Value and Worth, Chapter 4

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Harry James Potter was a good Auror. At least, he was the only one within his rank to ever have taken down a Dark Lord at the age of seventeen.

Ron had done it as well of course, but since he had quit to help George out in the shop, Harry owned the title for himself. And, as a good Auror, Harry could sense the shift in mood at his workplace.

A select few of his colleagues had been assigned a new project—a secret project. One that prohibited them to disclose any or all information about their orders. This wasn't unusual, he himself had been tasked with missions no one but his superiors and partner could learn. However, there was no denying that it was different this time, and what got Harry's attention was the fact that these colleagues . . .sent him looks. Looks that differed from the regular 'look it's the Boy Who Lived!' whispers they usually accompanied. Perhaps it was all due to Harry's imagination, but Harry had been getting these new looks for a month. Which was approximately the same amount of time as Hermione had disappeared for her new research.

Very strange. It wouldn't be too strange, however, to assume that these two facts were connected.

'One secret project plus another secret project', Ginny had mused aloud the other day, bringing her index fingers together to form one plus one. 'You're an Auror, Potter. What do you think that means?'

But Harry knew that his wife knew what he thought that meant. And he knew that they both were growing concerned. Having a top-secret project wasn't new in Hermione's field of work— it was called Department of Mysteries for a reason. But having Aurors present meant that her project might have proven riskier than any of them had thought and Harry would be lying if he claimed it didn't worry him. He knew Hermione was more than capable, but he also knew she had a tendency to get so wrapped up in her research that her own well-being fell short on her list of priorities. Hopefully, she'd be able to distance herself from it . . .

There was a polite knock on the wall, startling Harry to look up from his desk and to look to the entrance where a man in Auror robes stood.

"Auror Potter," the other man greeted.

"Auror Rickett," said Harry. "What brings you here?"

Anthony Rickett glanced over his shoulder and stepped inside Harry's small cubicle. "I heard you were asking about what some of the Aurors are up to—"

"Oh, that? It was only a few innocent inquires about the—"

"—and I'm here to urge you to stop."

Harry frowned and twirled his quill. "I was only asking whether or not you could disclose any sort of information. Any at all."

"Well . . .it's not possible. Believe me, we would tell you if we could, but when you ask we have a hard time not feeling guilty for not telling you more. It makes it difficult for us to do our jobs. We're your friends, Harry."

"I know," Harry said.

Rickett nodded, then leaned in and gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze. "Don't worry though, we're taking care of everything, mate."

Then he left, leaving Harry to feel grateful and concerned. On one hand, his suspicions were confirmed. It was about Hermione and she was up to something dangerous. On the other, his colleagues were there to ensure nothing happened to her.

With a sigh, Harry returned to his cup of tea—cold now—and faced the pile of parchment currently donning his desk. Same nonsense as ever, it seemed. People acting up, displeased with the new Ministry. People who appeared to have already forgotten how much worse it at all could've been, had been, under Voldemort's rule. Meanwhile, on another end, there were whispers of people opposing the new government because it was too much like the old government. 'They forget that these things take time', Kingsley had said. 'They forget that the cruelty of the olden ways is so ingrained into our world's way of thinking that to pry it out all at once would cause an uproar.'

Harry rubbed his tired eyes, allowing his glasses to fall down on the desk.

Was this why he had fought? For everyone to be miserable?

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She was miserable. Absolutely miserable.

For the tenth time today, Hermione mentally groaned and washed in a wave of self-pity, a process she'd developed over the last few weeks to remain sane. It wasn't something she was proud of, but it wasn't something she was about to give up either. Besides, who around here would care? Certainly not him. No, he would only lavish in her misery.

Which he was, if his current smirk was any indication.

One month, a whole entire month. Hermione couldn't believe it. She had spent four weeks trapped with Bartemius Crouch Jr.

What had happened to her superiors calling her in? Had they decided to forgo the previously hinted schedule? The one that had had Hermione envision weekends free and away from this place? Away from him?

