Truthfully, Bertram had been hoping to weather the storm past the Death Eater debaucle that his family had thrown him into. Sure, they'd never actively pursued him, but his mother had constantly been worried, and he really had needed to take care of his daughter for a little while and ... okay, growing up was also hard and kind of lame, so there was that.
Bertram was about to mention something about how this didn't really qualify as a lunch meeting unless they were going to talk about boring work things, but he didn't want to give Heathcliff a good reason to try and dismiss him from their lunch, so he bit his tongue.
"Right now it's mostly grunt work," he admitted with a shrug, "Making sure that all the pitches are up to standards before Quidditch games, that sort of thing." He wasn't sure how he felt about some strange bloke's hand on Bianca's shoulder, but she didn't seem to notice ... so maybe he was just some kind of creepy over-toucher. Betram slid down into a chair calmly as he could manage and tried not to jerk at the collar of his robes.
Too tight.
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