AN: Written for a challenge on SAYS (JessiRose's Unconventional Pairings Challenge). Just some bits and pieces to follow:
According to canon, Barty is three years younger than Sirius, which, because Sirius ran away at 16, would make him only 13. However, because that would be slightly creepy, I've decided he is only a year younger than Sirius, just for this fic. :D
There is a possibility of non-creepy romance between these two when they are older (say, Sirius is 23 and Barty is 20) except for, you know, the fact that Barty went to prison at 19 for torturing the Longbottoms and then wasn't seen again until he was…like, 30 or something, because he was under the imperious. And, you know. That's really difficult to get something to work. Unless they met up in prison and Barty became Sirius' bitch. Hehehe. I'm so writing that.
-mad glompage of Barty the bitch boy-
Oh, and. I've made Barty a Ravenclaw, because I think it's incredibly boring and unlikely to have all the 'bad' wizards come from Slytherin. Plus, he was apparently really smart (he got something like 12 OWLS, which not even Hermione could have done. :D Love the smart boys.) so it would make sense.
Other than that, I hope you enjoy it! It turned a lot darker towards the end. And the actual bit with them together is, unfortunately, quite short. -sigh- oh well. That's what you get with teenage boys. :D No, no. It's only a kiss. Promise!
-
He had already decided to run away at that point, and the visit was just more evidence of the merit of that decision. Sirius had pushed a backpack filled with the things he would take into the bottom of his cupboard and walked down to the dining room to get away from the ghost of it. He couldn't get the image of the bag out of his head, and all he wanted was to leave. But he still had three days, and he had to wait; he couldn't fight with his parents, couldn't tell Regulus his reasoning for him not to join Voldemort, not again, or he knew he would be kicked out before he could run away.
He sat down at the piano and let his fingers run over the ivory keys. The keys were soft and sun-warmed, and he smiled a little – Sirius had only learned how to play the piano because it was his favourite thing in the house. Everything else had family connotations and darkened for Sirius, but the piano, although old and in the family for generations, was somehow warm and welcoming. Maybe it was the dark lacquer, or the comfortable seat next to it, or the fact that each note was warm and full. He pressed his foot down on the pedal and played a song he had just learned – Bach's Prelude No 1 in C Minor from the Well Tempered Clavier. It was a lovely piece of music, and one of the only pieces that Sirius could really let himself fall into. His eyes would close, his body relax, and his fingers stray over the arpeggios. It was when he was in this position at the piano that Bartemius Crouch Jr walked in, and stood at the doorway, watching him.
Sirius did not notice the other boy for a long while; he was so caught up in the song. His head swayed slightly as his fingers moved over the keys, and Barty gazed at him, tilting his head to the side. His fingers slid into the pockets of his robes and his blue eyes watched Sirius so intently that it was only because of his total focus on the piece that Sirius did not feel his eyes on him.
Sirius finished the piece and kept his eyes on the keys, letting the notes relive themselves in his mind. Barty coughed softly from the doorway and Sirius jumped, his head whipping around. The other boy smiled faintly, his head still tilted slightly to one side.
"You're a good musician," Barty said, and Sirius flushed.
"Not really," the dark haired boy muttered, standing up and brushing himself down, not looking at Barty. Barty smiled again, looking at the floor.
"Why are you here, anyway?" Sirius asked, finally looking up at the other boy. Barty gazed at him for a moment, as if testing him.
"I'm here to talk to Mr. Black."
Sirius nodded warily. "Orion?" he asked, and Barty nodded.
"Yes, and your mother too, if she has the time and inclination to receive me. You are Regulus, aren't you?"
Sirius laughed shortly. "No. I'm the other son."
Barty nodded, his face seeming to clear, as if he understood something.
"You're Sirius," he stated, and Sirius just looked at him. "You're the one…"
"Who has let down his family name? Who did not believe in the shit they stuffed down his throat? Who is a traitor, a blood traitor, and should never have been born at all?" Sirius said bitterly, dropping into a chair. Barty frowned a little, standing over him.
"No. You're the one who everyone talks about. The interesting Black, the son who could be great."
