Written for The Houses Competition Y11, Round Challenge 1

House: Ravenclaw
Class: CoMC (stand-in)
Prompt: [Plot point] Mentoring someone
Word count: 1226
Betas: Charlotte, Rose, Dora, Bea

-x-x-x-

Barty Crouch Jr. was decent enough at Occlumency. Having lived among people from whom he had to hide his true nature for so many years, he had naturally learned to shield his mind. He had had to constantly watch himself, both at home and at Hogwarts, and now at his workplace in the Ministry. His basic Occlumency skills had been enough up to this point, but since he bore the Dark Mark–now that he belonged to the Dark Lord–he needed to be much better at hiding his secrets.

The Dark Lord always trained his most capable and loyal followers personally so that he could have the best use of them. Until now, mentoring Barty had been no hardship; the boy was smart and he learned quickly. However, when they began Occlumency lessons, for some reason, it was as if the boy suddenly stopped trying.

"You are making no progress at all," Voldemort hissed when Barty failed, yet again, to shield his mind from him.

Barty buried his face in his hands in exasperation.

"I'm so sorry, Master." His voice came muffled from behind his palms.

Voldemort put his wand away. He knew Barty well enough to rule out laziness as an issue. The boy lived to please his master and every task he was given was always carried out flawlessly.

"Would you like to tell me what's going on or should I read your thoughts on that?" He attempted a softer tone. "I know you are more than capable of mastering the art of Occlumency, Barty," he stated. "I've seen it in your mind. So, do tell me, why is it causing you such difficulty?"

Barty heaved a sigh.

"Perhaps it would be better if I trained this with somebody else," he blurted out.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow and an amused smile spread across his face.

"You do not think me a good enough teacher?" he teased without a hint of anger in his voice, but the boy's face paled nonetheless as he suddenly realized what he had said.

"No!" Barty exclaimed in panic. "I– Of course not! I'm honored to learn from you, Master! It's just–" He took a deep breath to steady himself under Voldemort's expectant gaze. "I belong to you, Master. I am yours, my mind is yours," he tried to explain. "It goes against my every instinct to shield my mind from you."

Voldemort regarded his young follower for a minute, then chuckled. There weren't many people who could still surprise him. The boy was really starting to be his absolute favorite.

It had been the intense devotion that Voldemort found the most appealing in him in the first place. Who knew it would be a source of problems at some point?

"Come now, Barty," he said with a smirk and a teasing glint in his eyes. "There must be some thoughts you'd rather keep hidden from me."

Barty's cheeks flushed red under his suggestive gaze, and Voldemort's smirk widened. Surely that subject would motivate him to exercise some privacy over his own mind.

Barty swallowed hard but forced himself to straighten up and meet Voldemort's eyes.

"I have no secrets from you, My Lord," he insisted.

Not even a lie. How interesting, Voldemort mused. He knew how afraid Barty was of his feelings being exposed, and yet he would rather risk everything than lie or keep anything from his master.

"All right," he said with a hint of challenge and drew his wand. "Let's try it again, then. Legilimens!"

He plunged into Barty's mind meeting no resistance, just like before. But this time he went straight for Barty's most private thoughts–the very ones the boy was so afraid of being brought to light–hoping to evoke some sort of reaction.

He skimmed through the boy's most guarded feelings–his intense infatuation with his master. Voldemort brushed against Barty's unconditional love, felt his burning desire, tasted his fierce longing, and the fear of his master finding out.

As he sensed overwhelming panic flood Barty, he knew he wasn't going to get anything out of his young follower in this state, so he withdrew from his mind.

Barty instantly fell to his knees and, for the first time since Voldemort had known him, began to tremble with fear.

"Please, forgive me, Master! I'm so sorry!" he sobbed. Voldemort briefly wondered whether he was being this apologetic for spectacularly failing at Occlumency once again or for the peculiar feelings he harbored. Barty begged hysterically, "Please, don't cast me away!"

Ah, the second thing then. Voldemort grunted.

"Pull yourself together, Barty," he hissed with irritation at the pathetic display. He bent to firmly grab the boy's chin and force his head up. Holding Barty's teary gaze, he said pointedly, "I already knew."

Barty blinked in surprise but seemed to calm down a bit.

"You did?"

"Yes," he said incredulously. "As I said, you do a very poor job of shielding your mind." He released Barty's chin roughly. "Now get up and listen to me," he ordered harshly and the boy sprang to his feet at once. "As much as I appreciate your categorical honesty, I am not teaching you this so that you can hide things from me. I'm teaching you so that you can shield your mind from others. You are one of my most capable followers, Barty, and I certainly plan to put you to good use. In your service, there will surely come a time when you will have to fool the minds of wizards and witches in very high places–one day, perhaps even Dumbledore himself."

Barty breathed heavily, overcome with emotion, but he was told to listen, not speak, so he just nodded his understanding.

"And even if you master the art of Occlumency and refuse to lower your defenses for me, rest assured," he continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes, "if I want to tear through them, I will."

Barty nodded vigorously once more.

"As for the other thing," Voldemort added as an afterthought, "I really don't care. As long as it doesn't interfere with your work or loyalty. Understood?"

"Yes, My Lord!" Barty exclaimed gratefully. "I would never– Of course, Master!"

"Now," Voldemort raised his wand once more. "Show me you are as talented as I take you for." Barty only had time to blush again before Voldemort cast the spell. "Legilimens!"

He steered his consciousness back to Barty's intimate thoughts. He felt the boy's anxiety in response, but it was not as uncontrollable as before–he could work with it.

"Block me, Barty," he instructed. "Make me stay away from here."

Slowly, he began to feel a slight resistance growing in power, gently pushing him away.

They went on for a few hours, repeating the procedure until Barty was able to keep Voldemort from accessing his private thoughts altogether.

"Better," he said at last, satisfied with the day's work. "Now we are finally starting to make some progress."

Barty smiled radiantly at the subtle praise, and Voldemort suddenly thought a smile looked quite bewitching on his handsome face. He caught himself considering the possibility of actually taking things to the bedroom sometime. After all, Barty was more than willing, so why not indulge himself in this pleasure? He'd have to make sure it wouldn't affect Barty's efficiency as a Death Eater, of course, but that was an issue for another day.