16

BARTY swore under his breath and at least a dozen more mental curses inside his head when Father's icy, angry stare angled his way as he stepped into the living room parlor, ready to fire off a round of questions.

"Father," Crouch said from the shadows, his voice smooth and languid, almost a buttery purr that gave away no indication of his growing nervousness.

Or so he hoped.

Barty licked his lips to moisten them as his tongue darted out to taste the air, and he swore he could taste the tension and nurse the revolt Father held for him.

"What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for my doting father this evening?" He strategically kept his hands folded neatly behind his back to hide the shakes.

"Barty," Father greeted stiffly by way of greeting through gritted teeth, stuffing the chills down his young son's throat as he spoke. "Would you mind explaining to me why I was summoned away from my own bed at…" Here, he paused to look up at the clock on the mantle above the lit fireplace. "Twelve o'clock in the morning earlier?"

Barty turned away so Father would not see and rolled his eyes, sighing impatiently and wishing he would leave.

He was in no mood to be toyed with. Father, standing behind him in front of the black leather armchair perched carefully in front of the fireplace's hearth while waiting impatiently, his lips pursed into a thin line, drumming his fingers on the chair's armrest.

"Why? I'm sure you've your own reasons for coming here. Why were you woken up, Father?" he grunted, looking at Father sideways, wondering what fresh torture the older wizard had in store for him right now.

He frowned as he turned back around to face Father, who matched his frown with an equally displeased withering look of his own, his lips thinly pursed in ire.

"Save the formalities, Bartemius." Barty Crouch Sr. glowered at his only son. "I need to speak with you," he announced, taking a seat in the chair without waiting to be invited to do so.

Barty Crouch Jr. turned after his father with a small frown, the edges of his lips turning down into a frown which created a deep groove near his mouth.

"Yes, please do come in," he sighed, a mocking lilt to his voice.

His father ignored him, quite distracted by his son's living room parlor. Barty Crouch Sr. had never once set foot inside his son's home, not since the boy came of age and moved out. Crouch Sr. was not entirely sure what he had been expecting of his son's decorative tastes, but it certainly wasn't this.

Neatly regimented shelves of books on almost every wall, save for the wall that held the fireplace. A perfectly clean desk with piles of parchment paper stacked in neat piles, and quills laid out side by side with utmost care and almost a military precision.

Crouch Sr. looked towards the desk before tearing his gaze away, feeling his son's piercing stare burn a hole in the side of him. He was a surprising man, his son, but he already knew this visit was not a leisurely chat, and he was eager to get down to basics.

Crouch Sr. returned his attentions to his son with a small sigh, right as Winky came bustling into the room with a heavily laden tea tray bearing a teapot and teacups.

"Set it there, please, thank you, Winky," Crouch Sr. commanded gruffly without looking at the house-elf.

Winky could only comply, though before she darted back out of the room to check on Master's son's Special Young Miss, something in the younger master's glistening brown eyes told the house-elf to stay silent about the witch upstairs resting comfortably in his bedroom.

Torn in indecision, poor Winky tugged on her large, batlike brown ears as they drooped worriedly.

"Out, do I need to say it a second time, elf?" ordered Barty Crouch Sr. to Winky in a voice that was not to be contested.

Winky hesitated as she lingered by the doorway, hesitant to leave the young master alone with his father, knowing how the two didn't tend to get along very well, and that was more or less putting it mildly.

But she could not and dared not disobey a direct order from Master Crouch, so she saw no choice but to comply, though not before peeking over her shoulder and shooting the young son of Barty Crouch Sr. a fleeting almost pleading glance for him to be careful.

The young wizard returned her stare with one of his own and just barely inclined his head, offering his house-elf a wry sardonic smile, suggesting to Winky that he was going to be just fine, and only when he did it again, did Winky feel comfortable enough in leaving her young Master alone with Master's father.

Barty Crouch Jr. watched the little creature totter her way out of the room and disappear down the corridor. He wished he would have thought to ask if she would bring him some brandy or even a little Fire Whiskey.

Barty grabbed onto the handle of his wand as though he thought it could bear the brunt of his weight as he sank into the armchair that was set opposite his father.

