RATED M for a reason. Two chapters. Contains sexually suggestive material between Barty Crouch Jr. and Antonin Dolohov.

This is a male Death Eater relationship. If you do not like it, then go read Harry and Ginny fan fiction

Yeah, I don't own any of these characters or anything

The First Night

Low voices and clangs echoed in Barty's ears. He quivered and his legs felt feeble, like they were about to give away at any moment. As the Dementors escorted him by the chains shackled around his wrists and torso, he noticed that the air became more and more chilled the farther up they went. An odd pressure began to weigh down on his mind; he winced, knowing there were more of them lurking in the prison. He envisioned what little happiness he still held vanishing, and the thought frightened him beyond all reason. He was trying to hold back the rising panic inside himself, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he would let it consume him, allow himself to break down emotionally again.

They stopped on the sixth floor and then began to lead him along a stone passageway. The floor was unusually quiet, with only the sound of rustling and murmuring from the other prisoners. Barty listened closely, breathing out cold vapor. He shivered, turned his head for a moment, and then he froze; in his field of vision was a whole army of Dementors, dark cloaked figures with skeletal hands floating along a separate corridor.

The fear inside Barty took hold.

"NO!" he wailed as they dragged him towards a cell, "NO, NO PLEASE! I DON'T BELONG HERE! I DON'T BELONG HERE!" He struggled against his restraints, thrashing his body around madly.

The Dementors encircled around him. They began draining his energy, trying to exhaust his hope, his defiance.

"NO! NO! LET ME GO!" Barty shrieked, "LET ME GO, I DIDN'T DO IT! IT WASN'T ME!"

He fought against them, one of the Dementors silently grabbing at his face. It was pure ice and Barty felt himself losing the fight. Moments later both Dementors were carrying him firmly, Barty's legs splaying wildly around in the air.

"I'M INNOCENT!" Barty screeched, sobbing now, "I'M INNOCENT! I DIDN'T MEAN TO DO IT! I WANT MY MOTHER! PLEASE LET ME SEE MY MOTHER!"

They forcefully tossed him in to the cell, his face colliding with the floor. Barty writhed, trying to get to his feet.

"LET ME GO!" he wept, "I'M INNOCENT, I SWEAR! I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT I WAS DOING—"

The Dementors pushed him back on the ground. The chains around him suddenly loosened, slinking off his body and piling to the floor. The cell door shut and locked, Barty rushing to it. He crammed himself in between the bars, the cold metal pressed against his face.

"I MADE A MISTAKE! I JUST WANT MY MOTHER, PLEASE LET ME SEE HER!" But the escorts were slowly getting smaller as they floated away, their figures diminishing with each second. Barty continued to scream, hoping that they would notice him and by some miracle they would let him go, but there was no one there to save him. "I WANT MY MOTHER! I WANT MY MOTHER! MOTHER, PLEASE HELP ME!"

He sobbed and sobbed all night, the dreadful cold making him shiver uncontrollably. He was dimly aware that there was someone in the cell with him, but he was too hysterical to care; he just continued to scream for his mother, an endless flow of tears streaming down his face, and he kept at it until his throat was completely raw, his tone raspy and his lungs out of air.

When he finally collapsed and stopped long enough to breathe, he noticed the other person in his cell start to shift towards him. He watched in the darkness as the person became visible, a pale, twisted face. Barty stared in to the face with his puffy eyes, recognizing it after a few moments. It was another Death Eater, an older, more prominent member.

"Antonin," he whispered tightly, "Is that you?" The man peered back at him with defeated eyes, dark circles underneath. He was thinning out, his black-brown hair long and unkempt.

"It's me," he murmured, "I've been here for a couple weeks now."

Barty tried to remember what Antonin Dolohov had looked like before, seeing that the Dementors had already taken a toll on him. A stab of realization came to Barty, and he knew it would not be long before he too would look the same. Another desperate sob found its way out.

