Value and Worth, chapter 1

~o0o~

She didn't want to be here.

She really didn't want to be here.

Hermione walked along the rotting halls of Azkaban, attempting to ignore the cold that seemed to seep into her bones despite the removal of Dementors. Trying to breathe despite the stuffy feeling the narrow stone walls provided. Every now and then she swore she could hear someone wail, but another part of her brain countered with the possibility of strong winds. She settled for thinking it was the latter. Mostly for her own sanity.

And while on the subject of sanity . . .

Hermione had a reason for appearing at the wizard prison, and it was not simply as an Unspeakable of the Department of Mysteries. No, it had also to do with her apparent history with the perpetrator she was to visit shortly.

History.

Hermione snorted mentally. As one of Harry Potter's best friends, every Death Eater in here would deem having history with her.

Well, sorry to say it, but your Dark Lord was defeated. Get over it.

So who was this mystery prisoner she was supposed to meet, and why had her higher-ups deemed her essential to help determine the strength of said prisoner's sanity? Wouldn't a mind healer have proved the more obvious choice? With those thoughts gnawing in the back of her mind, Hermione entered the office she'd been told to wait in while the warden made his way to her and took a seat. She had been too early it seemed.

The wails could be heard even here, and she had to restrain herself from casting a spell to make it stop. She would no doubt face something far more concerning than noises, and she forced herself therefore to keep her head. Wouldn't do to let them know that the place was already getting to her. She was young still and eager to show she deserved a place among the Unspeakables. It was too bad her mentor wasn't allowed to join. Apparently the matter was so delicate that even that had been deemed too much.

Which only intrigued Hermione more, and did absolutely nothing to quell her curiosity.

It was when the warden arrived—not looking at all apologetic for being several minutes late, his face devoid of emotion and manner clearly displaying a lack of concern for the humans he was in charge of—that Hermione's curiosity was quenched. And for the first time she wished she'd known less.

"Forgive me," she said, "but I'm not sure I follow—you're saying he's returned? But that's impossible!"

"I'm afraid, Miss Granger, that this situation proves that it very much is possible," said Warden Molesly. He conjured a parchment and a quill. "I'll need you to sign this confidentiality agreement, and also something that doesn't hold us responsible should anything befall you in here—"

"This is absurd! I haven't even agreed to . . ." Hermione took a deep breath, ignoring the faint scent of mildew that followed. She went over the options quickly in her head. Either she declined and risked losing her job, or she took on this highly unique and predictably dangerous assignment . . . She sighed, hoping that the Sorting Hat was happy for what his placing her in Gryffindor would lead to, yet again. "I accept."

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The first thing Hermione noticed was the darkness. There was no light to be had except for from a small window overlooking the ocean. Whatever they'd thought he'd need it for she wasn't even sure, considering he'd previously been in no state to know the difference. The lack of care she'd seen at this place had already influenced her in the sense that she grew surprised at every little 'luxury' she could find was given to the prisoners. It was barbaric. Despite what they'd all done, the treatment of them was barbaric. And what if another Sirius turned up at this place? Having to suffer like this, while being wrongfully imprisoned. No, she'd simply have to speak with Kingsley once she returned to London.

Shifting her attention back to the cell she was to sit in front of, she noted that there was also a mattress on the floor. Dirty, but not too worn. So, a mattress and a view. It wasn't much, but at least it was something for him to comfort himself with now that his mind was back. If people like him took comfort in anything.

She found a chair had been placed along the wall outside the cell and she dragged to the center in front of the cell. The loud sound made him flinch where he sat. Or so Hermione thought. It really was difficult to see.

"Incendio."

Immediately the room lit up. It was lucky someone had thought to put torches along the walls, no matter how long ago. Feeling a bit more at ease being able to properly see her surroundings, Hermione looked to him again.

Barty Crouch Jr.

He was still huddled against the wall of his cell, but now he faced Hermione's gaze head on and it took all in her not to jump in surprise. If she'd had any skepticism left in her body after the meeting with the warden it was gone now, because no one could look at her this intensely and be without a soul. However rotten.

She cleared her throat. "Mr. Crouch, I'm not sure if you remember, but I'm Hermione Granger."

No response. Just dark eyes staring at her.

"I was your student for a while. When you posed as Alastor Moody. At Hogwarts. I realise it's been ten years since then, but . . ." Her words faltered as she thought of how weird this all felt. Why was she speaking pleasantly with this man? He'd been a devoted follower of Voldemort, he had kept Professor Moody in a trunk for a year, he'd been there to torture Neville's parents with Bellatrix Lestrange!

The mere thought of the woman made Hermione's hand travel to her forearm, where the word 'mudblood' had been cut into her skin. The action was something she's wished a long time to train away, but it persisted and now it was something she lived with, having too much else to focus on. But apparently it worked in one aspect. It had drawn Crouch's attention away from her to look at where she placed her hand. He likewise placed his on his own left arm, where she knew his dark mark was. Faded.

"You know," Hermione said, "I thought you were dead." Actually, she'd barely given the man a thought since he'd been sentenced to the Kiss. Neither did she think anyone else had. Which was as much as he'd deserved. But now, he had come back. Somehow. And people needed Hermione to find out how. Why. And just how much of him had. She was an Unspeakable and a former student of his, she was the most they had, seeing as Winky had died years ago from her excessive drinking. Not that the elf would have done anything but cause trouble. Dear lord, she might have even helped him escape. Hermione clutched her wand in a tighter grip, grateful for the measures taken to assure that it would not be able to be used against her.

Either way, many were interested in Barty Crouch Jr now, and to her dismay, Hermione realized she was too. How in Merlin's name had this happened?

"Do you know why I'm here?" she asked. As predicted, he didn't say anything. He was still focused on his mark. Hermione decided to go with that. "Do you know why your mark is faded? You realise why, don't you?"

Finally, a reaction. Crouch had clutched his fingers to tighten the grip on his arm. Evidently he did understand what it meant.

"He fell in the end. Like the mortal he was. Just a body, like anyone else," said Hermione, seeing just how far she could go, "Nothing special."

"You shut your filthy mouth, Mudblood, before I rip your tongue out!"

Barty glared at her, his eyes wild and whatever composure he'd had before was gone. Outwardly, Hermione kept her posture relaxed. Inwardly, she was dancing in victory.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I just thought you'd want to know," she said.

Barty still glared at her, his eyes filled with murderous intent and she didn't doubt that if not for the bars and the magic keeping him in place he really would have ripped her tongue out with his bare hands.

Hermione crossed her legs, looking down to her notes and then back up again. "I've not come here to rejoice in your side's loss, Mr. Crouch. I've come here to speak with you, which so far has proven difficult. I will avoid the subject of your . . . master, if you oblige with any answer you can give me regarding your situation. Are we in agreement?"

"No."

"No?" Hermione blinked. "No to the agreement?"

"I want you to tell me everything," he said, adjusting the way he sat, "I want you to tell me every single detail and I want you to tell me who was involved."

"I'm not sure I—" Hermione started but stopped. Of course he'd want to know. He wanted to know who had a hand in his master's downfall, who to hold responsible. If he ever got out, he'd track every last one of them down . . . Including Hermione herself.

She swallowed. "Okay."

Lucky thing he wasn't ever going to get out, now wasn't it?

~o0o~

A/N: And so begins our Bartmione! Wooo!

(For those of you who've read my 'Short and Sweet' drabbles this first chapter is miiiiiiiiiiildly different, but pretty much the same as the drabble about Barty and Hermione. So if you recognize it that's why haha)