A/N: I'm interested in flower symbolism. Hint.

Also, I know that David Tennant plays Barty Crouch in the movies, and he's one hell of an actor, but I can't help but think of the beloved Tenth Doctor when I picture him in my mind. It makes it hard to imagine him as an antagonist because I love him so much… T-T

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Chapter 27: Of Weakness That Eats the Heart

Peter stood in the private Gringotts Wizarding Bank treasure vault. It was a vast, windowless hall with high ceilings, extending for a great distance from the bottom of a grand staircase. All around him was an assortment of rare and wondrous artifacts, ranging from towering statues of jade to silver cages of invisible singing birds. It was a treasure hunter's wonderland.

However, Peter had his eyes set on only one thing: a tall mirror set in bronze, which stood in the middle of the vault.

Peter stood in front of the mirror, gazing into it with deep rapture. He had been there several times now. He had found no indications of it possessing any curses or protective charms, but every time he saw it, he found himself needing to come back again, and when he was elsewhere, the memory of his reflection haunted his every thought.

But it wasn't his reflection.

The first time he'd gazed into the mirror, he'd jumped with fear, taken off guard by the figure staring back at him. When he realized that the figure was in fact him and not a sudden stranger, he felt his blood run cold, shame suddenly swelling in his chest. He'd spun around wildly to see if there was anyone behind him, to ensure that no one else could see what was reflected there.

The man he saw in the mirror was tall, slender, and handsome. He stood with squared shoulders and a raised chin, which seemed much more chiseled, more square than his own round features. But as he raised his hands to touch his face, he saw his reflection raise its hand as well. Beneath his fingers, he felt the roundness of his own face, the softness there, but in his reflection, he saw his hands meet carved features, rugged jaw and cheek. As he watched this phantom follow his every movement, he could almost believe that it was really him.

But then he looked down and saw that he was still very round, still soft and unimpressive, and a desperate ache suddenly shot through him. He looked frantically back at the mirror. A chaotic mixture of relief and despair swirled in his chest at seeing that the handsome man still stared back at him. Even the reflection's posture and movements were more impressive than his own.

Why was it showing this to him? Did this mirror simply torment its viewer with the one thing he could never have?

"It's haunting, isn't it?"

He spun around wildly and saw a beautiful woman standing at the top of the stairs. She wore luxurious silks in deep gem tones, which seemed to drip from her lithe form. Her full lips were stretched into a knowing smile, set against pale skin and thick waves of dark hair. Peter's face burned. Under her warm gaze, he felt infinitely shabbier than before.

"M-Ms. Eripice! I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you were there!" he squeaked weakly.

She smiled at him but didn't respond and floated down the stairs, holding his gaze. He felt so small, like her gaze might consume him. He couldn't seem to find his voice.

"I see you've taken a liking to the Mirror of Erised," she said smugly as she approached him. Her hips swayed as she walked, and he had to force his eyes to remain on her face.

"Y-yes, it's fascinating! You've truly found a great treasure this time, ma'am," he squeaked. Her eyes burned into him.

"Please, Peter, it's Eris. There's no need for such formalities with me," she said softly. She raised a pale, graceful hand to his arm and ran it slowly down. It burned through his robes. He shivered.

"What do you see?" she asked softly.

His eyes widened. "In the mirror?" he asked disbelievingly. "You mean… You can't see it?" he breathed. He felt his tension lessen slightly, but the coil in his stomach was still wound tightly.

She smiled and looked at the mirror. He kept his gaze on her. He couldn't bring himself to look back at the handsome man there. She would be able to read his face, see his shamelessness.

"No, the viewer can only see themselves there. One cannot see what another sees," she said softly, eyes scanning over the mirror calmly. A flicker of heat ran across her face, and Peter felt that pull towards her again. Her lips were stained red against her smooth skin. He wanted to reach forward and touch it.

"What does it do?" he asked, soft awe in his voice.

She smiled but remained gazing at the mirror.

"It shows the user his greatest desire," she said softly. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. Her expression held the look of a quietly passionate lover, and he suddenly wanted her to turn and look at him.

