Author's Note: In celebration of my birthday today (I'm so old now, but don't let ANYONE tell you that you have to give up your nerdy little hobbies just because you're an adult. That's none of their business.), I am updating all of my current WIPs throughout today and even debuting the first chapter of a new one I have been working quietly on in the background. Please feel free to Follow/Subscribe me to get all of the updates.


Chapter Twenty

Harry needed the entire day on New Year's Day to recover from his ill-advised bout of drinking the night before. It had been a long time since he had a hangover that severe. Usually he was a much more seasoned drinker able to handle his liquor. But, he reminded himself, he wasn't used to drinking Muggle drinks and there was a marked difference in what he had become accustomed to in the wizarding world. Perhaps if he'd spent more time drinking with Muggles he would've built up a better tolerance.

As miserable as he felt when he dared to open his eyes again, he knew he wouldn't be going near a Muggle pub for a very long time, if ever. He could drink an entire bottle of fire whiskey with no side effects the next day, a skill he wasn't exactly proud of, but some of the other liquors he wasn't familiar with took their toll. And even more unfortunately, hangover potions weren't always effective in curing Muggle-induced miseries. He'd had a terrible day recovering and there was no one that he could blame except himself.

If he felt better, he might have gone straight over to Hermione's house after he read the news in the Daily Prophet. Only the fear of throwing up on her post-Apparition kept him in London. It would likely not be a surprise to her what he learned. She was perfectly capable of reading the newspaper herself. He wasn't sure if there was any help he could offer anyway. There had been enough tension between the two old friends in recent months. Part of him, the least Gryffindor-like he supposed, was a bit of a coward when it came to their friendship. What if she blamed him for the untimely article? All of their progress, of which there was very little, could be lost in a matter of moments.

When he woke up on January 2nd feeling marginally more like himself, he knew he made the right decision. Rushing over to Hermione to commiserate was no way to attempt to celebrate the first day of the year. He thought it best to wait until after Hermione's workday before going over to her house. That would give her nearly two days to come to terms with the fact that her secret was out. Maybe she would be calm enough by that point to believe him when he told her he wasn't the one who reported it to the Daily Prophet.

The front page on New Years Day was entirely about the news that his destroying the last of the dementors was responsible for bringing notorious Death Eater Bartemius Crouch Jr back essentially from the dead. Of course because the Ministry of Magic had done such a thorough job hiding the fact that he was able to escape from Azkaban in the first place and no one under Fudge's inept leadership wanted to admit he'd been allowed to kidnap and impersonate a Hogwarts professor for nearly an entire year a number of other revelations were also made public.

He must've read every word at least three times before his headache forced him to throw the newspaper across the room as he'd initially intended to do. According to the article, it had been a story that the horrible reporters at the Daily Prophet had been quietly working on for weeks. That was the only reason Harry felt confident that his behavior at Christmas wasn't why the secret got out. Someone else blabbed. Secrets always had a way of getting out.

There would have been very little for him to worry about where it came to Hermione if it hadn't been for a single line at the end of the article announcing that Crouch was currently living under house arrest in her home. No doubt Rita Skeeter was responsible for making sure that was widely known. It was pathetic how much the bitch still hated Hermione. How many more years would she hold onto the grudge? Until she died?

It wasn't difficult to bribe one of the wizards stationed at the security desk in the Ministry's Atrium to send him a message through the floo that Hermione had left for the night. Thanks to his fame he was able to offer nothing more than a signed picture to a guard to know exactly when his friend finally decided to go home. Wouldn't Gilderoy Lockhart just love to know he'd been reduced to autographing photographs? No doubt the man would attribute all of Harry's success to his one year of teaching if he could still remember what his name was.

Once he had his signal, he took a deep breath and rushed out of his front door before he could talk himself out of going. She wouldn't appreciate his interference, she never did, but he didn't care. What she was going through was far bigger than her, far bigger than even she could imagine. He'd been a shit friend for years as his obsession with destroying the world's dementors took over his better sense. She deserved more than to be stuck with a useless friend like him. All of his friends did.

