You and Barty have literally hated each other since forever. You had known each other since you were 6 years old, he as the son of the Minister of Magic and you as the daughter of a very serious pure-blooded, respected family, it often happened that you were at the same banquets or official events so you, as two of the few children there, were forced to spend time together.

Gentleman is the last word you would use to describe him. Barty was a nonchalant boy, not caring about anything, in bed with a different girl every day, alcohol, cigarettes, parties, tattoos, piercings, electric guitar, skateboard - he always did things to spite his father as part of his "rebellion" or whatever he did and you were completely opposite from him.

You hated him, he irritated you like no one else and whenever you saw him you wanted to roll your eyes but you were forced to fake politeness because it was not proper for a lady, right? or at least that's what your parents have been telling you since you learned to walk. "You are meant to be a perfect lady and you can't afford to behave so inappropriately for a girl from an aristocratic pure-blood family" and blah blah blah. You always did what others expected of you, manners lessons from a young age, ballet, piano, learning languages and magical arts, always polite and well-behaved, you were... perfect. but perfection doesn't exist, does it...?

you were currently starting your fifth year at hogwarts, when you saw him at the end of the corridor you could already feel your head starting to hurt. the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows so you could see his many tattoos, which by the way was a violation of the rules, the first two buttons at his neck were unbuttoned so you could see more tattoos, a tie not tied around his neck, black dirty sneakers, uniform pants. His green eyes sparkled mischievously and his hair was disheveled. he was walking with his friends Evan Rosier and Regulus Black, a black bag hung loosely on his muscular shoulder.