"Why are you here? To do what do I owe the honor of your…exquisite company tonight?" he asked hoarsely, finding it difficult to look into Father's narrowed eyes.

His father snorted and studied him over the rim of his teacup. "I believe you should know quite well why I am here, Bartemius. Do not patronize me. One of my own Aurors, Alice Longbottom, has gone missing. Her husband Frank just met with me, very clearly distraught as to her whereabouts."

Barty Crouch Sr. paused and studied his son's rapidly paling face with a critical interest and a furrowed eyebrow as he drank his tea.

Barty Crouch Jr. swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling a sheen of sweat start to throng along his brow.

"That's your… friend, isn't it, Bartemius?" Father's voice asked with exaggerated concern. His tone came close to mocking, though laced with anger as well. "I can't fathom how this could have happened, as Mrs. Longbottom remains one of my best and brightest alongside her husband and Alastor back at the Ministry, Bartemius. Alice Longbottom is missing. Please do not think me unsympathetic. I know the two of you were…once close, I do hope nothing dreadful has happened to her," Father emphasized, the smug smirk on his face as the edges of his mustache twitched just stirred more of the revulsion and hatred Barty held for him.

His voice purposefully lingered on the more dire parts of his sentence as he fully regarded his only son's facial expressions.

Barty Crouch Jr. could feel Father's eyes burning holes into him, as he forced himself to breathe. His jaw was steel, his fists clenched into claws as he raked his nails down the sides of his armchair.

All he wanted was to run from the parlor, back up the stairs and Disapparate with Alice in his arms to someplace far away, Romania maybe, they could live in the mountains, where no one—especially not Father, the nosy mental bit—would bother him and harass him like this.

But he did not dare. He could not allow Father to think any indication that his heart was now rendered into a terrified slab in his chest.

The only way he knew the damned quivering muscle was still beating was the sound of it pounding deafeningly loudly in his eardrums. Barty was not aware that he had gone as pale as a ghost.

"Missing?" he gasped, trying to give his response the appropriate level of concern and ensuring that he kept his mind closed off so Father couldn't detect a thing.

Bartemius Crouch Sr.'s frown deepened, creating a groove near the edges of his mouth. "Don't even think of patronizing me, boy," he growled through gritted teeth.

His spiteful stare bore holes through his son, who all but squirmed underneath his father's scrutiny, though he was doing his best to try to hide it from the aging man.

Father's next words sent a chill through his spine.

"She is here, isn't she? I sense her," Barty Crouch Sr. asserted, throwing his head back and looking towards the ceiling, as though his inquisitive, hawk-like eyes could see through the wall and through the floor of the spare bedroom that rested directly above Father's head.

When he lowered his gaze, at last, his gaze was icy, and his tone equally frosty that stuffed chills down his son's throat.

"Chances come and go, Bartemius, and I gave you yours to do with as you please but what I've given you, I can take away just as easily. If she is here, you will bring her out and have her reveal herself to me, do you understand? You should start praying my best Auror doesn't come down those stairs skin and bones if the troublesome rumor her husband told me was true, otherwise, I'll have Winky flay the skin from your bones, boy…it would be no less than you surely deserve, son. Where. Is. Alice?"

His tone was calm, though laced with pure poison, as though daring his son to think about contesting him, of which, Barty knew that he couldn't.

It was a question he wanted to flay.

Shut up, shut the hell up, you bloody fucking fool. His left eyelid twitched angrily.

Barty Crouch Jr. quickly realized that he could not deny the obvious around Father. Somehow, the bastard had him figured out, and at this point, he could only do his best to lessen the damage to Alice and himself now.

He ducked his head, allowing a lock of his dark bangs to fall in front of his eyes, momentarily shielding his expression from Father's scrutinizing view.

"Yes." He nodded, lowering his voice an octave. "Alice is here, Father," he murmured, finally summoning enough courage to lift his head, brush that one stubborn lock of dark hair out of his eyes and look his father in the eyes.

For a moment, Barty Crouch Sr. was rendered mute.

Upon hearing confirmation of that which Frank Longbottom had confirmed, his resolve and steadfast promise to himself he had made when he Apparated over here to remain calm was fast failing him right now.

He rose from his armchair, digging his fingernails into the skin of his palms in an effort not to allow his rage to get the better of him that managed to constrict his chest.

