7

BARTY gnashed his teeth together and tried to curb his shivered breathing as he came into Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's dining room to find it dimly lit. He came in to find himself alone.

As the Malfoy's house-elf left, a ferrety wanker who called itself Dobby, the elf told him specific instructions to wait for the Dark Lord in a trembling voice. A meal seemingly intended for him had been set on the table as had a glass of freshly poured Firewhisky in a crystal glass, yet the aroma did little to rouse Barty's appetite.

No sooner had Barty touched the edges of the chair he presumed was to be his than did his master appear at the door, keeping hands clasped behind his back as he did so.

Barty immediately bent the knee and kept his head lowered as the Dark Lord nodded to him in recognition and strode past him to sit in the chair that Barty knelt beside.

"My Lord," he hissed through gritted teeth, keeping his gaze transfixed on the floor, daring not to look up and into the snake-like features of his master's warped and deformed face, knowing he would see nothing but disappointment.

"How fares the Obscurial?" Lord Voldemort asked coldly, the wizard's voice shrill and earnest and yet dangerously quiet. It stuffed the chills down his throat.

"She is well and rested, Lord, and safe," Barty answered, while the Dark Lord never once looked at him, instead keeping his slit-like pupils that reminded Barty of a snake's eyes fixed on some distant point, a point which he suspected did not matter. He swallowed down hard past a lump in his throat and continued. "You called for me."

"I did," his master exhaled slowly. "I have heard of your misfortunes near the tribe in the North. I confess myself…disappointed in you, Bartemius. That you could think I could entrust you with anything after this disaster. You are proving yourself unworthy."

The color drained from Barty's face, and he could feel his dark eyes beckoning shock as he hesitantly lifted his gaze from the floor and let his eyes rest on his master's features.

He was beginning to feel queasy as beads of sweat glittered along his hairline, and he was sure the Legilimens were reading his mind even now, despite his efforts to remain clear-headed. He forced himself to try to feel nothing, to be neither tense, nor angry, nor afraid as he remained kneeling into a crouch by his master's side. He was nothing.

But it was thoughts of Christine Lestrange left alone at home with just Winky for company and protection that caused a seeping tightness in his chest, and it was like a whisper to his ears that he need be afraid. But he would have to be indifferent if there was a lofty chance of being able to walk out of this room still alive.

Barty's jaw tightened and forced the words from his throat, though they tasted bitter on his tongue as his voice was filled with shame.

"My Lord, I…the fault is mine and mine alone. I…deeply apologize for my shortcomings. I never intended for our mission to go so wrong," Barty flushed and bit down on his tongue to prevent bile from rising in his throat.

Lord Voldemort tilted his head to the side as he looked at Barty curiously, his red slit-like eyes narrowed so thinly that they almost disappeared. When next he spoke, his shrill, cold voice dripped with disdain and ire.

"Apologies will not undo the damage the Obscurial has caused, Bartemius. The creature's power coupled with your incompetence has put our entire plan in jeopardy by casting the Ministry's attention towards our cause. The Ministry of Magic has now been made aware of a skirmish involving a fully grown giant and is investigating the matter considering the witch requested that you burn down the entire forest. It has taken Antonin and Lucius both to be dispatched to deal with the resolution swiftly."

Barty swore at least a dozen curses flitted through his mind upon hearing his master's words. He curled both hands into a fist and lowered them to his side to hide any evidence of the shakes. His palms turned clammy.

Barty lowered his head, grateful that one stubborn lock of his bangs that always tended to fall in front of his right eye no matter how hard he attempted to tame it, now fell in front of his face like a curtain, shielding his expression from the Dark Lord as he spoke. His voice was hushed and throttled with barely repelled fury as he found his voice.

"I understand, My Lord. I failed you, and I will accept any punishment that you deem just."

Out of the corner of his lowered gaze, Barty swore he saw Lord Voldemort's expression harden and heard the wizard sniff. When he spoke, he chuckled with mocking, a thing that he did so naturally, his voice laced with venom that poisoned better than Nagini's venom could.

"Punishment, Bartemius? Do you truly believe that a mere punishment will suffice for this grave lapse of judgment? You and the Obscurial were entrusted with a critical task, and yet you stood by as the Obscurial has ruined everything and called attention to our organization and operation."

