Part Two, Chapter Twenty-Seven

When Barty called round to pick Gwen up on Saturday evening it was Christine who answered the door. He couldn't help but be somewhat irritated by that, having hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with Gwen's parents at all, but since she still lived at home he knew that wouldn't be possible. Christine had seemed incredibly enthusiastic about their date and had welcomed him into the house, sitting him down in the living room while she went to check on Gwen, who was still getting ready.

Once she'd left the room Barty perched himself awkwardly on the edge of the sofa, unable to really relax. There were still so many thoughts and emotions running round his head, and he was finding it difficult to ignore the worst ones so that he'd be able to enjoy this evening. Yes, he wanted to enjoy it. He'd been looking forward to this for three days, but in the back of his mind there was still the worry about what might happen with Karkaroff. Or what might happen if Bella and Rod didn't buy the excuse he'd given them for where he would be tonight. Or what if he never managed to fulfil the task Rookwood had given him about Gringotts. There was just so much to worry about.

Being sat here like this didn't help put him at ease. All the time he spent waiting for Gwen just made him even more nervous about what she would think when she finally saw him. The black tuxedo with bow tie he had on was normally reserved for his father's formal dinner parties, and he really wasn't used to wearing it. It felt alien on him, as if it was meant for somebody else and by wearing it he was trying to pretend to be something he wasn't. He couldn't help but give an ironic smile as he realised that in reality that was exactly what he'd been doing for over a year. But that still didn't stop him feeling awkward.

He cast his gaze around the room to try and find something interesting to look at to pass the time. As his eyes wandered over the various tables and surfaces covered with piles of books, letters, rolls of parchment and other pieces of clutter, he found himself wondering why the Coulthards didn't have a house elf. He could understand why everything was so disorganised when they were all so busy with work, but if they had an elf then they wouldn't have this problem. That was something he'd been wondering last time he was here too, but hadn't had chance to ask Gwen about it before Westerbeck had showed up.

As he let his gaze wander further round the room he noticed a black leather briefcase laying on top of a cabinet by the window. At first he thought it might be Gwen's, but then he remembered that he'd seen Gwen's briefcase several times and realised that wasn't it. It must be her father's. And John was one of Gringotts senior executives, wasn't he?

Barty was remembering the task Rookwood had given him just a couple of weeks ago, to find out more about Gringotts so they could come up with a plan to infiltrate it. He'd been neglecting that task somewhat up until now, what with other things getting in the way, but now the ideal opportunity had presented itself. If he could just get hold of some of the documents in that briefcase then that would surely be useful to the Death Eaters. The briefcase was only a few short steps away; it would take him less than thirty seconds to get to it and take out just a couple of the pieces of parchment inside.

But still he was hesitant to do it. He hadn't seen Gwen's father yet and he knew John could appear at any minute. But if he did this then that would be one less thing to worry about. He would have done something to help the Death Eaters and he'd have something to show Bella later to reinforce the excuse he'd given her for his absence. She thought he was away doing work for Rookwood at the Ministry this evening, and if he got hold of those documents she'd have less reason to doubt him.

But what if John did walk in?

No, stop being a coward, he told himself. The longer you sit here worrying about it the more likely he is to show up. Just get on and do it.

He quickly stood up and made the short walk over to the cabinet, where he undid the clasp on the briefcase, opened it and pointed his wand at the papers inside. "Geminio," he muttered, and the sheets on top of the pile glowed white for a moment before splitting in two as they replicated. He quickly snatched up the copies, folded them, and then shoved them roughly into the inside pocket of his jacket. Realising they didn't fit properly, he quickly cast an expansion charm on his pocket to accommodate them before turning his attention back to the other documents. He was about to do the same to the papers at the bottom of the pile, but then he thought he heard footsteps approaching the living room, and he abruptly shut the case and darted back to the sofa where Christine had left him.

Just as he sat down he heard a voice speak from the doorway behind him. "Good evening, Barty."

"Good evening, Mr Coulthard," he replied as he stood up again and turned around, trying to act as casually as possible.

John smiled at him, but Barty couldn't help but think his expression seemed rather cool. "Please, call me John. I know we haven't spoken very often, but since you're on first name terms with my wife and daughter I don't see that there's any need for us to be quite so formal."

Barty really didn't feel comfortable calling him that. He was very aware that John Coulthard regularly spoke with his father, and Barty felt the need to be very guarded around him. But still, he thought he perhaps ought to make the effort to try and be friendly, for Gwen's sake. "Of course, John."

John was still smiling, but Barty could detect the faintest trace of hostility in his expression. Does he know about the argument I had with Gwen? Barty wondered.

