4

IT was the distinct smell of breakfast cooking that roused Christine from her uneasy sleep the next morning before the sun rose, as the smell of bacon and eggs wafted through the crack in her bedroom door that had been left slightly ajar when, unbeknownst to the witch, Barty Crouch Jr. had snuck in to observe her sleeping peacefully in the night. Christine woke cocooned and burrowed underneath the warm blankets.

Her eyelids fluttered open but her vision was slightly blurry for a few minutes. She listened for Barty or sounds of his house-elf Winky, but there was no sound save for the crackling of the fireplace downstairs.

As she threw the covers off her and padded towards the closet to dress in the clothes Winky had conjured for her, bits and pieces came flooding back to her.

Barty looming over her, the wizard's hot dark eyes were full of hunger and a frustrated desire…for her.

She shook her head, frustrated, as she dressed for the day in a long black skirt and a gray turtleneck.

Her mind melted back to Barty Crouch Jr., how she had dreamt of the wizard in her sleep and the man's face had been so sullen it sent a chill through her.

Behind him in her nightmare, the city of London lay in a smoldering ruin, and his image began to distort as the Obscurus within her began to take control. Her body began to violently convulse as she turned into the hideously malformed wretch, screeching, and clawing at herself in utter malice and fear, and then the explosion and she knew nothing but darkness. A violent shudder went down her spine as she shook her head to herself.

"Stop it!" she cried, her embarrassment quickly giving way to rage. Christine turned wrathfully towards the door and sneered, a part of herself half hoping Barty had decided to go North without her.

She felt foolish and utterly powerless against her thoughts. This would not happen again. It could not, she tried to scold herself. She had to fill her mind with the task at hand and that was getting through this assignment for Barty's master intact and very much alive. Once she'd fully dressed, Christine lingered by the bedroom door and forced herself to shove her emotions to the pit of her stomach and strode proudly out of the room.

Though the moment she stepped out into the cool dark hallway, her body felt as if on fire.

Her skin was flushed, and her stomach tingled. She only got a few feet towards the staircase before her skin grew hot, and by the time she got to the bottom of the steps, she was having trouble moving. Every time she took a step through the house, it felt like hot molten lava shot through her veins, burning her insides hotter than dragon fire could. Her thoughts of Barty were leaving her breathless for reasons she did not understand.

She tried to keep quiet through the house all the while her breath heaved. The tingling in her body grew stronger as she set the front door of the Crouch's family manor for her destination. She suspected Barty would already be waiting outside for her and true to form when she opened the door, where the wizard was waiting for her.

She did not expect to find Barty's house-elf alongside him, clinging to his pants leg as though she thought that could stop her master from leaving. She was surprised to find a look of utter disgust on the Death Eater's face as he looked down his nose at his elf in disdain.

Barty was eyeing Winky as though the creature were no better than a speck of dirt stuck to the bottom of his boot. Winky's arms were wrapped around Barty's right leg as her shrill shrieks filled the cool morning air.

"Master, Winky wishes you would reconsider and let me go with you! Winky can protect you, Master, and his Special Young Miss, you's is needing me!" Winky wailed. "Giants is bad, bad creatures, they is mean and violent, Master!"

"No, Winky," Barty bit out with a harsh edge to his voice that made Christine look up in surprise. "It's too dangerous for you. I'd see you kept safe and you're to watch the house in my absence. I will call if you're needed. Now go, elf, and do not make me say it a second time."

Winky nodded though she seemed hesitant to leave. Still, both knew she was bound to obey her master and could not disobey a direct order given. She bit down on her bottom lip and slowly relinquished her vice grip around the fistful of the wizard's pants legs she had been clinging to for support. The house-elf slowly turned toward Christine and before she could say anything, Winky bounded forward and clung to fistfuls of Christine's skirt.

"Mistress Lestrange, you's must promise poor Winky to take care of Young Master Barty!" Winky shrieked shrilly, her voice louder than the startled shout from Barty as the wizard cursed at his house-elf.

Christine stared, gobsmacked, as Winky's large batlike ears drooped in defeat and misery.

"Let go of her NOW, Winky!" Barty roared, making Christine jump. "Enough! Do I need to order you to punish yourself, elf?" he snarled. The frostiness of his tone was enough to send a chill down her spine and Christine felt anger well inside her. She could no longer stay silent.

