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Eating Death
Becoming a Death Eater, especially one more trusted and higher up the ranks, when Barty's age wasn't exactly easy. There were always rivalries between the members, something very much intended by the Dark Lord. He didn't want them to trust each other more than necessary. All ways of ensuring he could control and rule through fear.
But Barty had ways of earning and keeping respect. He was powerful and talented, not to mention shrewd and vicious. Besides, there was always that intensity, the slight off-vibe. No one wanted to cross him. Most knew not to mention his father to his face. He had found a way to have his weaknesses work for him rather than against him.
And so it was no wonder that he was chosen for missions like these, where he and Severus Snape were sitting in a room in an inn, to keep close surveillance at someone occupying the neighbouring room. Someone who was currently sleeping, which made the whole operation fairly boring. Barty sat in one of the armchairs, slouching, in fact. He was tapping his fingers against the table while chewing on his lower lip, eyes flicking to Severus every now and then.
Suddenly he rose and walked over a short distance to the bed. He didn't say anything as he took off his robe, not much of a show, just very matter of fact movements, until his upper body was bare. Only a vague plan had formed so far, but every now and then improvisation just made things more lively.
But Barty had ways of earning and keeping respect. He was powerful and talented, not to mention shrewd and vicious. Besides, there was always that intensity, the slight off-vibe. No one wanted to cross him. Most knew not to mention his father to his face. He had found a way to have his weaknesses work for him rather than against him.
And so it was no wonder that he was chosen for missions like these, where he and Severus Snape were sitting in a room in an inn, to keep close surveillance at someone occupying the neighbouring room. Someone who was currently sleeping, which made the whole operation fairly boring. Barty sat in one of the armchairs, slouching, in fact. He was tapping his fingers against the table while chewing on his lower lip, eyes flicking to Severus every now and then.
Suddenly he rose and walked over a short distance to the bed. He didn't say anything as he took off his robe, not much of a show, just very matter of fact movements, until his upper body was bare. Only a vague plan had formed so far, but every now and then improvisation just made things more lively.