A/N: So, so sorry for leaving you this long without an update. I really try and update at least once a week, but I've been rather busy with other stuff and not had much time for writing, which has been rather frustrating for me because it's one of my favourite things in the world to do. However, I did manage to get this chapter done eventually, and I'll try and get the next update done more quickly.

Part Two, Chapter Twenty-Eight

Inside the theatre they found their way to their seats, which were situated high up on the third row of the circle. They didn't have the best view in the theatre, but it was pretty decent to say Barty had bought the tickets so last minute. As they sat down Gwen turned to give Barty a smile, which he only returned half-heartedly. He did want to be here, but he was still distracted worrying about Karkaroff. He knew it was pointless to let it get to him – there was nothing he could do about it so he may as well just try and relax and enjoy the evening – but it didn't change the fact that it was always there in the back of his mind, even when he was trying to concentrate on something else. Damn it, why was it so difficult to stop worrying? He'd brought Gwen here this evening because he wanted her to enjoy herself, and she seemed quite pleased to be here so far, so why couldn't he just be happy with that?

Gwen had noticed his troubled expression and looked at him in concern. "Barty? Is everything alright?"

He nodded. "Of course," he answered, perhaps a little too quickly to sound sincere, so quickly followed it up with a question, "I was just wondering, um…so, what exactly is this about?"

She smiled and gave a small shake of her head as she interpreted that to mean he was worried about not understanding it. "Well, basically it's about a Byzantine witch in the fourth century who attempts to overthrow the muggle Roman Emperor."

"And I take it she succeeds, right?" Barty said, trying to recall what he knew of magical history despite not having done the subject since the third year of Hogwarts.

Gwen shrugged, "Well, historically this was the point at which the Roman Empire started to decline, but the story's just a legend. It probably wasn't really magic that brought down the Empire, it's just that Mickelwal seems to be exaggerating Hecate's role in the fall of Valens to try and appeal to a wizarding audience. I suppose that was the typical attitude in the eighteenth century though – practically every composer or playwright from that time would try and glorify wizards while playing down the role of muggles."

Barty noticed the disapproving tone in which she'd said it and gave a slight frown. He couldn't understand why she had a problem with that. To him, it made complete sense for wizards to be portrayed as superior. Anything else would just be…well, wrong. "And you don't like that?"

"Well…" she said thoughtfully, "I don't suppose I mind, if you take it in the context of when it was written and all, but even in contemporary stuff muggles get a bit of a bad rap. I think a lot of wizards with no experience or knowledge of muggles really don't appreciate them as much as they deserve."

Barty just stared at her in surprise for a few seconds. She couldn't seriously be a muggle sympathiser, could she? He knew she'd taken muggle studies at school, but he'd assumed that had been because working at Gringotts meant having to deal with muggle currency. Now he was wondering if she'd taken it out of genuine interest rather than just as a career move, although he couldn't understand what she could possibly find so interesting about a bunch of people who not only couldn't use magic, but were ignorant and hostile towards it. "What does that mean?" he asked, sounding a little sceptical.

She sighed, seeming apologetic. "Sorry, I'm forgetting. You're pureblood, aren't you?"

That question confused him even more. "Aren't you?"

Gwen shook her head. "No, my granddad's a muggle."

"Oh." That took him by surprise. It had never occurred to him that she wasn't a pureblood when her family had such a solid reputation in the wizarding community. "On Christine's side, right?"

She shook her head again. "No, Dad's."

"Really?" That came as an even bigger shock to him. He couldn't quite believe that John Coulthard, one of the wizarding world's most successful bankers and in charge of Gringotts' investment department, actually had a muggle father. But then he remembered that the Dark Lord himself was also the son of a muggle, and he thought that if a wizard had high aspirations then perhaps being a half-blood wasn't necessarily a drawback.

Gwen nodded in response, looking a little puzzled at his astonishment. "Yes, really. Why is that so hard to believe?"

He shrugged. "It was just unexpected, that's all," he said, hoping he hadn't offended her. "But don't worry, it's not your fault."

Once he'd said that she openly glared at him, and he realised he must have said the wrong thing. "And what's that supposed to mean?" she said coolly.

He quickly tried to think of what he could say to explain himself. He hadn't meant to upset her, but this revelation that she seemed to like muggles had thrown him out a bit. Most likely her attitude towards muggles was down to her grandfather, but he hoped he was going to be able to talk her round. The part of him that normally scorned muggle-lovers was being overruled by the part that cared about Gwen, and he didn't want their relationship to be spoiled just because she had some stupid ideas. "Well, you can't help who your grandparents are, can you? I suppose you must find it frustrating that your grandfather doesn't fit in with the wizarding world, but it's not like you can do anything to change that."