"Barty! Stop this, please! That's more than enough," Christine scolded. "She's just worried about you, can't you see?" she scoffed and shook her head in disappointment. She shot the Death Eater a disappointed look, who frowned and looked down at Winky. Before her new partner could order his house-elf to beat herself as a punishment, she knelt to the ground so that she was at eye-level with the Crouch family elf. She looked Winky squarely in the eye and offered the elf a small nod of her head. "I'll do my best to keep him safe, Winky, though he's the one with the wand, not me." Christine let out a nervous chuckle, though thanks to her nerves it came out a fitful little sigh. She breathed deeply and tried to force her racing heart to relax, though it was easier said than done as she could feel Barty Crouch Jr.'s stare burning a hole in the back of her skull, yet she did not let herself turn to look at the wizard. "I don't want you to worry about your master, Winky," Christine continued, hoping to ease the house-elf's worries. "Nothing will keep us from coming back. I promise," she swore to the house-elf with a brave smile.

Winky caught her breath and looked up at Christine. The house-elf was touched by Christine's concern for her master, as his partner.

"Can't you's and Master Barty have a bite of breakfast before you go?" Winky begged with care evident in her voice.

Christine sadly shook her head. "I'm afraid we need to go."

Winky understood and snapped her fingers, causing a wrapped parcel to appear in her hands and she shyly held it out for Christine to take.

"Winky has prepared you a plate," she said lovingly, flicking her adoring gaze towards Barty, who grunted by way of reply and nodded his thanks to his elf.

"Now, go inside, Winky," he told her, a note of finality in Barty's voice that was not to be ignored.

Only upon looking at Christine once more and seeing the dark-haired witch's seen expression did Winky seem somewhat satisfied, for she offered the witch a hesitant little nod and reluctantly stepped back and turned on her heels and Disapparated with a loud crack! that filled the air with the sound.

When he was sure the two of them were alone did Barty turn to look at Christine. She was surprised to see the wizard shoot her somewhat of a furtive, guilty look. He awkwardly cleared his throat and sharply turned his head away, and Christine thought she caught the beginnings of a faint blush speckling along Barty's cheeks.

"I'm…sorry for that, Christine, darling, I don't know what Winky was thinking. She's…" He paused, searching for the right words to describe his overbearing house-elf. "Protective," he decided at last with a sardonic snort. "I don't know what she means by it, fretting over me. I've told her time again not to do it."

Christine nodded shyly, not sure what to say to that. She blinked and brought herself back to the moment.

"Should we go then?" she asked softly.

"We should. I don't fancy being around ruddy disgusting giants any longer than we have to, Christine," Barty sighed as he offered her his arm, leaving Christine with no choice but to take it. Her breath quickened ever so slightly as Barty gently pulled her close and wound an arm around her waist to prepare to Side-Along Apparate with her as she could not, given how her magic within her was dangerous and unstable.

She flinched as she looked up into Barty's eyes and saw a shimmer of the crazed look in the man's dark brown eyes. She wondered what he was thinking, but her last thought before Barty Disapparated with her from the relative safety and comfort of his home was a simple but poignant one.

I hope this is not a mistake…

CHRISTINE let out a yelp of surprise as she nearly tripped over a gnarled tree root the moment their feet touched down on the solid ground of whatever region North Barty had brought them to.

Were it not for Barty's almost punishingly painful grip on her arm, Christine would have fallen flat on her face, face-first into a pile of leaves. Christine tried to pull away when she heard Barty swear under his breath, though when he next spoke to her, his tone was calm.

"We're here, Christine," he muttered before lowering his arm, causing Christine to let go. Barty had not even noticed it as his mind had been focusing intently on their destination, not wanting to accidentally Splinch themselves.

He'd not even noticed how her hand was warm and calmed him that he did not mind the darkness of the forest or the fact that she had not said a word to him since they had arrived.

The cold morning air that lingered in the air around them, however, woke Barty and caused him to set aside his thoughts and deal with the present situation. Christine craned her neck to the sky and caught a glimpse of the mountain she suspected the giant tribe had made their home deep in some cave near the top.

Her eyes were still slightly unfocused as she spoke.

"That's where we'll find them?" she squeaked in a breathless voice. She had not realized it yet, but the sky was beginning to darken. Black and purple thunderclouds loomed in the distance, and she could hear thunder rolling in the distance. There would be a storm soon enough, she was sure of that.

