Warning: this chapter has some pretty disturbing images.


Chapter Four

The Warning


Without much fighting Hermione allowed him to grasp her arm and apparate to a house she didn't recognise. It was abandoned, that was certain, and fairely big. Hermione's eyes didn't wander around the room much as she was too concerned with Crookshanks still being in his sick clutches. She knew better than to anger him though, any angered Death Eater was fatal. He wouldn't intimidate her.

Hermione backed away from him with her front facing him so he couldn't make a move at her. She wore her best glare. "I've done what you wanted. Let Crookshanks go."

"I don't take orders from you," he sneered. He jabbed his wand into Crookshanks neck which earned him another hiss.

"Stop it!" She cried. "Please, I'll...I'll do what you say." It felt vile to beg, to say such belittling things to him. She had more worth than he ever would. She was Hermione Granger, gifted muggle-born who had help defeat Lord Voldemort. He was a worthless, pathetic being still trying to be loyal to a monsterous man that was dead beneath the dirt.

His eyes darkened, rage pulsing around him. "Your words mean nothing. Not when you are being so rude inside your head."

She gulped. "You're a-"

"Legilimens. Yes. So think very carefully about what you plan to do next."

Hermione stiffened. She had no doubts he would kill Crookshanks if she disobeyed, if she even dared to block him out of her thoughts. There really was nothing she could do except nod her head. Defeated.

"Good girl, now, give me your wand."

Hermione had almost forgotten it was still clutched tightly in her hand. She took another involuntarily step back. She wouldn't give up her wand, she couldn't. Her movement only enraged him.

"Give me your wand now," he seethed.

"Let go of Crookshanks first," she compromised and then added hastily, "please."

They both knew the request had to be answered, he couldn't hold Crookshanks and his wand if he wanted hers too. With venom he spat, "alright. Drop your wand and kick it over to me. Then I'll let the hairball go."

She bit the inside of her cheek but complied, her only defence sliding across the dusty floor to stop at his feet. There was a long pause where neither moved or spoke and for a second Hermione believed he would kill Crookshanks anyway. He didn't. He threw the cat towards her and Crookshanks flopped to the floor with a heavy thud. Hermione didn't think twice about scooping him up and hugging him tightly as the Death Eater bent down to pick up her wand. "You're a monster..." she uttered hatefully under her breath.

He still heard her and smirked cruelly. He fiddled with her wand between his fingers, studying it carefully before slowly licking it from bottom to tip. Hermione closed her eyes. Somehow that single act disgusted her more than when Cormac McLaggen had tried to sneak a slippery hand under her dress at Slughorn's party. She opened them again to see he was holding her wand length ways with that cruel smirk widening.

"A mudblood like you doesn't deserve a wand."

He snapped it before her eyes. A single white spark had protruded from the split centre before dying out. A dead, broken wand. She wanted to scream. She swallowed down her rage and glared at him. "Who are you?"

"Fiesty little thing, aren't you?" He mused darkly. "But of course where are my manners, my name is Barty Crouch."

Hermione's forehead creased. That wasn't right. "Barty Crouch is dead. Unless you're-" Hermione let out another gasp. "Of course you're his son. You were the one who made the dark mark above King's Cross, just like you did at the Quidditch World Cup."

"Still a smart little lion I see," he sneered. Barty's smirk did falter at the mention of his father however. "My pathetic father may have named me after him but as far as I'm concerned I am the only Barty Crouch. Tell me, little lion, did they find his bone?" He asked and then giggled maniacally.

Hermione sneered back, "no they didn't. But once the Ministry is through with you no one will give you a second thought. You'll be forgotten. Again."

"My Dark Lord never forgot me," Barty hissed.

Hermione let out a strangled laugh. Despite him being unstable and in control she couldn't help the stinging words leave her lips. "Never forgot you? Voldemort left you to rot in Azkaban while he helped other Death Eaters escape because you were nothing but a pawn to him!"

