2
CHRISTINE looked out the window of the bedroom she presumed was to be her new home as she peered through the curtains, the curtains of the room had been pulled tightly, blocking any sunlight from bursting through the glass and illuminating the little bedroom.
Barty Crouch Jr.'s house-elf had introduced herself as Winky and had ensured that she was showered, her hair combed and she had been given a Hair-Replenshing Potion to grow it long again, though Christine had not drunken a single drop, fearing at first the house-elf had perhaps poisoned it, and her fingernails cleaned and trimmed.
She had been given new clothes to wear and now wore a long black skirt and dark green woolen turtleneck sweater that kept her warm from the otherwise cool if not slightly icy temperature of the interior of the Crouch manor.
The madness of the last few days was gone, yet now that she was alone with her thoughts she was frighteningly disoriented. She looked for Barty to her left and right, but the Death Eater was nowhere to be seen. There were a few terrible moments of panic as her concern took hold of her heart and it fluttered painfully in her chest as her heart felt like it was in her throat. A creak came from her left as Christine froze and whirled on her heels to look at the door.
She listened intently for any sounds. Most of the McKinnon family was dead, thanks to Barty's actions as she had watched the wizard turn savage, yet that did not mean that more Order members would not come for her…
"Barty?" she called, the man's name sounding strange on her lips. Her voice sounded hoarse and raspy from days of not using it. The Order had wanted her to speak but she would not. She'd not been able to risk the demon within her that had latched itself to her heart surfacing and taking control of her emotions. She'd somehow managed to hold onto what little shred of self-control she had left but was not sure how much longer she could hold on.
A part of her was grateful Barty Crouch Jr. had come for her when he had, yet she still did not understand why the wizard had brought her here.
The horror stories Christine had heard of Barty Crouch Sr.'s only son over the years from Father when the man had still lived had given birth to a vision of a large and savage-looking Death Eater with a look of pure evil about him.
But Barty Crouch Jr. though, the man she had seen come to her rescue, was tall and well-built, yes, but he was not a monster. And he did not look evil. Instead, he looked blank, as though an integral piece of him was missing, though what that piece or pieces were, she hadn't the faintest clue.
There was nothing all that remarkable about her former classmate. Barty's hair was a dull brown in need of a trim and his face was that of a normal and plain man. She might even go as far as to say that he was handsome, had he not brought her here to his home for reasons that were unknown to her. But his eyes though, did scare her.
They were a deep rich brown that at first glance, she'd almost mistaken them to be black. But it was the fact that she could not guess the thought brewing behind the wizard's dark eyes that frightened her. She tried to search her brain for a logical reason that he would have brought her here.
She was not a Death Eater in the Dark Lord's ranks, though she knew Barty was.
Father had told her as much of him before he'd been killed by one in the Order. Barty Crouch Jr. was not a man who took prisoners, the wizard either decided that you were not worth killing for some reason or the man killed you.
There was no in-between. She had been surprised the wizard had not killed her back in the house and went on with his life. But Barty bringing her here to his home and giving her clothes and a room was something Christine couldn't understand. Her thoughts were muddied and confused as she tried to get a grip on herself.
She swallowed as she moved towards the door. With a ginger twist of the knob, she pulled it open, stepped out into the hallway, and waited. She had to move slowly so Barty or his house-elf did not think she was trying to escape.
If they did, she suspected she'd be in danger. She moved to the staircase, and it was then that flashes of seeing Barty dispatch the family members of the Order members who'd kept her came to her mind.
The feeling of seeing Barty wield his wand as though the weapon were a part of himself could not adequately be surprised. She'd barely had time to blink before all four were dead.
"Barty?" Christine whispered softly. She rested a trembling hand on the railing and listened intently. There was not a single sound in the entire manor. She set the sitting room for her destination, wondering if he would be sitting on the sofa waiting for her to wake up so that the two of them could talk. Maybe her words would do her some good and she could learn why she had been brought here, and what he or the Dark Lord needed her for, what the Lord wanted.