"In a few hours, after you've rested," Barty began, looking slightly toward Christine as she slowly turned her head to him.

She watched him frown as he had undoubtedly seen the dark circles that were forming underneath her eyes and how she still appeared quite pale. Yet the slight smile she graced him with was one that Barty always knew he would cherish. In the clear light of the morning, he could see Christine Lestrange enough, and the redness in the witch's cheeks was not missed by Barty in the slightest.

He was relieved she seemed more relaxed after a night's rest, yet it still did not seem enough for the Obscurial.

"They won't…hurt us?" she asked, giving Barty a sly glance out of the corner of her gaze as she looked towards the mountain once more, her gaze nervous.

Barty frowned as he stared at the witch with whom he knew he was already becoming enchanted and knew he should not considering the grave news Severus had imparted to him, and yet, he could not recall wanting someone as badly as he had ever wanted his new partner.

As the witch gazed towards the mountain, her expression was apprehensive. Noticing the witch's sudden nervousness, Barty shook his head and looked up to the mountain in disbelief, hardly daring to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

"Not when you're with me, darling," he replied wistfully, unaware that Christine was staring at him with wide eyes that were brimming with wonder. Perhaps it was just as well, for it would have turned their conversation into an even more awkward situation than it already was. Christine did not respond, though Barty did notice the witch quickly looked away from them as she began to walk deeper into the forest clearing he had Apparated them to, thinking this particular spot to be a perfect place to camp for the night.

Staring at her backside, Barty found himself studying the witch's luscious dark brown hair, tied neatly in a plaited ponytail. After a moment of allowing himself to enjoy the view, Barty cleared his throat intending to ask her a question, steering Christine's attention back to him.

"We should camp here for the night. I would have you well rested before we meet with the Gurg, you look to have not slept well," he grunted, a dark shadow flitting across his face at the notion of spending an evening wiling and beguiling the boorish and brainless giant chieftain with trivial pieces of magic intended to seduce and impress the large bastards.

"Let me," Barty offered and motioned for Christine to sit down on a pile of fallen timber a few feet from her. He would have waved his wand to conjure a pile of silken quilts and pillows to ensure his partner's comfort, yet he was already waving his wand to conjure their tent. Christine moved to sit and rested her back against the rough bark of the tree and tiredly closed her eyes while Barty worked effortlessly to set their tent up.

He tried to ignore the way Christine Lestrange's face was scrunched up and a single tear escaped from the edge of her eye, one hand constantly remaining at her ribs. Inside the tent, it was small but comfortable for two people. He turned towards Christine and held out his hand for the witch to take.

"Come, Christine," he spoke in a gruff voice calloused with impatience, wishing the witch would smile at him and because of him. She took his hand after a moment's hesitation that nearly caused his temper to flare and allowed herself to be led inside and guided towards a chair.

Barty gently eased her down onto the comfortable leather armchair and ensured that his partner was settled before backing away. He checked Christine quickly and began to head for the tent flap that served as the tent's entrance. She leaned over the pain in her abdomen and tried to rub it away, though the sound of his partner's voice made him halt.

"Where are you going?" Christine questioned nervously, angry with herself for the fear she now felt at the thought of Barty abandoning her here so deep into the North.

"Protective enchantments, Luv," Barty calmly explained. "I don't fancy any Order members happening upon us, do you?" he continued, only leaving when she nodded.

Barty ran out of the tent and did not let himself look back. He ventured as far as he dared into the forest to ensure their location was kept a secret, but still close enough to be able to return quickly to Christine if she needed him.

After ensuring that their campsite was well fortified for the evening, he rushed back to their campsite and immediately found Christine in the throes of another harsh bout of pain as the demon within her fed on her.

She clutched at her abdomen and tried to breathe bravely through the pain. Hating himself for having to leave the witch even a few seconds, Barty rushed to her side, wanting so badly to help her, yet he did not know how to.

"Are you alright?" Barty asked, feeling more helpless than he ever had before in his life.

"I—I'm fine," Christine gasped, though he could hear how she stifled a groan in her throat. "The—the pain from this Obscurus comes in bouts, and suddenly." She eyed him scornfully.

Barty nodded and continued to kneel beside her.

