bartyxcrouch-blog

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

bastan:

“Theo,” he repeated after him, nodding his head in confirmation, although the pronunciation was just as same as it had been. Still, he had a feeling that there would have to be some memory charms involved. He wasn’t the best, but felt thankful that he had the boy genius himself by his side to figure things out if they began to go wrong. 

As they crossed the barrier doors of the hospital, Rabastan followed Barty’s lead, nodding to the woman as they passed by, but avoiding speaking to anyone unless spoken to. Once in the lift, he could feel as his heart started to beat quickly in his chest, the sudden rush of adrenaline making him anxious with what was to come. 

Punching in the floor number, the lift slowly rose along the levels until it came to a stop and a tall, slim wizard appeared on the other side of the metal bars. In a panic, Rabastan tried to hit the floor button again to prevent him from joining them on their climb, but failed to as the other caught his arm in the door as if to hold it after it opened up to him. 

“Atwood, Foster, good morning!” the wizard said, his voice too cheerful and too bouncy for the early morning. "Say, Foster,“ he continued as Rabastan shot the other a concerned look. "What’re you doing in this part of the building today? I thought you were a sort of Spell Damage and Spell Damage only kind of man.”

They hadn’t advanced more than two floors before the lift ground to a halt once more, and Barty glanced nervously over at his companion, who was desperately pushing the 8th floor button in an attempt to override the lift’s controls. However, his efforts were proven to be for naught as the grate slid open and a tall wizard entered, exchanging pleasantries with Rabastan before turning to Barty himself. Was he Foster? He felt the panic well up inside him as it fully registered that he was expected to give a reply.

Questions like these were what the blond had most feared, and yet when actually faced with it, the feeling of anxiousness that had previously possessed him seemingly melted away under the pressure right as he opened his mouth to speak, much like it had in school whenever he had to present research he had done half-heartedly the night before. “You and me both,” He said coolly, shrugging his shoulders almost apologetically as if he himself couldn’t believe that he had to break routine, “Apparently some poor sod up in the Poisonous Potion ward’s not responding to the standard treatment, and I got called up to see if it might be the result of a rare curse, rather than a botched potion like they’d first thought.”

His answer seemed to satisfy the healer, Archibald Scott, as his badge read, and the moment his back turned to Barty, the nervousness returned. His eyes desperately searched for the other boy’s, needing some kind of reassurance from the person that had always been the more calm and collected of the pair of them. Their eyes met briefly, but Barty’s face fell as the strange features of Rabastan’s disguised body did not have the same, soothing effect on his nerves, despite knowing that inside was still his flatmate. Barty silently vowed that if they made it out of this alive, he would spend the next week after the potion wore off taking advantage of the other’s body and he his all they wanted, if only they could complete their mission without fail. Hands trembling, he buried them in his pockets as the other man continued, “How’s that project coming along for you, Atwood? Managed to get the patient back on the ground again?”

Murder at St. Mungo’s

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

shootyourightdown:

“I mean, not that I’d mind having a little fun with Greyback, but seeing as he’s the one we’ve got a bloody treaty with, I don’t think anyone would be too happy if I took ‘im out.” he sighed, taking a sip of his drink. “Either way, Ministry’s being bloody stupid about it, the pricks. Are they people? Are they monsters? They’re obviously both.”

“We both know the Ministry won’t sort it out, regardless of who they send. They’ll send someone out there, the Prophet will report that they’re taking steps to stop it, the events will continue, and eventually the whole matter will be dropped. It’s just a waiting game.” Barty shrugged, swirling the drink around in its cup before taking a sip. “At least they’re having you deal with the fun stuff. I’m stuck filing work-based injury reports.”

The Serpent’s Tongue || Macnair and Crouch

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

bastan:

They would have to be going soon. The potion wouldn’t last forever, and failure to complete the mission in time left with consequences he shuddered to even think about. “You’re right,” he muttered, pulling himself away from the other boy, although not before grabbing a reassuring handful of ass before he walked over to and out the door. Maybe it was being in someone else’s body that left him with a new sense of confidence, or maybe it was just the general atmosphere of danger that the two of them were about to offer. 

