yessss, they're going to meet, finally ^^
Notes:Uhm, it's been months, so I don't know if anyone will still remember this story, but… it's back.
On second thought, it's more than evident that almost no one likes or cares about this story (thank you, guest! 3 ) … but I want to give another try ^^'
Chapter III: Mirror
"Oh, you should have seen him, Bella, Ollivander was so desperate, and how he whimpered as his wooden junk caught fire!" Barty reported on his misdeeds that night, giggling with satisfaction.
They were in the Shrieking Shack, a pub of an enemy clan, the Aurors, which Lord Riddle's men had reduced to rubble.
Barty and Bella had also taken part in that revenge, of course, and although the place was no longer open to the public, the two of them had put it back together, with just enough for them to make it coosy: alcohol, for Barty and a piano. for Bella.
Not that she could play it, but Thomas Riddle did, and sometimes, knowing that it would only remain a secret of theirs, he would play her some mushy romance and she delighted him with her singing.
And it is precisely on that piano that Bella was semi-reclining, in the position of a mermaid, listening to her friend, stupendous and lethal, in her black, tight dress, with a long slit that revealed a thigh and a complicated corset made of whalebones and lace embroidery.
"I would have liked to have seen that old man's despair," she laughed coarsely, shaking her head of dark, thick, indomitable curls. "If it weren't for the fact that I too had my hands full." she chanted, like a spoiled child.
"What have you done?" Barty asked behind the counter as he filled one mug with hot water and the other with whiskey before setting it on fire with a match.
He enjoyed making that scenic cocktail he had named Firewhisky .
"You know that simpering Pansy Parkinson who always made goo-goo eyes to my Thomas?" she asked rhetorically, before continuing. "Well, let's say that now she can only make one eye ... and not even that pretty!" she grinned with satisfaction.
"Fuck, you're a psycho, as always!" Barty chuckled as he carefully poured the liquid from mug to mug, creating a spectacular long blue flame in direct proportion to their distance. "Anyway, it's been over thirteen years now, but Lord Riddle still hasn't put the ring on your finger!" he retorted, mischievous as a cat, his tongue chattering against his teeth.
"Rest assured that he puts something else way much better in me when we go wild under the sheets, indeed, no, most of the time we don't even need a bed!" she boasted, with the pride of a lioness.
Such spicy details could have disconcerted the skilled Death Eater from his dangerous activity, but it did not happen, because he had expected such an answer and he had extinguished his impulses towards Lord Riddle long before.
Not that he had missed opportunities.
Thomas Riddle, especially in the wake of a success obtained, when Bella was not with him, used to celebrate with his men until he got drunk and from there to the advances towards his right arm the step was very short, but Barty had not given him any way to accomplish it, letting him vent his libido with the first available prostitute.
Bella did not deserve it and she should never have known.
But above all, Barty didn't deserve it.
- Love is not for me, not anymore, at least, it's just frivolity. I want to serve our Lord to the best of my ability. - he mulled, before turning off the cocktails thus obtained and placing them on the counter.
Bella got off the piano and sinuous as a woman sure of her charm knows how to be, she went to the counter to take her glass.
"Do you know why you and I get along so well, kid?" she murmured, taking her first sips.
Barty allegedly smashed a glass bottle, using it to slit the throat of anyone who dared to call him 'kid', but not Bella, and not just because she was a few years older than him.
And then there was a kind of almost brotherly affection in the way she used that epithet.
"Because you know your place." she continued, prodding him in the chest with her finger.
"His place is wherever I put him, Bella." Lord Thomas Riddle began, entering just then. "I knew I would find you here. You don't like going to Hog's Head, where everyone always goes. Because you are not 'everyone'. You are the best and you both are mine. " he continued, leaning his back against the door jamb, his gaze sure of himself, like the words he had just stated.
The passage of time had only given Thomas Riddle even more charm, with his old man look and the way he frowned when he was thoughtful or worried, well, it just made him irresistible.
"My Lord," Barty bowed respectfully.
Bella advanced towards the Boss, boldly.
"But I'm a little more yours than him, aren't I, Thomas?" she meowed, wrapping her slender arms around his neck.
Thomas smiled at her.
"Oh, Bella, you are my Muse, my other half, my everything." Lord Riddle held her by the hips, to pull her closer and give her a kiss that to say it was showy would be an understatement.
- Oh yeah, go tell the whore you fucked just yesterday in Brixton! - Barty thought, rolling his eyes, taking advantage of the fact that those two were too lost in each other to mind him.
"Come, my beloved; let me play something for you," Thomas said, taking his place at the piano.
Bella indulged in one of the comfortable velvet sofas covered in satin, to enjoy every moment.
Barty preferred to focus on his drink.
After all, that show was certainly not aimed at him.
