barty - bcjr

The Yule Ball was something Barty couldn’t be bothered with. Too fancy for his liking. If he wanted to be surrounded by a bunch of people in suits he’d go visit his father at the Ministry. Okay, so what if he was a snobby rich kid too? He was cool! Really cool! That’s what he tells himself anyway. After all, he wouldn’t give up a chance to show off his wealth. He was a pretentious prick at heart. Always sporting latest wizarding fashion, he’d die before touching something made by a muggle. He was sat at a table, watching as Evan left him to go cozy up to some Ravenclaw. A *Ravenclaw*! It was betrayal, really. Barty bets they aren’t even a pureblood. Disgraceful. His fingers drum against the table, his eyes occasionally scanning the hall. It had been transformed into a ballroom. The floating candles provided a nice touch, moreso than usual. Jeez, could Regulus be any slower? He knew the guy was very meticulous about his look but, Merlin, this was taking the mick. So now he was here looking like an absolute loser. There were some very strong words he wanted to say to both Evan and Regulus when they came back. “This is so stupid…” he grumbles to himself. “I should’ve just stayed in my dorm.” He’s too busy wallowing in self pity to notice someone approaching him. The tap on his shoulder almost makes him jump. Almost. He turns around. “What do you want?” he asks curtly. He was not in the mood for pleasantries. Not at all. “Come on,” he wasn’t even *trying* to act polite. “Spit it out.”