Walking down the street, the thought crossed Rabastan’s mind that others might suspect the two weren’t their usual selves once they arrived at their workplace. Was he walking correctly? Speaking correctly? They’d have to avoid anyone and everyone the best they could until they could get the job done and disappear just as quickly. “Shouldn’t be hard,” he replied, only steps away from the stone stairs outside the hospital wing. Glancing once down again at his name badge, he read his assumed name again, struggling with the phonetics. “Theo Atwood — right. Ready, Oliver?“

Barty let out a shocked yelp as Rabastan grabbed his ass, his cheeks flushing red much more easily in this body than his own. He let out a nervous bark of laughter as he brushed it off, doing his best to not dwell on just how much he enjoyed the boy’s newfound assertiveness.

“You might want to stick with introducing yourself as Healer Atwood, mate,” The boy suggested, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to dominate his features as Rabastan struggled to pronounce his name. Although the timbre of his voice had changed- it was much deeper and slightly more raspy than his usual, his pronunciations were still lacking in validity. Tay-o. “The-o” He enunciated, trying to keep it light between them, despite the slowly growing fear inside him that even a little detail such as that might get them caught. 

It suddenly occurred to him that they knew next to nothing about the Healers they were impersonating. What if they hated each other? Was Oliver married? What if he was asked to heal someone? The blood drained from his face as they approached the building, and though he was unfamiliar with this body’s sensations, he was sure he must be pale as a sheet. He wanted to reach out, more than anything, and take the other boy’s hand in his own, but before he could, they were both passing the entryway into the magical hospital.

Though he might have been less than entirely informed on Oliver Foster’s habits, Barty had done his research on the hospital itself. As they passed the reception desk, he nodded at the wiry witch behind the countertop. “Morning, Bertha,” The woman responded with a high pitched “Hello!” as the two continued onto the lifts against the back wall. 

Murder at St. Mungo’s

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

aldebaran, tadpole galaxy, supernova, quasar

Aldebaran: What’s something you care desperately about?

The Cause

Tadpole Galaxy: Would you deny a friendship/relationship?

I have in the past

Supernova: What’s one thing you want to do before you die?

Get my Mark

Quasar: If you could spend the rest of your life with only one person, who would it be?

Rabastan Why the fuck would I settle for only one person?

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

Send a space thing for questions

sentencestarters-and-asks:

Planets: Life

Mercury: What’s your full name? 

Venus: What’s your first language? 

Earth: Where’s your home? 

Mars: What’s your sexuality? 

Jupiter: Do you have any siblings? 

Saturn: Any pets? 

Uranus: What’s your hobby? 

Neptune: When’s your birthday? 

Pluto: What time is it right now where you are? 

Moon: What are you currently studying/hope to study? 

Stars: Experiences

Sun: Have you ever had alcohol? 

Sirius: Have you ever failed a class? 

Rigel: Have you ever gone on a rollercoaster? 

Deneb: Have you ever been out of your home country? 

Arcturus: Have you cried out of something other than sadness? 

Betelgeuse: What’s something you can never forget about? 

Aldebaran: What’s something you care desperately about? 

Canopus: Have you ever broken a bone? 

Bellatrix: Have you ever been forced to lie/keep a secret? 

Alphard: Have you ever lost a friend?

Vega: What’s something you’ve done that you wish you hadn’t? 

Constellations: Favourites

Centaurus: Favourite holiday?

Orion: Favourite month?

Cassiopeia: Favourite book?

Delphinus: Favourite study?

Hercules: Favourite instrument?

Gemini: Favourite song?

Pegasus: Favourite place to be?

Libra: Favourite colour? 

Phoenix: Favourite thing to wear?

Aries: Favourite movie? 

Cygnus: Favourite weather? 

Hydra: Favourite sound? 

Galaxies: Love/Friends  

Milky Way: Who’s your oldest friend?  

Andromeda: Do you consider yourself social? 

Black Eye Galaxy: Do you believe in love at first sight? 

Cartwheel Galaxy: When was your first kiss? 