"Barty?" she called again when she poked her head into the entryway of the sitting room. She received no answer and stepped further into the room and stared at the coffee table in front of the sofa, upon which a steaming mug of herbal tea she presumed to be hers was set on a place setting alongside a small plate of biscuits.
Christine remained awkwardly in the entryway, looking around silently for what felt like a long time.
She hesitantly crept towards the sofa, her stomach rumbling despite her anxiety, and she thought perhaps a small sip of the tea might just calm her nerves. She sighed as she slumped down onto the sofa and took the steaming mug of tea, the porcelain warmed by the beverage, and it instantly warmed her hands. The scent of the tea calmed her instantly, and she was just about to bring the cup to her lips to take a sip of it when Barty's voice reached her ears.
"How do you find it?" she heard him ask in a hollow voice.
Christine slowly twisted her head and turned to regard Barty eyeing her from the entryway, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. She did not know how long Barty had been standing there watching her. There was no smile on the wizard's face. No excitement, no amusement, even. Nothing evil.
Christine grew alarmed at that. She looked around again before she offered a feeble nod.
Barty moved to stand closer and just the man's nearness sent Christine swallowing. She set down the cup of tea before she could spill a drop, which she likely would considering how badly her hands were shaking.
"Good, Christine." Barty's hoarse voice echoed in the otherwise empty room. "I want you to be comfortable here."
Christine lowered her head, a lock of her dark wavy hair tumbling in front of her face and shielding her confused and nervous expression from the Death Eater now coming to stand in front of her, for which she was grateful.
She did not want to give Barty the satisfaction of seeing how affected she was becoming in his presence.
"Why am I here? Why save me?" Her voice came out as slightly hushed as she nervously eyed Barty from the corner of her lowered gaze as she stared down at her trembling hands resting shakily in her lap.
She tried to hide the tears forming in her eyes, but her voice betrayed her sadness and her fear. What was to stop Barty from killing her here and now in the privacy of his own home?
She'd heard what he was capable of from Father and Mother a few times.
Barty looked like he had when they had left school, only a little thinner, his dark hair needed a comb, and a vision in all-black clothing. The man's handsome face was set into an ugly frown that almost looked like a snarl, though why it was directed at her, Christine could not begin to fathom why that was.
His eyes raked over her body, eyeing the black eye that Marlene McKinnon had given her when she'd flung venom at her the other day in a moment of self-pity, begging the witch to kill her as her eyes had threatened to turn purest black as the demon within her body raged war for control.
Barty's presence was both commanding and frightening. His shoulders hunched slightly as he moved to sit in the leather armchair just across from her, yet the wizard still gave off the feel of a predator.
"Why am I here, Barty?" Christine asked again and pressed herself as far back against the sofa as she could, though she knew the speed with which her former classmate would move to brandish his wand against her.
There was a reason the boy had been a champion of the Dueling Club when they had both been in school.
He had always been faster and moved with the kind of speed and quickness that the Dark Lord looked for when he tended to take in recruits. No doubt he had likely been charmed by Barty or at least had seen the wizard's usefulness and now exploited the wizard's talents for gain.
She heard him snort.
"Hello again, to you, Lestrange," Barty gruffed, sounding agitated. "Is that any way to greet a former friend, Christine?" Barty asked, feigning hurt feelings, though the edges of his mouth twitched as he fought back a sneer. "I save your life and this would be your first words to me?" he grunted.
His expression turned more solemn when Christine could only stare, having been shocked into silence. He sighed in frustration and looked away, willing his temper and annoyance to cool a bit before responding to the witch.
"You do not need to be scared anymore, Christine," Barty spoke softly. She thought she saw the boy she had shared a House Dormitory with, and she chewed on her bottom lip. She could not be sure, but she thought the Death Eater sounded sad. Hurt even, she'd go so far as to say it. "I will not hurt you. The Dark Lord has appointed me your protector. He gave me explicit orders to retrieve you from your captors no matter the cost, and I've paid that cost."
