Small premise: this is the first time that I am going to write an AU soulmate, I don't even know why, but this idea struck me and I haven't had rest since that moment, I wanted too much to see it realized.
I don't even know whether to call it classic Soulmate because it's not about tattoos, or seeing the world in color, or names that appear on the wrist etc, etc ... so I don't know, I've just tried.
Disclaimer: the characters belong only to JK Rowling, the BBC and the two protagonists definitely to David Tennant, I just enjoy borrowing them and playing with them a little puppet style 'Now, kiss!'
Chapter I: Bartemius Crouch Junior
Ollivender's craft shop was still ablaze as Bartemius Crouch Junior, more commonly known as Barty, walked down the avenue, in the dark of night, with a satisfied expression.
After all, that shopkeeper had been looking for it: he had not paid the protection money, he had not accepted the protection offered by those who had commanded since the beginning of the century, he had refused to obey their rules.
Barty had only made sure to remind him of what subversives risk acting like that.
And with all the wooden objects there, the fire had spread even faster.
The gasoline and the lighters yes, they amused him enough, the explosives always gave him a certain adrenaline, but Barty had a real predilection for guns and rifles, he called them his magic wands, because with them he really knew how to do magic.
He was the fastest and most formidable gunslinger in the whole London.
The flagship of the Death Eaters, the powerful group of gangsters who have been dominating the capital for almost thirty years.
However, things hadn't always been this way for Barty.
From a Sheriff's son, people would have expected a whole different path in life.
Not that young Bartemius hadn't tried: he was the best student not only in his class, but in the whole school. That was until his senior year at Hogwarts, before the arrival of Hermione Granger, a first year student who in a few months had amazed everyone with her excellent grades, which had ended up equaling those of young Crouch.
"Can I meet the author of this ex aequo?" Barty had approached her, while all the students looked at the results for the first school term.
"It's 'èx aequo', not 'ex aequoo'!" were the first words she had spoken to him. "And it won't last anyway, next time I'll beat you." she had declared, stubborn.
"We'll see, you little know-it-all witch!" he had growled before leaving.
She was very beautiful, with the long, indomitable curls between brown and blond, the lively expression and the proud bearing, with that uniform that enhanced her forms, even if still immature, if only she had not been so unbearable.
The worst thing is that with the next school term her predictions had become true and Barty had nothing left but taking the blow.
The rivalry soon resulted in a mutual liking that a passionate kiss shortly later transformed into what had become a love story, albeit a troubled one.
Troubled by the interference of Bartemius Crouch Senior, who if when his son got the best grades had never said anything to him, as soon as he knew that Barty had lost the primacy, he had attributed it to the boy's love interests.
The Sheriff had tried to divide the two lovers, but he hadn't succeeded.
Barty had struggled to prove to him that he could do both, love and study, and the fact that he had graduated with honours without splitting with Hermione was the ultimate proof.
But it had also been the definitive crack in their relationships that had never been idyllic: from a father who was always absent but in the front row when it came to punishing or denigrating his son, what could be expected?
Elly Crouch, the sheriff's wife, knew that sooner or later their paths would part.
She was a psychic.
"Barty, my darling, never let anyone walk all over you," she had pampered him, at the end of the last quarrel between him and his father, the most terrible, the one that ended with an oath of mutual denial.
"I'll never let him, for sure!" the young man had growled, even though in reality he suffered from that abandonment. "Anyway, I'm fine, mother, I have you, I have Hermione ..."
"Barty, you'll always have me with you, even when I'm no longer in this world, which will be soon," she murmured, stopping stroking the boy's hair, straw-colored like hers, to curl up her slender figure on the side and cough into that silk handkerchief that she had ended up irreparably staining with blood.
"Mother, don't say that ..." he protested, with his big dark chocolate eyes, made more shiny by the tears that veiled them, placing his hand on the one that did not hold the handkerchief.
"The disease has to run its course, that's right. I know what I say, my son, as I know that Hermione makes you happy, for now. It won't last… she's not the right person for you. My beloved son, promise me that you will find your mirror. "
"What does it mean?" he had frowned.
"You'll figure it out for yourself, when the time comes."
That had been one of the last conversations where Elly was still lucid enough to reiterate that concept to Barty, who meanwhile had abandoned the Crouch Manor and visited her only when Bartemius Crouch Senior was away on business, which fortunately for the two of them meant very often.
