Chapter Five
No Mercy
For one blissful moment Hermione believed she was safe in her own house when Crookshanks jumped onto her chest and began licking her hair as if to clean it. One heavenly moment she was home and about to get up to go to work and then go and see Harry. Then the moment was ripped out of her as she cracked open one eye to see the ash, dusted walls of Barty's house. A heaviness entered her heart, be it from the near death by drowning or reality being crueler than fantasy she didn't know and nor did it really matter.
She was still a prisoner to a deranged Death Eater with sickening delusions.
Hermione held Crookshanks close to her chest and shoved her face into the thick orange fur in hopes of disappearing into it. Where was her Gryffindor bravery now? She had dealt with bullying, with torture, and the threat of death a number of times and yet no one terrified her as much as Barty Crouch. His wild eyes, his sadistic words, his aura of evil was like having Voldemort's venomous whispers inside her head again. The devilish whispering to let Harry die. No. She had ignored them then and she would ignore them now.
Carefully she stood up, Crookshanks still cradled in her arms, and felt her bones cracking. Lying on a stone-cold kitchen floor all night really wasn't her greatest decision. Her eyes fluttered to the sink behind her and bile rose up in her throat. Twenty-two years old and the sight of her sink churned her stomach. Honestly.
Thankfully light seeped through the window above the sink and it looked as if early dawn was spreading over the garden of the house. Hermione noticed that the garden was very unkempt. Weeds rose high like grapes vines and wrapped around decaying hedges, statues, and other decorations left to rot. One wave of a wand could restore it, restore the whole house even, but Barty had done nothing. Why?
A floorboard creaking upstairs made her freeze. He was still alive then, a pity. As the heavy footsteps echoed towards the staircase Hermione hastily sat down at the kitchen table and casually stroked Crookshanks fur. When Barty walked in their eyes met for a while, just staring, a silent competition as to who would look away first. Hermione lost easily enough. No one would want to stare into those eyes if they wanted to remain sane.
Barty stumbled about like before and went up to the window to gaze onto the rising dawn. The light that touched his rugged, stubbled face didn't sit well with her. He was a man of darkness and even she felt offended as surely the sunlight was to have to illuminate such a beast. He suddenly turned around, eyes narrowed at her, and then pointed to the door she had tried to open last night.
"Didn't take you long to try and open that. The so called 'brightest witch of her age' stumped by a charmed door, tsk tsk."
Hermione glowered at him. "Hard to open a charmed door without a wand."
"True, yes, true," he said, walking back over to the table and looming above her, "but I thought you'd impress me. At least a little. In fact you've been rather a disappointment Miss Granger." He sat down beside her and still made sure to invade her personal space. Crookshanks hissed him away to which Barty only hissed back. He really was feral. "How did a stupid little girl like you defeat the Dark Lord, I wonder. Oh I know it was all down to Mr Potter but you and Weasley were always trailing after him to help him out. Poor boy couldn't tell his arse from his elbow most of the time. But you, no you were smart. Smarter than Potter, smarter than even Dumbledore given the chance. And yet here you are with me, a prisoner, without a brain cell awake enough to escape."
When a tear slipped down Hermione's cheek he grinned viciously.
"Such a shame you're a muggle-born. You could have been so much more. But I stand by what I said before, if you provoke me I will make you wish you were never born."
"A man of your word, hm?" Hermione croaked.
"Precisely. You'll want to remember that today."
Hermione's ears pricked up. "What's today?"
Barty chuckled darkly. "There is not one morsel of food in this house and I for one am not a happy man without food. Then again," he cocked his head and looked hungrily at Crookshanks, "that may smell and look like an old carpet but I bet it tastes delightful."
Hermione fell for his threat and brought Crookshanks closer to her. "You wouldn't dare."
"Oh but I would if that was the last option. But, alas, instead I have you and you're going to go into the muggle town here and buy some food."
"I don't have money."
"I have a wallet I stole off a drunk muggle a few days ago, I'm sure that will suffice."
Hermione's jaw tightened. "Did you kill them?"
Barty's tongue flicked out dangerously. "Do you really want to know?"
"Yes," Hermione spoke bravely.
His head cocked again as if amused. Dark eyes wandered over her face as if calculating some difficult sum. "Usually I would love to divulge those sort of interactions but I know your game, Miss Granger. You think if I tell you you can then tell the Ministry about all the awful things I did to you and that muggle when the aurors finally catch up with me. Well, sorry to burst your moral little bubble but...the aurors will never come. As far as the wizarding world is concerned I'm dead. As you know that worked pretty well for me last time."
Hermione wanted to scream in his smug face. Instead she answered calmly, "the Ministry is better now. They'll catch you."