"What do you see?" he asked. Who? As soon as the question left his mouth, he felt embarrassed. His face burned.

But she turned, and he saw that heavy look in her eyes. The heat rushed to his face. Her eyes were warm, and for a moment, his mind thought of Rowan and the burning look on her face as she'd gazed at him that cold night in February.

She ran her eyes slowly, painfully, scraping down his form, and he felt as if every inch of his body was exposed to her. His neck was scalding, and he couldn't breathe. When she met his gaze again, she smiled slowly, a lustful tug at the corner of her red lips. He felt an ache shoot through him as she reached forward and grasped his hand with her own. Her fingers were warm against his. Her heat seared into his blood.

She pulled him forward slowly so that he stood in front of her before the mirror but kept her eyes on his. He felt her press her form softly into his back and her warm breath on his neck. Her fingers trailed down his chest, nails scraping gently. He had to suppress a shiver. Her eyes burned into him, flickering down to his mouth. He licked his lips nervously and trembled. Her face was so close to his, so strangely familiar.

"What do you see in the mirror?" she whispered. Her words grazed his lips, and his breath came out in short pants. He felt her fingers slowly press into his neck, guiding his head gently to turn and face his reflection.

His breath completely left him. The air was squeezed from his lungs, coming out in a spurt of wind and gasps.

The handsome man from before stood there, and draped over his shoulders was a pair graceful pale arms. But from behind him burned glowing amber eyes.

Rowan.

Peter couldn't breathe. Rowan smiled at him from the mirror, bright and full of heat. He saw and felt her hands tangle in his hair and across his chest. A whimper tore from his throat. She laughed breathily against his neck - the soft chiming of a bell. He shivered.

"Peter," she whispered.

As he saw his name fall from her lips, her gaze scorched him to the core. His hands trembled at his sides.

Then he felt the grip in his hair tighten gently, his head tilting back, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Rowan's gaze. She held it, rising up and leaning forward. Her eyes burned into muscles and bones, like firewhiskey and warm honey, and as her lips met his, all he could hear was the sound of his own rushing heart.

It was a beautiful yellow day in London. A soft melancholy melody wound slowly around a brownstone apartment building, and several people slowed to hear it as they walked past. A handsome young man with straw-colored hair stood on its front stoop, a bouquet of brightly colored begonias in his hand. He closed his eyes and listened to the sweet sounds of the violin for a moment, breathing in the warm May sun. It certainly was a wonderful day to be alive. He smiled softly to himself before scrolling down the list of residents and ringing the button next to the name "Delacroix."

At the sharp knock at her door, Rowan finished placing her violin carefully into its case, though her bow remained in her left hand. She hurried to open the door and saw Barty Crouch standing there, a bright smile and a bouquet of flowers hanging at his side from his fingers. She smiled warmly and stood aside to let him in.

"This is a surprise. I certainly wasn't expecting company," Rowan said warmly.

He gazed around her apartment as he removed his shoes, flowers tucked under his arm.

"I'm sorry for dropping by unannounced, but I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd say hello," he said kindly. As he popped the last shoe off, he turned and presented the bouquet to her with a smile.

"I saw these at the market on the way here, and I thought about you. You don't seem like the kind of girl who'd like the clichéd bouquet of roses though, so I opted for something a little more... unusual," he said.

She grinned, accepting the flowers. "Oh, these are beautiful. Thank you!" she said warmly. "And you're right about the roses. Very cliché."

She moved back to her violin case quickly to put away the bow and pack it up, placing the flowers gently on her table.

"Was that you playing?" he asked, clearly impressed. "That was beautiful. Everyone walking by was quite enchanted."

She blushed, feeling quite girlish for some reason. It'd been so long since someone complimented or flirted with her in such a way. Something about it was quite refreshing.

"Oh, stop," she chided, cheeks pink. She shut the case and moved it back to a shelf. "It's just something I've been trying to pick up again. It's been years since I last played. I'm very out of practice."

"It didn't sound like it," he said genuinely, taking a seat at her table as she moved towards the sink with the flowers. She ducked to pull a glass vase out from a cabinet. He looked around and saw various books on potion making, herbology, and protective charms open around the table. Notes were scattered messily. "Are you studying for your N.E.W.T.s again?" he asked teasingly.

