Written for Hogwarts's Pair the Character competition (BartyPercy).
The thing with time is that's its fluid, bleeding together like water. It never ends. It never stops. Time has no end and no beginning, just a cycle that is ruthless.
Barty Crouch hates time because it reminds him of all he has lost.
….
Barty first meets the boy when he joins the lord's service. Percy Weasley is a boring and stiff and obviously uncomfortable, but he does not rise to the bait that the fellow recruits of the Dark Lord throw at him.
Barty remembers himself when he first joined, an itch to prove himself and bloodlust boiling in his veins. They are one and the same, Percy and he, two boy's whose families cannot understand or love them anymore. They have gone too far to be saved.
The thing is though, Barty tries anyways because nobody ever tried for him.
…
The Dark Lord approaches him about mentoring within a week and Barty does not pretend to be surprised. He is one of the oldest recruits who hasn't mentored anyone. Not since Regulus tried to destroy the Dark Lord's world and Astoria Greengrass turned traitor.
But now, there is a Weasley who has defected, who understands that the Dark Lord is victorious and that the Order of the Phoenix has lost. Who is far too smart to be dragged down with his family. Who personally requested Barty as his mentor.
Barty says yes.
…
"Why now? Why me?" Barty asks when Percy sits beside him in his father's old house. Barty remembers the way his father spat on him before dying at his own son's hands. It makes him smile, knowing that he won in the end.
Percy stiffens, folding his hands over his lap. Barty cannot help but trace with his eyes the way Percy's arms moved, the way Percy licks his lips unconsciously before speaking.
"I thought you out of all people may understand," Percy stated.
"I am loyal to my Lord's cause," Barty warned, a threat creeping into the undertones of his voice.
"I am loyal to anyone who understands that the ministry is the future of the wizarding world's future," Percy said back and it did not sound like a wish. It sounded like a plot, like ambition, like a boy rotting in Azkaban and wishing for his revenge.
Barty smirked and it looked like a promise, like an understanding.
I will help you but do not dare to let me down.
…
Barty wondered if this was how his mentor had felt years ago, looking down at a boy who was still slightly hopeful and delirious excited for his future.