Barty cursed himself as he visibly flinched, hating hearing the faltering crack and dip in his voice as it quivered with fear as he spoke.

"I…I will make amends, My Lord. I swear, on my life and my honor, let me rectify my mistake. Please. Give me another chance. Let me return to the giants on my own without the witch and let me convince them."

Lord Voldemort's cold laughter filled the dining room, echoing off the walls and ringing in Barty's ears until he heard nothing else. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, so loudly that he was sure the Dark Lord could hear it.

"Another chance, Bartemius? Do you think that I could entrust you with anything of significance after this catastrophe? You are proving yourself unworthy. I am beginning to think that the error was mine in allowing you to think that you are ready. You are still quite young, and though you are talented, you are arrogant and foolish, though such undesirable and reckless traits still have the chance to be stamped out," he condemned, his tone frosty.

Barty swallowed hard and flinched.

"I…I accept whatever punishment you see fit, My Lord. I swear, I will spend the rest of my days trying to redeem myself."

Lord Voldemort straightened at his follower's heartfelt plea. His voice was commanding and final, his shrill tone filling the room as he addressed him.

"This setback will not be in vain, Bartemius. You are lucky that I could still find a use for your skills. You would do well to remember this moment and let my mercy towards you serve as a constant reminder of your failure. You have indeed faltered in your duty and the task I set to you and the witch. Your combined failure is a stain upon the name of the Death Eaters. But… although I should flay you here and now where you kneel for this insolence, I sense something within you, something that still has value," the Dark Lord murmured. He fell silent and trailed off as an almost thoughtful look rested on the pale wizard's placid and bone-white distorted features.

Voldemort's cold, red eyes narrowed as he studied Barty, the Dark wizard's serpentine face contorting into something akin to a twisted smile. Barty hesitantly raised his head, surprised by the Dark Lord's words.

"Lord?" Barty spoke in a hushed voice barely above a whisper, hardly daring to believe his master's words.

Lord Voldemort's lips twitched.

"Christine Lestrange, Bartemius. This Obscurial whom you are letting your emotions cloud your judgment for, she is what to you?" he asked in a listless voice, his gaze unabashed and unswerving as his red eyes narrowed in suspicion as he studied Barty, whose eyes had widened with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

"Everything," Barty whispered hoarsely without a moment's hesitation.

The Dark Lord gave a curt nod of understanding though the wizard was unimpressed. Yet when next he spoke, his words were very nearly compassionate.

"I am not a wizard who is known for his mercy, Bartemius. But…today, I am in a merciful mood, and I am inclined to grant you a second chance. A chance to prove your unswerving loyalty and dedication to our cause."

Barty swore he could feel his heartbeats pounding relentlessly in his chest with a newfound sense of hope and purpose. He fought against the faltering crack and dip in his voice as he managed to summon enough strength in his throat to address his Lord and master.

"Anything, Lord. I will do whatever it takes to prove myself once again."

Another nod from Lord Voldemort as he looked at Barty.

"Good. You shall have the opportunity to rectify your mistake. Your mission remains the same, but this time, failure will not be tolerated. Succeed, however, Bartemius, and you will not only have redeemed yourself and your witch, but you will also ensure the safety of your beloved. The witch will remain unharmed and by your side, Crouch."

Barty hesitated as the Dark Lord motioned for him to rise from his place on the floor, which he did. He could hardly believe it was true, yet his master's words were spoken with conviction, and they seemed genuine.

He lowered his head in reverence of the wizard, in awe of his master's mercy. He was unable to keep the earnestness and excitement from his tone as he offered the wizard his thanks.

"Thank you, Lord. I will not disappoint you again."

Lord Voldemort remained unsmiling, yet he nodded.

"See that you don't. For the sake of your love and your own life, you will not fail me, Barty Crouch Jr. You will leave in the morning to attempt to ingratiate yourself once more to the giants in the North, yet the witch will remain here, perhaps in the care of someone you trust, yes? Bellatrix, perhaps, are the two close?" the Dark Lord inquired.

Barty shook his head, sending away his master's words.

"No, Lord, they are not. Bella has not spoken to Christine since her...accident, nor has Rodolphus," he muttered, a shadow of anger flashing across the wizard's face as Barty spoke through gritted teeth. "My family's house-elf will suffice, Lord, Winky," Barty murmured, his elf's name sounding funny on his lips.

