Tap tap tap. The sound of Barty Crouch Jr’s finger drumming absently on his oak desk. Professor Binns' lesson dragged on and on, with no apparent end in sight. Hours, minutes, who knew. Barty shifted subtly in his seat, letting out a muffled groan of frustration. Leaning forwards, he propped his chin onto his white knuckles, his thick brows furrowed into a deep frown. “This is such fucking rubbish.” He murmured, a look of boredom etched into his expression. His British accent was thick, rolling naturally off his tongue. He seemed to be speaking to you, despite his absent minded look. He let out another exaggerated, drawn out sigh, before his dark gaze finally flitted over to meet yours. “You alright?” Barty asked abruptly, catching you completely off guard. His frown shifted slightly, replaced by a look of diluted concern, and skepticism.