A chill ripped through her at the casual way he spoke of murdering the Order members who'd whisked her off the streets. She shook her head and closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm as she swore she felt the demon within start to growl its displeasure. But she could not and would not let it take control.
"Why, Barty? Why did you save my life?" Her question came out as harsher than Christine had intended it when he halfway rose from his chair, his arm stretched as if he meant to put an arm over her shoulder, but he stopped the moment he saw Christine shirk away in fear. She braced herself, but Barty merely lowered himself back in the chair.
He looked away from her and around the room, his gaze lingering on the fire in the hearth that his house-elf looked to have lit for warmth and light. He was trying to hold himself together and Christine thought that for the moment staying quiet would be best. Christine wondered why it was that Crouch was looking so hesitant and unsure of himself. With the disgust now gone from the man's face, the wizard almost looked…sad.
That alone would not have scared her, but it was the way his shoulders had begun to tremble slightly and the way his dark eyes darted frantically around the room that made Christine believe that Barty Crouch Jr. was unstable at the moment. She'd heard what the wizard was capable of on a good day, but to see him like this was dangerous, and how he had behaved earlier in McKinnon's house was the behavior of a mad dog. Barty suddenly looked up at her and Christine jumped, inhaling a sharp breath that pained her lungs. She mentally cursed when she felt her left knee hit the underneath surface of the coffee table in front of her, accidentally making it shake. She waited nervously for the Death Eater to collect his thoughts and when Barty seemed to have, the man finally looked back at Christine.
"Giants, Christine. The Dark Lord would have us travel North to recruit a clan of giants and convince them to ally themselves with us. You are the best fit to come," Barty frowned as he watched the color drain from Christine's face at the mention of giants. Savage, brutal beasts who listened to no one, and the Dark Lord would send them North?
She let out a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, willing her tears not to fall. She knew the Dark Lord had the final word, as he did in just about every aspect of her life now that Barty had rescued her.
Christine knew with a heavy heart she would become an extension of him, used for his benefit and her survival.
Christine looked away and sniffed, furiously blinking back her tears. She certainly did not want Barty angry with her or to beat her as the Order members had done to her when they had first taken her off the streets.
Things were beginning to come back to her and slowly, fragments of flashing images in her mind as if she were viewing a Pensieve memory, but whose? She recalled a wand being pointed at her face and hit with a Stinging Jinx before being whisked away by a Portkey, but why? Who had done it to her and helped her? Christine furrowed her brows and shook her head to rid her mind of her frenzied thoughts and felt Barty's stare burning a hole in her skull.
Her shoulders shuddered and she felt her breaths turn ragged.
She did not see Barty get up from his chair, but she heard his footsteps and how he let out a frustrated exhale as he stalked towards her and lifted her face. He cupped her chin in his long thin fingers and stared at her expectantly.
His hand held her chin tightly, with just enough force to be uncomfortable, but not enough for his grip to be painful. She stared.
"You will be safe with me, Christine, I promise you, you've nothing to fear with me, yet I can tell that my words are not enough for you, are they, Lestrange?" Barty growled through gritted teeth and shook her slightly. "You fear me," he accused, his tone sounding offended.
She stared at Barty Crouch Jr. with incredulous disbelief, wanting to believe she'd heard him wrong, but the wizard's expression was grave. Barty was deadly serious.
"You're a Death Eater now, Barty," Christine bit out, regaining a little bit of her confidence with the anger that had returned to her with the fresh vivid memory of the ruthless way he had dueled and killed her captors by slitting their throats with a well-aimed nonverbal Sectumsempra. "You kill people like me, people who are different…" she said as she trailed off and looked, deeply concerned, into the young wizard's hot dark eyes which were brimming with anger.
A violent shudder went down her spine as she swore she heard Barty growl, a low, deep guttural masculine sound that came from deep within his throat. It frightened her but there was little that she could do.