"I w-want to go home!" he bawled, unable to raise his voice any more without experiencing excruciating pain, "I d-don't belong here! I want my mother! I just…want her…"

Antonin crawled over. The man reached a hand towards his face, but he jerked his head away in alarm.

"W-what are you doing?" he asked shakily.

"Wiping all the mess off your face."

Barty blinked, shuddering. Antonin took the sleeve of his prison uniform and rubbed it abruptly against the younger man's face, drying off some of the tears and debris. Barty peered up gratefully and then a second later sank back into his despair.

"I-I am not a bad person," he spluttered, practically incoherent, "I didn't mean it— I didn't want torture them—the Longbottoms-"

Antonin was analyzing Barty, still crouched down close to him. His narrow eyes ran over the freckles, the fair features as he scratched some of the stubble on his chin.

"If you didn't mean it," the older man said coarsely, "Then why do have that mark on your left arm, the same one as mine?"

Barty sniveled, his head hanging. His nose and eyes were bright red, vibrant compared to the rest of his pale face.

"I-I wanted to be apart of something— I t-thought it would be different—" He looked up and saw Antonin glaring at him, and he shrunk a little under his scrutinizing gaze.

"The Dark Lord would laugh if he saw you like this," his superior growled quietly.

Barty squinted, the tears coming back. He gasped as he started to sob again, his grief reappearing in an uncontrollable wave.

"I'm here—f-for the rest of my life—"

"You should stop crying," Antonin said, "Learn to make the best of it."

Barty did not stop, his face in the process of becoming messy again. Antonin stared at him, seeming somewhat exasperated. He huddled in closer, skimming the back of his hand across Barty's jaw line. Barty did not move away, too busy crying to notice.

A moment later Antonin Dolohov grabbed Barty's straw-colored hair, pulling his head back roughly. Barty resisted, startled by this gesture, and he tried to move his wrists up defensively, in some vain attempt to get the other Death Eater away. Despite his drained and depressive state, Antonin smirked at his companion's attempts, his face inched close to his neck.

"Don't be such a coward, Junior."

"What are you doing?" Barty cried, his milky white skin a shade paler. Antonin pressed his face into Barty's shoulder, making his way towards his ear. His strangely warm lips brushed at Barty's earlobe, causing the young man to shudder, and then the Death Eater buried his head into his hair, breathing in deep.

"Stop it! Are you mad Anto—" Barty wailed, but his sentence was cut short. Antonin had shoved his fingers into his mouth, was clenching on to his tongue and lower jaw. Barty let out a muffled whimper of protest.

"Be quiet," Antonin murmured, "No one wants to hear you cry."

He pulled him in close. Barty tried to bite Antonin's fingers, clenching down hard until he broke skin and tasted blood. Antonin calmly withdrew his hand from the younger man's mouth.

"Well, that wasn't very nice…" He moved away, wiping the blood and saliva on his shirt.

"Bastard!" Barty shouted hoarsely, still crying, "Leave me alone!"

"I don't think you want me to leave you alone, Junior."

Antonin pinned himself on to Barty again, forcing their mouths to meet. It felt strange and bristly; Barty lurched, arching his back and struggling. He twisted his head, trying anything he could to break away from the kiss.

Their lips finally parted and Barty was panting, already having been out of air from crying so much. Antonin groped at him, curving a hand around both of his legs, trying to pry them open. Barty cried out and blushed furiously at his touch before he snapped his legs closed. Antonin gave a sadistic chuckle.

"You've never done anything like this before, have you, Junior …?"

"Antonin…you're insane…"

Barty was trembling, trapped underneath his superior, his head pressed up against the cold stone wall. Antonin held him securely in place, eagerly kissing at his neck.

"Just trust me, Junior," Antonin purred.

'You've lost it..."

It was no use. Barty tried to keep struggling, but he gradually started to become used to the other man's touch. The kisses tickled him, made him forget his grief, and then his tense body slackened as he felt what little energy he had fade away.

I wrote this really fast so it's a kind of messy. Agghh whatever please review