She still eyed him coolly for a couple of seconds, but then seemed to decide he hadn't meant any offense. "Actually, I've never met him," she said, not sounding quite so hostile now, "He died in the war."

Once again, she'd said something that surprised him. "The Second World War?" he asked with a note of incredulity in his voice. Even though the war had been fought primarily between muggles the wizarding community had been affected by it. Barty knew enough about history to be aware of it, but it still surprised him to think that Gwen's grandfather had been directly involved.

Gwen nodded.

"How?" Barty asked, still too surprised to articulate a proper sentence.

"The D-Day landings," Gwen replied. "You do know what they are, right?"

He glanced at the floor a little awkwardly. He'd heard of them, but he wasn't sure what they were.

Gwen gave a sigh, realising he had no clue. "Basically, he died while landing on a beach to liberate France from a fascist dictator. Wizard or not, anybody who gives their life for something like that deserves respect."

Barty felt immensely uncomfortable once she'd said that. Despite his contempt for muggles in general, he couldn't help but agree that anyone who died for a cause they believed in deserved respect. If it ever came to it he hoped he'd be brave enough to do something like that for the Dark Lord, but that didn't change the fact that if Gwen's grandfather had been able to use magic he probably wouldn't have died in the first place. "Well, maybe so," he said, trying to sound reasonable, "But don't you think that if you had known him then him being a muggle would have been difficult for you? You'd be able to do all this magical stuff, whereas he'd be so limited. There's a reason muggles and wizards don't go together."

Gwen sighed again. "Oh, Barty," she said, sounding disappointed, "I wish you'd taken muggles studies, then you'd be able to understand better. Muggles and wizards could go together if wizards could just get over their scepticism and muggles got over their ignorance."

Barty found himself wishing Gwen hadn't taken muggle studies, then she'd be able to understand. What exactly had she picked up from that class to make her think this way? "But wizards have superior abilities to muggles in every way possible. Muggles use brooms for cleaning, we use them to fly. Kind of says it all really, doesn't it?"

Gwen just shook her head. "Any wizard can use magic to fly," she said, trying to reason with him, "It's when you manage to get something to fly without magic that it's really impressive."

He scowled at her. "You mean like a muggle airyplane? Not exactly discreet or efficient are they?"

She just gave a small smile, as if she knew something that he didn't. "What's the top speed of a Nimbus 800? Ninety miles per hour?" she asked rhetorically, "The fastest muggle plane can travel faster than the speed of sound. Now even with magic that would be a pretty incredible achievement."

For a couple of seconds he just stared at her. Now that was something he hadn't known. And yes, reluctant as he was to admit it, that was bloody impressive. "Oh," was all he managed to say.

She smiled at him, pleased that he seemed to have conceded to her way of thinking. "See what I mean? You find out some interesting stuff in muggle studies."

"So I see," he said, scowling slightly as he realised that she had undoubtedly won that argument, but then he realised he didn't want that to put a damper on the evening and so smiled again. "Anyway," he said, leaning towards her to whisper the next sentence in her ear. It wasn't so much because he didn't want to be overheard, but more that he just liked being physically close to her. "One thing I'm still not sure about, where exactly is Byzantium?"

He watched a small smile play on her lips as she tried to decide if he genuinely didn't know, or if he just thought that by feigning ignorance he was being endearing. "In the country now known as Turkey," she replied, "But you did know that, didn't you?"

He smirked. "Yes, but I just wanted to make sure. Didn't want to sit through this having got the wrong end of the stick entirely."

She gave a small shake of her head. "Why in Merlin's name didn't you buy a programme? Then you wouldn't have to be asking me all this."

"Ah," was his only response to that. He'd been so distracted worrying about other things when they'd walked in that it hadn't occurred to him. "Well, maybe I'll go get one now," he said, beginning to get up, but just as he did so the lights in the auditorium began to dim and the audience hushed. "Ok, maybe not," he muttered as he sat back down. He saw Gwen smile at him one final time before she turned her attention to the stage and the orchestra struck up the first few notes.

A/N: The next chapter's going to have more romance in it. The idea for this one is that maybe Gwen begins to get an idea of Barty's anti-muggle attitude, but she doesn't quite realise how extreme it is yet. He's still trying to hide it from her, but he's a bit taken aback by how pro-muggle she is. I'm going to explore that more later on in the story, but I want to write more of the romance I promised you next time. Thanks again everybody for the reviews!