"Do sit down, Barty, there's no need to keep standing," John said, gesturing to the sofa, and Barty stiffly sat down again while John took a seat in the chair opposite him. "So, you're into opera, are you?" John asked conversationally, "Take after your father, I suppose. He tells me he's quite fond of Mickelwal himself."

Barty scowled, then immediately tried to hide his displeasure. It irritated him that John was trying to compare him to his father, but he was determined to try and get along with him. "I'm not particularly," Barty replied, "I just know that Gwen likes it."

The coolness in John's expression seemed to abate then, and he appeared quite pleased that Barty was doing something he had no interest in for Gwen's sake. "You're right there, she does," he said warmly, "Never been too keen on it myself. Christine has more of a taste for that kind of thing than I do, but Gwen likes it much more than both of us combined."

It surprised Barty somewhat that neither John nor Christine had a particular interest in opera, and he started to wonder where Gwen got it from. Just as he was about to ask John about it he suddenly heard the sound of someone coming downstairs, and he turned in his seat again to see Christine enter the room.

"Here she is," Christine announced, and Barty stood upon once again and licked his lips nervously as Gwen walked through the doorway.

As his gaze fell on her he was speechless for a few seconds. She looked stunning. She was wearing a red cocktail dress that came to just above her knees, and hugged her figure in such a way to create the illusion of curves in just the right places. It must be brand new, he realised, because there was no way in hell that had been in her wardrobe before now. He'd told her to wear something nice, and she most definitely seemed to have listened to him. To match the dress she held a small red clutch bag in her left hand, which he realised must have been magically expanded to hold all her things. Her brown hair was neatly pinned up with just a couple of loose ringlets that framed her face, and on her feet she was wearing red shoes with three inch heels; the highest he'd ever seen her in. For once, she appeared to have made a real effort when it came to her appearance. She was wearing just enough make up to hide her freckles and even out her complexion, and the smoky eyeshadow she was wearing made her steel grey eyes seem wide and enticing. The overall effect was beautiful.

He smiled at her. "You look wonderful," he said sincerely, absolutely meaning it. The foundation on her cheeks wasn't quite enough to hide the redness of them as she started to blush, and she glanced down at the floor. Even though she looked like a much more glamorous version of Gwen, she was still behaving just as shyly as ever. If anything, she seemed even more awkward now that she was dressed this way and so far out of her comfort zone.

"Thanks," she said quietly, "So do you."

He smirked, thinking it was supposedly his turn to feel self-conscious now, but as he conjured up a mental image of the pair of them together he thought that actually they looked great. "So, are you ready?" he said, offering her his arm. She took a few stiff steps forward, clearly unused to the shoes, and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.

"Ready when you are," she said, still blushing.

He had the tickets in his pocket, which allowed him to get through the selective anti-apparition charm on the theatre. The charm was enforced to prevent people from getting in without paying, but that wasn't going to be a problem for them. Barty glanced at John and Christine one last time as he was preparing to disapparate, and noticed John was looking at him.

"So," John said, his tone now quite stern as he addressed Barty, "When will you be bringing her back?"

"Some time tomorrow morning, if that's alright," Barty said casually, and glanced at Gwen to see that his reply had caused her face to turn even redder and she was resolutely staring at the floor.

John raised an eyebrow at him and then spoke to his daughter. "So it looks like you're going to get to see where he's living now, Gwen."

Like hell, Barty thought, but he knew he couldn't say it aloud. He watched Gwen look up at her parents and she was about to say something, but then Barty commented, "Yeah, something like that." It was easier to lie if he was as vague as possible.

He glanced from John over to Christine, who was smiling widely. "Oh, I hope you have a great time!" Christine gushed, and Barty thought he hadn't seen her quite so enthusiastic about anything in months. She may come across as being permanently exhausted at work, but she still had enough energy to be really pleased for her daughter. Barty felt a slight pang as he wished his own parents were more like that, but then he quickly brushed it off and turned to smile at Gwen.

Gwen looked at her mother and muttered, "We will do, Mum," before fixing her attention on Barty and returning his smile. "Alright. Are we going to go then?"

"Alright," he replied, and then looked at her parents one last time. "Right, so I'll see you both tomorrow, I expect," he said, and waited for Gwen to say goodbye to them before he took hold of her arm and disapparated with her.

A/N: I had originally intended for this chapter to be a lot longer, but if I try writing the part with them at the theatre now you'll be waiting ages for an update, so I wanted to upload what I've got done for now. I'm going to be a bit busy over the next couple of days so I'm not too sure when the next update will be, but I'll try and make it as soon as possible. I'm going out in to an Iron Maiden concert in two hours and I am literally so excited I can't sit still, but I wanted to leave you with something before I have to go. Thanks very much to everyone who's reviewed, I probably don't thank you often enough but I'm always really grateful for it.