She curled up into the chair, pulling her knees up to her chest, and moaned through her ragged breaths. Hopefully and timidly, Barty rested his hand on Christine's left arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze, trying to comfort her.

"Will you tell me?" he asked softly as he looked up at Christine from his place on the ground as he knelt by her side. She sharply looked away from him, something Barty learned had meant 'no.' Still, he tried again, persistent and this time, not wanting to take no for an answer. If there truly was no cure for Christine's condition, then he aimed to make her see that she was the only one who matched him, that he could give her the world with whatever time she had left, if only she'd give him but a small chance. "Christine, I knew you once. Let me know you again. I'm your partner. I told you that I would protect your life, and I meant it, but if we're to be partners for however long the Dark Lord would pair us together, don't you think we ought to get to know each other better, darling?" he told her, almost pleaded.

He itched to move his hand and touch her leg, but he did not. He did not know if his partner would be okay with it or not. He thought perhaps maybe, if Christine could see the worry and concern he was feeling for her now, then some of the terror she was feeling towards him would subside slightly.

His stomach churned in an uncomfortable bundle of knots and desire when Christine's hand moved to hover over his cheekbone. He could feel the witch's slender hands trembling and after a moment, she lowered her hand out of a sense of shyness. He nearly flinched when Christine looked up at him with mild surprise. He remembered the outraged look on the witch's face when she'd pleaded with him not to ask after the nature of her condition.

Yet it was perhaps the one question he wanted an answer to the most. His gaze was lowered but neither could Barty keep the solemnity out of his voice. What he was asking of her to share was extremely personal and he knew it was a lot, and they both knew it.

"Why should I tell you, Barty?" Christine asked with mild surprise. "So that you could mock my pain?"

"Mock your…" Barty tried to repeat. "Christine. No, darling, I…" His words would not even form as he desperately searched his partner's nervous face.

Even when they were in school, he recalled Rodolphus's younger cousin a sweet witch, shy, and to see her react with such wariness and cynicism meant that something was wrong.

He let out a frustrated exhale and tried again, desperate to make Christine understand that he would give her the world if only she stayed with him and did what he wanted.

"I would never hurt you, or tease you in any way, Christine."

She frowned. "But you're a Death Eater, Barty. It's what you do," she pointed out, her words clumsy and blunt as she stared at him with a look of incredulous disbelief, as though she could not believe her eyes and perhaps she couldn't, but Barty could not manage to pretend to care right now.

Not when his only sole mission at this moment was to convince her to trust him and open up to him, as a friend.

He reached out to touch her shoulder. "You don't have to hide from me, Christine. Let me in. Talk to me."

They were silent a moment and Barty noticed Christine's chest heave before the witch collected herself.

"Who are you, Barty?" she asked softly, catching him completely unaware.

"I…" Barty paused a moment and reached for the witch's hand, aching to hold it. He was relieved when he took her hand in his and she did not pull away. "Oh, Merlin's Beard, how do I say this?" Barty looked up at Christine and saw the witch's brown eyes darkened to almost black. Her eyes moved slowly to how his hand held hers and he knew instantly what she was thinking of. How he meant to take advantage of her, to claim her for himself, and while he wanted that, yes, even more than wanting the witch's love, he wanted Christine Lestrange willing. To embrace his twisted ways, for the two of them to become one. It gave him some courage within himself and he boldly voiced his private thoughts. "Tonight I'm just a man, Christine, darling…enjoying the company of a captivating woman."

She sucked in a sharp breath and looked at Barty. The moment the words left his lips, her arms jutted out and her fingers gripped onto his upper arms forcefully. She did nothing but hold him. It was as if she thought his words spoken to her now were a dream in her mind and they would soon float away.

"Please, Christine. Tell me." He could see her face, the despair in her eyes.

Christine nibbled on the wall of her mouth and hesitated as she looked deep into her partner's eyes. The sound of Barty's hoarse voice, pleading and begging her to tell him the truth of her accident sent a strange hot liquid through her belly. She licked her lips and awkwardly cleared her throat.

He gave her a nervous little half-smile that told Christine Barty was trying his best to make her feel comfortable, and she began to feel guilty for having expected the worst from him.

Something within Christine realized that she had no reason not to trust this wizard. He had been understanding and helpful to her thus far since rescuing her from the McKinnon house, and it was he who had gone to great lengths to set up their campsite for the next few nights, and she did not want to seem ungrateful to him.

