#and um...bat doesn't go to the library partially because atticus is there constantly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

“You never know when you're gonna meet someone, And your whole wide world in a moment comes undone -- You're just walking around and suddenly Everything that you thought that you knew about love is gone... You find out it's all been wrong...

And all my scars don't seem to matter anymore 'Cause they led me here to you...”

~“Start of Something Good” by Daughtry

x~x~x~x

Atticus Grimsley Lestrange @cursebreakerfarrier hadn’t gone to Hogsmeade village very much. The Ravenclaw Prefect had always been hyper-aware of how much his family legacy was placed squarely on his shoulders -- as the only son of the family not currently in Azkaban for the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom, Atticus was the one who could bring his family the esteem his father so thought they were entitled to. Atticus being Sorted into Ravenclaw alone had broken a precedent, so Wulfric Lestrange was all the more strict in his expectations for his only child.

This time, however, Atticus told himself, there wasn’t much choice in the matter. He had to have the oral report ready for Binns, and his partner had set their meeting place as the Three Broomsticks. That didn’t mean Atticus would ever tell his father any details about the assignment -- he could just imagine how very displeased Wulfric would be, knowing his son had to engage with a Muggle-born like Robert Bellamy.

Atticus brought an entire heavy stack of books from the library with him, all of which were recommendations from Madame Pince. To his surprise, the school librarian actually seemed oddly pleased that Atticus was working with Robert.

“He seems to be a very bright boy, and yet he seems determined to not show it,” she said, sounding almost petulant. “Filius has said Mr. Bellamy likes reading -- that his marks are quite high, even despite his obsession with Quidditch and his penchant for trouble. And yet the faculty’s said he frequently holds back during class demonstrations, and in the last five years, I have never seen him study in the library. I see his friends in here plenty, but Mr. Bellamy? He’ll practically sneak in, pick up his books, and then leave as quickly as possible. I almost wonder if he’s actively trying to avoid being seen here...”

She smiled indulgently at Atticus. “Perhaps you might be able to get that boy to actually take pride in something other than chucking Quaffles around.”

Atticus wasn’t entirely sure how in the world he’d ever do that, even if he wanted to. After all, Robert was Barty Gilbert’s best friend -- Atticus didn’t want anything to do with Barty, and Robert was deathly loyal to him. But even with this, he had to admit, something about Robert intrigued him. Madame Pince thought that Robert was determined not to show he was smart, and yet when Atticus challenged him, he launched into a whole history lecture on the Witch Trials that could’ve put Binns himself to shame. Robert had even taken out a bunch of Muggle books on the subject over the summer and read them before coming to school, so that he’d understand the material in depth. Still, Pince’s assessment made Atticus feel a bit better for having seen Robert as a dumb jock -- he never really had stood out much to Atticus before, except as Barty Gilbert’s sidekick. Yet Atticus couldn’t help but wonder...why would someone who was Sorted into Ravenclaw, and therefore valued wisdom, knowledge, and learning, actively try to downplay how talented he was? Perhaps it was the thought of a mystery Atticus could unravel, but he wanted to know why.

When Atticus arrived at the Three Broomsticks, the stack of books under his arms, he found Robert sitting at a table, two butterbeers placed in front of him and the seat across from him. Standing beside the table were his best friends, pretty, ginger-haired Cecelia and tall, auburn-haired Barty -- Cecelia was pulling lightly at Robert’s arm despite him sitting down, chatting animatedly to him, and Robert was grinning broadly.

“...now, Ceci!” he said. “I doubt Atticus Lestrange would be much the sort to want to talk homework while trying on robes at Gladrag’s. You and Barty go on ahead -- you lot’ll have more money to buy something cool anyhow..”

At the sound of his own name, Atticus couldn’t help but hang back. Not only did he feel awkward about interrupting, but part of him really preferred the thought of not interacting with Barty more than he had to. He didn’t like the weird, irrational ball of dislike that would well up in his throat whenever he looked Barty in the eye.