He frowned in disgust and tried to shake off the little bit of anger he was feeling at the thought of anyone else but him talking with Christine. He looked away for a moment and down at the floorboards beneath his boots to collect himself. His mind felt as though it were racing with thoughts of redemption and the opportunity to prove himself to both Lord Voldemort and Christine.

With a newfound sense of fire burning within him, he lifted his gaze to his master, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Barty turned on his heels and as his mind was focused on thoughts of the witch, he did not see Lord Voldemort watching his expression intently, his red eyes narrowed.

"Bartemius." The Dark Lord's quiet and calm voice rang out, ringing in his eardrums. Barty's head immediately spun in his master's direction, his embarrassment nearly flushing his cheeks red at having been caught in a moment of negligence towards his master's orders. "Go to your witch," the Dark Lord quietly bid.

"Lord?" Barty questioned, his chest suddenly tight.

He was unsure if he had heard Lord Voldemort correctly just now.

The Dark Lord's face remained impassive as the wizard's slit-like red eyes narrowed even further and grew glossy and distant, as though the Dark Wizard were witnessing a scene somewhere else, someplace far from Malfoy Manor.

"The Obscurial will need you soon," he prophesized, almost eerily so.

Barty eyed his master warily. Whatever Lord Voldemort's purpose for telling him this, he thought he knew the wizard well enough that the Dark Lord's outcome was to ensure his swift ascent to power.

He had promised him that Christine would be safe in their care, and he could not abide the Obscurial falling into the wrong hands. Still, Barty stared numbly at Lord Voldemort long after the wizard had given him leave to return to his family's manor and rejoin Christine. Yet something within him kept him frozen and rooted to his spot as though the Dark Lord himself had hit him squarely in the chest with a full body bind Petrificus Totalus.

"Go." The Dark Lord commanded him again, and Barty did not need to be told twice.

Barty fled the dining room of Malfoy Manor, horror and fury clinging to his heels at the thought of harm befalling Christine. He watched his master, the wizard he both needed and respected, slowly diminish deeper into the shadows that now shrouded the dark dining room.

CHRISTINE stood angrily rooted to her spot outside of the Crouch family manor, frozen and unable to move, her heart pounding loudly within her chest. A hand shot to her heart and furled into a fist over the thick fabric of her knit woolen cardigan. She felt her eyes furrow in a frown as she stared at the blonde bespectacled poison pen writer.

Her lips parted as if she meant to speak to the reporter for The Daily Prophet. But before she could so much as utter a single syllable, Rita Skeeter spoke first, cutting her off whatever remark she had been about to say first.

"Miss Lestrange, what a pleasant surprise to find you here. I came intending to keep my appointment with Mr. Crouch to interview him regarding his campaign for Minister of Magic this upcoming election cycle, but I was not expecting to find you here, pet, what a true delight. The wizarding world is clamoring for your story, you are among the first known adults to have survived an Obscurus bonding itself to their soul," she chuckled in a honeyed voice. Rita was too sweet, she almost reminded her of another Ministry worker whom Father had once held nothing but contempt, a bitch of a hag, Dolores Umbridge, a short squat witch with too fondness for the color pink.

Christine crinkled her nose in disgust as she realized Rita's face was masked with a cold smile that did not reach her eyes behind the lenses of her glasses. Christine let out a little breath and bravely faced the older witch, keeping her head inclined and her fingers clasped over a fistful of her sweater.

"I-I'm sorry, Miss Skeeter," she heard herself answer by way of reply in a voice that sounded hollow and flat. "I was not expecting you out here and you…you gave me a fright."

The words tasted bitter on her tongue as she forced herself to remain as polite as possible towards the tabloid reporter, who, with just one misquote, could ruin her already devastated life.

Rita offered Christine a quick smile and with a glance to the right at the steno pad floating magically near her shoulder, she lowered her voice an octave as she spoke.

"Forgive me then, Miss Lestrange. It is a surprise to find you here, I confess, though you should know that I came with…." Rita waved her arms slowly with a twist of her body as she turned to look behind her almost the moment the deafeningly loud crack! of another witch or wizard Apparating on the Crouch family's property filled the air.

