Disclaimer: The ideas are mine, the characters belong to JK.

Character:Bartemius Crouch Jr.

Prompt:Five minutes to midnight

"If we suddenly fall should I scream out / Or keep very quiet and cling to/ My mouth as I'm crying / So frightened of dying / Relax yes I'm trying / But fear's got a hold of me / Yes, this fear's got a hold of me"

Death, by White Lies

Fear

Five minutes to midnight. It was December, and the cold wind invaded the house through the carelessly open window, rendering whatever heating spells might be in place ineffective. Bartemius wanted to feel the cold. He took of his shirt and shivered from head to toe for a second when the first gust of winter wind embraced his naked torso. He closed his eyes. Then opened them up again and glanced at his wrist watch one more time.

The room was small. He barely took one step and laid down, his shirtless back flat against the icy floor, and every hair in his body standing on end. It was almost as if the cold had taken form, sinking its long fingers into his skin, grabbing his lungs, making it difficult to breath. Numbing his higher thoughts, thoughts of the choice he was struggling to make. The cold itself caused him pain. Not a lot, though, just enough.

Midnight. Barty reached for his wand, pointing it up to some books in the upper shelves, making them fly over his head. It was a childish, pointless spell, but he did it because he could. He could now, that is. He was officially seventeen years of age. The trace had worn off. In a way, he was free.

In a way, the young Slytherin thought angrily. In so many other ways, he was still completely stuck, with no idea what to do with his life whatsoever. He often felt... Different, even brilliant, when he compared himself with kids his own age. He understood things quickly, learnt spells faster, remembered things few others could. Sometimes he even believed he would do great things, incredible things, and most days, he was sure he would never be a menial public servant like the indignant father who'd given him his name. Have you ever felt like you were meant for something bigger? Something special? Barty did...

The envelope with his O.W.L. results lied crumpled inside the dustbin half a metre away, whispering that these thoughts of greatness were nothing but wishful thinking. He had barely gotten passing grades in most subjects, as his father kept reminding him, grief and disappointment in the old man's voice. Most days, Barty didn't mind. But sometimes those grades made him wonder. Perhaps he would never be more than a disappointment. Perhaps he was destined to be- ordinary. And these dark thoughts filled him with fear...

Levitation spells were too easy. Barty needed something more challenging.

A cockroach climbed up his wall. One word, Accio, and it was in his hands. One more word, Crucio, and it rolled to the floor, moving its tiny legs in the air, in agony. That was what pain was supposed to look like. It didn't last long though. He did it again. That was more like it. He had had a good teacher.

Crucio, he whispered one more time. If the cockroach could scream, would it be screaming right now? Perhaps one day he would find out.

AN: This is a drabble collection for my Slytherin Boot Camp, combined with the Music Apreciation Challenge. Each chapter will be inspired by a word prompt from the bootcamp, a song by White Lies and an Emotion. They are each exactly 500 words long. Some of the drabbles may be combined with other challenges as well.

Slytherin is a very misunderstood house. I think we need more stories on Slytherins who are curious, afraid, young or in love. It is my intention to depict Slytherin characters as more than blind followers of Voldemort. Whether or not I succeed, its up to the readers to decide.

Please, review. I would like to have some feedback on these.