Christine supposed it could not harm to enlighten him as to the reason why she was now an accursed wretch, a monstrous Obscurial who was nothing but danger, a menace to society, an outcast.

Christine let out a shuddering breath and looked away, reluctant to talk about it.

"It's done, Barty," she whispered, very quietly. "It doesn't matter anymore," she murmured and ducked her head in shame.

"It does to me," he bit out, struggling to keep the anger from his voice. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut with regret and willed his anger to cool a little before continuing to plead with the witch. "Please. Don't keep this from me," Barty pleaded, nearly glaring at her as he moved to kneel in front of her chair and prevented her from getting up and trying to flee from him in fear.

Christine clenched her fists and looked away as she drew in another sharp breath that sounded as though it pained her. The witch seemed to be at war with her emotions for a moment, but she finally let out the breath she'd been holding and slowly turned back in the armchair to face Barty.

She spoke slowly and kept her voice flat to stem the emotions threatening to break through the surface and cripple her.

"My uncle, one night from walking home in Knockturn Alley, he uh, forced himself…" she whispered, licking her lips.

The news hit Barty squarely in the chest as though hit by Knockback Jinx.

"Did he….?" Barty growled, feeling certain he already knew the answer, yet he still wanted to hear it from Christine.

"Yes," Christine said, very slowly, casting Barty a disparaging look and biting her lip. Barty could not help but notice how badly her hands now shook. "My father dueled my uncle over what had happened after he Apparated on the scene when a shopkeep heard my screams, saw what was happening, and rushed to send a message to put a stop to it. They fought, my uncle won, and it was my father who was sent to Azkaban for it. He died in prison and my uncle still walks a free man thanks to his influence and power within the Ministry. I became an Obscurial …after it happened. I can't control myself when this…entity feeds off of me, it's a parasite and I'm dying from it."

Christine cursed herself for the weakness she felt as she felt the beginnings of a single tear slip from her eye and her lips quivered. But even as he stared, she could tell he was intrigued as she crumpled and broke down into soft sobs, burying her face in her fisted hands.

Damn you, Christine. Lestranges do not cry and weep. Stop it. Stop it.

She could almost hear Mother scolding her as the voice inside her mind chimed a warning bell. She sniffed once and in an exhale, she was a proud Lestrange again.

Barty stared. He did not think he had any words as the revelation burned within him angry and hot and saddened.

"How long…?" he asked, very softly. "The Healers of St. Mungo's?" Barty questioned, suspecting she and her family who still gave a damn about her had visited every Healer throughout the area and none of them were able to help her.

Christine flinched.

"They don't know, I…less than a year, Barty, as I told you last night." A muscle in her jaw tightened as she looked up at last and her expression softened and grew wistful. "I…do you ever wish that…time could stand still?"

Barty laughed bitterly, causing her to look at the wizard in awe and alarm.

"You will survive, Christine. You're not going anywhere." He could not allow the witch with whom he was rapidly becoming infatuated to think anything less than hope for a future. "You are a strong witch. You already have lived this long," he pointed out.

Christine smiled, yet her eyes were hurting and the gesture did not reach them. If anything, she was cold.

"A part of me wishes I hadn't. I wish I'd been killed the night the Obscurus grew within me. I couldn't control myself, I…there was an explosion outside of Borgin and Burke's, and It…killed two people, one of them a little boy." She sniffed and wiped the edge of her nose. "The world would be better off without me," she muttered darkly, her tone subdued. Her words faded into a half-choked sob, the noise sounding broken and ugly in her ears. She clenched her fists even more tightly and leaned against the backrest of her chair for support. She wanted to suffer like this, she thought it was no more and no less than an accursed wretch like her deserved. She wanted to die.

Every coherent thought was leaving her mind, slithering away into the darkest recesses of her mind as she let herself drown in the throes of her eternal despair.

She could not bring herself to look into Barty's eyes, wanting nothing more than to hide the embarrassment now plastered all over her face like a Permanent Sticking Charm. She'd not meant to be so candid like this, to give away the details of her attack. Understanding her discomfort, Barty reached for her hand and held it, grateful when the witch did not flinch or pull away. He wanted to tell her that he would find her uncle and slit the bastard's throat if she asked him to.