Lord Riddle played the piano just as he reigned over that city: with mastery, craftsmanship, dedication and attention to every detail.
Those same hands that had stained themselves several times with blood, those same fingers that had tightened around multiple necks, strangling his victims, at that moment glided placidly and serenely on the black and white keys, with the delicacy of a poet.
"Barty," the Boss called, as soon as he had finished the last note.
"Yes my Lord?" the young gangster alerted.
"The Weasleys keep raising their unbearable red crests, they need someone to teach them some discipline."
"You don't need to tell me more, Lord Riddle, I'll take care of it, I'll go straight to the Burrow and ..."
"Not now, Barty," his boss stopped him in time. "You can go there in the morning, maybe it's even better, you'll find them all fully booked." I advise. "And, please. Let it be just a warning for now. There's no need to claim victims. Not yet."
"As you wish." approved his subordinate.
"Go and rest," Lord Riddle dismissed him. "Bella and I will be entertaining ourselves here a little longer," he added, casting a mischievous look at his grinning girlfriend, full of expectations.
That morning The Burrow seemed even noisier than usual.
Molly Prewett Weasley, the co-owner of that inn with her husband Arthur Weasley, and head chef, could not stop baking dishes.
Her husband tried in vain to carve out a corner of tranquility to devote himself to his accounts.
Bill and Charlie, the eldest and the strongest sons, carried crates with supplies.
Percy, with his keen sense for business, dealt with suppliers, always getting great discounts.
The twins Fred and George were waiters, but their real role was to entertain customers with their witty and slightly irreverent jokes.
Ginny, the youngest of the brothers, wandered around the tables, moving a little insecure, but she did not fail to show one of her warm smiles to everyone.
Barty watched them all from the table where he was sitting, reading a book.
Everyone had seen him enter.
Everyone knew who he was and what he was capable of.
No one therefore dared to bother him with futility as to ask him for an order.
Everyone pretended indifference, perhaps because as long as no one made some rash movement, neither would the Death Eater.
Mostly Barty was staring at a table in the distance, where there was the Weasley who completed the entire family of redheads: Ron.
He was also a table attendant, but he was the most lazy one and preferred to spend time talking to a new client, perhaps a stranger.
More than talking, he seemed to be bothering him.
Barty decided to shed more light on the matter, getting up from the table to get a little closer.
"You seem a freak to me!" Ron made fun of the stranger.
"Why? Bauce I don't sit around, waiting for my order, that's it,isn't that?" the stranger answered, with a strong Scottish accent. "I don't see anything wrong with doing what I like, just like you like lazing around or your two friends over there in the corner like kissing."
Feeling called into question, the two stopped kissing.
"Listen, stranger, Harry and I kiss as much as we want, without accountability to anyone!" pointed out Draco Malfoy, who in those years had kept his promise to himself as a kid and had become a Death Eater, too, following in his father's footsteps.
"Bravo, love, tell him," Harry adjusted his hair and glasses, to accuracy.
Harry Potter, for the record, the most skilled thief London had ever seen in those days.
Everyone knew he was the one who had robbed Gringotts, the capital's most impregnable bank, but no one had the evidence to prove it and he kept running on the loose. "Would you bother to tell us who you are?" he asked, this time to the stranger.
"Jonathan Smith, inventor, you can also call me 'Doctor', nice to meet you!" replied the questioned guy, jovial.
"And what is it that you are making up?" Draco was curious.
"Something that goes ding when there's stuff!" Jonathan chuckled, even more amused by their uncertain expressions. "Okay, I'll be clearer: when I finish it, with this device, I will be able to measure a person's IQ ... but it could also annoy the cows, but there are no cows here, right?" he made sure.
"You don't look normal to me!" Harry looked at him in amazement.
"What a useless invention!" Draco disapproved, looking at him with disdain.
"Q ... what ?!" Ron asked confusedly.
"To answer all three, you, brunet, do you know how boring normality is? You, blondie, can also judge it as useless, but it is something that was not there before and will soon be there. As for you, redhead, the IQ is the degree of intelligence of a person, it also denotes how broad and refined his vocabulary is. "
"Bread .. what ?!" Ron looked shocked.
"Okay, I don't even need to complete my invention to understand that your quotient is a bit low!"
"Hey! I'll show you who has the low quotient! " Ron growled, before slamming the invention Jonathan was finishing to the ground, breaking it into several pieces.
Jonathan didn't even have time to realize it, because something even more immediate and unexpected happened.
Barty, even if from behind, had witnessed the whole scene and had lost his already very little patience.
The next moment, Ron's face was slammed hard against the wall.
"It's easy, isn't it, to bully the weaker ones?" Barty growled, increasing the pressure he exerted.
In all this, Draco, certainly not known for his lion heart, had wisely thought of disappearing with Harry.