His feet landed just steps away from Hermione's front door. With a practiced confidence he didn't truly feel, Harry approached the wooden slab. He held his fist up to knock. The intense flash of bright camera bulbs stopped him at once. He spun around to see at least six different reporters staring back. Their shouted questions were nearly impossible to understand as they drowned each other out.


Kissing Barty Crouch back was wrong. Hermione knew it just as well as she knew her own name and the proper pronunciations for an effective levitation spell. It was madness even if it turned out he was a remarkably good kisser. Who would have ever expected that out of someone like him who spent nearly his entire adult existence locked away in some manner of inescapable prison? She wouldn't have guessed even if she allowed herself to admit once or twice since he'd moved into her house she'd been somewhat curious.

But curiosity was one thing. Usually it was perfectly harmless and entirely natural. Giving in to the urge to kiss a known murderer she could hardly stand on the best of days was something else. Something wrong and evil and maybe even a little desperate. There was no acceptable excuse to allow the man's lips to stay pressed against hers and his tongue… she couldn't bear to think too much about that.

The kiss was nothing less than passionate. She had been fortunate enough to have some truly memorable kisses in her past, but none of them seemed to capture all of her senses quite like that one next to the cliffs. Was it because she was in her favorite place, a location she had never really shared with anyone else before or because she had gone so long since she could say she had lost herself in an embrace? Kisses with Kingsley had their own sort of naughty, dirty passion like they were doing something they shouldn't be doing. Not at all like kissing Barty. She longed for more even as she berated herself for allowing it to happen in the first place. Had there ever been a more frustrating woman in existence so full of contradictions? Unlikely.

She knew she would try to justify her lack of discipline later when she was alone. If she had been thinking clearly, she wouldn't have allowed the man close enough to grab her at all and if she had any self-control whatsoever, she would've pushed him away from her body with all her might the very moment he dared to touch her lips with his. But she was a flawed and imperfect human being who craved the touch of another far more than she realized. In her temporary moment of insanity, she might have allowed the unreal situation to last longer if they both hadn't needed to catch their breath.

Away from his mouth for even just a second brought her crushing back to a confused reality.

"What… why… what was that for?"

If Barty felt any shame for his actions, he hid it well behind an amused smirk and a careless shrug of his shoulders.

"Curiosity. I've been wondering for awhile now what that would be like."

Instead of stepping back away from her like a proper gentleman might, Barty started to move even closer to her, his intention to pick up right where they ended clear in his facial expression. Hermione possessed just enough sense in that moment to push him away and step back far enough that he lost his hold on her waist. Her head was spinning. Nothing that happened since she approached him had gone as she expected. She was having trouble coming to terms with the fact that she was tempted to let him kiss her again. Barty didn't seem offended by her escape. His smirk only grew larger.

"I just thought we were both so uncomfortable around each other for the kiss that was hardly even a kiss that we might as well have a proper kiss we could really feel shame for."

No, based on his smirk and the twinkle in his eyes, he felt no shame for his part in the excitement whatsoever. Pride perhaps, but absolutely not a hint of shame. Hermione could only stare at him unsure what to say or think for a few seconds before a laugh bubbled out of her unexpectedly. Why was she laughing? It didn't make any sense at all. Everything seemed so bizarre. Was she even awake? Amused by her reaction, Barty laughed too. She felt ridiculous. The laughter only lasted for a minute before she started to feel the shame of what they'd done.

"We shouldn't have done that."

"Why not? We are adults. We're both single. What did that kiss just ruin?"

She knew she couldn't really answer his questions. Not truthfully or in any sort of way that wouldn't potentially harm his feelings. If they were any other two people, there would be nothing wrong with what they just did. There was a seventeen year age gap between them but that was nothing in the wizarding world. No one would even bat an eye. Barty was far more intelligent than she gave him credit for. He exhaled a heavy breath.

"But I understand. You'll never see me as anything other than the Death Eater I used to be."

There was a resigned sadness in his tone that struck Hermione straight to her heart. Purely on instinct she wanted to contradict what he said, but she didn't get even a single word out of her mouth before she knew she had to stop. There was truth in what he said no matter how much she might have tried to deny it. How could she ever truly look beyond his past? She might have believed he'd completed his sentence and was owed the opportunity to have a second chance. That did not mean she could forget his crimes. He murdered his own father and there were others she probably didn't even know about. Without his interference and his role in getting Voldemort back into a serviceable body, how many lives could've been saved? How much heartache and pain would have been avoided? He had the blood of countless innocents on his hands. She shook her head in an attempt to bring herself out of the madness of the moment and back to reality.