"But isn't." Sirius said, and Barty grimaced.
"Is it true that you have refused to join Voldemort?" he asked, and Sirius shrugged, not looking at him.
"Yes. What of it? Are you one of his?"
Barty had a mad gleam in his eye as he nodded, his straw coloured hair falling in his pale face.
"Yes, or shall be soon. Why won't you join?"
Sirius glared at the floor.
"Millions of reasons. Why will you join?"
Barty's eyes were constantly moving, flitting to the piano, to the door, and then back to Sirius, before darting away again.
"I don't have a choice, really. It is what I must do."
Sirius growled under his breath. The same argument Regulus used. Stupid, nonsensical, completely oblivious to the flaws in the twisted logic.
"Choices are what make up life. You always have choices. You can choose not to be an idiot," Sirius said, repeating the line he had used on his younger brother so many times. Barty smiled indulgently.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. It all depends upon the situation. And there are choices which are better, in each situation. For example, in the situation that someone held a wand to your head and said that if you did not strike the person in front of you they would kill you, there would not even be thought process. You would obviously…"
"Take the curse," Sirius said, stubbornly trying to make his point. Barty laughed.
"Perhaps a bad situation to put to a Gryffindor."
"Aren't you a Gryffindor?" Sirius asked, his brow wrinkled in confusion. Barty shook his head, laughing a little.
"No. Ravenclaw. I was almost a Gryffindor, though. I made my decision for the hat."
Sirius shook his head, looking at the carpet. "I was nearly a Slytherin," he confessed softly. "I don't know if it was just the fact that I was a Black, or if it was something else that the hat saw in me, but…I don't think I am a Slytherin."
He looked up at Barty, his eyes burning. "Do you think that's a bad thing?"
Barty shook his head, sitting down beside Sirius.
"No. It's all about choices, isn't it?" his eyes glinted, and Sirius realised the other boy was teasing him. He didn't speak, however.
Barty shrugged. "Anyway, people put a lot of their prejudices on Slytherins. People are people, aren't they? Is it so terrible to be cunning, or ambitious? Many people are. It just depends what you decide to do with those traits."
Sirius snorted. "Yeah, right. Slytherins are just plain evil, is all. That's what Salazar really wanted in his students."
Barty frowned. "Actually, I'll think you'll find that Salazar was looking for those who were clever, resourceful, determined and ambitious. None in themselves are inherently bad traits, if you think about it. And loyalty, daring and a certain propensity towards recklessness and rule-breaking can easily be turned negative."
Sirius ignored the comment about Gryffindor and turned back to Slytherin. "So why is it that all the students who went into Slytherin have come out evil?"
"If by evil, you mean they are of the pro blood purity sentiment, then yes, there are a lot of them. But not all; you cannot make one whole house black and white like that."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Name one Slytherin who has left Hogwarts without 'pro blood purity sentiments'" he said mockingly, using air quotes over the phrase. Barty shook his head.
"You are determined to hate them all. Do you not know your cousin, Andromeda Black?"
Sirius snorted. "Of course I do, and yes, alright, I see your point. But what of it? That is one Slytherin who did not turn evil. It hardly makes up for the rest of the house."
Barty shook his head. "There is no reasoning with you, because your prejudices are already far too deep. I suppose it has a lot to do with your family, who you do not like, if I understand correctly."
Sirius stared at the other boy. "What does that have to do with it?" he asked indignantly. Barty raised an expert eyebrow.
"You don't know? Of course you do, it is hardly a stretch to figure out. Your family have been in Slytherin for generations, and because you see them as the physical incarnations of all you find abhorrent, you have not only put your hatred onto them but on Slytherin as a whole, because of their affiliation with that house."
"I don't hate them…" Sirius said, his voice tapering off. Barty looked at him.
