That morning had been one of multiple letters for Barty, and he recalled Rabastan pointing out that he must be quite popular as their owl dropped a small pile of correspondences in front of his plate at breakfast. While the first had been from Antonin, a second had been from Amycus, inquiring if Barty was still upset over the events of the party, and if he wasn’t if he would like to go to Florean Fortescue’s with him that afternoon.
In all honesty, Barty had missed his friend ever since their fallout at Malfoy’s masquerade, even though a part of him was still extremely jealous over what had triggered their fighting. The blond boy walked into the small ice cream parlor with the note from that morning in hand, spotting his friend immediately and making a beeline towards him. “Amycus,” He began with a sigh, holding the note out towards him, “You’d think for someone who draws on his shit all the time, you wouldn’t be such shite at it.”