She was not permitted a wand and had no means in which to defend herself should Barty get it in mind to attack.
Something like guilt flashed across the wizard's face.
"Not you, Christine, I would never hurt you, darling," he sneered, jeering at her. "I saved your life, Christine, in case you've forgotten," he snapped with a bark to his voice that made Christine look up in surprise. "I would never hurt you, Lestrange, I'd pretend you hadn't said that," Barty gruffed and gazed at her face with desperation and fury written all over it like a Permanent Sticking Charm. "I will vouch for you, Christine, in my honor, to the Dark Lord, that you will be an asset to him, one best kept alive. He knows this, and you will be safe here in my home with me for as long as I remain your partner. We're to leave in two days for the North."
"So soon?" Christine asked, her curiosity getting the better of her despite her fear.
Barty nodded, seeming to take the fact that she was listening intently to his every word as a good sign, and continued.
"Antonin has told me there's been a tribe spotted in a remote mountain part of the area when he went scouting two weeks ago. The Dark Lord will not be angry with you if you come with me, and you follow my orders. Your life is not so bad now that I've brought you here, let's keep it that way for a little longer, hmm?" Barty purred at her quietly.
"And…why bring me?" Christine asked slowly. She hardly dared to believe that the Dark Lord could have a use for her as she was not permitted to carry or use a wand as her magic could not be controlled.
Despite that fact, there were many who had attempted and failed to extract the demon that had latched itself to her and fed off of her heart and soul.
Barty frowned and looked away. Christine heard the wizard swallow.
"My master, Christine, he would see the giants' heads on pikes if they do not yield and align their kin with us." His voice turned silky, and it made Christine feel sick in her stomach as her blood turned sour as she struggled to process the implication of the wizard's words.
An execution.
She was to be used as a weapon against the giant tribe they were to meet with if they refused. She nearly jumped out of her skin as Barty continued, either oblivious to her growing discomfort or did not care about it at all.
"I would need you well-rested, then, Christine. We're leaving in two days, and everything will be fine. You will be by my side, and I give you my word that no harm will come to you, Lestrange. And Christine, I don't think I need to remind you the mission the Dark Lord has tasked us with is important. If you even think of…going silly between now and two nights from now, if you try to flee, or if you try to contact someone who thinks they can 'save' you, I may be forced to punish you, darling. I don't like that idea, do I look like the sort of wizard who'd raise his wand against a beautiful witch?" he jeered, and continued even as Christine dutifully shook her head no to him. "I don't, do I? You can only push me so far, Luv. This is your only warning. I don't like saying things to anyone a second time. Do you understand?" he questioned quietly.
Christine wiped at her eyes and sniffed, nodding that she understood. She certainly did not want Barty to raise his wand against her or beat her as the Order members who'd taken her had. It was not the idea of pain that frightened her, she had suffered far worse when the monster within her would erupt to the surface.
The angry red marks that covered her body would heal, in time.
But what was awful about Barty taking her North with him to recruit giants to the Dark Lord's cause was how much Barty Crouch Jr. and the Dark Lord were taking away from her. Every single ounce of dignity and self-worth she thought she might have possessed, had her circumstances only turned out differently.
The Dark Lord was by show of force exerting his absolute power over her life, dangling her freedom in front of her and leaving her at the mercy of a man like Barty Crouch Jr.
He did not care that her soul ached, and her heart and spirit were as broken as a Hungarian Horntail under a dragon tamer, but the longer she thought over Barty's words, she knew the Death Eater was right, and Merlin damn the man for it. She had no choice but to go with him if she valued her life. Christine let out a shuddering sigh filled with angst as she tightly closed her eyes and spoke in a hushed voice to Barty.
"I will go with you," she heard herself answer in a flat tone. She opened her eyes and regarded Barty with trepidation. "You will protect me?" Her statement sounded more hostile than she intended, for she watched in surprise as Barty flinched. She could not be certain, but she thought he almost looked hurt by her tone. Her brows rose in curiosity.
