Barty Plays The Piano Really Well. But He Insists On Playing It Badly. He Lives To Hammer The Strings,

Barty plays the piano really well. But he insists on playing it badly. He lives to hammer the strings, not to be musical.

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!

Barty is such a Barbie.

Barby. Bartie. Butty. Bubby.

When people ask how ROSEKILLER works, Me:

It just fits, you know.

Unlike other wizards, when Rosekiller enters a muggle house, Regulus has the right to say that "it's in shreds", because it is. Every screw, every ply, every grinder, every metal joiner, every shit is broken, 'cause it's Rosekiller babe.

@rosekillermicrofic | Promt- Smile | Date- 22 July | Word Count: 425 | slightly NSFW

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"What are you writing?"

Evan wheezed back at the sudden voice. He didn't look behind at the source, instead he hooked the parchment close to his chest and hid the scribbled letters against him. He closed his eyes and huffed.

"Barty. Get out of here", he said.

"N-No. Not before you show me what you wrote", Barty replied flatly as he inclined forward, peeping his eyes into Evan's lap. "Show me, will you?"

"No."

"Don't grudge, show me", Barty insisted.

"It's mine. Not yours."

"But, sweetheart, I saw my name in that parchment."

"So?"

"Why did you write my name?"

"I didn't."

"Then prove it. Show me."

"I don't have to prove you."

"You need to."

"Or else?-"

"I will snatch it."

"Try."

Barty craned forward, matching his weight with his strength over the parchment, pulling it stressfully.

"GO. Away", Evan tried forcing his legs forward. He thrusted a kick, but Barty had an untraced strength, which was not easy to kick off.

"Show me", Barty hissed.

"Never."

"Fuck you", Barty stressed further as Evan pulled the parchment closer to his chest.

"Thanks. Now leave."

"No."

The grained leaf of the paper, came flopping out like gift wrappers. It was torn without shape.

Barty hooked that parchment infront of his eyes and read, "Bar-he-hip." He put that sheet down and eyed at what Evan was doing as he heard him move.

Evan forcefully crunched the paper in a ball and swiftly threw it over the fireplace. The red strokes engulfed the parchment in a hug and the last ashes burnt fiercely.

"What did you write? Tell me, please", Barty cooed.

Evan smirked, "Never." Then he stood up and left the dormitory while singing, "Chicky chicky had no kicky in him."

Barty sat down on Evan's desk and smiled wickedly as he rehearsed the lines on the parchment, quoting them word by word, "Evan doesn't worship Bartemius. He wisely whips him."

Then he slowly added, "You do both, Evan. Both."

Regulus: Happy. Birthday.

Barty: Dear Rosy.

Evan: Thank you.

(Barty handing Regulus a dead frog. Regulus floating a candle on top of it. Barty lighting the candle. Regulus handing it over to Evan.)

Regulus: Blow it.

Barty: Then blow me.

Evan: ...

Regulus: (blinking in rosekiller)