"Cedric Diggory-"

Was the last person on Fred's mind that afternoon. His chest felt as though it was made of candied glass and that the slightest touch would shatter him open. Somewhere between the final task and right here, sitting there listening to how his peer and friend had died valiantly, Fred knew that he had been found. And instead of worrying as to whether or not he should fear for his life, Fred, instead, feared for Barty's. For Barty had told him about Azkaban and the Dementors and how there would be no happiness if he returned there and after all this time, after months of sneaking around and sharing this secret – it was over.

Barty Crouch Jr. was either cold or praying for death at this very second.

Fred Weasley was praying that he was wrong.

"Oh Fredrick," Barty panted against Fred's chest. "Oh God, Fredrick." He thrust inside him again, gripping the desk for support. "I… I can't-"

"Barty, I-" Fred pulled Barty down by the neck and panted against his lips. "I-I'm going to-"

Catching Fred's lips with his own, Barty quickened his motions as he slid his tongue against Fred's. He felt Fred tighten and with a desperate groan, he felt Fred shaking beneath him. Grabbing Fred's hands from around his neck, Barty pinned them above the ginger's head on the unforgiving oak desk. He watched Fred's face closely as the ginger arched his eyebrows and shut his eyes as tight as they would allow him. His mouth, open to gasp for air, was curved at the edges, as he moaned out loudly. The sight alone would have been enough for Barty if he had not been so determined to let Fred climax first.

"Barty, I-" Fred's breath caught in his throat as his legs wrapped tighter around Barty's middle. His toes curled and his fingers flexed and every cell in his body felt as though it was shooting off fireworks. Barty continued to thrust inside him and Fred arched his back, allowing for Barty to do so harder. And within a few deep thrusts, he felt Barty shaking between his legs. He held him close to his body, his legs hitched at the feet for a stronger hold. As they both cried out, Barty let go of Fred's hands and ran his fingertips up the ginger's trembling body.

He collapsed on top of him completely, panting heavily as he kissed Fred's shoulder. "Are you alright?" He ran his fingertips down Fred's arm and grabbed his hand. He played with his fingers and pulled them to his lips, planting soft kisses on the pads of Fred's fingers.

"I… feel amazing," Fred laughed quietly, looking around the office. "Never going to be able to look at this place the same way again, though."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Barty looked up, Fred's hand still near his mouth.

Pushing back Barty's fringe, Fred smiled. "No, you didn't, Barty." He unwrapped his legs from around the Death Eater and winked. "All that moaning was actually a good thing, you know."

Barty laughed as he massaged Fred's hand. "You can't take anything seriously, can you?"

"Why would I take anything seriously?" Fred twirled a strand of Barty's hair around his finger. "You-Know-Who takes things too seriously. Look what sort of trouble he's gotten himself into!"

Barty shook his head. "You shouldn't speak about him. More importantly, you shouldn't insult him."

Fred raised his eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me what to do?"

"I believe I am, Fredrick."

Tilting his head back, Fred laughed loudly. "You just wait. I'll come up with something that'll make old You-Know-Poo really angry."

Barty looked up at Fred with a blank expression. "You-Know-Poo?"

Fred bolted up from the desk, nearly knocking Barty down to the ground. "You-No-Poo." He beamed at Barty, laughing hysterically. "You-No-Poo!"

"Yes, I get it, Fredrick," Barty sighed. "Very clever."

"No, no, Barty," Fred gasped for air. "You don't get it. You-No-Poo. It could be a Wheezes product!"

Barty's expression didn't falter, though his curiosity did get the best of him. "Oh?"

"Yes," Fred nodded excitedly. "You-No-Poo would be an anti-laxative! It would be the… the…"

"Constipation sensation?"

"That's gripping the nation," Fred rhymed, wide eyed at its simple brilliance. "Barty, George and I are going to sell millions of these things."

"That is if Dark Lord doesn't find out and personally come into the shop to kill you, Fredrick."

"Imagine what that would do for our sales!" Fred laughed harder, his fringe falling back on to his forehead.

Barty looked down at the naked ginger on his desk; totally carefree and full of spirit, Barty wondered how long it would take before Fred either grew out of it or found it to be his demise. "Fredrick?"

"Yes, Barty?" the tone was quiet again.

He pulled the ginger off his desk and slung him over his shoulder. "Come on, you should do this in a bed." He grinned as he bit Fred's side. "Properly."

Fred dug his nails into Barty's side. "But don't you have to start the potion tonight?"

Barty slammed Fred on to his bed, which creaked under the extra weight of another human being. "It can wait till the morning."

But it couldn't wait till the morning. Fred reflected on that as Dumbledore went on about what a valiant hero Cedric was. How caring and brave and smart. But Fred knew for a fact that Cedric did not earn twelve OWLs; Barty was far more intelligent than Cedric Diggory. How could he have let this happen? Did he not realize what he was doing?