The noise startled Christine greatly and a little cry of surprise left her lips.

The waves of sharp alarm hit the witch fast and hard. The abrupt and loud sound had caused her to withdraw her shaking hand back into herself once more. Her hand, at the moment into a fist, unfurled to clutch at her heart.

Christine had always been easily startled throughout most of her life, but since her assault, her jumpiness had only grown worse. The witch's hammering heart had only just begun to slow down when she was able to take in a full breath behind her and turn on her heels to see whom it was that Rita Skeeter was expecting to see approach.

And Christine immediately wished that she hadn't.

Christine found herself swallowing as the last person she was prepared to come face-to-face with alongside the poison pen journalist strode forward up the path to the Crouch's home, the ends of his coat flowing in the breeze.

"S-stay away from me," she growled as none other than her uncle, Linden Lestrange, came to stand in front of her, the dark-haired wizard's expression blank and menacing as he stared at her a moment.

She felt the blood drain from her face and bile rise in the back of her throat. Though she had no chance to speak to the man who had attacked her and ruined her life all those months ago in the back of Knockturn Alley as the front door to the Crouch family manor opened and Winky poked her head in through the door and let out a shrill shriek.

"Mistress Skeeter, you's is very nearly late for your interview, Master Crouch is waiting for you in his sitting room, Master Barty does not like to be kept waiting, if you's could follow Winky, if you's please, Winky will take you straight to Master Crouch," the house-elf squeaked in a voice laden with disapproval as her batlike ears drooped.

Though the creature's wide eyes widened until Christine thought they were in danger of popping out of her eye sockets as she flicked her curious gaze toward Christine and Linden. It was clear that Barty's house-elf was wondering at the obvious animosity between them, for Christine caught her expression shifting to one of concern.

"Yes, yes, elf, I was about to…." Rita Skeeter shifted her weight from one foot to the other and jutted out a hip and rested a hand on her hip as she turned to look towards her traveling companion. "Lestrange, I am afraid I would have to see you after my interview with Crouch."

Christine's stomach churned and her heart sank to the pit of her stomach as Linden stepped aside, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat as he shook his head, convincing the journalist she needed to attend to the more urgent matter. Rita Skeeter's sigh was enough to tell Christine how grateful she was for her uncle's toleration.

Christine suspected her uncle was in league with the journalist, perhaps bribing the witch with fat bags of Galleons to keep the truth of her attack that night in Knockturn Alley secret.

"I will speak with you later, then."

"Go, Rita, it's quite alright, we will speak together in a more comfortable hour," Linden bid Rita Skeeter willfully even before the journalist had scurried away with Winky and inside the manor.

Flicking her gaze towards the door, Christine saw the Crouch family's house-elf hesitate to close the door behind her once Rita Skeeter was fully inside the entryway.

Winky was unsure of whether to leave Christine alone with the intimidating wizard in their front yard. Christine could only tilt her head and tried to smile at the house-elf to show Winky that she was going to be alright.

Seeming at least a little satisfied, Winky let the door quietly close behind her, leaving her alone with her uncle. Christine tried to vest herself to remain in one piece as she tore her gaze away from the door and to Linden.

Christine swallowed and her heart heaved at the way Uncle Linden looked at her like he had caught her stealing and now was about to face an hour of the Cruciatus Curse as punishment.

His dark brown hair now flecked with bits of grey at the temples was unruly in the wind, his shirt underneath his coat slightly tousled, and the soles of his shoes were muddy, dirtying the cobblestone path he stood on in front of her.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes." Christine heard the bastard sniff and just the sound made her stomach lurch.

She could not stand how loud her thoughts were in the awkward silence that lingered between them. "

Why are you here, Linden?" she growled, unable to stop the note of fear from seeping its way unbidden to her voice. "He sent you, is that it? As punishment for the giant?" Christine felt her cheeks sting as Linden was already turning to her with a smile that mismatched the wizard's grim hot dark eyes.

Christine did not smile back and seeing the act of her attacker and own flesh and blood smiling at her made her swallow as she came to understand that the bastard was once more, imagining her now in no clothes. Christine looked her uncle up and down curtly before she turned away, suddenly wanting nothing more than to flee.

