Forked Tongue
"Why do you even bother, Rabastan?" Barty Crouch Jr. asked, stretching his arms upward. "Bellatrix Black doesn't like anyone but Voldemort – and she's crazy as fuck"
"What's your words, Crouch." Rabastan snapped, tugging on his robes. "Just because you have the sexual experience of a snail doesn't mean all of us do."
"Snail's are quite sexual," Barty mused, "And when did you ever get laid, Rabastan? You never even leave the library."
"Well then, if I am so boring, Crouch, why do I have a date to the Yule Ball and you don't?" Rabastan asked triumphantly.
"Who says I don't?" Barty barked as his dorm mate walked out the door, meeting Bellatrix in the common room.
"What was all that about?" Bella asked, sliding up to Rabastan and taking his arm. She was wearing a dark green dress that made the sixteen year old look far older than she was. Her wild hair had been pinned away from her face, she was even wearing lipstick and mascara.
Most likely Andromeda's doing, he thought amused.
"Hm?" Her way of asking where her compliment was.
"You look good enough to eat," He whispered, seeing the blush spread as a lustful glaze came to her eyes. "Shall I pencil you in for dessert?"
"I do like that forked tongue of yours, Rabastan." Bella hummed, looking over her shoulder at Barty who was leaning in the doorway. "See you at the ball, Barty."
"Yes," Rabastan echoed, "See you at the ball."