Cigar Galaxy: How’s your flirting skills? 

Comet Galaxy: Have you ever had to leave a relationship because someone changed too much? 

Pinwheel Galaxy: Would you date the last person you talked to? 

Sombrero Galaxy: Do you have a crush right now? 

Bode’s Galaxy: Have you ever had a secret admirer? 

Sunflower Galaxy: Would you date/make friends with someone out of pity? 

Tadpole Galaxy: Would you deny a relationship/friendship? 

Whirlpool Galaxy: Have you ever cried over a breakup? 

Other stuff: Wishes 

Comet: What’s your big dream? 

Asteroid: What does your dream life look like? 

Meteor: What’s something you wish you could tell, but can’t? 

Nebula: If you could undo one thing in your life, what would it be? 

Shooting Star: If you could bring back one thing, what would it be? 

Pulsar: What do you hope to do in the next 10 years? 

Supernova: What’s one thing you want to do before you die? 

Quasar: If you could spend the rest of your life with only one person, who would it be? 

Wormhole: What’s something you wish would happen, but know won’t? 

Black Hole: What’s the last thing you want to see? 

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

shootyourightdown:

“Oh, this and that. The Ministry wants to send me up north to take care of the werewolves responsible for those attacks. Course, I was just up there two weeks ago conveying the orders for those attacks, so I think that’d be a bit unproductive, no matter how satisfying it would be.”

“So you’re who’s to thank, or blame, I suppose, if you have any sympathy for the filth they’re going after. How’d you manage that?” Barty asked, rather amused at what a small world they seemed to live in- in the end, involvement with the Dark Lord ensured that he would always know someone who was responsible for important events, and perhaps would one day orchestrate them himself. “I don’t understand why they’d want to send anyone up anyway. Let the muggles have it, I say. The Ministry’s got bigger problems than wasting their resources to go aid a village of primitives.”

The Serpent’s Tongue || Macnair and Crouch

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

bastan:

“You’re shaking," he said blatanly, pulling away from Barty’s kiss to look him dead in the eye. For a second, he nearly forgot he wasn’t in his own body anymore, wasn’t at risk for being caught kissing the other man should anyone walk into the public restroom. Even now, it was odd to be there simply talking to a different face, but still knowing that it was Barty inside after all. 

There wasn’t any hiding the worried look on the sandy blond’s face or the way his hands shook as Rabastan took one in his own. "You’ll do fine. I promise,” he said, shooting a quick look to the closed door before pressing a kiss to Barty’s cheek. Had he been this nervous himself on his first mission? He supposed Rodolphus would say the same of him, although he didn’t really remember much past the adrenaline of the first death. Still, he felt a tinge of sympathy for the younger boy. “Besides, you’ve got me here protecting your arse," he followed up, trying to give the best reassuring smile he could, despite the facial features that still felt foreign to him.

“Am not,” he mumbled, although there truly was no arguing with the other. Even as he protested, there was a waver in his voice that only confirmed the older boy’s observation. He had to pull himself together now, or there would be no completing the mission assigned to the pair of them, and he shuddered at the thought of failure to his Lord. Rabastan leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek, and the boy forced a smile in return. 

It was odd, showing affection between the two of them whilst both were in different bodies, but unlike Rabastan’s disapproving eye, Barty found the body the older wizard found himself in to be quite attractive. Some aspects of his appearance were familiar: the dark curls, the large nose reminiscent of his own- and Barty had always been a bit of a narcissist, his complexion. The differences in height and build, however, would be more difficult to get used to. But at the end of the day, the two were not disguised for their own sake. Rather, they had a mission to complete, and failure on their part would surely result in less than pleasant consequences. After focusing on returning his heart rate to a more steady rate, Barty sighed.

“Let’s just go. We have two hours at most with the potion.” With one last glance in the mirror, Barty walked out onto the open street, expecting the older boy to follow close behind. “He’s in the Magical Maladies and Injuries ward.” His voice was low as the two walked quickly down the street towards the hospital. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find, right?”

