The screams of that disgusting traitor filled Barty's ears, sending a shiver of excitement down his spine. The pathetic creature wailed and cried, until his voice became hoarse.
Barty stood over him, his tongue darting every now and then, a wand in his hand. He tortured the man slowly, mercilessly, just like he had done it with many others in his lifetime. His actual victim tried to betray them, to abandon the Dark Lord and join Dumbledore. Lord Voldemort would have none of it.
"Very well, Barty," he said in his cold voice, sitting in a chair, his face hidden under a hood. "Let him know that Lord Voldemort doesn't accept cowards and traitors in his ranks. Kill him in such way, that he'll feel thoroughly that he's dying."
Crouch obliged without any questions. Every order that came from his master's mouth was inviolable in his eyes. The tortured man quivered on the floor, nearly drowning in the pool of his own blood. The torture lasted for hours, until Barty had decided that it was enough. The man was unconscious now, it was no use to prolong it. He glanced at his victim with disgust. He hated traitors more than anything in his life.
"Avada kedavra," he hissed and a green light filled the dark room. The figure on the floor was lying still, just like seconds before, but Barty now knew that the man will never again wake up. He lowered his wand and walked to the door.
"Wormtail!" he called. "Come here, it needs to be cleaned up."
The short, balding man quickly hurried inside and grabbed the dead man's legs. With a disgusted frown, he dragged the corpse out of the room, leaving a trail of fresh blood smeared on the floor behind him. With a flick of Barty's wand the blood disappeared; the floor now clean.
He approached his master and knelt down. His eyes were wide as the Dark Lord put a hand on the top of his head.
"Ah. You've done excellent, as always, Barty. Lord Voldemort is proud of you."
Crouch's eyes brightened and he placed a kiss on the hem of his master's robes. Oh, how he loved this feeling of being praised by him.
"I live to serve you, my Lord. You know that I'm your most faithful."
"Yes, I know it. And it will not be forgotten. Keep it up."
Nagini was slithering around the room, her sensitive nose could still smell the scent of fresh blood. Barty intended to get up, but Voldemort stopped him.
"And what about your young wife? Is she pregnant?"
Barty shivered uncontrollably. He clenched his fists, feeling a wave of panic. Rose still wasn't pregnant, despite his best efforts to make a child. Months had passed since their first night and Barty started to suspect that she'll never be able to conceive. Those weren't good news. Personally, he didn't give a fuck about his family tree and his legacy. He hated his father and presumed that he'd be a horrible one, too. If Rose would give a birth to his child (or children), then be it, but he wouldn't be very disappointed if she couldn't do it.
His lord, however, gave her to him especially in order to prolong his pure blood line. What if Rose wasn't capable of fulfilling her task? She would be useless, then. And Barty knew what Lord Voldemort was usually doing with useless things.
"Well?" the Dark lord repeated. Barty lowered his head before saying hoarsely:
"No, my lord. But I assure you, she'll get pregnant sooner or later."
His hands trembled. Voldemort took off his hood and observed Crouch closely.
"We could get you another one," he spoke silently. "Dispose of this one and take another. Maybe young Miss Weasley? Or this Lovegood girl."
Barty let out a strange noise, something between a sob and grunt.
"Please, my lord, let me keep her. Just a little longer."
His voice was trembling and his forehead became sweaty. Voldemort regarded him for a few long minutes in silence. Finally, he spoke:
"You're my most faithful servant, so I am going to grant your wish - you may keep the girl if you like."
"Thank you! Thank you, my lord," Barty rasped, placing another kiss on the Dark Lord's robes.
"But," Voldemort continued. "I expect her to become pregnant soon. When we'll take over the Ministry, you'll be able to take her to a healer freely. Right now we must focus on our task and we can't afford to be distracted by anything. Is it understood?"
Crouch nodded his head. He knew what the Dark Lord had meant - he couldn't let Rose distract him in any way. He had to be devoted to his master completely, Lord Voldemort didn't appreciate competition. Feelings were for the weak ones, feelings could destroy a man. Not that Barty felt anything for his little wife.
"If I see that something's getting in the way of our mission, I'll dispose of the obstacle right away. I hope that it won't come to this and that you'll be strong enough to do it yourself when the need arrives."