Barty bellowed out a genuine laugh. "Better? You deluded little girl the Ministry is as bad as ever. Haven't you noticed how the Daily Prophet hasn't mentioned any of the dark marks appearing since the Dark Lord's demise? Haven't you noticed the whispering voices around corners? The underlying feeling that someone might be watching you? Ready to betray you? The Ministry is a balloon, a tense balloon filled with fear and paranoia and panic. And all it needs is a prick of a needle to burst it."
"And you're that needle, aren't you?" Hermione asked, barely containing her growing anger.
Barty answered, "as much as I would like it Miss Granger. No. I am not the needle. I have one mission and after that the Ministry can do what it damn well wants with me."
Of course that was all he cared about. "You just want to kill Harry. To avenge your dead master. If you weren't such a monster I would pity you."
Barty's face contorted into quiet rage. He spat, "good because I don't want your pity."
He stood up sharply and snatched Hermione's wrist. Crookshanks hissed but quickly leapt out of her arms to escape the room. She thought at first as he pulled her close until their bodies were practically touching. His cold hand and heated body was a sickening mixture. "Let go!"
"I'm warning you Miss Granger. You are going to come with me without a fuss and if you make any move to disobey me I'll not only kill everyone in this grotesque little town!" He howled above her cries.
She stopped fighting. Defeat spread like fire through her veins.
"Good girl, now we're getting somewhere."
The next moment they were apparated into a narrow alleyway. Hermione was pressed between a brick wall and Barty. He glowered deviously at the growing flush across her cheeks.
"As if I would lower myself to fuck you. Stop panicking, it's incredibly annoying." He cursed, disgusted.
The flush turned into surprise. His vulgarity was not something she had expected. Afterall, Death Eater or not he was the son of a high-up Ministry official and had likely grown up in a well-mannered and almost aristocratic household. Still his words put her at some ease that he wouldn't force himself onto her. Then again, even if it meant dying she would never let him touch her.
"Now," he said, begrudgingly pulling her out of her thoughts, "no funny business. I want to be here as little as possible. We will go into the little shop on the corner, you will buy what we need and then we will leave again. Understood?"
She nodded her head. His slippery hand gripped her own tightly and then he guided her around the corner towards a red-painted shop. Her eyes befell children playing on a crudely constructed playground across the road, and then onto a couple strolling the opposite way to them with a pram, and then onto an elderly gentle powering towards the pub while leaning on a walking stick. He would kill all these people if disobeyed. Anyone else she would have called it a bluff but Barty was different, in that, he really had nothing left to lose. Yes he wanted Harry dead, more than anything, but she was certain he would drop his plan and just go for the kill anyway.
To him this was a hunt. A hunt could be completed with or without traps.
Upon entering the shop Hermione was bombarded with the familiar sweet shop smell like the one back at home. Though she despised sweets thanks to her parents, she would always stand in the shop with other girls from school she had tried to befriend. All of them had ignored her. They much prefered their sweet tooth over her.
"Hurry up," Barty whispered into her ear.
Yanking her hand out of his she grabbed a small metallic basket and began studying the rows of food to try. She ignored his looming presence close to her. He never moved an inch away the entire time she filled the basket with essentials and also food she hoped he would hate. He was a pure-blood and most of this food would go well over his head, therefore she was in no danger when she added items like sardines and pickles into the basket. Her eyes rested on a box of chocolates with a small smile.
Every year without fail her father would buy her mother one box of chocolate for their anniversary. Everytime her mother had offered to share them with her and everytime Hermione had declined. Now, she may never get the chance.
"You okay there, dear?"
Hermione turned to see a middle-aged woman smiling warmly up at her. Without meaning to her stare landed on the woman's wheelchair and then guiltily back to the woman's face. "It's alright love, everybody does it."
"They shouldn't," Hermione replied, "they shouldn't see it at all."
"Well unless it suddenly turns invisible I don't think that's possible. Anywho, my name is Monica and I co-own the shop."
Hermione couldn't help a few tears falling down her face. She wiped them away roughly when Monica looked concerned. "S-sorry, that's erm, that's my mother's name."
Monica smiled amicably. "That's alright dear. I don't think I've seen you around before, have you just moved here?"
Before Hermione could think up a lie or spill everything out, Barty crept up behind her and snaked an arm around her waist.
"Yes, last week in fact," Barty answered cheerfully. Though cheerful Hermione could hear the strain as he tried to keep it up. "Little bird flew away from home to come with me. I really don't know how I got so lucky."
Monica clapped her hands excitedly. "And how long have you two been together?"
"Oh about, I wonder, it'll be a week now. Isn't that right, love?"