"What are you talking about?" repeated Linden Lestrange impatiently, his tone sour, clearly intrigued by this new information as it was news to him. Christine abruptly stopped and turned to glare at Linden sarcastically, a dark look appearing on the witch's face as her eyes flicked purest black for a moment before they reverted to their normal chocolate hue at the familiar sound of yet a third soul Apparating onto the Crouch's family's property.

Christine turned in the direction of the new arrival, her lips parted, and she felt her heart swell with hope to see Barty stalking up the path towards them, wand in hand, teeth bared in a vicious-looking snarl.

He froze when he came to stand protectively in front of her, one arm flung in front of her as though he thought he could prevent her from taking a step forward and rectifying the situation.

Barty's dark eyes narrowed. She felt her blood run cold.

She had never seen this side of the wizard when they had been classmates.

A new fear threatened to overtake Christine completely. His eyes had shifted, much like hers did when they turned the purest black when the demon within would rear its ugly head and she'd lose control. His dark eyes now burned with a rage she had never seen before in the wizard. In all the years Christine had known Barty, even from a distance as mere acquaintances, she was sure she had never seen him angry before. Frustrated, annoyed, yes, but never angry. The growl Barty released from deep within his chest sent a thrill through her.

Merlin's Beard, what was wrong with her?! Somewhere deep within her, a small part of her was thrilled to be the center of attention of such a handsome wizard, and yet, she knew what Barty was capable of.

She suspected he would never hurt her but seeing him like this…for her…was terrifying.

"You will not touch her," Barty growled, his voice tinny and hoarse. "You will say nothing to your niece, Lestrange, is that understood?" Barty snarled, the edges of the Death Eater's mouth turning down into a vicious scowl. "Look elsewhere unless you want to find yourself blinded and without your eyes. I'd gouge them out the Muggle way with a knife and stuff them down your throat and make you choke on them as I force you to eat them, bastard," he hissed. Christine flinched. She'd heard more than enough as a dark look passed between Uncle Linden and Barty.

There would be a duel soon, Christine could feel it in her bones. A violent shudder went down her spine as she quickly moved to stand in between Barty and her uncle. As cold and apathetic as she acted towards her uncle since he'd taken everything from her, she would not wish death upon the man.

"Stop, Barty, please," she begged in a shaky voice. "This—this is not necessary, he's not worth it!" she cried. For a moment that seemed interminably long and frozen in time, there was nothing but silence between the two wizards.

But then, she heard Barty let out a frustrated exhale and then he looked away. She let the set of her shoulders relax a little and tried to convey her thanks with just a single look. She watched as Barty briefly locked eyes with her before he turned his attention back to Linden, his cheeks now flushed pink.

The wizard stiffened and spoke in a low and dangerous voice to Christine's uncle as he stalked forward.

"Keep away from my partner, bastard, and do not make me say it again. If you ever lay a hand on her again, I swear with Merlin as my witness, then I'll gut you from head to toe like the pig that you are—" Barty snarled, though Christine's uncle angrily cut him off and did not allow the frustrated Death Eater to complete his violent fantasy.

"—Then you may kill me slowly, Crouch, in whatever manner you wish," Linden snorted and held up his hands in mock surrender, though he backed away.

Barty smiled thinly, but the look did not reach the wizard's crazed hot dark eyes.

"Have no doubt I will, Lestrange."

Linden snorted as though he did not believe Barty would make good on his threat to butcher him if he touched Christine again. However, without another word or so much as a lingering glance to Christine, Linden Lestrange turned on his heels and Disapparated from the Crouch family's front yard, leaving Christine alone with Barty.

Barty turned and held Christine at arm's length, holding her roughly enough that she almost nearly bruised.

"Are you alright?" he asked hoarsely, unable to keep the note of anger from his voice as he looked her up and down slowly. Only when Christine numbly nodded did Barty continue. He paused and let out a shuddering breath. "He will not be coming near you ever again, Christine. If the wanker attempts it, I'll know," he growled quietly. "What you want, Christine, protection, shelter, what I can give you, what I can do for you…" Barty paused, thinking. "The way you deserve to be taken care of, I want to take care of you like that." Barty nearly smiled.

His hand moved downward, over her shoulder and his hand rested where her heart was. She swallowed hard as her body tightened by way of reply. Her blood turned hot and her skin flushed.

