Value and Worth, chapter 2
~o0o~
"You want me to what?"
Unspeakable Croaker, the Head of the Department of Mysteries, frowned, clearly not understanding why Hermione seemed so put off.
What. An. Idiot.
"Miss Granger," he said, clasping his hands together on top of the desk separating them, "We need to study Mr. Crouch Jr as much as possible, as closely as possible. This situation is unheard of! We're simply afraid the sessions aren't enough." As soon as Hermione started to open her mouth to tell him that he had been the one to assign her to do the sessions in the first place, he raised his hand. "We are grateful you took the time to do them of course, no one was more qualified. But as you well know, twists and turns are to be expected in any research." He leaned in, "And surely you wouldn't pass on the opportunity to further study a unique case like this one?"
The knowing smirk that showed at her silence made Hermione want to hex him, but he wasn't wrong. The very fact that she'd accepted to meet with Barty before was proof enough . . .
"But where would he live?" she asked with a frustrated sigh, "Here?"
Her boss' eyes bulged. "Certainly not! We can't risk anyone other than us here! The artifacts—"
"My life?" she countered angrily. "I suppose that doesn't matter? He's supposed to follow me around all day, is it? Doing what? Staying where? How am I to keep him from hurting anyone—and oh god, I can't let him near Neville!"
Croaker let her finish her rant, clearly disliking her moment of displaying human emotion, and though he showed concern at the mention of Neville, he proceeded, his voice urging her to see reason, "Miss Granger, without Dementors we don't have much time before he escapes or hurts himself. His mind might be back, but I assure you—based on your notes— that it is not sane; who knows what he will do? Not to mention the fact that we don't know if any residual effects from the soul restoration will disappear after a certain amount of time. Therefore, if we got our hands on him, made sure he's secure with the spells and runes we've got in our private arsenal, and with someone of your caliber watching him at all times, there's less of a chance of this getting out of hand and we can study him without interference."
Hermione couldn't argue much against the points raised, but she still felt uncomfortable. Having that . . . that man with her every day?
"But . . ." she tried, "how am I supposed to work if I'm not allowed here?"
"Hm? Oh, you can put your current projects on hold for the meantime, can't you? This is urgent."
"'Projects'?" Hermione repeated, unable to resist gawking. "Excuse me, sir, but I don't believe working on more accessible Wolfsbane to be a mere 'project'! It can revolutionize—"
"Miss Granger. Enough." The usually flippant man sent her a piercing look. "I am the Head of your department, and though I know it works differently here than in other parts of the Ministry, I still expect my orders to be followed. Now, this man, horrible as he is, holds the key to some very important questions. Souls, though visible during a Dementor's kiss, have never been accessible for study before. We need to find out if Mr. Crouch Jr truly is here again and we need to know if he recalls anything from being gone." He sighed. "Though of course no one expects you to be on this case for too long. We don't have the resources and you are much too valuable. If there's no progress within a year, back to Azkaban he goes. Perhaps we'll even strip him of his magic altogether."
"That could kill him," Hermione said unnecessarily. They both knew it would kill Barty Crouch Jr.
"Then that's what will have to happen. He wouldn't be much use to anyone anyway."
Hermione was dismissed shortly after that. She received information and the key to a house that would be warded for the specific needs that would arise with Barty there, to prevent him from harming her or himself. The whole time, up until she stood outside her flat, she felt an unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach, and it wasn't solely because she was thinking about sharing quarters with a Death Eater, no. 'Use' her boss had said. Was that all people were? Did they lose their use after a while? Would she? What would it feel like if she were so easily discarded? He'd called her valuable and she'd straightened at the praise at the time, but now she felt sick.
Blimey, 'Mione, she thought, better not feel sympathy for the bastard, or else this will turn ugly fast.
Even as she thought the words, she couldn't help but touch the ends of her hair and roll her eyes. Barty had already affected her. . .
