Word Count: 409
Barty feels sick as he raises his wand. This is hardly the first time he has been tasked with torturing someone, but it's different. Those eyes that look up at him are all too familiar.
He swallows, but he still feels like he might vomit. Barty says, "Crucio!", though his voice trembles.
He is in charge; he can do this.
Alice's screams fill the air, chilling his blood. He wants to apologize, to put a stop to this, but he knows he cannot.
.
"Frank's head is as empty as a flower pot," he says, rolling his eyes. "I don't know what you see in him."
Alice just shakes her head, biting into her chocolate chip cookie. "Pretty sure I never asked for your permission, Barty," she teases, swearing under her breath as the gooey chocolate leaves a smear on her white shirt.
"I know. My permission isn't necessary. But Alice!"
She just laughs. Merlin, her laugh is so beautiful. He wonders if Frank appreciates her laugh the way he does.
"As long as you're happy," he says.
Alice grins, lightly nudging him with her elbow. "I am, Dad."
"Dad?" His lip curls in disgust. "Thanks for making it weird."
.
She still looks so beautiful, but her screams are not. He remembers her laugh, and he wants it back.
The curse leaves his lips again. Her purple shirt lifts slightly, exposing her midriff as she writhes. She could have been his, and this would have never happened.
Something shifts inside him. It's her fault. Not his. He gave her the chance, and she should have taken it.
.
"Why would I want to go?" Barty asks, scowling. "The man is boring."
"Maybe so you can support your best friend," Alice suggests dryly.
He catches her wrist gently, pulling her close. "You're supposed to marry your best friend, you know."
She pulls away, eyes wide as she finally seems to understand his intentions. "No offense, Barty, but you have always been like a brother to me. I'm sorry."
He laughs, desperate to play it off and be cool about it. Alice clearly isn't convinced. With a a mumbled apology, she quickly excuses herself and hurries off.
.
It is over. As Barty sits and pours himself a firewhiskey, he smiles to himself. She had humiliated him and wounded his pride. Revenge is somehow so sweet.
As he drinks, he hums a lullaby to himself. It will all be worth it in the end.
