AN: Written for the Convince Me Competition and the Ten Pairings Challenge!

Weekly Character Appreciation Challenge – Barty Crouch Jr.

Emotions Challenge - Agitated

Famous Witches and Wizards Cards Challenge: 1,100 words.

Rating: T

Summary: Regulus and Barty are out on a mission. Two young men with dysfunctional families may find solace within each other.

Dysfunctional (Regulus/Barty JR)

Barty was shivering. He had rejected Regulus' offered cloak but he seemed to be regretting it now.

"Barty," said Regulus. "Take the cloak; I honestly don't mind."

The younger man hesitated for a moment before reaching out and grabbing it. A cloud left his lips as he said a thank you.

The Dark Lord had expressly forbidden the use of any magic before they apprehended their targets. Apparently, it drew too much attention. Secrecy was of the upmost importance if they wanted to catch the Junior Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic. That meant no warming charms, a fact that Regulus and Barty had noticed very early on in their mission.

"Let's go then. We don't want to lose him," said Regulus once Barty had wrapped the cloak around himself.

He saw the slight hesitation before the younger man stood up and frowned. Barty had been particularly tense about this mission in the days leading up to it. Regulus was only worried that there was a possibility he would be deserted on the day.

He hadn't been, of course. The two of them were here, in the park they'd been tipped off their target was going to be at. Barty wasn't stupid; he knew he'd be killed if he tried to leave the Death Eaters' ranks. Regulus hoped that for Barty's sake, the Dark Lord hadn't noticed his recent disquiet.

"What has been wrong with you recently?" asked Regulus. The question had come out slightly harsher than he had wanted it to. Barty looked alarmed and Regulus had to quell the urge to say 'You can trust me.' That would make the younger man suspicious; all Death Eaters knew that trust could not exist between them. The fact that many of them had turned on their own families was a testament to the fact.

"Nothing," said Barty, staring straight ahead.

Regulus arched an eyebrow. He wasn't stupid. "Crouch, tell me before it eats you up inside. Either that will kill you or the Dark Lord will notice… and kill you."

Barty set his jaw. "I don't know what you think is—"

"What I think is that you are hesitant to carry out this mission and I want to know why," hissed Regulus. "I will not stand for any weakness in someone I am working with on something as important as this. So tell me, I'll fix it and we can carry on without any bother."

"You wouldn't understand," growled Barty.

"Don't use that tone of voice. You sound terribly like Greyback," he said, and before Barty could respond, he continued. "You would be surprised at what I could understand, Crouch."

Barty huffed. "Fine. If you want to know that badly, I'll tell you," he said.

There was a moment of silence.

"Tell me then," said Regulus impatiently.

"The… the man we are going to capture," he began.

There was another lengthy pause but, this time, Regulus restrained himself from making a comment.

"He's a friend of my father," he finished, taking a deep breath.

"You feel as if this would upset your father." It was a statement not a question, but all the same, Barty nodded. "Why do you care about what your father thinks?"

Barty kept his mouth shut.

Brilliant. When I do ask a question, he doesn't answer it.

"I asked you a question, Crouch."

"You don't know what it's like," said Barty.

Regulus rolled his eyes. "I probably do. And I never will know if you don't tell me."

"You don't know what it's like to have a family like mine," he said. When Regulus didn't respond, he continued, seeming slightly angry. "You don't know what it's like to have a father that goes to work and doesn't return home till the early hours of the morning or not at all so you almost forget what his face looks like. You don't know what it's like to have a family that's…dysfunctional. And you certainly don't know what it's like to still love them after all they have put you through."

Whilst he was speaking, tears had entered his eyes and he had grabbed the front of Regulus' clothes. If he was honest with himself, Regulus was slightly surprised at the force Barty's hissed words held but he kept his expression unimpressed. "Actually, I do."

Barty snorted, using the fabric between his fingers to pull Regulus closer. "Just because you have a rogue broth—"

"I wasn't talking about him," said Regulus, cutting Barty off smoothly. He wasn't going to be intimidated so easily. "Although, now you mention him, there's him as well. My father is often out late at work and on the rare occasions he is at home, his time is occupied by my mother. My delightful mother enjoys cursing my brother whenever she has breath to spare and sometimes I'm included when I don't live up to her expectations."

Looking at Barty's surprised face, he continued, glad that his words were having the effect he wanted them to. "And yet, I still strive to achieve all my parents want me to because, as you may have guessed already," he hissed, close enough to Barty that their lips almost brushed against each other. "I love them."

"I—I'm sorry," whispered Barty, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Tears still glistened on his cheeks. Regulus was surprised that they hadn't frozen over.

"Don't be," he said, feeling Barty's grip tighten.

And then, they both leaned closer. They allowed their lips to touch so slowly, it was almost agonising.

It was a small comfort for the two of them. Desperate hope of the possibility of affection in the harsh, snowy landscape they were in. There were trees, bare trees in the park. There was only white flat ground. There were no frills, just bare, raw emotion as Barty finally let go of Regulus' clothes and moved his hands to his dark hair. He gripped the strands like they were his lifeline although it felt like the person they belonged to wasn't allowing him to breathe. He didn't want to breathe; right now, everything was perfect.

But they both knew that perfect things didn't last. They had destructed enough perfect things to know that.

So they parted.

And after their mission was done, their flushed cheeks were written off to the biting cold and their furtive glances at each other were excused as pride as the Dark Lord had rewarded them for their success.

Perfect things were always broken. So it was only best that they kept their secret hidden in the ugliness of their servitude.