Murder at St. Mungo’s

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

bastan:

Taller. If it hadn’t had been for the noticeable change in his point of view, Rabastan could have sworn the potion had been faulty when similar black curls fell into his face. This body was bigger, taller and thicker with muscle compared to his original frame. His old clothes, which once hung off his shoulders, now dug tight into his skin, causing his to shed them quickly as he pulled on the healer robes. 

Outside he could hear Barty stirring. There was an excitement to it all, seeing just what his partner looked like as well as himself in the mirror. Finally coming forth from the bathroom stall, Rabastan brushed off the other’s comment with an eye roll and rushed to the sink’s basin, staring at the reflection looking back at him. "Barty,“ he cried, craning his neck and contorting his body to get a glimpse of just everything that had changed. "You said you were going to find me someone attractive — Merlin, I’m hideous. Look at this nose!" 

His voice felt clumsy as the other man’s, raspy and poorly acquainted for a French tongue. When he was done examining his new appearance, he turned back to where Barty stood, now giving his a thorough glance over, having flown by his so quickly the first time he hadn’t even given him his time. His lips fell into a smile, liking what he saw. "Of course you take him — you’re such a narcissist. I love it.”

“Oh come on now, Bastan, you’re not hideous.” The younger boy smirked, he himself actually quite fond of the older boy’s appearance, though he would never admit it. “Oi, you love my big nose,” Barty protested, taking a step closer to Rabastan and reaching for the badge hanging from the Healer’s robes, “Theo Atwood would be hurt if he could hear you now.” He teased, his hand dropping and instead brush against Rabastan’s hands.

Craning his neck, the boy arched an eyebrow, “Odd. I’m looking up at you now,” The severity of their situation was beginning to sink in as it truly registered just exactly why they were no longer themselves. “You love me.” He insisted, heart racing as he stretched up to press his lips to Rabastan’s, hoping to focus on something, anything else to steady his shaking hands.

Murder at St. Mungo’s

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

shootyourightdown:

Barty’s reckless spending had always been one of his best traits, in Walden’s opinion, along with his irreverence. Walden had money to burn, sure, but no desire to actually spend his own money on much of anything. He was fond of the simpler things in life, the kinds of things money couldn’t buy; or maybe just the things too unsavory to be worth more than a handful of knuts at a time. 

Either way, the beer he was drinking wasn’t much better than piss, but if Barty was feeling generous, there were few things better than spending someone else’s money. 

“I’m drinking whatever you are, mate,” he said, finishing off his bottle. Maybe after a few drinks, they could find some trouble to get into to really liven up the night.

Barty flagged down the bartender and ordered the pair of them a round, throwing the galleons down on the bar top. “Make sure those are never empty for the rest of the night.” He instructed, nodding towards the glasses in the wizard’s hands before turning to face his friend. “So what have you been up to, anyway? Haven’t seen much of you at all.”

The Serpent’s Tongue || Macnair and Crouch

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

Murder at St. Mungo’s

Smaller. There was no other way to describe the feeling of something about the boy being off as Barty changed quickly into Healer’s robes in the public restroom merely a block away from St. Mungo’s itself. The taste of Polyjuice Potion still tainted his tongue, and with a sour expression on his face, he stepped out into the main bathroom, brushing himself off to remove any trace of dirt or other giveaways of the struggle between him and his victim, an unsuspecting Healer on his way to work, only minutes before. 

Checking the man’s identification badge, he muttered, “Oliver Foster,” mulling the unfamiliar name over in his head to commit it to memory. He could not afford to fail, not when this was the first mission he had received from his Lord. Not in front of Rabastan.

Just as the older boy crossed his mind, he heard the other stall open behind his, and after turning to face his companion, his eyes grazed over the other boy, the ends of his lips quirking up slightly in amusement. “Did you do something different with your hair?”

@bastan

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

shootyourightdown:

“Oh calm down, don’t be dramatic, you twat. No one likes you when you sulk. It’s why you have so many bloody enemies already,” he said, and though he could easily tell the younger boy wasn’t actually drunk, he let out a laugh anyway. He wasn’t going to turn down getting drunk. 

