A/N Another chapter for this one and this time its Barty Crouch Jr in the spotlight, though Barty is not one of the more popular Death Eaters in fanfiction there is a fantastic story by Heeley called Freedom that you should all check out.

Fancasts: Barty Crouch Jr - Iwan Rheon / Severus Snape - Louis Garrel / Regulus Black - Eoin Macken


Chapter 2: The Eager Boy's Tale (Barty's Story)

The Hogs Head


Barty pushed open the door to the dirty pub bouncing on the balls of his feet, he could barely contain his excitement, it threatened to force its way out of his body.

He was aware of Severus and Regulus' distaste for the behaviour but he couldn't stop himself he was far too elated. He pushed through the crowds ignoring the disgruntled faces at the rough treatment before falling into a chair at the back of the room.

"Can you believe it? We were invited to a full meeting… us... I can't believe it"

Severus eyes rolled his eyes and Regulus announced his intention to go to the bar immediately.

Barty beamed "mines a fire whiskey" he called after him, Reg turned "yours is a butterbeer" he yelled back and disappeared towards the front of the bar.

The bar was unusually busy Barty supposed it was down to the time of year, Christmas always seemed to bring out the alcoholic in most people, he could empathise. Not that there was any chance of him getting any booze at home.

He waxed lyrical as long as Severus would allow about the tremendous honour it had been to attend, Snape looked almost bored as Barty enthusiastically replayed the evening, though that was not an unfamiliar expression on his friends face. He had known Severus since the day he started at Hogwarts, the dark haired boy was in the year above and had been assigned to help him settle into Slytherin House, what this really transpired to be was six years of Barty asking every question he could think of while Severus exercised thin patience, his current record was to have the dour wizard hexing him inside thirty seconds. As infuriated as he no doubt found him Snape never left him, that wasn't the type of wizard Severus was, once you had his friendship, like he had somehow managed, you had it for life.

Barty was not the typical Slytherin, people assumed they were all one way, all one type of person, people expected him to be subtle in his opinions and calm in his demeanor. That was how others in his house were, all tranquility and control on the surface, they let their malice run unchecked underneath their cool facades. It wasn't that he couldn't suppress his feelings, he was the master of repressing emotion, rather he did it so often at home that by the time he got to school he would be so full of pent up emotions, thoughts, opinions, personality that it would have been as futile as trying to stop the tide to hold them all in.

He had only been on Christmas break for three days and already he could barely control the words spewing from his mouth.

"I can't wait for it to be my turn; I can't believe I'm going to have to wait at least another year" he sighed. He was desperate to get marked, nothing he had seen tonight would dissuade him, he could cope with a little pain, he was sure he would put up a braver effort Evander Avery. Avery would be someone his Father would have called 'soft', the boy was all velvet lined robes and imported tea. Yes… he would keep silent at least, he was sure of that.

Severus didn't reply but Barty could have sworn he looked a little forlorn, maybe he would have preferred to wait until they were all graduated and been inducted together?

His mind wandered his head turning unconsciously towards the bar, he could make out Reg's head, angled as he bent over to be heard giving his order in the packed pub. Barty's eyes traveled down his long, thick hair over his broad shoulder to his lean hips past his belt and studied the snuggly fitting formal trousers that left little to the imagination.

Not for the first time he lost himself in imagining walking up behind his friend running his hands over his firm torso before resting them on his slim hips, kissing his shoulder blades. Regulus turned abruptly drinks in hand and it was enough to shake him from his errant thoughts.

He wondered what his Father would think. Which would he be most disgusted by; aspiring Death Eater, gay wizard or in love with a boy from the Ancient and Noble House of Black? Any one of those would be enough to ensure invoking his temper would all three be enough to kill him? It would be such a shame for him to go with something as bloodless as a heart attack. Even if the news didn't kill him making his leanings public would be enough to end his father's political aspirations, which would be the same as sticking a blade in his heart, the prospect of one day being Minister for Magic was all the man lived for.

Regulus made it back to the table, moving through the assorted people with a lot more grace than Barty had managed earlier, part of that he supposed was down to the way that people just seemed to glide out of his way but he couldn't hold that against him, he was guilty of succumbing to the considerable charms at Regulus' disposal on an almost daily basis.

They had started school together, sat next to each other when the hat had pronounced them Slytherin at the Sorting Feast and had remained friends ever since. Reg was everything that Barty wasn't; controlled, poised, beautiful, beloved by his family, his parents were even encouraging his association with the Dark Lord, Barty would have hated him if he didn't love him quite so much.

He had tried it on once, in fourth year, they had been experimenting with firewhiskey, most of the boys by that point had partaken before but just as a tipple, that night they consumed it in vast quantities and when they had stumbled up to the dorm room together they had tripped over a broom, that evidentially hadn't made its way into the closet and they both fell onto the nearest bed, he landed ungainly, directly on top of Regulus, when the drink induced hysterical laughter had died down their eyes had locked and moved by a magic he could not control he had dropped his head to press his lips softly against the other boys skin.

Regulus had stiffened immediately though not in the way Barty had, and had clasped his hands on Barty's shoulders pushing him away. Barty had paled immediately, awareness of what he had done dripping into his muddled consciousness he instantly began fearing mocking or worse the famous Black temper, he feared losing a friend because he didn't like girls. But none of that happened Regulus sat up and told him that he was sorry, that he didn't care for him like that, he asked him if he understood and Barty had nodded his head, lying about understanding. He didn't really, it wasn't that he thought Regulus loved him back but if he had given him a chance he would have worshipped him.

But he didn't say any of that, he smiled and pushed down his pain into the little box he kept in the pit of his stomach, he pushed back his words into the swamp like pit he had developed and nurtured in the back of his mind. Both were getting rather full lately.