"How long has she been here, Bartimaeus?" Father asked him hoarsely, his eyes narrowing, betraying him.

Barty Crouch Jr. awkwardly cleared his throat. "A while. A couple of hours, Father." His answer was nearly as angry yet agonized as Father's question just posed to him.

He watched, stiffening in response, steeling himself for another of his father's outbursts as a wave of cold anger slowly overtook his father's feelings of his son's betrayal.

"This entire time? You—you kidnapped Frank Longbottom's wife?!" Crouch Sr. snarled in a quiet voice, his words more of a hollow statement than a question aimed at his only son.

His mind reeled at the notion forming in his thoughts as he again looked to the ceiling as if Crouch Sr. somehow thought he could magically will Alice downstairs with just a single look through the floor.

A chill went down Barty Crouch Jr.'s spine as he stood only inches away from his father as Crouch Sr. approached him slowly and calmly, his fingers curled around the handle of his wand.

Father's actions, much like his, were always controlled, the man never rushed. It was, after all, where he had learned it from.

Even when things went horribly wrong, Father remained unaffected. He could see the tensing in Father's jaw.

"No," Barty Crouch Jr. lied through gritted teeth as he whisper-hissed the words. "Alice was injured, Father. Vampires in the Forbidden Forest, they—they scratched her, Father. They were lucky to have not bitten her," he growled, gnashing his teeth. "I couldn't let her die. I brought her back here for treatment. My house was the only safest place that I trusted in order to heal Alice."

As he spoke the words, Father moved so fast to close off the gap of space between father and son that the older wizard was almost a blur, as the edges of his mustache twitched, and his lips curled downward into a grimace.

Barty Crouch Jr., however, did not flinch, even when his nose was practically touching the tip of his.

"Show. Me." Coming from Father's thin lips, it was not a request as he stood to affront his son and eyed Barty as though his son were dirt on the bottom of his boot heel.

His words were spat in disgust more than spoken. Barty Crouch Jr. could feel the contempt in his voice.

Crouch Jr.'s dark eyes widened in shock and horror, as it felt as though his legs suddenly had a mind of their own and were no longer taking orders from his brain as he nodded stiffly and motioned with a wave of his arm for his father to follow up the stairs to her room.

Damn him. Damn him to the seven hells below, he's using the Imperius Curse on me, his own fucking son! I'll kill him…

His poisonous thoughts ran through his mind like a whirling dervish, each one blacker and more putrid than the next. First, it was Longbottom, now his own father. He would kill them both before the year was out.

This he vowed through gritted teeth. Though before Barty Crouch Jr. could allow another poisonous thought to cloud his mind, they had reached the closed door of the spare bedroom that he was currently housing Alice in.

His hand having a mind of its own and acting not of its own accord, his shaking slender fingers curled around the brass doorknob of the door, with Father continuing to keep his wand trained on his son at all possible times.

With a firm twist and a massive push, the wooden door creaked open, so damned horribly loud in its hinges that Barty Crouch Jr. visibly flinched, hating to think that the noise might have woken Alice if she'd fallen asleep.

Though there was no turning back now, and he wasn't strong enough to resist the effects of the Imperius Curse.

Crouch Jr.'s mind flared like wild Fiendfyre as he wondered just what hellish torment Father had in mind for his sweet future bride, once Longbottom was gone.

With this, he shook his head to rid himself of his frenzied and poisonous thoughts.

"Fuck." The curse escaped his lips in barely above a whisper as through the cracked door, his glistening dark brown eyes peered into the darkness of his spare bedroom.

He breathed a heavy sigh as he slipped in effortlessly through the door and vanished into the dark, with Father right behind his heels, closing the door behind.

Barty was smart not to look back.

Unknown to Crouch Jr. as his father followed him inside of Alice Longbottom's bedroom, Bartemius Crouch Sr. had been perceiving this shift in behavior, the change in his son's usual countenance and temperament.

His son had developed a feverish kind of obsession and protectiveness over the former Prewitt pureblood girl, when the deal would now involve Alice Longbottom.

Barty Crouch Jr. could only nod as his eyes adjusted to the dim light around him. He would be taking matters into his own hands no matter the cost, this he vowed.