“What, are you buying, then?”

Barty rolled his eyes as Walden pointed out his growing collection of enemies, and after opening his mouth to protest, the boy decided against it, knowing there was no denying it. Instead, he nodded, “Why the hell not? Drinks on me, mate; I’ve got galleons to burn.” Between the salary, albeit small, from his new job and his resumed shared access to Rabastan’s wealth, the boy’s financial situation was finally beginning to resemble what it had used to be before being disowned, and with the return of normalcy had come the return of his reckless spending habits.

The Serpent’s Tongue || Macnair and Crouch

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

shootyourightdown:

“You say that like you know how much I’m getting. It’s not my fault we’re not as bloody obvious about it s you are. Yer practically singing,” he said, fondly. “I, on the other hand, act like a bloody human being when I’m getting some, not like some princess.” 

“Oi, I am not!” The boy protested, lifting his glass once more in an effort to hide his burning cheeks. “I’ll happily go back to skulking around with a sour look on my face and stick up my arse if it pleases you. I won’t make the mistake of so much as cracking a smile ever again, don’t worry.” Even as he promised to refrain, his face betrayed him, and his smirk slowly returned. “I’m drunk.” He lied halfheartedly, slapping his mate on the back affectionately, “Let’s see if we can get you the same, yeah?”

The Serpent’s Tongue || Macnair and Crouch

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

shootyourightdown:

“Yer getting fucked, then?” he guessed, eyeing the scarf around his neck as he took another sip of his drink, leaning back to look at him for a second. “Shame. Was hoping it was something a little more exciting than that. Please tell me it’s someone better than Carrow this time.”

“Possibly,” Barty muttered, self-consiously readjusting his scarf under Walden’s scrutinous gaze. “Oh come on, Walden, just because you’re not getting any doesn’t make it any less exciting for me. Unless you’re holding back on me?” He raised an eyebrow, curious to inquire about the other man’s own potential conquests. “Amycus wasn’t bad at all- But by your standards, I’d say he’s preferable.”

The Serpent’s Tongue || Macnair and Crouch

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

shootyourightdown:

“Was hoping there’d be something lively happening while I waited,” he grumbled, looking over at him, the blank look on his face quickly shifting into a grin at the sight of him. “Since you’re always bloody late.” 

He rolled his eyes, turning back to his drink and finally taking a sip. “Why d’you look so happy, anyway? D’you off your dad or something?”

“What on earth would make you think that anything exciting would happen before I get here?” Barty scoffed, smirking as he lifted his drink to his lips. He let out a bark of laughter at the man’s obvious confusion regarding the boy’s almost cheery demeanor- Barty had not been the most inviting person over the course of the past two weeks, but his change in fortune had left him in a downright pleasant mood. “Believe me, Macnair, you would know if the man was dead. I wouldn’t be able to talk about much else. Can’t a man just be happy?”

The Serpent’s Tongue || Macnair and Crouch

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

shootyourightdown:

The pub was crowded and noisy, just the way Walden liked it. It was the reason he frequented The Serpent’s Tongue, despite it’s out of the way location in the depths of the labyrinthine alleyways that made up Knockturn Alley. It was easy to do business here unheard, and even easier to get information.

But tonight was a little more casual, and so he sat at the bar waiting instead of occupying a shady corner table, drawing patterns on the counter in the condensation shed from his untouched drink, half-listening to an argument the two men next to him were having.

@bartyxcrouch

For the first time in weeks, Barty found himself in a crowded pub not out of loneliness and a desire to wallow in self-pity, but rather in search of a genuine good time. The scarf wrapped around his neck hid the evidence of the extent of his good fortune, but the grin on his face was enough to reveal the change in the boy’s outlook in a mere matter of days. 

Spotting a familiar face, Barty took a seat next to Macnair with his own drink in hand. “Bored, are we?” He asked lightly, making note of the vacant expression dominating the older man’s features.