Before she was aware of it happening Crookshanks was out of her arms and Barty had his long fingers wrapped around her throat, choking her. She felt his deranged, hot breath against her face and wanted to look away from his blackened eyes. They were demonic. He yanked her head to the side so that he could whisper sharply into her ear, "don't you speak the Dark Lord's name you filthy little mudblood. One more word from you and I'll make you regret it. I'll make you regret the day your whore mother gave birth to you."

Hermione whimpered quietly. As much as she couldn't breathe, as much as Barty Crouch terrified her, the Gryffindor inside of her couldn't help her from croaking back, "your precious Dark Lord is dead. He died as just a sadistic, powerless man. Just like you will."

She didn't recall what happened next but her eyes flew open to find herself lying on the floor with pain tingling through her body. She tried to sit up, her heavy head making it difficult, and gently dabbed her hand to her throat. She hissed. She could feel the tender bruises beneath her fingertips. Had Barty strangled her into unconsciousness? If that were true the pain wouldn't be all through her body too. The penny dropped and she felt like vomiting. He must haved used the Cruciatus Curse on her.

With trembling legs she stood up and hugged herself. Roughly wiping away stray tears she was thankful that Barty wasn't in the room. Then again, she had no idea what she had done or said while he tortured her. Merlin's beard, she hoped she hadn't begged him to stop. The very thought twisted her belly more. "Crookshanks," she called hoarsely. No meow answered her.

Part of her was too fearful to leave the room to go look for him, after all, without knowing the house's layout she could very easily bump into Barty again. She shuddered. Her love for her cat that had been with her since she was thirteen was stronger than her fear of the Death Eater.

Hermione forcefully, albiet cautiously, explored the house in search of Crookshanks. On the ground floor she came across a rather large kitchen. It looked ancient due to its disuse. In the far corner of the kitchen was a faded, white door that probably led out to the garden. She rattled the door but felt the tingle of magical charms on the brass handle. Barty must have charmed it. She sighed and continued to explore.

There was also a a small toilet beneath the staircase. The staircase itself was wooden, much like the rest of the house, and it creaked loudly beneath her petite footsteps. Upstairs wasn't much better. She counted at least four rooms along the narrow landing and all of them were locked with the same charm on the door downstairs. She huffed. The dust in the air made her nose itch. She tried to call Crookshanks one last time and when no answer came again she sulked back downstairs towards the kitchen.

Hermione opened all the drawers and cupboards, her skin crawling at the spiders and lumps of dust that fell away when she did, and found a rusted cup hidden at the back. Thankfully no one had turned off the pipes connected to the house and water shot out of the sink. She gasped in a heavenly breath once she drained the cup and the cool water soothed her scratchy throat. Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, Hermione began to ponder what had happened with a clear head.

Something was off about all this. Obviously Barty wanted her to get to Harry, that was easy enough to understand, but why had he originally shot a harmless body-binding spell at her? He could have knocked her out and used the Imperius Curse. But no. He let her come with a margin of free will. It was odd.

And that wasn't the only odd thing either. From what she could remember Barty had been sentenced with the Dementor's Kiss straight away rather than being sent to Azkaban as Fudge, even then, wanted to hide away any evidence that Voldemort had returned. She remembered how lifeless Harry had been that night as he tried to explain everything to her and Ron. A whole year of Barty disguised as Moody. She wondered if he knew Moody was dead.

"It's rude to touch something that isn't yours without permission."

Hermione snapped her body around to see Barty leaning heavily against the kitchen doorway. He looked...ill. His chest was rising up and down rapidly and his skin was drenched in sweat.

Hermione raised her head and bravely met his eyes. "I needed a drink," she stated.

Barty's eyes narrowed. Though she didn't feel it she could tell he was searching her mind to see if she was telling the truth. He growled, clearly realising she was. He stumbled forward and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

Hermione, bravely or stupidly, asked what had been on her mind. "Why did you try to use a body-binding spell instead of just the Imperius Curse?"