Hermione had been ten minutes into their latest session, taking notes and asking Barty questions—his defiance from earlier having astonishingly disappeared after Hermione had told him about the war two weeks prior—and as she rubbed her temple tiredly, her pen (Hermione's own act of defiance to the wizarding world) had rolled away, down to the dungeon floor, and ending up right outside Barty's cell.
"Aren't you going to pick that up?" he asked after a while.
Having mulled over conjuring her spare pen, Hermione quickly reconsidered as she took in the challenge in his dark eyes. 'Don't you trust me?' was mockingly clear in them.
Always eager for an opportunity to shock people, Hermione calmly set aside her parchment and took a couple of steps forward, leaning down to grab it, but as soon as she lost sight of the Death Eater in the process, she began to fret.
Silly. She was so silly. What was she trying to prove? And to whom?
Her blood was pulsing and ready to burst out of her eardrums by the time her fingers touched the pen. She couldn't see or hear Barty and it worried her sick. She held her breath and when her kneeling form looked up from the ground she was startled to see Barty sitting right in front of her— behind the bars, but nevertheless too close for comfort.
"What are you doing?" Hermione breathed.
He didn't answer. Much like a curious animal he watched her, and took in her alarmed yet defiant expression (She got the pen. She did it. She'd dared approach him!).
A lock of her hair came into view and it was with horror that Hermione realised Barty had reached for it. But Hermione still didn't move. She was the one watching him now.
He brought the curls to his straight nose and inhaled. Deeply. He even closed his eyes.
After a furious heartbeat, he let her go and she returned to her seat, trying to ignore the that something had changed between them . . .
She had cut her hair after that. She'd had to.
"Crookshanks?" Hermione entered her flat, discarding her cloak and toeing her shoes off immediately as called for her cat. Old he may be, but as a half-kneazle he'd prevailed this long and his hearing was exemplary so the fact that he wasn't coming out to greet her could only mean one thing . . .
"Oh, honestly," she said upon finding him hidden behind her small sofa. He let out a pathetic little meow when she lifted him up into her arms and scratched him reassuringly behind the ears. "I'm not taking you to Harry and Ginny's for at least another two hours. Calm down. Though Merlin knows how you figured it out, I haven't even fire-called them yet."
After feeding both herself and her clever cat, Hermione tossed some floo powder in her fireplace and called out for Potter Manor.
"'Mione? What's going on?" Ginny's freckled face came into view with a smile in place and baby cries in the background.
"Sorry, is this a bad time?" Hermione asked.
"No, don't worry! How are you, how's—oh, you know what, why don't you come over instead? James is driving me crazy."
Crazy, yeah . . .
"Actually, I was going to ask you if I could come over and drop off Crookshanks? I need to be away for a while for work . . ."
"'Course, we don't mind! James'll love to have a pet over, Merlin knows Harry won't allow us to have any."
"Still on about that, is he?"
"He's so overprotective, it's ridiculous!"
Hermione laughed. "See you in a second."
The fire died out as Hermione pulled her head out of the fireplace, but she remained sitting on the floor, caught up in a moment of surrealness. She was about to hand over her cat and she had no idea for how long. She would have to stay in a house with a mad man, unable to leave until her days off. There was a document on her kitchen table detailing what experiments to do on Barty. When perusing through them while eating, she'd discovered that though most of them were benign and even somewhat ridiculous (how was monitoring his tooth brushing skills going to help their research?) Hermione had to admit she did not look forward to executing them at all. It felt like her department was fumbling around in the dark blindfolded and that she'd been tasked with finding the light switch, despite being no better equipped than anyone else. Her only conclusion was that no one actually had the faintest idea on how to solve this puzzle, and that they were just poking and prodding the subject any way they could think of doing.
But then again, wasn't that exactly what scientists did? Even magical ones.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
"Where's Harry?"
Ginny's eyes brightened and she set down her cup of tea. "Helping out George and Ron at the shop. He had such a blast the last time that I convinced him to at least take a day a month to go there. You know, to help him relax."
Hermione smirked. "You mean to help you relax."