But instead, all he could do was offer her comfort, and even then, it felt as though his words would never be enough. "I'm sorry, Christine," was all Barty said quietly to Christine. Her eyes glistened with barely stifled tears as she lifted her face to his.

Christine looked up in time to find Barty once again noticing the man's eyes lingering on her flushed cheeks before she quickly looked away, embarrassed at having been caught staring. He'd had that look in his eye ever since Barty had brought her back to his home.

She thought the Death Eater was simply that kind of a wizard and tried to put her thoughts of the man out of her mind, yet it was difficult for her to do so right now.

Part of her was so overwhelmed with Barty's apparent empathy for her that all she wanted to do was lose herself in the dark pools of brown that were the wizard's eyes. Yet the part of Christine that won was that which wanted nothing more than to run away and hide from him.

She was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of Barty's speaking to her.

"I hope the bed will be comfortable for you," he told her. "If it is not, I can conjure a new one for you, it is no trouble."

"Thank you, Barty, I'm sure it will be completely fine," she dismissed as she rose to her feet and instead of heading for the bed like Barty was practically insisting, she headed for the tent's exit. "Let me take the first watch. You need the rest more than I do, you'll be the one doing most of the talking later, Barty," she pleaded, shaking her head to indicate she was not yet tired nor was she ready to sleep.

"Thank you for…setting up camp." Christine bashfully turned her head to eye Barty out of the corner of her lowered gaze. "…and…for listening," she added shyly. She was truly grateful but overcome with awkwardness. Before Barty could protest, she disappeared out of the tent to patrol the perimeter and keep watch for anything suspicious, leaving Barty watching Christine go.

His eyes grew wistful as he stared at the space where Christine had stood seconds ago, surprised that she wanted to take the first watch. She was the one who needed rest more than he did, yet the witch was more concerned for his safety and apparent well-being.

Even from this distance as Christine Lestrange walked away, albeit slowly due to the pain she was in, he could see Christine was looking concerned.

It was nearly overwhelming to him that someone other than Winky and his mother, Merlin bless her soul, worried about him. She seemed to care about what would happen to him. No witch had ever looked like that toward him. Though it brought the beginnings of a faint smile to play on his lips, he did not want to see Christine look like that.

He wanted to see her smiling at him, and more importantly, because of him. He sighed as visions of more time alone to linger with the witch flitted through his mind and he wondered if, when this assignment for their master was over, she'd let him take her to dinner.

The thought of enjoying time with her caused the strange tugging sensation in his chest once more. A weird warmth. Barty itched to follow her and talk with her more, but he recognized her need for some time alone.

Barty eventually moved to lie down on two beds that he had conjured and as he lay there, he considered what he'd learned of Rodolphus Lestrange's cousin from their short conversation.

He knew he could heal her broken heart and he would win it for himself. But they had not seen each other since they had graduated from Hogwarts a few years ago. Then, he had busied himself during the day working at the Ministry of Magic alongside Father while his nights were spent carrying out various missions for Lord Voldemort.

He had nearly forgotten her until the Dark Lord had brought him to task with retrieving Christine from the McKinnon family's clutches, not wanting the Obscurial to fall into the hands of Albus Dumbledore. Then, there it was, the thing he did not even know he'd wanted the most until he'd seen her again being handed to him when the Dark Lord appointed him to serve as Christine Lestrange's protector. He was certain that this meant only one thing.

That they were destined to be together, but since Christine had barely said a word to him since they had made camp, how the bloody hell was he going to win the witch's heart when she would not even speak to him?

Barty was grateful she had shared her painful memory with him a moment ago. It hurt her to speak of it, but it was a connection if nothing else. Perhaps something to build a foundation of their new relationship on, Barty rationalized.

He nodded slowly to himself, vowing that tonight, following their meeting with this particular tribe of Giants nestled deep within the mountains, he will have won Lestrange's heart and asked the witch out to dinner.

Take care of her, he thought as he nodded, and his eyelids fluttered closed lightly as the beginnings of a plan were already forming in his mind. Following their successful recruitment of the giants to the Dark Lord's cause, he would ask Christine to dinner.

At the very least, Barty thought the beginnings of understanding what Christine Lestrange needed were beginning to form slowly in his brain. It was this thought that he dwelled upon as he drifted off into uneasy sleep, unaware that while he slept, his new partner was already in grave danger the deeper she went into the woods without him...