"It doesn't matter what I think about you. You only wanted to kiss me because you've been cooped up alone with me for weeks. I could be any other woman and you would still feel the same way."

Barty's eyes narrowed at her statement. She felt a chill move up her spine she couldn't explain.

"Do you really believe that, Hermione?"

How was he able to confuse her so with just a simple question? A short time earlier, weeks really, she would not have given a single care in the entire world what the man thought of her. What had changed? Why was it suddenly so important that his thoughts about her be positive?

A gentle hand landed on her arm. She wasn't sure why she didn't shrug out of his grip when he grasped her just a little bit harder. There was an unexpected comfort she felt from the gesture. Perhaps she was losing her mind entirely. Part of her had always feared the day would eventually come.

"Do you really and truly believe that the only reason I might be attracted to you is because of close proximity and that's all?"

"Well… yes. It's not all that unusual really. There's something called the Principle of Propin…"

He stopped her nervous rambling with a finger pressed against her mouth. There was another amused smirk on his lips again.

"You really have surrounded yourself with nothing but blind idiots, haven't you?"

She didn't know how to respond to that or even entirely what he meant. Sure, she could admit that the dried bones of her disaster of a dating past weren't exactly ones she could always be proud of. There were beings in her past she wished she could forget had ever laid a finger on her skin or been close enough to breathe the same air. Something about what he said made her feel uncomfortable in a way she didn't fully grasp. How could one single person cause her such discomfort and stress with nothing but words?

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

His laughter was a little harsh with a hint of bitterness or even anger inside it. He dropped his hand to his side. She watched him clench his fist tightly. Did he want to hit something? Or was he just trying to keep from reaching out and grabbing her again? She wasn't sure which option frightened her more.

"You think too poorly about yourself and none of the men you choose to associate with seem to be intelligent enough to know that you deserve far more than you give yourself credit for."

Her cheeks burned once more. That time she knew it had nothing to do with the wind blowing off the cold ocean water. How did he have such an effect over her? One sentence had her questioning her entire reality and one touch of her skin had her ready to throw all of her good sense away entirely. She decided she must still be in shock from the kiss. Why else was she wanting him to kiss her again? Only temporary insanity could be a reasonable answer. She was lonely and vulnerable. He had been strangely kind. It was easy to forget who he really was when he didn't act like a monster. She almost wished he would return to that horrible person she saw in the hospital the day he woke up. Seeing a new side of him was confusing and upsetting.

Putting distance between them seemed to be the only suitable way to come back to her senses. She turned away from him to start the walk back home.

"It's cold. You can stay outside if you want, but I'm going in where it's warm."

Hermione was only able to make it a few steps away before she felt a strong hand on her waist again. Spinning her around in one swift motion, Barty captured her mouth with his. There wasn't time to protest him kissing her again. Not that she seemed all that anxious to do so. It was madness and a terrible idea but she didn't push him away. No, the thought of breaking the connection between them in that moment made her unbearably sad. Very little encouragement was required to make her an active and enthusiastic part of their shared kiss.

The most distressing of her thoughts were easily pushed aside to be dealt with at a later time. Later there would be plenty of opportunity to obsess over what she did wrong and how she could have prevented it from happening in the first place. What were the cold, lonely hours alone in her bed for if not for replaying and dissecting every upsetting and exciting moment of her life? She would worry about it all then.

There was no easy way to tell how long they clung to each other, memorizing the landscape of the other's mouth, learning what was an effective method of pulling a low moan of satisfaction from their unlikely partner. It likely would've lasted quite a bit longer if they hadn't been interrupted by the arrival of a silvery stag. Perhaps they might have even gone much further than she was willing to admit to herself was possible. She would have to thank Harry for the interruption of his patronus when she stopped being frustrated.

"Hermione, where are you? I'm at your front door. There's a large crowd of reporters outside. Let me in."