Hermione's attention reluctantly drifted back to Barty, who was currently pressing her against a door, much like he had on their first day at the cottage. Well, he was almost pressing against her. An invisible shield was activated, preventing him from touching her, but Barty remained in the way as Hermione had yet to push him off. The reason being that the last time she'd done that (he'd slid his arms around her from behind) she had sent him crashing down the staircase. Something which Barty still hadn't forgiven her for and Hermione would be lying if she said she wasn't afraid of what he'd do if it happened again. She'd barely escaped to her room in time the last time . . . But she might be willing to risk it if he didn't step away soon.

Barty tilted his head to the side, his dark eyes watching her. "Thinking about hurting me like before?"

The threat behind the innocently put question didn't faze her as much as the words themselves, and Hermione raised her eyebrows, unable to hide her surprise. How did he do that? Know what she was thinking?

She cleared her throat. "I was," she answered. "Because . . .because this situation is making me uncomfortable."

"I was only answering your question."

"I fail to see what this has to do with—"

"You were supposed to study me here, weren't you? In the bedroom?"

Hermione felt a furious blush emerge. "No! That's not what I meant! That's not what it meant! I was only supposed to observe your bedtime routines!"

There was a pause, and then, to her surprise, Barty smirked and backed away. "Boring."

While he walked, Hermione took the time to steady her pulse. Or she would have, had Barty not stopped by his bed and begun unbuttoning his shirt.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Hermione shrieked.

Barty—infuriating as ever—didn't stop, but merely kept going, holding her eye contact the whole time. "Well," he said, "I don't sleep with my clothes on."

Stomping out of his room, Hermione was down the stairs and out the door in no time, and once her feet touched grass she finally let out the frustrated growl that had been building inside her. For how long she wasn't sure, but it was more behind the sound of outrage than Barty's undressing. Or Barty himself. While the Death Eater was a menace, there was much more at work here. A plethora of reasons why her patience was wearing thin and making it so easy for him to rile her up.

All the evidence from the studies so far pointed to an inconclusive result. Whatever new theories she would manage to summon, were quickly diminished by a new discovery of Barty's case. It was as if every time she got close, he—

Hermione blinked.

No . . .no, he couldn't be . . .

"Oh my god," she breathed. Turning slowly, she eyed one of the windows on the second floor. "He couldn't possibly . . ." Whatever words her mind was working to produce next died on her lips.

Barty was standing visible from his room, his smirk from earlier gone, and Hermione fought to prevent a shudder as she caught herself looking at his face. Then, when she finally averted her gaze, her thoughts filled with fear at the possibility that he wasn't just staring to intimidate, but to infiltrate her mind. Which meant that there was a chance he knew she couldn't be manipulated any longer.

Unless he's not strong enough to do it over that distance, Hermione thought. She held on to that small hope.

The otherwise tranquil babble of the brook nearby and the bird song of the forest fell to deaf, unappreciative ears as Hermione bit her lip and wrapped her arms around herself, attempting to figure out where to go from here.

The facts were these: Barty Crouch Jr was to be studied, but his results were inconclusive; if an answer wasn't found within a year, they'd strip him of his magic which most likely would kill him; if an answer was found, they'd most likely do the same since he'd no longer be of any use to the Ministry then either; Barty had been part of Voldemort's inner circle as evidenced by his Dark Mark, therefore most likely possessing above average magic.

In hindsight, Hermione had a hard time forgiving herself for overlooking this possibility. For what other reason could his results give her answers in one moment, but then almost enough contradictory findings to eliminate said answers the next? Why else would someone so otherwise opposed being looked at be so keen to keep eye contact and keep close?

He'd made a fool of her. And Hermione Granger did not take that lightly.

Should she confront him then? Make him understand that she'd tolerate his interruptions no longer? Should she hex him bloody for making her stay here longer than might be needed?

That approach would have been her preferred one, had she not also remembered that she still had no proof this was what Barty was doing. No real proof, anyway.