"Of course you do. They are your family. They have made everything difficult for you; they chose who it was appropriate for you to know before you were even born, they kept their own prejudices alive in you, and you resent them for it. They are not naturally loving, as a family should be, and you resent that, also. You resent them for the fact that your younger brother is now the favourite because of his choices, and because they could not accept you for who you are and the choices you have made. Your resentment towards them has grown steadily into hatred, and soon, very soon, you will snap and something much worse will happen. I think, not too far in the future-"
"Shut up!" Sirius cried, his hands flying up to Barty's shoulders and shaking him furiously. He looked to Barty, whose face was cool and composed.
Sirius' grey eyes were blazing, and he shook Barty hard, shouting "shut up, shut up, shut up! You don't know anything!"
Barty just gazed back at him, his blue eyes unblinking.
"I know that that's what you feel," Barty said, and Sirius glared at him.
"How could you possibly know what I feel?" Sirius asked, his hands fisting. Barty shrugged, looking intently into Sirius' face.
"We're in the same situation," he said, and Sirius' hands loosened in surprise.
"What do you mean?" he asked, staring at the younger boy.
"I hate my family," Barty said evenly, and looked away. Sirius stared at him.
"I don't…"
Barty looked back, and then stood up, walking towards the piano. He let his hand drift over the lacquer of the top, gazing at the ivory keys. Black, white, black, white. No-one ever discriminated against those keys, because their black and white was there for everyone to see. People were more complicated. His eyes darkened and he turned to Sirius, his hand still resting on the piano top.
"It's one of the reasons I'm joining. To show my father that I am more than what he has to offer. It will make him…so proud."
He laughed sarcastically, his face darkening with anger. Sirius stared at him in awe.
"Why would you do that? Don't you understand that there is more at stake than just family quarrels? This is people's lives!"
Barty gazed at Sirius, his head tilting slightly. "Yes. And power, and oblivion. Nothing will matter to me; no-one will matter to me, and I will be free at last. I will be faceless, nameless – it is what I want. No-one to care if I live or die, no-one to care whether I love or hate, no-one to worry for me, no-one to wish me well or ill. I will be my own and that will be all."
Sirius bought his fist down on the chair arm. "No! You will be his! And oblivion does not come with belonging to something such as that, oblivion comes only with death, and perhaps not even with that. People will always care, you will always have a name, and you will always have a face. Don't you understand? There will always be a person under the mask!"
"But in the sweet underbelly of darkness and below the mask you cannot see the person, you cannot name the name. People do not care for shadows. And oblivion comes with darkness, as it does with death – or perhaps not, as you say. And it does not matter whether we are victorious or not, for we are the masked ones. And if death is to come, it would taste of glory, and I would not fear it."
Sirius shook his head, his eyes closing.
"No, no. That isn't right. No, you can't think like that. There is so much more to the choice!"
Barty's eyes flashed, black jewels in his pale face. "What is so much more? The innocence of those slaughtered? The lullabies they sang before they died? Or are we talking of me? Of the music in me? That inexplicable song that guides me, as it guides us all? Are we talking of choices or of decisions?"
"There isn't any difference!"
"Oh, but there is. A choice…that is what I do not have. Because I cannot choose between what is right for me, and what is right for them. I want…no, need power, need oblivion, need darkness. It is my path. And a decision – that I do have. The decision to let myself fall into the chasm. That is what I have decided. Because…and it all comes back to this…I do not have a choice."
Sirius let out a low groan. "You do! You have a choice!"
Barty's fingers ran over the keys of the piano, and a stream of notes rang out, high to low. He grinned madly at Sirius, who stared at him, eyes wide.
"I suppose I do, if you are so adamant. But what does that matter when one choice would ruin and one create? There can be no competition!"
Sirius stood up, striding over to Barty and pushing his finger into the younger boy's chest.
"You talk of one choice creating, but I can't understand which one you mean! Because what you speak of, the choice you would take, sounds to me like ruin. Oblivion! Chasms, masks! Death and namelessness, what can it mean if that is what you wish to create?"
Barty smiled, his eyes flashing. "That I am mad, perhaps. Most say I am. I suppose it's true, then. What say you? What do you think it means?"
Sirius pushed him back against the piano, resting his fists against the other boy's chest.
"That you are mad, yes. Brilliant, too. But I don't know – you are so twisted, and I think it's by your family's doing."