His message made very little sense. Why would there be reporters outside her home? She assumed they followed Harry, the Dementor Destroyer, there for their own selfish purposes. One glance at Barty's worried face made her doubt her conclusion. Did he think it was something else?

All thoughts about their kisses were easily pushed away. They could worry about the ramifications of such a reckless act later when they had more answers. She practically ran all the way back to her house with Barty following only steps behind.

Sneaking into her back door without being seen by the reporters was easy enough. Once safely inside her home, Hermione rushed to the front door to open it up cautiously. Harry was frustrated and clearly annoyed. The very moment that she appeared in the doorframe, the reporters began to yell out questions. She couldn't understand any of them. Without waiting to be invited inside, Harry pushed his way in, closing the door loudly behind him. His heavy sigh was immediately misinterpreted by his old friend.

"It must be very tiring to always be followed by reporters like that. I'm sorry."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her sarcastic remark. Truthfully, she wasn't even sure why she said something that could be thought of as being so nasty. Sometimes the words just came out of her mouth without much thought.

"They aren't here for me."

When it was obvious that she didn't understand what he was talking about, Harry sighed again.

"I know you hate the Daily Prophet, but you really should read it from time to time."

She didn't understand why that was necessary. Most of what was printed in that newspaper wasn't worth reading. Harry removed a folded newspaper from inside his pocket and pushed it into her hands.

The story on the front page was announcing Barty's return and the fact that he was currently being housed in her home. Hermione was angry by the announcement, but not terribly surprised it was finally out. Just behind her she could feel Barty reading the paper over her shoulder. Hyper aware of his presence, she had to remind herself to breathe.

"We always knew the fact I'm alive was going to get out eventually. We've prepared for this."

Hermione wished she was felt as confident as he sounded. She also wished he would take a couple of steps back. It was hard to focus on the topic at hand when all she could think of were their kisses by the cliffs.

"The story broke yesterday. I assumed you would've had time to come to terms with it by now."

The odd looks she'd gotten from other officials at the Ministry finally made sense. No doubt all of them had been quick to read the latest news. She suddenly felt very tired and worried about what was going to happen next. As of that moment, she still did not have any kind of reliable or effective plan.

"I've asked around and none of our friends was the one that told."

There was a temptation to blurt out a correction that they were his friends and not hers really any longer, but she stopped herself. What was the point in having that conversation?

"That's a relief, I suppose."

"It could've been a number of people at St. Mungo's or the Ministry."

Barty stated the obvious that no one could argue. There was no secret that could be kept for very long when well over a dozen people knew it.

"Why are they so interested that they're waiting outside? I didn't even see them when I got home."

Because her mind was too focused on what she would say to Barty when she entered her house. She didn't pay any attention at all to her surroundings. That was a mistake she couldn't make again. Next time there might be someone or something nearby that would make her regret her complacency.

"You know how the newspapers work, Hermione. They're always chasing after the most sensational story of the moment and…"

"That's me."

She turned away from Harry towards the sound of Barty's voice almost as if by instinct. Once their eyes met over her shoulder, he grinned.

"You have to admit that I'm a fascinating subject."

How was she supposed to respond to a cheeky remark like that? She just stared at him for several seconds until the sound of Harry clearing his throat reminded her that he was still there. When she saw her visitor, he was the one who seemed the most uncomfortable. Why? She almost wished she could read his mind, but ultimately decided it was probably best she couldn't.

"I should go, but promise me you'll be careful. They're going to be watching you very closely to see if you do something. As much as Rita Skeeter still hates you…"

"I know. I know. She's bound to be particularly nasty."

"It'll be easier when there's a definitive answer to what's going to happen to Mr. Crouch. I'm going to start talking to some of those with some influence."

"I'm still looking through the laws."

"I'm sure you're doing a very thorough job, but might I politely suggest you try to speed it up?"

Though tempted to say something snarky in response, she held her tongue. Harry was at least a little right. She could be doing more. There was always something that could be done.