Voldemort's voice was cold and calculated, his eyes boring into Barty's soul. Crouch responded immediately:
"Yes, my lord. I will not disappoint you."
No, he would not ever disappoint his master. His master was the most important. Voldemort smiled and that made him look even more terrifying than usual. Barty wasn't scared, though. He loved him like a father and his physical appearance didn't matter to him at all.
"You can go now." Voldemort said, waving his pale hand in a sign of dismissal.
"Yes, my lord. Good night."
Barty left the room quickly, his black, leather cloak rustling in the process.
That was close. For a second, he was sure that his lord will order him to kill Rose. His heart was still beating frantically from the panic he had felt just minutes ago. Now, though, he could breathe in a relief, for a time at least.
'If she won't conceive, I'll have to kill her,' he thought. He was determined to kill her personally, he didn't want her to be executed by someone else. His lord rarely killed his victims without torturing them first, to tell the truth, Barty was doing exactly the same, enjoying their fear and pain. But with Rose, he wanted it to be different. He wanted to kill her swiftly and without much suffering from her part. It wasn't that he didn't like the sight of her being afraid - on the contrary, he shivered at the thought of her being terrified, completely defenseless, subservient to him. But those vision always ended with him claiming her, sometimes, if he was angry enough hurting her a little but never killing her. For some strange reason, he couldn't even imagine the sight of her body lying still, lifeless. Her lips cold and her heart silent. Oh, how he adored the sound of her heart fluttering inside her chest like a caged bird. Her breath shaking, her nails scratching his back desperately.
No, no , no he can't think like this. She's just a woman, a foolish one at that for she dared to care for a beast like him. She was weak and the weak ones should be exterminated. Yes, he'll kill her. The sooner, the better. It was difficult to do it right now, he didn't want to think what it would take to dispose of her later. And he has to be very careful, not to give her a chance to speak or even look at him. Barty knew that if she looked at him with those big, green eyes he'll be doomed and he won't carry out his task. He had wanted to kill her many times before, he knew that she's an obstacle, but those eyes of hers always prevented him from doing so. He had to remember, though, that she was nothing but another piece of chess and if she's troublesome, he has to dispose of her quickly: in order to win.
As he walked through the night, heading for a spot where he could apparate, he cursed his manly urges to no end. The lust he felt for that girl was killing him. He shouldn't have any regrets about getting rid of her, yet because of her body he couldn't do it so easily as he'd like to. No, he had to dispose of her this very night; delaying it would be showing weakness. And he wasn't a weakling.
Minutes passed and Barty was still walking down the path, prolonging his way home. He felt the need to breathe some fresh air, to relax first, before he'll go and fulfill his task. Will it be long before the Dark Lord will have him marry once again? Before he'll have to claim another girl? For some reason, Barty didn't look forward to it. He couldn't feel arousal at the thought of a young, even pretty girl - the only one that turned him on was Rose. She was young and pretty, not beautiful maybe, but she had something in her that he wanted so badly that it nearly hurt.
Hurt. It looked like both of them were pendant between the feeling of pleasure and pain. Barty loved to cause pain, but with Rose he had discovered that he liked to feel pain too. Rose was never causing him a physical pain; no she was too gentle and good-hearted for that. But she caused him an internal pain. Whenever he looked at her and spotted the way she stared at him as if he was the most precious thing to her, or whenever she told him something sweet and foolish he felt pain. A strange, tightening grip inside his chest. And he liked every second of it. He liked it, because soon after pain followed something else, something more pleasureable - Rose's soothing kisses, gentle hands stroking his hair, the feeling of being wanted.
He didn't know what had possessed the girl to want him, but he wasn't complaining. That way, he didn't have to force her to touch him. He would do it, of course if she refused to meet his needs, but he preferred her to do it on her own free will. He liked to be dominating and sometimes cause her physical pain, but not so much as to bring her to tears. No, he did like causing pain, but he didn't want to hurt his Rose too badly. She was far too precious to be damaged, he didn't want to spoil everything and scare her away.