"I will, Christine. With my life," he answered steadily. "You could not ask for better protection, Lestrange. You've seen me duel. I can think of no one who fights as well as I do. Well, except perhaps for you, Luv," he told her with a light shrug of his shoulders. He shot her a rakish little smile that disgusted her and Christine immediately looked away.
"Not by choice, Barty," Christine whispered harshly through clenched teeth as she kept her eyes squeezed shut.
She could feel her chest beginning to tighten, and she fought with every ounce of self-control she possessed to will her temper to cool. The last thing she needed was to become too delved in anxiety and stressed or vexed, lest the demon rears its ugly head and that was the end of Barty Crouch Jr., his house-elf, and his family's rather lavish home.
"Was it that bad, Christine? Whatever happened to you to cause you to lose your ability to do magic? Rodolphus, he never spoke of you. Or Bellatrix," Barty questioned, curious.
Christine's heart sank as she rose her chin defiantly and slowly turned her head to regard Barty Crouch Jr. cooly, forcing her expression to become a mask of cold indifference.
They had finally arrived at the topic of the Obscurus, a point of conversation she'd been hoping to avoid at all costs.
Christine felt sick to her stomach as she shifted awkwardly on the sofa and nervously folded one leg over the other, adjusting the fabric of her skirt nervously.
"I don't want to talk about it," she answered flatly. "Please," she begged, flinching as the words left her mouth as she realized how cold and impersonal she sounded. "If you have any decent feelings for me, Barty, as the friends that we once were, or I thought we were, please don't ask me."
She thought she saw a look of indignant anger flash across Barty's face, but before the Death Eater could press the conversation, Christine grimaced and clutched at her stomach as a sharp shooting pain seared through her abdomen, her third or fourth in the last day.
A pained cry left her lips as she turned away and tried to breathe deeply through the pain but could only moan as she felt the stirrings of Dark magic humming within her as the Obscurus fed on her energy. It only took a second for her new partner to reach her. Barty awkwardly knelt beside her, needing to help her but not knowing how or what the witch needed of him. Without thinking it through, Barty stretched out his hand and rested it on her knee, though that was the wrong course of action. Amid her agony, Christine tensed and quickly drew away from him.
"Don't touch me!" she screamed, utterly terrified of Barty.
Barty jumped and leaped to his feet, withdrawing his hand into himself as if she had burned him.
He drew in a breath and held it as he swore the witch's eyes turned purest black. He was upset and angry with himself for what had placed such fear and doubt into Christine Lestrange's heart. She had once been a friend to him in school, though his interactions with the witch had been minimal, he had still been fond of Rodolphus's lovely cousin.
At the moment that it took Barty to study the witch's expression, he realized he was one of the few in her lonesome and miserable life who'd hurt her, though how and in what way, he didn't know. All he could do was watch as Christine Lestrange's discomfort worsened. She gripped the armchair of the sofa for support, her knuckles turning white with the effort. In a fit of jealousy, Barty found himself wishing that it were his hand for which the beautiful witch reached.
After several minutes, her pain subsided, and Christine turned to look at Barty with terrified eyes that were now brimming with tears.
"The—the Obscurial that bound itself to me, Barty, it…" she gasped, heaving for breath, and needed a moment to catch her breath as she clutched at her side. "It feeds on me, draws its power from my body. The pain from when it does comes in bounds. I'm sorry, Barty, I don't mean to be so loud," Christine gulped nervously and could not bring herself to look him in the eye as she wondered if the Death Eater would jinx her for causing a ruckus or even hit her.
But to her surprise, that moment never came. When Christine had recovered some courage, she looked up to find the wizard staring at her with what she could only perceive to be sympathy in Barty's hot dark eyes as he stared intensely at her. He shook his head vehemently, the edges of his mouth turning down in a scowl.