There had been a real collapse in recent months and Barty had assisted her with all the love of a devoted son, right down to the woman's last breath.
On the day of the funeral, after the ceremony, he needed to disconnect, even from Hermione, who had been close to him during those difficult last months.
That's why he had started walking, until he had reached the cursed London, those suburbs that were to be avoided, especially after sunset.
A well-dressed young man like him certainly wouldn't have been unnoticed.
As a matter of fact, he had been lured for a three-card-trick game by a local hoodlum, a tall boy with almost ethereal skin and straight hair, bowl haircut, so blond it seemed white.
Feeling challenged and unwilling to pull back, Barty accepted, following the card he was interested in, despite the swindler's really quick movements.
He had not been fooled and with a great self-confidence he had pointed to the right card.
The rumor had made the rounds and the next day that same scammer, who went by the name of Draco Malfoy, had crawled through glass (metaphorically speaking) to track him down.
"Lord Thomas Riddle wants to meet you, so be tonight at St. George's Pier. And you better be there, Lord Riddle doesn't like rejection. " the younger boy had ordered him, "I know because my father is one of his men and one day I will follow in his footsteps, too." he proudly declared, walkins away and leaving Barty thrilled.
He had preferred not to say anything to Hermione and with an excuse that evening he had gone to that appointment.
"I heard you're a smart guy, Crouch," a warm, velvety voice exclaimed, in contrast to his icy eyes, as Thomas Riddle emerged from the shadow cone that hid him, approaching the young man, who was already victim of his so magnetic charm: the elegance of his gestures, the determined gait, the shaved hair with that millimeter perfection, the haute couture black clothes, probably Italian.
Thomas Riddle was a handsome thirty-five year old man and Barty, who had just turned nineteen, was watching him in fascination.
"I really need someone like you in my ranks." the criminal Boss had continued. "Do you feel like doing something for me, boy?"
"Yes, my Lord," Barty replied, without thinking.
It had come so natural to him.
"I appreciate you being so well disposed," chuckled the eldest. "It's just a small favor: I have to send someone a message, would you take care of it?"
"Give me that message, tell me who to report it to and consider it already done." the young man answered, without hesitation.
Lord Thomas Riddle's lips stretched into an ecstatic smile.
The young Crouch had not failed and this had led him to receive other assignments from Lord Riddle, up to arriving at packages with uncomfortable contents to be delivered, but Barty with that little angel face, so clean, never drew attention.
The more Barty was in Lord Riddle's service, the more he wanted to raise the level of his missions.
After all, his Boss made him feel appreciated, praised him for his deeds, made him feel that affection that from his father had always lacked.
Thomas had noticed this and this, combined with the fact that he was the son of the hated sheriff who in the past had captured several of his men, made him want to devote himself to that boy so eager to please him, misleading him more and more, taking him to darker paths.
The time came to introduce him to firearms, Riddle wanted to take care of that directly, perhaps because he saw something of himself in the young Crouch when he was his same age, perhaps they were united by mutual contempt for their fathers.
The difference was that Riddle's was no longer among the living and it was not difficult to imagine who was responsible for his death.
Thomas was amazed by the extreme dexterity that Barty had with guns, even though he had never handled them before, not to mention his excellent aim.
Soon the glass bottles alone tired him and Barty wanted to aim for bigger targets, he wanted to find out what it was like to shoot someone and Thomas had too many people on his blacklist.
Barty had warned the intended victim, Igor Karkaroff, a Russian man who was not respecting the pacts agreed for the smuggling of vodka.
Karkaroff wasn't dead, of course, because he didn't have to die.
He had been 'just' kneecapped, but Barty had loved causing him that pain.
"Barty, are you going out tonight, too?" Hermione had asked him, surprising him at the front door of the house they had been living in together for a few months now.
"Yes, my dear, I'm going to have a drink with old school friends," he had replied evasively.
"Bartemius Crouch Junior, don't insult my intelligence!" she had raised her voice. "Do you think I don't notice the money that keeps coming into this house? I'm still finishing school and you .. wait, what's the big bullshit you told me in the last few months? " she had surprised him with that colorful language, so unusual from her. "You work as assistant in the Westminster, library, well, guess what? I checked, you have never been in that fucking library, not even a single day!"
She was barking now.
Barty had pinned her in his arms and silenced her with a kiss.