Ginny shrugged. "If it so happens that I'm relaxed having him out of the house every now and then, then that's purely coincidental."
"I'm sure."
"He's not awful," Ginny sighed, "he's a dream, really. It just gets difficult to do your job when he's fussing about all the things that could go wrong. And it's not like I can give Harry my breasts and have him stay home for me, either! The little Bowtruckle refuses anything but the real deal."
Hermione's face softened. "But you're still okay, though? With not being with the Harpies anymore?"
Ginny gave a half-smile. "I'm going back after my leave, so it will be fine. And I do love James, I do, it's just . . . I didn't plan on this happening so soon."
Trying to lift her friend's spirits, Hermione said, "At least you got married before anyone noticed your stomach was growing."
"Yeah, that was amazing how we pulled that off, wasn't it?" Ginny let out a laugh. "Merlin, can you imagine my mother? Oh, she would have been more horrified than the time you and Ron—" Ginny cut herself off sharply and brought her hand to her mouth. Hermione, meanwhile, had her gaze drift down to the table.
It had been three years since Ron had broken things off with her, and though things had been amicable at the time, it was harder nowadays for Hermione to be happy for her best friend when she was alone with her cat, and he was engaged to Susan Bones. She adored Susan, and Susan adored her, but the engagement had changed everything. It meant that yet another one of her friends was moving onward with their life, while Hermione was stuck in a department where she was forced to do research she wasn't passionate about.
"But you must be somewhat interested in the result?" Ginny asked after having awkwardly steered the subject to Hermione's research.
Though not able to divulge the specifics, Hermione had told her friend about her dismay over being assigned something less appealing than her original research, and that she wasn't certain what good it would do in the end. "But that's just the thing," she said, "there might not be an answer. All that time could very well be for nothing."
Ginny nodded. "I understand. But have you considered just telling them no?"
Hermione shook her head. "Can't. It's too late, I already signed that I would do it, and while it is doubtful we'll get to learn anything knew from the method they've chosen, it is a highly unique case. If I were to learn something it could prove an enormous boost for my career."
"So do it then."
"What?"
"Go ahead, do it. I know how much you value these things, so I think you'll regret if you don't. Besides," Ginny leaned in and gave a wink, "what's the worst that could happen?"
I could die . . .
Hermione brushed that thought away and gave a nervous smile, attempting to reciprocate her friend's air, but seeing how Ginny was thinking Hermione was going to spend her time working over a pile of books or, at the most, collecting samples, it was difficult to do. Hermione also couldn't really tell Ginny what the worst thing that could happen was because if she did there was a chance of Ginny storming into Croaker's office with James in her arms and demand the old wizard be sent to St. Mungos to check his mental health.
Therefore, Hermione simply nodded and silently sipped her tea, praying that Ginny hadn't recently mastered Legilimency.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
It was lucky that Barty had mastered Legilimency a long time ago.
If not for his ability to reach into the minds of those who dared look him in the eye there might have been more than one prison guard dead on the floor right now. He blinked. No, there was no body there, but he'd wished it so it stood to reason that the vision had appeared that way. Not that Barty had much reason left, even with the restoration of his soul to his body. And he had no clue as to how that had happened. But he wouldn't let the Ministry know this . . .
Once he had learned that the only reason he was being moved from Azkaban—not to mention being left alive at all—was because the Ministry was just as clueless as him when it came to his soul returning, Barty had vowed to not let them find out, not until he'd escaped their clutches. He had a new mission now, a new reason to live, and he would be damned if something as imbecilic as the Minstry of Magic would stand in his way. When the Dark Lord had fallen, Barty hadn't been there, and he'd cursed himself for it every day when he returned. Now, with the help of that Mudblood Granger girl—Hermione, he corrected himself—he'd found a purpose. He knew who was responsible for his old Master's demise, and he needed to seek them out as soon as he could . . .