"So quick to blame the family," Barty said, grinning. Sirius closed his eyes tightly.
"Who else can I blame? Family is my only true measure of evil."
"Humanity is your only true measure of evil," Barty corrected him, and then added, "and evil is only measured by your views on humanity. So we have the dilemma, and that is why some, such as I, believe evil does not even exist."
Sirius shook his head frustratedly. "Of course it exists. Don't speak in riddles, Ravenclaw, it confuses me."
Barty smiled. "Gryffindor, so easily confused. And yet they say that intelligence is one trait that Godric asked for!"
Sirius shuddered, his eyes closed. "No, no. You're being illogical – you, a Ravenclaw! I don't understand how-"
"What is illogical about it? I hate my family; I have so much hatred in me and there is only one way to channel it. It is not illogical, it is the very opposite."
Sirius shook his head, and leaned into Barty, so that they were nose to nose, eye to eye. Barty laughed, and the small eddy of breath ruffled Sirius' hair.
"And I hate my family also, and I, also, am filled with hatred. But it is not the only choice. Oblivion is not the only choice. The chasm is not the only choice."
"For you, perhaps. For me, there is no other."
Sirius closed his eyes, resting his forehead wearily against Barty's. The other boy laughed again, and Sirius felt a shiver in him as it travelled down his neck. And something shifted in the air around them, as if the whole house had moved three centimetres to the left. Something changed, and Sirius was silent in the changed air.
"Our choices are not what make us, Sirius Black," Barty whispered, and his voice was low and seductive in its darkness.
"It is our souls. For we can choose and we can choose, but in the end we are all marked by our soul."
Then Barty leaned his mouth upwards and bit Sirius' lip. Sirius cried out but stayed where he was. The shift in the air was shimmering around them, and he could not move for fear of…for fear of something that he was not even aware of.
Barty's tongue slid out and he tested it on the perimeter of Sirius' mouth, waiting for some sign, or another shift in the air. Sirius sighed, and Barty slipped his tongue into the dark haired boy's mouth. They rested against each other, quite still, apart from the small movements of one boy against the other.
If Sirius concentrated, he felt he could control himself, so that he radiated exactly the right amount of cool and heat, and Barty would never know the tremors he felt in himself. Everything was heat and light, and music and stars; Barty was madness, total madness, and he was darkness too. But there was a kind of glow in him also, as if he was lit up on the inside, and it confused Sirius so much, he couldn't understand what was going on or if this was even as wrong as he would normally have felt it was.
And then there was everything that the other boy had said, and it hurt Sirius to think that anyone would be so filled with hatred that they could long for oblivion so intensely. Because he was not so different, and maybe he was just on the edge of that particular madness, and maybe it would only take one more thing, but he could never tell what that would be. He opened his mouth, sighing onto Barty's tongue, and the kiss deepened, relaxed and full of hidden meanings.
They both moved a little, so that they held each other now, the piano crying out as Sirius leant the other boy back too far. When they finally pulled apart, Sirius realised that his cheeks were wet, and he couldn't tell if the tears were his or Barty's. They gazed at each other for a long moment, and something passed between them. Sirius knew that Barty would not change his mind, no matter what Sirius said, and he didn't know if it was true that he had no other choice – perhaps it was, although Sirius could not really believe it. Either way, they would not be together again, probably ever, and maybe it was better that way. There might have only been a small chasm between them, but that chasm was deep, and there was no way to breach it again.
Sirius stepped away from him, moving to the doorway. He looked back at Barty, whose eyes, still dark and wet, remained fixed upon Sirius' face. Sirius stood at the doorway, flexing his fingers. The knuckles cracked loudly, but both boys were unaware of the sound.
"I think you still have the choice," Sirius said softly, gazing pleadingly at Barty.
The other boy's dark eyes flashed with mad laughter.
"Yes. There is always a choice," he agreed, as the sound of Sirius' father's footsteps sounded down the hallway. Sirius took one last long look at Barty, pleading with him to leave. The other boy smiled, his eyes glinting.
"It's whether or not you take it that proves what you are."