Of course, Fred had thought about whether or not Barty was aware that by putting off the potion making, he was slowly setting himself up for a one-way trip to Azkaban with no possible return.

"Choose," Fred rolled over, slinging his arm around Barty's middle. "Eating six Acid Pops or attending a lecture by Gilderoy Lockhart, pre-memory loss, on his charming smile?"

Barty groaned. "Not fair. Is Azkaban not an option?"

"The point of this game, Barty, is to choose between horrible things," Fred said matter-of-factly. "I mean, if I was going to make you choose between being a Death Eater forever or being a Muggle but staying with me, what would you choose?"

And in that second, Fred regretted ever opening his mouth.

"Fredrick," Barty shook his head. "Fredrick, what we have here-"

"Yes?"

"Well,-"

"Yes?"

"It's complicated," Barty frowned. "Because you love me and I can't seem to hurt you."

"Well," Fred scooted closer. "That's because you love me back, right?"

Again, Fred wished he had stayed quiet.

"Fredrick-"

"Oh," Fred blinked, scooting away. "I… Oh." His heart pounding against his chest, Fred threw the covers off himself and raced to find his shirt. "I should go."

"Wait-"

"What?" Fred snapped. "Worried now that I won't come back?" Fred laughed coldly. "I should've known." He threw his shirt over his head, forcefully shoving his arms through the sleeves. "You've been using me for information, haven't you?"

"What?" Barty sat up at once. "Fredrick, why-"

"All those times you asked me how my friends were and how Harry was doing with the tasks and, God, I just told you everything because I trusted you and now-"

"Fredrick, why would I care how Harry is doing if I am just controlling his every move in this tournament?" Barty got out of bed and stood between Fred and the door. "Fredrick, listen to me, please-"

"No," Fred took out his wand and held it to Barty's throat. "I'm done listening to you. I listened and I listened and I kept listening because I thought that I wasn't the only one who would say it. I thought I wasn't the only one to feel something and I was wrong and now I'm tired." Fred sighed, his hand shook as he jabbed it harder into Barty's throat. "I'm tired of listening to you. I'm tired of having to lie to George and I am tired of protecting you. I know people say I'm cruel and mean but, man, have they ever got a shock in store for them when you get to go public! Barty Crouch Jr. – Voldemort's stooge." Fred pushed Barty aside and opened the door. "I hope it's worth it, Barty. I really hope that whatever Voldemort pays you is worth it. I hope you have fun being his servant for the rest of your life, because it's obviously far more enjoyable than being with someone who genuinely cares for you."

And with the slam of the door, Fred exited Barty's office for the last time.

Tears streamed down Fred's face as he remembered the feeling he got when he walked back to the Common Room that night. A lump had formed in his throat and his eyes stung and then, with a slight crackling feeling, his chest started to cave in. The lump in his chest seemed to plummet to his stomach as tears filled up his eyes. Storming into the Common Room and pushing past Harry, Ron and Hermione, Fred flung himself into his room and cut the drapes. He was going to be alone. That's how he wanted to be.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, the same sort of gesture George had used that night. George smiled through his tears and nodded. "He did good, Freddie. He did good."

He did good, Fred thought as he nodded back, smiling slightly.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably. He did good. Fred scratched his head, his hair becoming a mess. Barty had done good, whether he had realized it or not. Stealing and lying and sneaking and manipulating and everything he had done that would make any regular human being disgusted, Barty had gone above and beyond the expectations.

However, between lying and cheating and stealing and manipulating, he did the one thing that most regular human beings would see as the bravest thing of all – he kept someone alive. Because, not once had Barty told Voldemort of what was happening. He very well could have. He could have had the whole situation taken care of quickly and messily at the beginning. He could have killed Fred on the spot.

He hadn't. He kept him alive. By lying and cheating and stealing and everything else he had done, Barty Crouch Jr. had spared the life of Fred Weasley time and time again.

Perhaps Barty didn't realize that he had brought so much joy to Fred and how he had opened his eyes to new ideas and extraordinary feelings. Perhaps Barty was unaware of just how much he had helped Fred along the year.

But then again, perhaps he did know.

And that perhaps was good enough for Fred.

As the student body exited the Great Hall, Fred caught up to Harry. "Sorry, mate." He wrapped his arms around Harry as he watched The Boy Who Lived burst into tears again. "I'm really sorry for everything."

"It's okay," Harry sniffed against Fred's shoulder. "I mean," he laughed feebly, "it's not like you could control any of it. No one could have."

Fred drew in a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah," he exhaled slowly.

What he meant to say was, "I could have." And now, just by agreeing with Harry, Fred sealed the most important secret he had kept in his life – Barty's secret would always be safe, he had made sure of that.