Hermione fought the urge to slap his hand away and nodded.
"Only a week?" Monica asked, she appeared only to be a little confused. "Then again young love is a fickle thing."
"Innit just," Barty answered. He was enjoying this far too much.
"So, how did you two meet? If you don't mind me asking, of course."
"Oh no, no it's quite alright. I was a teacher, you see, and this little bird wouldn't leave me alone. At first I was professional and told her no, but, who could resist such an elegant girl?" Barty paused to use his other hand to curl a strand of her hair behind an ear. Monica's smile was showing signs of slipping. "We plan to get married eventually. Tell me, does the vicar here mind marrying couples who have eloped?"
Monica's face dropped.
"I'll take that as a no. Ah well, we can always try can't we?" Barty bent down close to her ear and added as the woman wheeled herself away, "almost done, dear?"
Hermione shakily nodded her head again.
She finished up quickly and Barty handed her the wallet. He was right there was enough. There was enough for at least one more shopping trip. Guilt blazoned inside of her as she saw a photo of a woman and a child inside a pocket of the wallet. She slammed it shut again.
Grunting, Hermione carried the basket towards the counter where another woman much older than Monica was waiting with the same warm smile. All of a sudden the weight was snatched out of her hand and Barty stormed past her. He must have gotten frustrated at how long she was taking.
"I'll carry that for you, love."
Hermione reluctantly stood beside him as the woman scanned the items. "Such a gentleman," she praised.
He's no such thing. A hand latched onto her shoulder and squeezed. A shallow breath left her lips. "Isn't he just?" She whispered. She felt sick.
"Every man should respect what he has, that's my motto."
The woman's eyebrow raised. Something mischievous radiated from her. "There really isn't that many men like you these days."
Barty chuckled as he squeezed Hermione's shoulder again. Harder. "You flatter me. I like to think of myself as one of a kind."
"I hope not," the woman snorted, "otherwise we would have to clone you."
Hermione was close to bursting but luckily the woman finished scanning before she could retort. Hermione handed over the money and between them they managed to carry the bags back to the alleyway.
"I always have been a good actor," Barty announced.
Once they apparated into the house again Hermione erupted.
"How dare you!" You humiliated me like that on purpose."
"It stopped her talking didn't it?" He hissed. He dropped the bags onto the table with a heavy thud and paid no attention to the items that rolled out onto the floor. "Any longer and I would've tortured the both of them."
"I wouldn't let you," Hermione snarled back.
"Without a wand, I doubt that very much. Now, put this food away."
"No. You will not order me about you-you sick monster!"
It was a mistake.
A bad, bad mistake.
He began to tremble violently even though his face was a picture of calm. She took a step back. It was no use as he vaulted over the table with ease and seized her neck. She forced down a squeal. She would not relent this time. She would not. Her throat was still bruised from his last assault and it prickled with needle-like pain as he clamped down around it. It was still a surprisingly loose grip.
He spoke lowly. "I told you before. No. Second. Chances. Yet your tongue is still taunting me, maybe I should cut it out."
"No, no please," she choked. "I-I'll be good."
"I believe you will Miss Granger," he replied. His hand remained on her throat. "Call your cat."
"W-what?"
"Call your cat, now," he commanded.
Hermione tried to shake her head. "No please don't-"
"CALL YOUR CAT!"
Her heart was beating so furiously it drowned out the echoing silence from his shout. Every fibre in her wanted to scream that she wouldn't, to snatch his wand from his pocket and make him beg mercy from her.
It would do her no good.
"C-crookshanks," she called. No answer. "Crookshanks!"
Padded paws sounded from the other room and abruptly Crookshanks jumped up onto the table. Barty roughly spun her to the side so she could see him and Crookshanks, his eyes filled with pooling darkness. He pointed his wand at her beautiful cat, his big snake-slit eyes stared at Hermione with love. She couldn't look away. This would hurt him so much; it was killing her.
"Avada kedavra!"
There was a scream.
A loud, ear-splitting scream that shot out of Hermione's mouth. Coldness ran through her once the green flash dissipated. She dropped to the floor, the hand on her throat the only thing keeping her steady, and sobbed.
An orange lump was directly in her eyeline, unmoving.
"You weren't going to kill him. You were only going to-to…"
"I am a man of my word, Miss Granger," Barty spoke softly, "and a man can lie as easily as he can tell the truth."
He left her there to sob. Alone.
I did warn that it was going to get very dark.
Hermione will get braver as time goes on, but I like to think after so many years of Death Eaters being somewhat out of her life it's like a shock to the system.
Not entirely sure what the direction of this story is but it's definitely becoming longer than originally planned...oops