Barty was blushing slightly, but the mention of his friend being low on money made him frown.

“If you want something, I could buy it for you,” he said in a very quiet, but earnest voice. “It could be an early birthday present...”

But Robert waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, mate, I don’t need anything. Now go on -- I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

Cecelia was frowning too. She exchanged a look with Barty, looking faintly hesitant, but finally released Robert’s arm.

“All right,” she sighed airily. “Be sure to invite Atticus along too after you’re done, all right?”

This startled Atticus. Robert looked uncomfortable.

“Invite him to Gladrag’s?” he sad, trying to play it off with humor. “Not exactly a party spot, Ceci.”

“Invite him to hang out with us,” Cecelia corrected him.

Robert frowned deeply. “What? Ceci...I get that you’re trying to be polite...but every time Lestrange gets within ten feet of Barty, he looks at him like he ran over his cat.”

Barty sighed and then gave a reluctant nod of agreement. “You know he doesn’t like me, Cecelia. I don’t even really know why, aside from his dad not liking my parents...”

Atticus felt like his stomach was being squeezed uncomfortably. Part of him wanted to just leave the pub all together -- but what Cecelia said next made him give pause.

“Barty, you’ve always said you feel like he must be lonely, sometimes. And Robert, you said the same thing, right after you first collided with Atticus, remember? ‘He should be smiling,’ you said. ‘His face doesn’t look right, somehow.’”

Atticus straightened up slightly. He understood that feeling. It was the same feeling he had when he first met Barty -- that his eyes weren’t right, that his smile and voice weren’t right. And yet the sentiment here...also came across as oddly sweet too, in a weird way.

“I was eleven years old, Ceci -- eleven-year-olds say dumb things,” said Robert in a voice that attempted to sound off-hand, but instead came out rather evasive.

“I don’t think it was dumb at all,” said Cecelia very firmly. “You felt sorry for him, and you didn’t even know him that well.”

“It was rather cool of you, Rob,” said Barty, smiling proudly at his best friend.

Robert, however, sidestepped the praise.

“It was a stated fact, not me trying to be nice,” he said in a very grounded, modest tone of voice. “I don’t get why a guy who’s as smart as he is can’t loosen up a little and have some fun once in a while. He can’t be happy, being so...”

He trailed off, his dark eyes drifting down to his mug of butterbeer.

‘Strange?’ Atticus finished in his own head dully, thinking of how everyone else in school tended to nastily play off of his name.

As soon as he thought it, though, another word echoed over his mind.

“You really are too grim for your own good…”

Atticus felt that weird, sad kind of deja vu ripple over him for a second time.

Cecelia sighed tiredly. “As always, you’re determined to play off the best parts of yourself.”

She turned to Barty. “...I guess we should go. Play nice with Atticus, Rob.”

“Yes, Mum,” Robert shot back with a playful smirk.

Barty grinned over his shoulder at Robert before leaving with Cecelia, his cheeks touched with a blush as he looped his arm around hers.

Atticus watched them leave -- then, swallowing back the lump in his throat, he finally approached the table where Robert was still sitting.

“...Hello,” he said stiffly.

Robert looked up, only mildly startled.

“Afternoon,” he greeted.

Noticing the books in Atticus’s arms, he held out his hands. “Here -- let me take those.”

He immediately took the stack, lifting it with significantly more ease than Atticus had and putting it down on the table.

Atticus glanced at the mug of butterbeer placed at the spot left aside for him. Noticing the glance, Robert frowned.

“Do you not like butterbeer?” he asked. “You struck me as the type of person who would...”

“I do,” said Atticus very quickly. “...It’s one of my favorites.”

He slowly lowered himself down into his seat, still feeling oddly hesitant. It had been so weird hearing Robert talk about him with his friends. Most of it wasn’t surprising -- after all, Atticus and Robert had rarely talked largely because of Robert being Barty’s best friend -- but the thought that Robert had actually expressed concern about him despite that...was kind of surreal.

