Part Two, Chapter Twenty-Six

The thrill still hadn't worn off. Even this long afterwards he still felt the buzz as he remembered it. The satisfaction of turning to Bellatrix and seeing her manic look of delight, of seeing Rodolphus watching him with an expression of surprise but still looking a little impressed. "You didn't think I'd do it, did you?" Barty had taunted him.

The steely look Rodolphus had given in response suggested he didn't, but done it Barty had.

And more than that, he'd enjoyed it.

The doubts he'd felt beforehand had immediately melted away the moment he'd raised the wand and looked into Laura's eyes. He was about to kill her. It wasn't so much the thought of that that thrilled him, but it was more how he enjoyed the sense of having so much power over her. Her life was in his hands, and he could take it with just two words. Now that was powerful. In that moment he had more power than anyone else in the world. More power even than his father, who had the authority to sentence people to life in Azkaban. He had the power of life and death.

As he'd uttered the curse and seen her fall motionless to the floor the surge of adrenaline had kicked in. He felt invincible. This was what it was like to kill.

He'd lain awake in bed for hours that night, unable to get his mind to switch off, constantly replaying that moment in his head. He'd enjoyed it at first, loved recalling the instant in which he'd finally proved himself to Bellatrix and showed just what he was worth. But the more he repeated it the more disturbing it got. All the different thoughts swirling around his mind were colliding together, making him imagine things he really didn't want to think about.

Laura looking at him with that pleading look in her eyes. He was about to kill her…but then somehow her face became Gwen's and he realised he couldn't do it.

"Barty…" she was calling out to him, like she had the last time he'd seen her. "Please."

Please what? Please come back or please don't kill me?

"Barty!" she screamed his name again. Her voice seemed to resonate through his mind. She didn't want him to do this, but it was what Bella had asked.

"Barty." It wasn't her anymore. Somebody else was speaking now. A voice that was cold and hard and desperate. "Barty Crouch Junior."

Karkaroff. Karkaroff had turned him in. He felt hands closing round his wrists and clamping them in irons, dragging him away into darkness. An icy chill settled on him and he realised it was the dementors. He could still see Gwen's face, but it was so distant now. She was turning away from him. "Gwen, please!" he shouted out to her, but she'd already disappeared.

Someone was still screaming, but this time he realised it was himself. They'd found out the truth and they'd come for him. "Please, no!" He couldn't go to Azkaban. He couldn't. "I didn't do it! I didn't kill her!"

Liar.

"Don't…please!"

But nobody was listening. Everything had gone dark now. Dark and cold. There were chains around his arms and legs, making it impossible to move. His eyes darted around from left to right, trying to make out any shapes through the blackness, but he could see nothing.

Don't let them have left me on my own…

An icy coldness was gripping him, seeming to come from all around. He could feel it soaking through his skin, penetrating deep inside him. And still he was alone. They'd left him to rot here.

No…

But then he saw it. From nowhere the face appeared in front of him. That hideous face, with its necrotic flesh and gaping mouth, leering at him through the darkness. The dementor had come for him.

"NO!"

His eyes had snapped open to find he was lying in an old four-poster bed in the spare room of the Lestranges' house. Cold sweat was clinging to his skin and he was breathing heavily, and he realised he was tangled up the bedsheets. That was why he hadn't felt able to move. He desperately threw the sheets off him and lay staring up at the canopy for a few moments, trying to calm down.

Even as he realised it was only a dream the panic still didn't abate. What if they did find out? What if Karkaroff told them? Then they'll know you're loyal to this cause, he told himself. You have to see this through. Don't be like Regulus. Don't lose your nerve.

It took a while, but eventually his breathing and his heart rate returned to normal and he lay in the bed motionless with his eyes shut. His mind started to wander again, but he had no intention of letting himself fall back to sleep. He was thinking of Gwen.

He must have hurt her, with the way he'd walked out the last time he'd seen her. Yes, he'd been angry, but it wasn't her fault. He needed to do something to make it up to her. He needed something to focus on, to keep him distracted from everything else that was troubling him, and he thought he had an idea of what to do.

The thought of seeing her again had been what kept him sane through the next couple of days at work. Everybody had realised Laura was missing. Scores of people had gone missing in the past few months, but when it was one of their own department staff everybody got a little more bothered by it than usual. They all wanted to know what had happened to her, but really she was just another name on the list. They were just as unlikely to ever find out what had happened to her as they were anybody else. It gave him a smug sense of satisfaction that he knew what had happened and the rest of them didn't - that in fact he had been the one to kill her - but he couldn't let on to them what he was really feeling. Barty hadn't found it hard to pretend to be just as worried as the others, but really he was worrying about something else entirely.