"Hush, hush, my love, you have to understand that I'm doing this for us," he had tried to reassure her, but it was as if he had thrown more fire on the gas.
"No, Barty, at least have the decency not to make fun of me." she had pushed him away from her, in tears. "You're doing it just for yourself."
"You don't understand ..." he protested, clenching his fists.
Hermione had approached him, stroking his face.
"You're right, I don't understand. I loved the Barty you used to be, God only knows how much I do, and part of me will always love him. But who you are now ... I don't recognize you anymore, but it's not late, my love, you still have time to let go of whatever you're doing and come back to me, come back for real,"she had begged him, cupping his face with her hands, her forehead resting against his.
Barty had shown her a bitter smile before pulling her away from him.
"If you don't like who I am now, you will like even less who I'll become. Hermione, I loved you so much too, but it is evident that we can't go on like this anymore,"he had made a decision they both shared, as they exchanged one last kiss, the goodbye one.
"My mother was right when she said it wouldn't last between us. You are not my mirror. "
"Your what ?!" she frowned.
"Never mind, I said you can't understand."
The breakup with Hermione had sanctioned the beginning of Barty's underworld rise, among petty thefts, violent riots, robberies, extortion and various gun duels, from which he always emerged victorious, in the course of that same year Barty had earned him from Lord Riddle the highest of the accreditations.
Many could try and serve that charismatic Boss, but only a few were allowed to enter his inner circle of the most trusted criminals: the Death Eaters , the terror of London and its surroundings.
Barty was ready for that initiation ceremony which consisted of receiving a painful skull tattoo on his arm, with a snake coming out of his mouth.
It was the hallmark of every Death Eater and no matter the pain he had endured for over an hour, he was proud to have become one of them.
At the end of the initiation, while Barty held his sore arm with the immaculate one, thrilled by some weird excitment, Lord Riddle had gone towards him, taking his face in his hands and giving him a long kiss, which was not limited to being a chaste one.
"My Lord ... is this also part of the ceremony?" young Crouch had asked him, happy but a little dazed.
"Nope, but I felt like doing it," the Boss shrugged, walking away as if nothing had happened.
But for Barty it wasn't like that, that event had shaken him inside like an earthquake.
- What if he was my mirror? His eyes are icy blue like a mirror and in him I am reflected in what I really want to become. Perhaps that was what my beloved mother meant.-
A few days later, the new Death Eater had bitterly discovered how Lord Thomas Riddle had eyes only for Bella, the charming and sensual Black's daughter, a wealthy family of London hoteliers.
Bella had fallen in love with Thomas to the point of ruining the marriage of interest that her family wanted to consolidate with the Lestrange, prestigious Parisian hoteliers.
It wasn't the only thing she had screwed up. Bella had given up her name, disowned her own family, following Thomas in his criminal life and becoming in effect the Boss's woman.
Many feared her almost more than Lord Riddle, she was said to be a deranged sadist.
Barty had decided it was best to befriend her, forcing himself to stop thinking of Lord Riddle in certain ways and seeing him just and only as his Boss.
And this mental coldness, this detachment that had imposed to himself, in the course of thirteen long years had led him perhaps a little to madness, but above all to the highest apex he could reach: he had become Lord Riddle's right-hand man, his most loyal and trusted gangster.
There had been no more room for romantic feelings and he hadn't even wondered about the mirror issue and what it could mean.
TBC
Notes:When I planned it in my mind two days ago (after the textual statement: 'I will never write a soulmate au! (Okay, it must be said that I had been suggested to write a J /K one)) it must have been a very fast, 'barely close to 1000 words' style with a brief overview of one, then the other and the actual encounter.
Well, this is Barty's 'short' overview.
In the next chapter you will see the one about Ten and then, if this fanficlistens to me, it will end with the third chapter, on their meeting.
In case you were wondering, yes, I've been watching 'Peaky Blinders' recently and yes, it may have influenced this background just a little bit and yes, I could have imagined a Thomas Riddle in the likeness of Thomas Shelby * O *
As this is a more human Voldy, Barty deserved all the little fleeting joy of the kiss, right? ^^
Truth must be told, I am delighted for having written a bit of a Barmione 3 I didn't think I would ever enter it, but with this AU I allow myself to run loose, I hope you won't mind.
Free to kneecap.. err… tell me what you like, don't be shy! ;)
I rarely get much attention for my stories, but, in case you liked this story, even a tiny review could make my day better 3