He drank with his friends for a while relieving some of the tension inside his body until he glanced up to see the clock above the mantel read 10.30, reluctantly he bid good-bye and headed towards the door.


He stepped into the Crouch Town House and immediately felt like the air itself was suffocating him, eating at his skin, prickling at his brain. He shut his eyes to collect himself for a moment before trudging reluctantly into the main reception room at the back of the house.

If you had asked him before he entered the room what he would have expected to see he could have drawn it from memory; his father was sat in a high backed chair pouring over The Evening Prophet making a variety of noises as he consumed that day's news. His mother was sat, or rather perched on the end of a rather elaborate sofa that he had never found any comfort in what so ever, working on a needlepoint awkwardly, stitching while ensuring she didn't arch her back.

As he moved into the room her gaze fell on him and her eyes lit up, her face moving into an easy smile "Barty! Your home" she enthused, her voice filled with warmth.

"Indoor voice Delphine" his father snapped and she fell silent, still smiling but her eyes had taken on a distinct tightness around her soft sapphire orbs.

"Did you have a good time?" she asked, her voice less warm more distantly polite than before. It was all show, this contrition, she would wait until his father went to work tomorrow and she would bake sugar cookies, they would eat them in the kitchen and he would tell her all about drinks with his friends, not about his appointment earlier in the evening but everything else.

"I…" he began.

"Yes, Son, did you have a good time off gallivanting with the Black heir and the weird one... Snape…" his father griped maliciously.

Barty turned on his heel "why yes father I did, you're so kind to ask" he couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice he didn't even try, he wouldn't have felt sorry for it if it wasn't for his mother. From the corner of his eye he could see her gaze fall of the floor, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

Barty Crouch Sr jumped to his feet, the paper that he had been diligently holding, neatly to ensure it did not crease, was thrown to the floor as he marched towards him. He was a non-descript looking man, Barty imagined you could spend an entire dinner party sitting opposite him and be hard pushed to remember his face the next day. How he wished that forgetfulness for himself. The image of his father was etched into his mind by this time, and the picture he had was not the image they put in the prophet; the fearsome but just head of the DMLE, the man that was the safe bet to be the next Minister. No, the image he had was the likeness of him now, standing a step away from him. Barty was in his sixth year of Hogwarts now and he stood just taller than his father but the image in his mind was of a taller man, looking down, passing judgement, finding fault.

"You will show me some respect in my house boy do you understand?" he shouted in his face, Barty held onto the threads of himself that were threatening to release and stared back impassively at the reddening face inches from his do you understand he thought preemptively "I said DO YOU UNDERSTAND… repeat it back to me" his Father shouted.

"Do you understand…" he repeated softly and he watched the flash in his father's eyes, the flash where he knew he'd lost it.

His father pushed him roughly towards the door "get to your room, I'll deal with you in the morning"

He moved slowly up the stairs his hands twitching, his neck flexing, his body desperate for a release for the pent up aggression. It wasn't over yet, he needed to get some time to centre himself.

Moving inside his room he changed into his pajamas and sat on the edge of the bed, upright straight backed and regarded the wall opposite dispassionately. He didn't have to wait long, he never did, only minutes after he sat down he heard the tell-tale muffled creak of the stair, he wondered, as he always did, what he told his mother when he made these visits, he would not consider the fact that his mother knew, she loved him too much. Plus, as resilient as he knew he was he was certain he would shatter if he found out she knew. So he said nothing, he just continued to stare at the wall. When he heard the sound of the third floorboard creak in the corridor he unconsciously squared his shoulders and jutted out his chin. Posture and presentation had been the first lessons, those had been absorbed and followed easily, respect and discipline, those ones where harder.

He didn't move a muscle as his door opened silently and Barty Crouch Sr walked into the room. His father turned to close the door and unfastened his belt, the sound of the leather thwacking open was his understood que, he stood from the bed removing his thin t-shirt and posed, arms elevated above his head linking his fingers around the bar that he knew would have already been conjured to suspend from the ceiling.

The first impact of leather against flesh made his eyes water, which was unusual he must have been pissed at him that evening the fourth knocked the air out of his chest. It became something of a game, how long could he last without making a sound, he lasted ten before an involuntary gasp was pulled from his throat.

As soon as the noise filled the air he felt the bar that was held in his death grip disappear and his arms slumped to his sides. He pushed his chin up holding his posture until he heard the soft close of his bedroom door and he sagged to the floor.

"Winky' he huffed out and pushed his sweat soaked fringe out of his face before the elf appeared. With a soft pop the tiny creature dropped into his room her eyes widened as she took in his position on the floor. Knowing by now he would be in no mood to talk she set to work repairing what she could of his lacerated skin before covering his back in potions and bandaging it up.

When she was finished she stood in front of him shuffling nervously "All done Master Barty"

"Good, you can go now Winky"

She tilted her head at him staring into his eyes but nodded and moved to the door before calling over her shoulder "Master Barty should try to not upset the Master sir" she whispered before leaving.


Later when he was lying in bed, on his front, succumbing to the all too familiar mild delirium brought on by the creams Winky had applied sinking into his bloodstream and mixing with his earlier alcohol consumption he replayed the events of the evening's meeting through his brain again.

He would take his mark and once he had won his Lord's favour he would seek permission to kill his father.

He wouldn't kill him with magic that's why he would need permission in advance, he doubted his Lord would be very happy at a muggle means of death without an explanation first. But he was sure he would get it, he had heard whispers about his Lord, whispers that he had killed his own father, a man he had never known, in cold blood. Hit him in the back with a spell.

That wouldn't work here, Barty needed to be able to see his father's eyes as he choked the life out of him, it was very important that he made absolutely sure that he understood.