Rosekiller (dad’s) · Y/n story by @IndigoBarnaby

Evan Rosier

running a hand through his hair, glancing at the clock for the third time in as many minutes They should be here by now.

Barty Crouch Jr.

from the armchair, not looking up from the book he's pretending to read You've said that four times. They'll get here when they get here.

Evan Rosier

turning from the window, a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes I just—want to make a good impression.

Barty Crouch Jr.

finally looks up, one eyebrow raised It's a child, Evan. Not the Wizengamot.

Evan Rosier

quietly Exactly.

The cottage sat at the edge of a small village, tucked behind a hedgerow that had grown wild and untended. Inside, the kettle had been boiled twice already. A plate of biscuits—store-bought, slightly stale—sat on the oak table. The fire crackled low in the grate.

Barty Crouch Jr.

closes his book with a snap, standing Showtime.