A heavy sigh escaped Barty's chest. He had to kill her. His thoughts wandered to her far too often. He can't think about that accursed woman any longer, otherwise he'll never be free from her. The Dark Lord was right, she was a distraction, an obstacle, with her sweet smile and shy caresses. Yes, he'll kill her. Quickly, without hesitation. The only thing that made his life bearable. But he'll have his lord, he lives only for him after all. He'll soon forget about her. It was just lust, nothing more; he spent many years without a woman and now he was just desperate to fulfill his manly urges. He didn't need a pathetic, Dumbledore-loving girl to be happy. For Merlin's sake he was an excellent wizard, a most faithful Death Eater! He won't be destroyed by some primal instincts.
Hours passed and Barty was still walking, not stopping for a second. He was terribly cold and it began to drizzle, making his messy hair wet, but he didn't want to apparate.
'I have to prepare myself. It's possible that she'll be awake, waiting for me. She'll smile and hug me and then I'll draw my wand and the smile will disappear from her lips. I have to be well prepared, I can't change my mind.' he told himself. The image of Rose's fading smile made him cringe. No, it would be better if she'll be still asleep.
He walked and walked and walked, and after another hour he was nowhere near being fully prepared for what was to come. Finally he stopped in his tracks, flicked his tongue and quickly apparated in front of his house. The windows were dark, which indicated that his wife was still asleep.
'I must kill her, kill her quickly. I don't need her at all. I'll show the Dark Lord that I'm not weak,' he thought frantically, climbing up the stairs, taking two steps at once. His wand was already in his hand. In the darkness, he easily had found the door to his wife's bedroom and entered.
Rose was sleeping soundly, the covers had been kicked away in her sleep. She was lying on her back, her face peaceful and relaxed. Barty approached the bed slowly like a cat, as to not wake her up. He sat down on the edge, pointing his wand at her.
It would be so easy to end it now. Two words and life will leave forever this body. The body he so badly desired. Why was he doing this? His lord didn't give him an order to do so. Oh, yes, he himself had decided that it was time to get rid of her. Barty's mind was once again playing tricks on him, his head started to ache. For a moment he wondered how had he came up with such a ridiculous idea of killing his wife.
'She's an obstacle,' he remembered. Obstacles must be destroyed. Yes: destroyed. Barty loved to destroy, to kill, to maim. It gave him this wonderful feeling of power, the pleasure of being master of someone's life and death.
His mind was filled with so many thoughts that it hurt. He wanted to end it quickly, to stop thinking just for a second, but he couldn't bring himself to utter the killing spell. The Dark Lord had just warned him, not told him to kill the girl straight away. She could still prove useful. What if she's with a child already? He'd dispose of her unnecessarily. And she was such a pretty, little thing. Why he should deny himself the delight of having her near?
For months now he had been torn between killing her and keeping her. He felt that he was growing to like her too much, but he couldn't stop himself and just get rid of her.
'Kill her, she's as weak as a child. Get rid of her. Now!' the annoying voice in the back of Crouch's head urged him to act. In this very second, Rose stirred in her sleep and sighed. Her bare legs were exposed to Barty's eyes now, her nightgown being rolled up to her thighs.
In a blink of an eye Barty was on top of her, the wand he held just seconds ago forgotten on the floor, his hands tearing the delicate fabric of her nightie. She woke up and yelped in fear, but soon her hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer and the girl smiled contented, surrendering herself completely to him.
Hours later, he finally let go of her, feeling sated at last. All thoughts disappeared from his head and he was grateful for that. Yes, the girl was still quite useful. He was panting heavily, tired, but happy. Rose snuggled close to him, whispering some sweet nothings in his ear, but Barty payed no attention. He put an arm around her, stroking her hair and made a decision.
He won't kill her yet. He'll do anything in his power to please his lord and if his lord will order him to kill Rose, he'll do it. But now, she wasn't so troublesome. She is an obstacle, yes, but he is the one in charge here, and he won't be distracted by her, no matter what. He has full control of everything. He could easily deceive her, for she was naive and young. He'd be the one to hold her in his grasp, no the other way around.
Calmed by those thoughts, he closed his eyes and started to drift off to sleep. He flicked his tongue in a snake-like way.
'Just a little longer,' he thought. Then, he can kill her without any regrets.
AN: Yes Barty, keep deluding yourself!
So, I've finally managed to write this one, with my beta's help. It was quite difficult, but it's not the last Barty's POV in the story. Thank you for your reviews and alerts, you're wonderful!