She sighed. Perhaps she'd just focus on keeping her Occlumency alert at all times instead. It would be exhausting, but it also meant Barty wouldn't be able to look into her mind, which in turn would affect his results. Then she'd truly be able to conclude whether the Death Eater was a Legilimens or not.

Somewhat satisfied, Hermione turned to walk back into the house.

Unsurprisingly, Barty was waiting for her, his expression sour from where he stood by the window. His shirt was still unbuttoned and hanging loosely down his thin frame.

"I apologise for losing my temper," she told him, with no true intention behind the words, only the hope that he'd comply if she appeared regretful. She cleared her throat. "Let's get started again. Now, if you would just show me what happens when you . . .relax and er, lie down for bed?"

Hermione assembled her notebook, pencil in hand, and prepared to take down notes. Which was made increasingly difficult by her sudden self-consciousness— Hermione didn't want to look at him too much and it was already obvious— and Barty's reluctance to move.

A minute passed and unable to stop herself, Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. "Lie down on the bed."

"No."

No? No?

"I don't think you understand—"

"Why aren't you looking at me?" Barty interrupted, halting her. His words were calm. Too calm. "You're avoiding my eyes. It's impolite."

Hermione swallowed. "Don't be ridiculous. Now, about the bed—"

"You're still not meeting my eyes, Hermione."

Drawing a deep breath, Hermione settled her shields in place, before meeting Barty's gaze. "Are you quite done now? Can we get back to work?"

Barty waited, his dark stare holding her in place. The intensity made her nervous, annoyed and excited all at once. She wasn't sure why.

Not withdrawing his hold, Barty took slow, deliberate steps toward her. Hermione had to continuously remind herself to maintain her shields all while refusing to look away, in part because she knew Barty would snap at her if she did, but also because her pride wouldn't allow her to do otherwise. He wanted to intimidate her with his stare? Fine, he was welcome to try. She wouldn't back down.

Nor would she back away, despite all of her instincts telling her so.

Coming toe to toe with one another, she could feel his warm breath on her face as he inched even closer. Then, his finger traced her cheek, ever so gently. It was absurd.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice smaller than she would have liked.

"Why do you think?" he countered, now twisting a stray curl around his finger, the shortness of her hair making this act a bit painful on her scalp.

"I don't . . ." she started. "I don't think you're only in it for the pain it causes me."

She didn't know why she was being honest, but since he wasn't a complete idiot she figured it might be best to tell half-truths rather than full on lies.

"Pain?" he asked, still twisting. "Interesting. But yes, I have other . . .reasons."

Something fluttered in Hermione's stomach. "Oh?" she said, hoping not to come across as too keen. "And what might those be?"

"I fancy you."

Hermione's mouth fell open, and tenth of a second later the runes activated her protection, knocking Barty brutally onto the floor.

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Barty washed away the last of the blood from his elbow, mourning the loss of his wand as he did. It wasn't as if the lamp he'd crashed into hurt him, but it was a shame to stain one of his finest shirts. Nevertheless, he comforted himself with the knowledge of having Hermione thrown off her tracks. It had been dangerously close this time.

Using a towel, he dried his arm, not concerned with the red stains it left on the white cotton. To hell with towels.

"Sorry!" came a nervous exclamation, before they went around him and closed the door to the bathroom once more after he'd exited.

The pink cheeks she'd sported made him grin and he relished in the memory and the imagining of the more to come.

She'd believed him to some degree, it would appear. It might not last forever, and she certainly wasn't fool enough to think that he'd bared his entire agenda with his confession, but it would do for now.

"'I fancy you,'" Barty repeated once inside his room, and chuckled darkly to himself.

If only he'd told her his actual feelings for her, and what he really had planned, then he'd have something truly amusing to laugh about.

In due time, he thought, In due time . . .

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A/N: Hello! Sorry it's been so long! I've had a lot of stuff (school, other projects, binge-watching shows etc) going on, but I'm trying to work more on this series. All the chapters have tiny notes so far in terms of planning and I know what I want to happen, so that's good *thumbs up*
Anyway, hope you enjoyed and are all into Barty scheming and being sneaky hehehe

Until next time!
/Primrue