There was something in the wizard's voice that was not usually there. A softness, a kindness she suspected few had ever seen. It elevated her breathing and she felt faint. He played with a button of her cardigan.

"You trust me, Christine?"

She nodded.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice soft and timid, though she managed a weak smile, hoping to alleviate his concern.

"Good." This time, Barty did smile, though it was the hope in the man's eyes that caused Christine's shy smile to falter as Mr. Crouch's warning to stay away ran through her.

They were silent for a moment and Christine noticed Barty's chest heave before the wizard collected himself. He'd seen the distress brimming to life behind her eyes.

"What is it, Christine?" Barty asked softly.

"This date we're supposed to go on tonight, Barty, I don't think it's a very good idea. Your father, he…" She paused a moment and turned away. She looked up at Barty curiously from the corner of her lowered gaze and saw as the Death Eater's eyes darkened. His eyes moved from his hand to her hand, and she knew what the wizard was thinking of. It gave her courage and she boldly voiced Mr. Crouch's demand of her.

"He told me to stay away, that I was dangerous to you."

Barty did not allow any sort of emotion to grace his features. Instead, he merely looked at Christine blankly. But the wizard's eyes though, gave away his surprise and his brimming anger.

"What?"

"He told me to stay away," Christine repeated patiently and slowly. He bristled at her words, but Christine ignored him and kept on. "I'll go, if me being in your life is going to cause trouble for you and your family, Barty," she said.

He violently shook his head and his grip on her arm almost turned punishing as he squeezed hard enough to break her wrist, though he let go the minute a little cry of pain left the witch's lips.

"You truly think I would allow that? You're not going anywhere, Christine. Father is a fool to think that he could ever keep me from you," he growled, grinding his teeth in annoyance as he ran his other hand through his messy hair.

He seemed to decide something just then, for Barty's lips were over hers before she could protest. His kiss was not quick, Christine noticed with surprise as his lips, which were warm and coarse, tasted hers. Shocked, she broke the kiss first abruptly and pulled away. They were both panting now and the heat from her skin was so overwhelming, Barty wanted nothing more than to allow himself to be engulfed by it, to completely give himself to Christine and surrender to the witch. But Barty kept Christine at arm's length, forcing the witch to let go of him.

As they both stared at one another, their lips parted. Only one thought ran through her mind. For the first time since the Obscurus bound itself to her soul that ill-fated night in Knockturn Alley, Christine finally felt alive.

"Tonight?" Barty asked after a pause when he had regained some oxygen to his lungs, his voice teeming with anticipation as he left his question heavy in the air between them.

Barty's hand brushed against Christine's, sending a sudden tingling sensation throughout the witch's body. She lifted her face to his, their faces now only inches apart as he drew closer.

Christine bit the wall of her mouth as a thought occurred to her. Why was Barty so fixated on her and her alone?

"Why do you want to go out with me, Barty? I'm dying. There is nothing to gain by being with someone like me. Don't you see? We can't go out tonight," she blurted out, her words clumsy and blunt.

She cringed the moment the words left her words and she immediately wished she could take them back, but it was too late for that now.

"Barty, you know that I don't have much time left in this world. A year or two, maybe more. This parasite, it's taking everything from me." Christine sniffed and her face nearly crumpled as she fought back tears.

It was a moment before Barty spoke and when he did, he struggled to keep his voice steady as the wizard vehemently shook his head.

"Whatever it is that you're going through, Christine, I can handle it. If you let me. Because the alternative is unthinkable." Barty frowned. "Don't worry about Father, Christine. I will speak to him. He won't be bothering us," he reassured Christine in a confident tone, though she almost scoffed at his assuredness.

Now it was Christine's turn to frown at Barty in incredulous disbelief.

"You're certain that talking will be enough?" she asked skeptically, looking at him with raised suspicious brows.

"Yes." Barty nodded when he sensed that Christine was not satisfied with her answer. "My father does not dictate my life, Luv. He can't tell me who to befriend and who not to. Who to love and who not to, darling." Barty's gaze intensified, his dark eyes filling with a mixture of longing and hurt. "And why take a chance on you, Christine? I want the world at my fingertips, Christine, how's that for your why? But…more than that, I want the thrill of the forbidden. And in you, I see both. There is a way to remove the Obscurial from your soul, Christine, I know there is. The Dark Lord will help."