With Karkaroff's hearing pending and knowing there was nothing he could do to influence what the Death Eater may or may not say he was feeling a sense of helpless frustration. The Death Eaters never knew the identities of all of the others for this exact reason: to prevent traitors from handing each other in. But Karkaroff had known about him. They'd only met once, very briefly at a meeting and Karkaroff had been arrested very shortly after, but it was enough for him to know Barty was involved. Even without any evidence Karkaroff might still choose to say something and there'd be bugger all Barty could do about it.

But he was trying not to let himself think about that. Instead, he was focussing on Gwen. The work day had finally ended and now he was going to get to go and see her as planned. He thought he perhaps could have sent an owl beforehand, but that would have ruined the surprise.

He'd just entered the foyer of Gringotts to see her heading to the fireplaces to go home. She hadn't noticed him as she was crossing the floor, and a small smile played on his lips as he walked up behind her and suddenly put an arm around her waist.

She jumped and spun round, seeming to be about to push him away, but then she realised who it was. A combined look of relief and confusion spread across her face. "Barty? What are you doing here?"

He smirked at her. "Hey, we've both technically finished work so no-one can get mad."

She stared up at him, still looking a little uneasy. "So, you're not still angry with me?"

He stopped smirking and looked at her earnestly. "Of course not. It was him I was mad at, not you. Sorry you took all the shit for it."

"Oh," she said, glancing down at the floor and then back up at him. She still seemed a little put out, and that worried him somewhat. "No, Barty, it's fine," Gwen continued, "It's just that, well, I found out you moved out. Why didn't you tell me?"

He stiffened a little as he met her gaze. He hadn't wanted her to find out about that, lest she started wanting to visit him where he was living now. "How do you know about that?" The question came out sounding rather cold and hostile, and he immediately regretted having used that tone.

She looked at the floor again. "Well, please don't take this the wrong way, but my dad told me about the conversation he had with your dad and what they'd been saying about you. It's not like I'm discussing you with him behind your back or anything, but it's just that I'm worried about you."

He gave a sigh of frustration. "That's exactly why I didn't tell you. I don't want you to worry."

She still looked uneasy. "But Barty, how can I not worry about you over something…"

"Hey," he said to cut her off, "I'm fine, I promise. And I feel really bad about the way I treated you the other night so I wanted to make it up to you." He reached into the inside pocket of his robes and she watched him curiously, and then he produced two rectangular slips of paper. "Two tickets to L'Imperatrice at the Ourea in Mayfair," he said with a grin, "I know I had to cancel on you last time, so I thought you might like to go to this one instead."

She just stared at him for a few moments, seemingly completely astonished, and then smiled. "You actually want to see L'Imperatrice?"

He nodded. "Of course, if you want to. It's supposed to even better than Les Mysteres."

She gave him an amused smile. "Who told you that?"

He put on a slightly offended look once she'd said that. This hadn't been the kind of reaction he'd been expecting. "Nobody. Why? Don't you like it?"

"Oh no, it's not that," she said, looking a little mortified that she might have upset him, "Musically, it's probably the best Mickelwal's ever done. I've just never been too keen on the story though. It seems a bit…well, politically right-wing for no real reason."

He frowned, not really understanding her. "In what way?"

She shrugged, "Well, there's never really any explanation for Hecate's attitude towards the muggle Emperor, despite the fact the Roman oppression of magic had ended with Constantine the Great over half a century earlier. Her actions seem to be completely motivated by a sense of…" she suddenly stopped as she noticed his utterly perplexed expression and gave a small laugh. "You have absolutely no idea what it's about, do you?"

He gave her an indignant look. "Well, I know it's about the fall of the Roman Empire in the fourth century and, um…" he trailed off and looked a little embarrassed, "Yeah, that's about it."

She didn't seem too bothered by his admission, and instead grinned brightly at him. "In that case, we have to go and see it. Can't have you being completely clueless about one of the most famous stories in magical mythology."

He smiled back. "Great. So I'll see you on Saturday then? I could pick you up at about seven o'clock."

"Alright, sounds great. I, um…" she gestured vaguely to the fireplace behind her, "I was about to head off home now, actually. You could come with me, if you like."

His smile faltered a little once she'd said that. It was tempting – incredibly tempting – to go with her, but he didn't think Bellatrix would be too happy if he disappeared without warning again. "Um, sorry, Gwen, but not tonight. I've got things I need to sort out."

"Oh," she said, looking more than a little disappointed and he quickly tried to cheer her up again.

"But it's not that long before Saturday though. And might I just suggest you pack an overnight bag as well."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh?"

He grinned. "You know, just in case. We'll see what happens."

He was pleased to see she was smiling at him again. "Alright, Saturday then," she said, leaning in to give him a quick kiss goodbye. "I'll see you later, Barty."

"See you," he said as she took a pinch of floo powder from the pot on the hearth and walked into the fireplace. She was about to drop the powder into the grate when he called out to her again. "And Gwen?"

"Yes?"

"Wear something nice."

The last thing he saw was her blush furiously, before she called out her address and disappeared in a swirl of green flame.