“...You thought I’d be the type to like butterbeer?” he asked.

Robert shrugged as he took a sip, his dark eyes drifting up toward the ceiling. “Don’t most people like it?”

“I suppose they do,” granted Atticus.

He picked up his mug and took a long sip himself. It warmed him up from head to toe, and he couldn’t help but relax slightly.

Robert looked Atticus up and down briefly, cocking his eyebrows.

“You’re awfully overdressed,” he said lightly.

Atticus raised his eyebrows rather coolly in return. “I’m sorry -- I suppose I could’ve ripped the knees out of my trousers, before coming.”

Robert blinked. Then, to Atticus’s complete surprise, he actually burst out laughing.

“So you can joke!” he said. “Merlin...and here I wondered if I’d have to be serious the entire time...”

Atticus raised an eyebrow. “Is that something you can do? Be completely serious?”

Robert smirked slightly. “Of course. I just don’t fancy doing it that much.”

“Not like me, you mean.”

“Definitely not like you.” Realizing what he said could be considered offensive, Robert then added, “...You’re a smart guy, Lestrange, don’t get me wrong. I guess I just don’t get why someone as smart as you would be willing to settle.”

Atticus looked down at the books on the table and then back up at Robert, his eyebrows knitting over his blue eyes.

“And I don’t quite understand why someone as smart as you tries to hide it,” he said straightforwardly. “I mean, someone who can do lectures like the one you came up with on the fly the other day could easily become a professor someday...yet you don’t tutor, or participate in class...you don’t participate in any of our classes, by choice. And when you do...I reckon you’re holding back.”

Robert snorted. “I don’t hold back on the Dueling Field -- I don’t love getting my arse handed to me that much.”

Atticus couldn’t completely bite back a laugh. Robert was actually pretty funny, too.

Robert took another sip of butterbeer, his expression slowly becoming a bit more serious.

“I just don’t see the point in broadcasting my marks or how much I know, that’s all,” he said simply. “I learn so that I can be of use -- not to show off. Knowledge is power. With it, you can fix people’s problems and make the world better. I don’t need to win awards or accolades for my academics -- I just want to know as much as I can and use that knowledge for good.”

Atticus’s expression softened somewhat. “That’s...actually really admirable.”

Robert shrugged. “It’s how I feel is all. Just because I play Quidditch doesn’t mean I’m obsessed with getting attention.”

“You don’t seem uncomfortable about the attention,” said Atticus.

“Well, it’s not just me, is it? Even when I get attention, it’s attention for the team, not me. And any attention I do get, I get for helping out my mates. It feels good to be what they need, that’s all it is.”

Atticus’s blue eyes narrowed slightly as he brought his mug of butterbeer up to his lips again.

“...You really are determined to play off the best parts of yourself.”

Robert straightened up noticeably. Atticus couldn’t help but grin, seeing how effectively he’d startled him.

“Will you be all right with presenting what you’ve already researched?” he asked. “I reckon the class would probably find a lecture about both the wizarding and Muggle perspectives of the Witch Trials really interesting...and it would almost surely earn us an O.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to teach the rest of our class with you?”

“Well, since you’re so critical of Professor Binns’s teaching style, perhaps it’s right you show everyone how it should be done,” said Atticus smugly.

Robert’s lips curled into a broad smirk. “Is that a dare, Lestrange?”

Atticus’s own mouth also spread into a wry smile. “You could always refuse to accept it.”

“You know full well I won’t,” said Robert, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “All right, old boy -- we’ll be Professors Lestrange and Bellamy for a class, then. And if we don’t get an O, I’ll dress like you for an entire month.”

Atticus couldn’t hold back his own laughter. “Careful -- I might be tempted to get an E just to see that!”

17 notes · View notes