"No, Christine, darling, you do not apologise for anything. Scream if you need to, if it helps in dealing with the pain. It's nothing a good Muffliato Charm around the house won't fix. How long…?" he trailed off as he looked questioningly, almost concerned, into Rodolphus's cousin's teary eyes.
Christine scoffed and nearly rolled her eyes as she shrugged her shoulders and made a noise of dissent through her nose.
"They don't know, I…less than a year, maybe more," she admitted, her face twisting into a look pained as she gazed at him.
Her parents shortly after her attack had taken her to every Healer within St. Mungo's all for a different opinion and some outside Healers as well, and no cure could ease her pains or extraction method that the Obscurial could be removed without killing her.
She suspected it was only a matter of time, but she dared not give the thought a voice. Not now. She hesitantly lifted her gaze to Barty and bit her lip. Christine studied Barty cautiously.
The furrow of confusion and worry deepening between his brow seemed genuine.
She'd seen the pain in the man's eyes before when the Prewitt witch had rejected him in favor of Frank Longbottom. That night, he'd poured his heart out to her as they had sat in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin Common Room.
Christine had said nothing, she'd merely let Crouch rant and rave until the worst of his tempest had run its course and half the Common Room had been trashed with it, but she could not help but feel the beginning of a bond growing. Or so she'd hoped. They could have once shared in the joys of life together, but those foolish thoughts had been before.
Before her accident that had ruined her life and caused her to go into hiding. Before she'd learned her days on this earth were likely as good as numbered. Before. Before. All of it had been before.
None of it mattered anymore. An abrupt bitterness seeped its way into the pit of her stomach as she hesitantly looked at Barty. A question burned on the tip of her tongue, one she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to, yet she had to get it out and know the truth. No matter how unpleasant to hear it from the wizard it would be.
But Christine could not look into Barty Crouch Jr.'s almost blank and menacing face. Her eyes stared into the distance over his shoulder at some spot on the wall, so hurt that her emotions would not break through the walls she'd built around her heart to defend herself from heartbreak. She felt almost dazed as the words left her lips.
"Will you…will you kill me after I've…outlived my purpose? After we return from recruiting your giants?" she asked, the disappointment, fear, and confusion ringing in Barty's ears.
Barty stared at Christine Lestrange, wanting to believe he had heard Rodolphus's cousin wrong.
That the Dark Lord could hold her own life in so low regard that he would order her killed when they returned was an unthinkable act, one he would dare not let her think possible. Barty was in front of her in a flash, kneeling in front of the sofa she sat on, lowering his head in reverence of the witch who was, for better or worse, his charge.
"No, Christine. I do what the Dark Lord tells me. Willingly most of the time, Luv, but that is one command I would not obey. I would convince him otherwise," he told her, sounding sure of himself, yet Christine picked up on the sorrow in the Death Eater's voice. "Please understand that you will be safe with me in the North. Yes, the Dark Lord needs…the entity within you," Barty spoke slowly and was careful in choosing his words, for he did not want to risk upsetting her, knowing the power the Obscurus was capable of. He drew in a breath and continued, hoping to supplicate her and ease the witch's fear. "But only as a last resort if things go pear-shaped. You will be safe with me, I swear it," he passionately swore. He did not even realize that he'd started to shake with the solemnity of his vow to Christine now.
Barty froze and curiously peered up at the dark-haired beauty in curiosity from the corner of his lowered gaze.
He wanted to see her budge or look at him, at least, and so he kept on looking as his slender fingers slowly inched towards hers, wanting to take the witch's creamy hand in hers and feel her skin's softness for himself.
But when she rose to her feet and walked away, the sting of rejection and fury welled within him to dangerous levels.
Barty rose to his feet and watched Christine leave the room. He bit the wall of his mouth and followed the witch out of his sitting room, yet instead of turning right to follow her down the hall and to the staircase, he went left which would lead him out the front door. He needed fresh air to help him think.
Barty paused when he got to the door in time to see Christine Lestrange disappear around the corner and up the stairs.
But the witch was smart enough not to look back.