The guard walking next to Barty got careless for a second and stepped too close, invading Barty's space, and Barty snarled in warning; already forgetting to be calm until he got the opportunity to flee. The guard retaliated with a blow to the head, like the uncivilized brute he was. Not even using a wand like a proper wizard.
His partner hissed, reminding the first guard that Barty was to be studied. The first guard watched with narrowed eyes as Barty righted himself again and licked the drop of blood that was trailing down from his forehead, disgust evident and the thought most prominent in his pea like brain being that if anything needed studying, it was Barty. It only made Barty grin and show all his red stained teeth. The guard looked away.
No matter, Barty thought. Just another face to add on his never-ending revenge list.
The guards led him through yet another check point to make sure that nothing was amiss. It was ridiculous, what did they expect him to do? Bring his piss bucket as a souvenir?
He waited in boredom while the procedures took place, gritting his teeth and occasionally licking more blood off his lips. The amount was lessening but the pain was still there, though paling in comparison to his other wounds. The ones hidden beneath the torn and filthy sorry excuses for clothes he'd been given. Though not missing the Dementors by any means, they at least had stopped before resorting to physical violence. Well . . .right up until they'd sucked his soul out.
"She's waiting right outside."
That got his attention. She? Who was she? Barty glanced at his guards, but aside from the general discomfort present he found nothing, all of them failing to grant him eye contact.
The check point wizards let them through and Barty could already feel the difference in atmosphere when led through the hallway. There was fresh air outside. Maybe even sunlight. And soon after today, freedom. He couldn't wait.
The large door leading in and out of this miserable place came into view and it wasn't long before the shackles around his feet were vanished. It appeared the idiot could do magic after all.
"Don't try anything," he warned, "There are five Aurors standing outside, not to mention a War Hero with them, waiting to escort you. You know, the ones who defeated your precious Lord."
If Barty had been the type to roll his eyes, he would have. What was he trying to do? Taunt him most likely, but didn't the fool realise that all he did was making sure that Barty got agitated which could only result in the Aurors having a harder time containing him during the transfer? The idiot was clearly not good at his job.
When the guard couldn't get more than a stare from Barty he turned disgruntledly to the door, opening it and letting Barty breathe the first stench-free gust of air he'd breathed in years. It was almost so sweet that he could taste it on his tongue. And though the sun wasn't shining and all he'd got on his first day outside the prison was a cloudy sky, the sight in front of him was brighter than anything he'd ever dreamed it could be. Because, standing there in grey robes, her hair barely contained in its small bun due to the humidity, was Hermione bloody Granger.
She'd been speaking to an Auror to her right and barely flinched when hearing the heavy oak door swing open, but as her eyes fell quickly on Barty her thoughts were so plain to see that no mind reading was necessary: she was terrified.
Barty thought it divine.
Her eyes traveled, surveying his appearance and Barty knew there wasn't much to see. But the way she was looking at him, it was as if they hadn't had several meetings before, as if she was gazing at a total stranger. Perhaps it was the change of scenery, he joked to himself. Then she stopped at his head, no doubt noticing the fresh wound there, and her façade broke as she frowned.
"Miss Granger, he's your responsibility now," the lesser idiot guard greeted her.
"Unspeakable Granger," she corrected him, turning away from Barty as if she was willing herself to do so for her own sanity, "And I suppose he is."
They went over the terms of release and Barty tuned out. His head was spinning. Never would he have predicted he'd have this much good fortune in such short amount of time. And to think he'd been wallowing in despair and self-pity just a few weeks prior!
Again, he went over his list of things to accomplish once he escaped and his black eyes were drawn to Hermione. The very first on his list. His mouth twisted into a feral grin.
It's just too easy . . .
~o0o~
A/N: Aaaah! There it is! The second chapter!
Wow, Barty has got his sights set on Hermione and she needs to live with him. Oh, quirky living situations ho ho ho. Honestly, what if someone turned this into a sit-com?
"I'll be there for you, like a psycho-crazy-death-eater-who-killed-his-own-fa~ther!"
Anyway, hope you enjoyed!
Until next time!
/Primrue