A/N: Written for the Dark Thing Comp (prompt: torture). I decided to go with a sort of mental, self-torture.
You couldn't save him, could you? That Diggory boy. You let him die.
Barty shakes his head. It isn't real. Regulus is dead. He's been dead for over a decade, and he most certainly isn't standing beside Barty now.
Barty knows this. He isn't stupid.
But Regulus is still there when he closes his eyes and opens them again. Reality refuses to adhere to logic.
Did you love him, Barty? I saw the way you looked at him, you know. You always had a thing for grey-eyed boys, didn't you?
"Not there," Barty murmurs, earning a sharp look from the Ministry official who escorts him along the corridor.
You loved me, too. Once upon a time. Remember?
Barty sucks in a deep breath. He is being lead to a fate worse than death. Now is not the time to relive these things.
And what happened to me, Barty? You could have saved me, too. You know it. You knew me better than anyone, and you saw the signs. But did you try to save me?
Barty's hands rest firmly over his ears. It's enough to muffle the sound of his footsteps against the stone floor, but Regulus' cold laughter is still all too clear in his head.
Of course you didn't. Just like you didn't save Diggory. That's two people's blood staining your hands.
"Stop it!" Barty screams.
"That's enough of that," the Ministry wizard says, shoving Barty none too gently into the empty room. "Don't try anything funny, Crouch. The Dementors will be here soon enough to take care of you."
Barty doubts that he has the strength to try anything. Regulus' cold, unforgiving eyes still pierce him, draining him completely.
"Why are you doing this to me?" he asks weakly, slumping onto the floor, his head resting against the wall. "Why are you torturing me?"
Regulus smirks. Barty has always hated that arrogant look.
Is this torture, Barty? You never had a problem with torture before. Remember the Longbottoms? Remember how they begged you to stop? I mean, before you and the Lestranges totured them into insanity. When they could still speak, remember?
"Stop it," Barty says, blinking rapidly and noticing, for the first time, that tears are clinging to his lashes. "Stop it. Stop. Please."
You didn't stop. Not until the light left their eyes. Remember?
Barty shakes his head.
Of course, he does remember. How could he forget? He had been so afraid that night, yet he had never felt so alive.
They're broken now. Nothing but damaged toys that can never be fixed.
"Please," Barty whispers, his voice cracking.
Everything you touch breaks, doesn't it, Barty? Your own mother, the only human being that ever loved you, rotted in a cell because of you. I'm dead because you couldn't save me. And Diggory... The boy was as pure as they come, but his fate was sealed the second you laid eyes on him.
"Why are you doing this, Regulus?" Barty demands, grabbing his knees and holding them tightly against his chest.
With a laugh, Regulus reaches out, gripping Barty's chin. Barty expects the hand to pass right through him like a ghost, but it is all too solid. Barty can feel the fingers curling into his skin.
I'm not doing anything, Barty. This is you. Only you.
"No."
Your demons have come out to play. In the end, my love, you are your own torturer.
When the Dementors come for him, Barty is too numb to even notice the cold biting into his bones.