She regretted it when his head turned to her with danger reeking off of him. He leaned forward with a sneer, "I didn't want to damage Potter's precious mudblood. At least not yet."

"Thought so," Hermione mumbled, "why this house? Is it yours?"

"Quiet. No more questions."

Hermione crossed her arms. "You do not scare me."

Barty leaned back with a small chuckle. "Really? Oh yes a brave little lion with too big a mouth. You should be. I still have yet to hear you beg."

Hermione smirked triumphantly. So she hadn't given him that satisfaction while under the Cruciatus Curse. Good. "And you never will."

Barty stood up and the screech from the chair legs made her flinch. Just like that he calmly strolled up to her until she felt the rim of the sink pressing into her back. He was far too close. The worst part was that he knew it too. They held a staring contest for what felt like painfully long minutes before Barty roughly grasped her chin. Hermione heard his other hand turn on the tap.

"I don't need magic to frighten you, Granger. Oh no. For you see a mudblood like you is likely more afraid of muggle intimidation than you are curses," Barty said far too calmly as the sink began to fill up. "I've seen the brand on your arm. Tell me who it was that did it."

Ripples of water splashed against her hands. She shook her head defiantly. "No."

Barty's initial ill look was one of sadistic pleasure now. "Then you will learn that I am not a man who shows mercy. No second chances."

The hand latched onto her chin slithered to the back of her neck and shoved her head into the water. Her mouth closed but it was hard to remain calm when being drowned. The water was sloshing all around her, taunting her, wanting her to open her mouth and allow it to finally consume her. Hermione tried in vain to fight against his strong grip when the need to breathe was becoming more and more urgent. He didn't let go. Not until her thrashing slowed down enough to almost become limp. He released her and she fell backwards. He was bemused by how she gulped for air like a fish. Coughing and spluttering and her hair slapping her face, Hermione wanted to cry. She was close to it too, so close to spilling out her suffering to this animalistic monster.

A trembling hand latched onto the dreaded sink and she slowly stood up. "Still...don't...scare...me," Hermione said between gasps.

"Doesn't matter," Barty spoke as cold as ice, "it was your one warning. Your one reminder that you are a powerless little girl against the army of Lord Voldemort."

Some army, she thought, but if Barty had heard her say it he made no action to say that he had.

"You step out of line again, mudblood, and I'll make you watch as I torture your precious cat. Now, you will remain in this house until I say otherwise. You will do as I say without question. And don't try to apparate, I have sealed this house with every security charm you can think of and more."

With that and another hard glare, Barty stumbled out of the room and Hermione was thankful to hear a slamming door above her head. All bravery left her and she crumpled to the floor and sobbed. Her entry into womanhood really hadn't changed much. Hermione wondered if she had entered it at all as she brought her knees up to her chest and silently sobbed until there were no more tears left to shed.


Barty fell onto the four-poster bed and paid no mind to the dust that shot up around him. He closed his heavy eyes but all he could see was Hermione's pale face gasping for breath. He hadn't meant to hold her under for so long. Just long enough to panic her slightly but his hand had refused to obey him, much like it had when he had tortured that insect in front of Longbottom. A lust to cause pain, fear, suffering.

It hadn't helped that he had only just taken control after another fall into the darkness, what had caused him to leave her screaming on the floor mid torture. He loathed unfinished work but if had stayed while consumed by his own mind he likely would have killed her. He needed her alive. He needed to complete the Dark Lord's mission. Finality was important.

His mind was racing and he felt the ice slithering into his chest. Not again. He had put it off for so long to make sure Hermione was where he needed her to be that he was now paying for it. Before the room began to spin something melted the ice, just for a moment, and he was shocked that his mind was still his own. He sat up, confused. His freedom didn't last long enough for him to wonder on a cause as the ice came back and sliced into his heart, shredding it, severing it.

He had just enough time to put a strong locking charm on the door before he faded into cold, cold blackness.