
"Thank you for letting me get in trouble." Audrey looked at him with a baffled expression. "I live to piss that man off nowadays."
She said nothing but instead leaned forward to see his stack of books and backpack. "You carry a library with you too, huh?"
"Have to keep busy somehow."
Barty let go of her arm and grabbed her discarded sketchbook. She opened her mouth to protest when she realized he took it but merely nodded when he asked permission to open it.
He flipped through portraits, objects, ideas scribbled in the corners of her drawings in hastily scrawled writing. A drawing from behind of a figure sitting under a tree, the lake the main focus of the image. He caught a sketch of him at breakfast, Regulus beside him; Barty's nose was in a book, Regulus offering a piece of bacon to get his friend to at least eat something.
"These are brilliant." He said, turning to find color rising in her cheeks. "I quite like that they're static, they catch a moment in time to never occur again. I quite like this bloke here." He pointed to the image of himself.
"So egotistical," she gave a small laugh, snatching the book away from him.
"Just a little." He held up his right hand, his thumb and forefinger barely touching.
Audrey slapped her sketchbook on his arm lightly. His playful grin softened, realizing he had made her hobby about himself. "I mean it though. You're talented."
"Thank you."
She placed the sketchbook back onto the pile and sat closer to him, watching the birds fly over the lake and the First Years come and attempt to say hello to the giant squid. Their books laid untouched as they continued to talk about anything that came to mind not dealing with the war or the Ministry.
"I've heard there's a lot of Gryffindor drama but your House puts them to shame." Audrey shook her head as he finished a tale about two ridiculous Third Years dueling to figure out who was more worthy of a Sixth Year girl's attention.
Audrey checked her watch and then scrambled to gather her things. Barty did the same, realizing they had to still make the trek back up to the castle in addition to the walk to the dungeons.
The N.E.W.T classes were small enough where assigned seating wasn't required and partners were allowed to be picked amongst the students. They continued to talk throughout the double lesson when they weren't focused on Slughorn's lecture and instructions. She mentioned getting a few new records of Wizarding rock that she thought he might like, while he brought up books he read over break that were helpful for understanding their level of Charms work.
Both were relieved at the end of class when their potions were in vials for grading. Barty's potion had certainly turned out closer to the consistency their professor was looking for, but Audrey had gotten the color perfect.
"Are you heading to dinner or going to drop your stuff off?" Audrey asked.
"Dinner and then the library. I have to finish the reading and questions for tomorrow. Why?"
"We're in the dungeon, I figured I would ask." She shrugged with her bag-free shoulder before blurting out. "Why didn't we go this earlier? Why did we ignore each other last year?"
"No idea," he admitted. He didn't have a better answer.
He had plenty of opportunities to talk to her before today, and vice-versa. Perhaps he did not want to deal with being associated with a Ravenclaw or want her to be considered a vulture, given who his father was. Plenty of people had tried that route, but not her, and he didn't like the idea of people thinking that of her.
Not an unusual friendship pairing, a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin, but there was hardly any table-sharing with the latter House. They never left their table and no one ever tried to go to theirs. A part of him thought the stigma was ridiculous but he certainly couldn't blame them when the Slytherins in previous years were now all over the papers committing acts in the Dark Lord's name.
They came to the Great Hall and tried to get out of the way for the passing students far more eager to eat than them. Barty found himself struggling for words; it was too early for a 'good night' but it was likely they would not speak until the following day.
She took his hand, as she had on the first night they properly met before she left, and squeezed it, giving the first genuine smile he had seen from her all day. He gave one back, and found it very tempting not to lean in and kiss her cheek, or better yet, her lips. He settled for her soft hand in his and gave a squeeze back before parting and heading into the Hall.