Shouts from reporters followed Harry out the door when he left moments later. There was no reason to linger once he made his announcement. As soon as the front door shut behind him again, the atmosphere inside the house grew tense. Alone again, Hermione worried what they were going to talk about. Even more so, she was worried she would be silly enough to let him kiss her again. Already she'd proven that day to not be in the best frame of mind. Instead of waiting for the awkward moment to finally arrive, she tried to make her escape to her bedroom. The sound of his voice stopped her in the doorway.

"Are you going to drink too much sleeping potion to avoid me again?"

Entirely unsure how she could answer that question, all Hermione could do was stare at him over her shoulder. He wasn't smiling nor did she see any sign of cruelty in his expression. If there was any emotion at all, she thought it might be grief. Or pity? Was the wizard really capable of pitying her?

"I spent over a decade asleep. It's not the escape you might think it is."

Barty knew far more about her than Hermione was comfortable with. She knew that even as she tried to deny the truth.

"I'm not escaping."

He was kind enough not to call her out on her obvious lie.

"Don't worry that I'll follow you in there. I will respect your closed bedroom door."

She hadn't even considered the possibility that he might try to follow her inside. Not even after the passionate kisses just a short time earlier. It was a promise that she appreciated. After a silent nod acknowledging his statement, she turned fully back around to enter the bedroom. Before she could get the door shut, he called out.

"My bedroom door, however, is unlocked and you are always welcome."

Hiding in her bedroom for the rest of the night was truly the only proper response to such a bold declaration. She knew she was a coward. He knew she was one too. How could he not after she all but sealed herself inside the room with spells? She wasn't afraid that he would come barging in despite promising he wouldn't. No, she was more concerned that she might be foolish and lonely enough to barge through his door.

When morning arrived, she practically snuck around the house to avoid Barty at all cost. She spent far too much time the night before reliving their kisses and imagining what would happen if she took him up on his bold invitation. The hatred she felt for herself for feeling tempted was strong. Did she not already have enough to worry about in her life as it was? Creating even more complications was hardly a good idea.

It was her hope that if she left her house early enough she might avoid any reporters waiting outside looking for some sort of story. Unfortunately, she was annoyed to discover a couple standing only a few meters away from her front door. Had they been there all night? Absolutely pathetic. What sort of story were they hoping to get? Of course remembering how Barty kissed her, she imagined they would probably find that a very interesting story. No doubt Rita would be delighted. The entire front page might be taken over by her lies and insinuations.

There were few officials already in the Ministry of Magic when she arrived. That wasn't unusual considering how early she arrived. She was glad to get to her office without drawing any unnecessary attention. All she wanted to do was what Harry asked her the day before. She wanted to be able to focus all of her attention on finding the solution to the Barty problem. Unfortunately, there was a lot of regular work that needed to be completed before she could return to her research. She picked up the first contract off of the large stack on the desk and began to read. Her quill with red ink immediately found something to mark.

The sound of the office door squeaking open startled Hermione out of her thoughts. She'd lost count the number of contracts she had been able to review in the hours since she arrived. One glance up at the new arrival and she had to fight back an annoyed groan. Blaise had returned from his holiday abroad in an annoyingly chipper mood.

"How was your Christmas, Hermione? Did you and Crouch make the holidays unforgettable?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, wishing desperately that he'd opted not to return for another week or two. Dealing with him was rarely easy.

"Not especially, no. The secret is out. The Daily Prophet reported that he's alive and living in my house. I can't walk out my front door without being verbally assaulted by reporters or blinded by camera flashes."

If it was possible, and Hermione wasn't entirely certain that it was, Blaise actually appeared to be somewhat embarrassed by her news. A sheepish expression replaced the cheeky grin he was used to wearing.

"Yes, I'm afraid that might have been my fault."

Of the dozen or so people who might have been the one to let the secret out, she didn't know why she never suspected her fellow legal analyst. Maybe because he liked to tease her, but didn't actually seem to care enough to be bothered by the complications in her life.

"What do you mean?"

"I may have let it slip when I was alone with a particularly limber junior editor."

She wasn't sure she had ever been so annoyed in one single moment. Standing up rapidly from her desk, she pushed the contract she had been working on into his hands.

"You can finish that. I will be spending the rest of the day in the Ministry Archives trying to clean up the mess you made."

Blaise's laughter followed her out the door.

"Just admit you missed me while I was gone, love."