The Serpent’s Tongue || Macnair and Crouch

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

bastan:

There was the stirring of the bed, the shifting of the mattress that woke Rabastan from his sleep. He hadn’t been in such a deep sleep, but he still awoke sleepy-eyed and batting his lashes at the sudden intake of morning light. Waking up with a pair of feet touching his own had been a distant but familiar sensation, and a sense of peace had washed over him when he felt their legs entwined. Forgetting where he was, he let out a string of unintelligible mutterings, mingling his own first language with the other boys. He rolled over on his side so his back was no longer to Barty, surprised to find him leaving the bed so early.

He rubbed his eyes, let out a yawn he forced short as he spoke. “Are you leaving me?” Rabastan asked, his voice quiet and somewhat small. For a split second, fear struck him realizing that just maybe the other’s decision to come here last night had been a mistake, or that perhaps he’d only come back to the flat for the sake of what they’d done only hours ago. Naked but for the silken sheet he clung to his stomach, he sat up in bed, hair messy and eyes concentrated solely on the blond.

The morning light was still far too bright for Barty’s eyes, and his head was pounding as he attempted to think back on why he was even at the boy’s flat in the first place. However, the nakedness of the pair of them and the smell that still clung to the sheets beneath them was enough to piece together the gist of it, and he couldn’t help but swallow hard at the thought of Rabastan waking up and being angry with him. He shouldn’t have come back.

The boy’s reaction, however, was not what the blond had anticipated. He’d expected anger, perhaps even a vase thrown in his direction, but he had never expected the almost scared tone underlying his ex-flatmate’s words. “No,” Barty whispered, sounding desperate himself as he hurriedly tried to kill the doubt in the other boy’s mind. He took a chance and pressed his lips to the other’s for a brief moment before withdrawing, sputtering out an embarrassed explanation. “No, I’ll never leave you. I just...” His voice trailed off and his gaze dropped from the other’s. “I have to go, but I’ll be back. I have... work.” The last word was said barely above a whisper, but the two were close enough where surely the other heard him perfectly.

[bartyxcrouch-blog]

in-suffering-and-insane:

Amycus picked up the little puzzle from the box, looking it over. He hummed in appreciation, taking a step closer and headbutting Barty’s arm gently. One of Amy’s arms linked with Barty’s keeping him anchored to the younger boy.  He had now dropped the box to mess with the interlocking metal pieces, already attempting to figure it out. “I like these.” he mumbled. 

With a huff Amycus gave up rather quickly, not willing to concentrate hard enough at the moment. He looked up to Barty’s face and unlinked his arm from the boy’s to pull Barty’s head down to his level, kissing his nose. He put his forehead against his friend’s and smiled, then let go of the back of his head. “Thank you. It’s very nice.” 

His hand dropped to grab the collar of Barty’s pajama shirt, tugging on it lightly, Amycus’s expression lighting up. “Let’s go eat all of Rabastan’s Christmas candy, his parents sent him a lot. And then scare him awake with a big spider.” Amycus let go of the other boy’s shirt and collected all of his presents in his arms, walking away to his dorm without looking to see if Barty was even following. He simply expected the other to do so.  

“I’d hoped you would,” Barty grinned proudly, the tips of his ears turning red as the older boy pulled him down by the shoulders to lay a kiss on his nose. As their foreheads rested one against the other, Barty couldn’t keep his eyes on anything but the other boy’s lips, nodding dumbly at the other boy’s thanks. 

He was pulled swiftly back into reality at the feeling of Amycus tugging on his shirt collar. At the mention of Rabastan, the blond’s brow furrowed; He was terribly jealous of the boy and the time he seemed to spend with Amycus, and for the first time Barty’s eyes honed in on the dark bruises littering his friend’s throat. He would love to ruin the dark-haired boy’s Christmas, and followed close behind his friend. 

They passed Alecto and her friends- the terrifying twin tearing through the wrapping of some poor Slytherin first year’s brand new quill set, and the boy couldn’t help but feel slightly bad for what he was about to do. However, his jealousy soon overtook his thoughts, and he was the first to reach for the wrapped box of chocolates by Rabastan’s bed. “Truffle, Amy dear?” He smirked, taking one between his fingers and offering it up to the boy.

This is a thing called a present || Past Para