THE tips of his mustache twitched without any bidding on his part as Barty Crouch Sr.'s eyesight slowly adjusting to the dim light of the bedroom Alice rested in.

Tension met him upon entering the spare bedroom. Bartemius Crouch Sr. stood in a daze for a moment at the shy, bright young witch sitting against a mountain of pillows piled against the king-size bed's headboard.

No doubt Winky's doing, he thought, almost bitterly to himself, as he chewed on the wall of his mouth and noticing how Winky was fussing over his son's 'Miss,' as the house-elf had taken to calling Alice Longbottom.

Her dark hair was disheveled slightly and in need of trimming in contrast to such bone-white skin and Prewitt piercing blue eyes.

"Mrs. Longbottom…"

Barty Crouch Sr. calmly approached the bedside and bent on the chair that rested by the left side of the bed.

He watched her blink her eyelids a couple of times in a dazed sense of confusion and there was reluctance at first, though once Winky had propped one of the pillows behind her, she straightened her posture and seemed to come back to herself as she noticed his son by the door.

Alice blinked in surprise at seeing her old friend by the door, his lips pursed in a thin line and his eyes dark and flat.

There was no emotion in them whatsoever that Alice could see. No anger. No remorse or heartbreak. Nothing. That unnerved her more than she cared to admit. She flinched as she noticed Barty's father's eyes waiting for a remark on why his son had not vacated yet.

"I'm staying by her side," he grunted angrily in a tone that sent a shiver down Alice's spine and caused the fine hairs on the backs of her neck to stand upright on end.

Barty Crouch Jr. inhaled in annoyance before turning back to look towards Alice as the young witch tentatively touched her bandages on her collarbones with a bandaged and bruised hand, chewing on her lip.

"What do you remember of your…attack, Mrs. Longbottom? My son has only told me a little of what happened to you in the Forbidden Forest, for which I am terribly sorry, but I would like to hear it from you, if you're feeling up to it," Crouch Sr. said in what he hoped was a kind enough tone.

Though it felt as though he were barely managing to restrain himself from lashing out at his son in anger if these supposed shits of rumors held any semblance of truth to them. He furrowed his brows.

Alice nervously glimpsed towards his son standing in the doorway, and then back towards Winky, who had clambered up onto the bed and was dabbing away at a cut just above her browbone.

She flinched and let out an involuntary hiss of pain as she gingerly pushed the house-elf back and politely shook her head no.

"Later," she encouraged, shooting the creature a kindly smile as she could sense the house-elf growing immensely upset.

There was a long pause as Winky nodded, offering Alice a little awkward half-bow before scuttling to the edge of the bed and perching herself on the bed's edge.

Alice hesitantly looked towards Barty Crouch Jr. and then back to his father, noticing how the man stiffened.

"Um," she swallowed. "Nothing, Mr. Crouch, sir. I—I was unconscious before your son brought me back here."

Alice looked towards Barty and shot the young wizard a bright white smile that made his heart pound against his chest.

She continued. "If it weren't for Barty, I don't know if I would even be alive," she murmured, glancing down at her bandaged hands resting in her lap. "But everything that came after that…I—I'm sorry, but Frank is coming for me, sir. Barty's sent an owl along ahead letting Frank know that I'm here and I'm safe, I—I don't know when he will come, but hopefully tomorrow," Alice apologized, a pained look on her features as she looked at Crouch Sr.

Crouch Sr. slowly swiveled his head back around over his shoulder to look towards his son in the doorway.

Barty Crouch Jr. felt his face pale and drain of all colors as Father's piercing gaze threatened to burn a hole in him.

His narrowed eyes were a mixture of qualm and assurance as his lips pursed into a thin line and the edges of his mustache twitched, as they tended to do whenever the man was annoyed or deep in contemplative thought.

He put a rough hand on top of his leg and calmly nodded, the tip of his lip curling into what seemed a genuine smile.

No one, save for perhaps their house-elf, heard the relieved little breath that Barty Crouch Jr. let out as he continued to remain unmoved by the door.

Alice was playing with the edges of her fingers, and it all sent Barty Crouch Jr. rolling his eyes instead, thinking that Alice was always too naïve for her own good.