Christine's breath caught in her throat at Barty's words. Her heart pounded loudly against her ribs, and she was sure the Death Eater could hear it. She stretched out her hand, her fingers trembling, and gently brought her hand up to caress Barty's cheek. He leaned into her touch, his dark eyes never leaving hers.

It was a moment before she could speak. She swallowed hard as Barty looked at her, staring at her, his dark eyes thoughtful, but still hard to read. Her lips parted as she prepared to speak to him, but no sound came out and she closed her mouth.

She thought about her next words very carefully, but instead, she threw caution to the wind and wound up speaking to Barty honestly and openly, hoping the man would tell the truth.

"Why, Barty? Why do you want to hurt people?" she asked him in a shaky voice. "You have such a good life. A loving family. Wealth. You have everything you could want. Why?"

Barty only stared at her, but he began to blink rapidly as though he were trying to process her unexpected words. Oh, Merlin, she thought quickly, and she lifted a hand to tuck some loose hair behind his ear and pressed it away from his face. He stopped blinking and glanced down at her, his entire body taut and rigid as he pursed his lips.

"That's alright, Barty," she told him, disappointed. "You don't have to answer that."

She forced a smile. If only he would. She began to wonder if Barty did not understand himself and would be unable to tell her at all. "There's something about you, Barty…you are an enigma, and I will never understand you, but there is something of you that draws me in…." she sighed, already feeling herself surrendering to her desires.

Barty's lips curved into a seductive smile, his voice low and a mere whisper so only she could hear.

"Then let me make tonight a night to remember, Christine, darling. Let me take you to dinner tonight. Stay. Let me deal with Father. Winky will help you dress, you have an appalling sense of fashion, darling, but my house-elf can remedy that for you," he muttered, glancing down at her torn skirt at the hem.

Christine smiled shyly as she bravely lifted her face and touched her nose to Barty's, their lips less than a sigh apart and she closed her eyes. Without thinking, Christine pressed her lips to his in a kiss, they fit together so perfectly, she could not help but let out a sigh. She raised her hands to his neck and pulled him down. Christine could feel the fingers of his hands grip hold of the front of her cardigan, his fingers curling painfully tight around the fabric.

She had never been kissed before by a boy, and she could feel the tingling sensation spreading like wildfire through her veins. She felt a flame come to life inside of her, burning hotter and brighter when she deepened the kiss but then it fizzled when he pulled away. The flame was not extinguished entirely, though a terrible hallowing ache remained in her veins, a heat she could not extinguish, and she ached for his lips against hers.

Christine did not want the kiss to end, though eventually, it did. Christine could sense it as Barty broke the kiss, and as she craned her neck to look up into his eyes, there was a flame burning bright behind his dark eyes that had never been present in the man before, except when he was angry. They had not had enough.

Barty was still looking shocked that she had agreed to go on a date with him, but less so than he had expected himself to be. A hesitant smile crossed his features as he reached for the witch's hand and held it tightly. The world around them carried on as the two stood in silence, with Barty content to hold the witch's hand and not let her go. He certainly was not going to give her the chance. His knuckles turned white as his hands curled into fistfuls of her cardigan as he pulled her close so she was flush against his chest. His mind was racing with possibilities for tonight.

For the first time in his life, he was excited. It was as Christine shifted in his hug and he was resting his chin on top of her hair that a slight movement from the upstairs window, Father's study, caught his attention.

Barty caught the briefest glimpse of Linden Lestrange, having Apparated directly into their home, standing at the window. The wizard's face was reddened in rage, the bastard wanker's colorless grey eyes fueled in frustration.

Yet Christine's attacker withdrew from the window the moment Barty's intense gaze landed on him.

Barty stared menacingly back at him before he moved to press his lips to Christine's forehead in a kiss before flicking his gaze back to the window. His possessive body language spoke volumes to Christine's uncle without Barty having to dip into his talents in Legilimency and communicate with him. Yet he found himself doing it anyway.

Christine is mine, bastard, the withering look he shot Christine Lestrange's uncle at the window said to him now. Mine and mine alone. Come anywhere near her or even speak to her, and you're mine to kill as I please, rat.

When Barty looked up again, Linden Lestrange had vanished back behind the curtains.