She blew a raspberry at him, and he grinned roguishly. It reminded her of Remus.

"No, it's for some research I'm doing. I lost a lot of work in the fire at the apothecary, and I'm trying to recover it. It's taking quite a lot of time though. Please forgive the mess," she replied over the running water.

"Oh no, don't mind me. I did drop in unannounced after all," he said kindly. He watched her as she waved a wand over the flowers, trimming the stems and vanishing away the small discarded tips before placing them into the water.

"Hmm, there's something about fresh flowers that really brightens a room," she said warmly as she brought the vase over to the table. Barty smiled at her.

"So what brings you here?" she asked as she closed the books and pushed them to the side. She sat across from him. It was astounding how much more comfortable she felt, as opposed to the last time she'd seen him, which had been nearly disastrous. A flicker of annoyance shot through her at the memory of the Marauders' nosiness.

"Well, I had the day off and was just around the area," he said casually. "But I figured I'd drop by and see if you wanted to get dinner or something later this week." He smiled at her somewhat nervously.

A bit of uneasiness curled in her stomach. Was he sincerely asking her out? She mentally shook the thought from her head – of course not. Even if their "relationship" was a farce, they needed to at least make a show of it, and they could be friends, after all.

"Yeah, sure, I'm free all weekend," she said, smiling at him.

Relief seemed to spread across his features. "Excellent. How about Friday then? I'll make the reservations," he said happily. "And you don't need to wear a dress this time," he added cheekily.

She grinned sheepishly. "Am I really that bad at trying to look feminine?" she asked.

He laughed. It was a bright sound. "No, you actually look quite lovely all dolled up," he said. She blushed lightly. "But it doesn't take an IQ like Dumbledore's to notice how much you hate it," he said teasingly.

She laughed. "Okay, noted," she said grinning. "Thanks for being so considerate. I promise to look halfway decent though."

"I'm sure you could wear a pillow case and still look alluring," he said flirtatiously. Her face burned, but she laughed.

"Barty Crouch, when did you become such a flirt?" she asked teasingly.

He grinned. "You pick up a few things after graduation," he said cryptically.

"Sounds to me like you're doing more flirting than work at the Ministry," she said.

"You could say that," he replied. The grin broadened.

The two conversed easily for about an hour before he saw the clock and decided to excuse himself. After he pulled on his shoes, he turned to look at Rowan again.

"This has been fun," he said warmly. "We should just hang out more often. Dates can be so dreary, don't you think?"

She smiled. "Yeah, I agree. Feel free to drop by again sometime," she said.

He smiled softly at her before leaning forward and kissing her chastely on the cheek. As he pulled away, he smiled at the blush on her cheeks.

"Well then, I'll see you Friday," he said. There was a flicker of heat in his eyes that made Rowan's chest tighten.

"Till Friday," she replied quietly. He smiled again and turned, strolling down the stairs and out of the building.

As she closed the door, she leaned back against it and released a breath, the tension in her shoulders seeping out. It had been so long since anyone had flirted with her, even Remus. She had forgotten how exhilarating it could be.

She thought of Barty Crouch with his light hair and kind eyes. She admitted that she was more attracted to him now than she had been the last time she'd seen him. He had blatantly been flirting, and his kiss goodbye had thrilled her more than it should have. She reasoned that it was a very friendly, normal gesture, but the look in his eyes reminded her of the more heated gazes Remus used to shoot her way. There was no denying that he wasn't completely opposed to the idea of being a little more than friendly with her, though she couldn't be sure what she wanted exactly.

Could she attempt a physical relationship with him? She knew she was incapable of emotionally committing to anyone besides Remus, at least not yet, but the thought of having a casual relationship with this man wasn't totally unappealing. However, she was unsure if she could separate the two aspects. She'd often admired Mina's ability to casually date boys in school and take what they had to offer physically without becoming invested emotionally – could she do that as well?

She groaned internally. It didn't matter right now anyway. They'd barely even begun their charade of dating – there was no point in worrying about it so early in the game.