He was more of a Death Eater by recommendation and prestige, rather than a real calling like the one that had pushed Barty.
Needless to say, everyone's eyes were now on the latter and his victim.
"I don't ..." the boy whimpered.
"Well, Ronald, I'll give you a reason to stop: if you don't want this place, the inn of your parents and your two hundred brothers, blow up, immediately apologize to this person, because you know that to make your life a nightmare I just need one word, or rather two: Lord Riddle. " he continued his invective, and then let him free to recover, taking the opportunity to go and give a little speech to the head of the family.
"That's right, Arthur, rumors have reached Lord Riddle that in this place you are fomenting absurd and subversive ideas. But Lord Riddle, in his magnanimity, always gives a second chance: this is a warning, Weasley, as well as a polite invitation to stop, if you don't want the consequences to be horrific. "
It is difficult to determine if his tone of voice or his gaze were more glacial.
So in a civilian look, dressed in elegant clothes, combed and composed, he made even more contrast with his brutality.
Outside of Ron who was still busy clutching a possibly broken nose, the entire Weasley family had squeezed around Arthur who had limited himself to a nod of assent to the Death Eater, which cost him a lot of effort, going against his own ideals of justice and freedom.
But his beloved family came first.
Barty had returned to Ron, who knew well what was expected of him.
Holding his sore nose with one hand and wiping the blood from his other hand in his apron, Ron had bent down to pick up the five pieces of broken set, putting them back one by one on the table.
"I ... I'm sorry I broke your invention, I beg your pardon ..." the boy muttered, with a sad look.
Barty could say he was satisfied, although mostly his gaze was on the boy, to make sure his apology was sincere.
In response, Jonathan rummaged in the jacket pockets of his brown pinstripe suit.
In those pockets he kept practically everything inside.
"Let's see if I have one with me, yes!" he spoke to himself, handing a tube to Ron. "This is an ointment of my invention, use it, it contains active ingredients that will speed up the healing process." he smiled at him.
Ron was stunned, about as much as Barty.
"But how? I destroy your invention and you ... are you worried about me? "
"Oh well, it doesn't take me anything to fix it, indeed, maybe I'll improve it too!" smiled the inventor. "I like to take care of things and when I can also to take care of people. There is a reason why I call myself 'Doctor'! " he winked at him, clicking his tongue.
He was so focused on helping what might be called a bully, he hadn't looked at whoever came to his rescue yet.
Of course he had been violent, but in the end he seemed to have been motivated by good intentions.
Jonathan felt protected and it was an unknown sensation, but he liked it.
It was then that Ron began to look at him more carefully.
"Oh, bloody hell! I had to figure it out right away… "he regretted, turning to his attacker. "Sir Crouch, please, forgive me ..."
Jonathan was quite baffled by how Ronald, as he had heard him called, addressed the violent guy with such reverence, even calling him 'Sir.'
- After all, he's yes and no ten years older than him, like me. One moment. A little too much like me. Oooohhh. - he had begun to look at the attacker more carefully.
"I didn't know your twin was in town ..." Ron justified himself.
"What the hell are you babbling about? I have no twi... "
The last word died in his throat, when he finally took a closer look at the inventor for whom, from the start, he had felt an innate sympathy.
They were the same, yet so different.
The same face, the same height, the same body, the same age.
The same eyes, but not the same gaze, perhaps also because hidden by a pair of glasses, in Jonathan's case: his, lively and curious; Barty's ,crazy and dangerous.
Even the hair differed a little: Barty's was dark blond, Jonathan's ws brown and seemed able to defy all laws of gravity.
However, the main difference laid in their characters.
There was something about their personalities that seemed to magnetize.
And in the minds of both of them came a memory that they had buried for too long now.
Something they had stopped looking for.
"You are my mirror!" they exclaimed at the same time.
Another thing to add to their similarities was the voice, albeit with different accents and tonalities, Jonathan's was ringing, Barty' s was low-key.
"Do you know about the mirror?" they asked each other, always in unison, even more surprised.
TBC
Notes:I know, evil ending, right?
It wasn't even what I thought I was writing, the characters (not just the BarTen, even everyone who got in the way XD) did what they wanted again
This story is treacherously lengthening, I'll find out too along the way where these two will want to take me 3
Did you like it? Would you have wanted something different? ^^ '
ah yes, it must be said, that joke about cows was shamelessly stolen from a beautiful comic on Ten, I liked it too much 3, as for his' it goes ding when there's stuff!' , I had to mention it XD
I take this opportunity to tell you that, in case you were interested, for the Flufftober I wrote two missing moments related to the first two chapters: 'Leaf through my pages' if you like Barty / Hermione, 'No longer welcome', if you like Ten / Master;)
I wish everyone HAPPY NEW YEAR 3