She didn't even know the truth, and Barty aimed to keep it that way.

It was the only way to ensure that she remained willingly by his side, even if…even if he had to allow fucking Frank Longbottom into his home to ensure that it happened, at least temporarily. Lull her into a false sense of security, and then…and then…

His dark brown eyes seemed to ignite as the beginnings of a tentative plan formed in his mind, though Barty Crouch Jr. was jolted out of his dark swirling tempest growing steadily in his mind by the sound of Father rising from the chair he had occupied, groaning slightly at the stiffness in his knees as he did.

"Rest then, Mrs. Longbottom. You will need it more than ever if I'm to expect you back at work. Cursed vampire markings don't heal easily on their own. One month's time, Mrs. Longbottom, and I expect to see you back." Here, he offered her a sardonic little half-smile and pressed on before Alice could say anything in response. "If you are comfortable with it, I'd like to stop by tomorrow and check on you." Here, he turned towards Barty Crouch Jr. and shot his son almost a rueful look.

Alice shyly nodded, not sure what else to say to that.

"Of course." It was all that she could think to offer.

Crouch Sr. smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes as he turned away to look at his son and house-elf.

"Let my son and Winky here take care of anything you need. I shall come tomorrow around one o'clock over lunch to check on you. I would greatly appreciate it if you would join me for a spot of tea, Mrs. Longbottom."

Bartemius Crouch Sr. turned on his heels only after Alice nodded her agreement, but Alice's voice crept up.

Even Barty Crouch Jr. and Winky's attention was hooked in as they all absorbed Alice's every single word.

"When I was asleep…" the young Auror started weakly and meek-sounding. "I thought I heard Frank's voice, calling to me in the Forest. Like he was here…."

The edges of her eyes moistened, and they glittered. Barty Crouch Sr. halted and looked at his son, who was regarding the object of his affections without sentiment.

She continued with a hallowing throat. "I hope it wasn't a dream," she whispered, looking to Barty.

Barty Crouch Jr. stiffened, grinding his teeth in annoyance, and looked away and in a split second, answered his love.

"It was a dream, Al. Sleep now, get some rest, love."

Winky could see the antagonized hurt flaring in Master's Special Young Miss's bright blue eyes as she bit her lower lip while watching Master and the Young Master exit the bedroom without saying a word to one another.

Master Crouch passed by Winky, and the house-elf offered a timid half-bow in response to him.

She awkwardly shut the door closed with the knowledge that it was only the two of them in the room.

Winky took the bowl and the jars she was holding and scuttled back towards Young Master's Special Miss, who was beginning to feel the discomfort in her chest again.

The house-elf took a moment to pour the cool water from the jar into the wooden bowl. The witch stayed still. Water droplets filled the rather awkward silence in between them as Winky soaked and squeezed the cloth.

Smiling she reached up on tiptoe and gently dampened the cloth on Young Master's Special Miss's forehead.

"To keep the fever away and…oh!" Winky squeaked, showing concern in her round, unblinking huge eyes at the ugly purple and splotchy bruise that tarnished the witch's pale right cheek. "Does it hurt, Young Miss?"

Winky tried to touch only the edges of the purple mark, but the black-haired witch pulled her face away.

"It's alright, Miss, Winky is here to help!" the house-elf squeaked, frowning as the witch covered her chest with her hands, not wanting to let Winky anywhere near her. "Do not fret, Young Mistress! You's is still beautiful!" Winky assured, turning away for a moment to fetch fresh bandages and the jar of ointment Snape had left. "You'd has to get used to hearing it from Master from now on, miss."

She watched the witch frown and furrow brows. "What?" she asked, a look of confusion on her face.

"Being called beautiful, Miss, Master intends to keep you here while you's is recovering. Wounds, they's will take at least a month!"

Winky raised her brows, all too aware of the thick awkward silence that settled in between the witch and the house-elf as Winky worked at changing her bandages and dabbing on the truly foul-smelling ointment that Snape said would help the scars.

Alice stayed silent while the house-elf worked, horror clinging to her pores at what Winky had just said to her.

You have to get used to it. Being called beautiful…Master intends to keep you here for at least a month...

She was beginning to fear for the worst.

That she had made a grave mistake in perhaps trusting Barty so wholly...