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rarepair_shortsTitle: The Importance of Being A Black
Character Pairing: Severus Snape/Barty Crouch, Jr.
Prompt: "is that your final answer?"
Rating: PG
Word Count: 787
Summary: “Oh, Barty, no,” she sighs. The loving tone in her voice is strange, and Barty doesn’t like it. “I meant real solutions...”
Author's Notes: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5.
Link to Prompt Table: Link!
In the morning, Barty tries to go about his business – getting breakfast, getting clothed – as though nothing happened. He can’t rely upon Kreacher (the elf isn’t Winky and, as such, doesn’t know the specifications to follow) and evading Rabastan’s ever-watchful eye is sometimes difficult, but given that sleep is rare for both of them, early mornings often find Rabastan in bed.
To be honest, Barty can’t much help waking early; the less time he spends with those vile creations of his mind, the better. True enough, he loves them – rather, how they make him feel – but they cannot gain more ground. They already have his sleeping mind, and they already trouble his waking hours more than their fair share; to let them have any more of himself would only end in ruin. For as much as he doesn’t like his father, pointless rebellion against him wouldn’t prove anything. Indulging these horrors would be, if nothing else could claim the title, entirely pointless.
The old man shows up in the visions, sometimes. Before shambling into the kitchen this morning, Barty dreamt again that he tortured Evans, killed her, and made Severus watch. This time, though, Father was also present, and found himself sliced from nave to chops – and by his only son, the supposed weakling. While making tea, Barty sees the previous night play out again, but he tries not to think about it.
“Have a good night?” Bellatrix, and her hand on his shoulder. Barty didn’t even see her come in, he was so preoccupied with his tea. Her voice is light, deceptively sweet.
“I’ve had better,” Barty answers bluntly.
“There are solutions for that, you realize.”
“They say there are, but nothing works.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Sleeping is a solution. Rest is a solution. This whole, bloody trip is a solution, but-”
Bellatrix laughs loudly enough to silence him. “Oh, Barty, no,” she sighs. The loving tone in her voice is strange, and Barty doesn’t like it. “I meant real solutions, not those anodynes that Rabastan so foolishly subscribes to.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, so if you’d care to elucidate things for me, I’ll listen.”
Her eyes glint then and Barty remembers things that Regulus has said to him and Rab in whispers. About that madman, Voldemort, and his henchmen, the Death Eaters. They’ve had a surge in activity against Mudbloods and Muggles, oddly coincidental with Bellatrix’s uncharacteristic good mood. Cup of tea and saucer in hand, she follows Barty to the table, still smiling, still pleasant.
“Don’t deny it, Barty,” she says delicately. “It’s quite alright. After all, it’s what you’re bred for-”
“Excuse me-”
“Was your grandmother Charis Black or not?”
“Yes, she was, but that hardly-”
“So admit you are a Black. Your father and grandfather were rather disappointing, but you’re different. You know you are.”
“Fine, I’m a Black. What does that-”
“Those dreams you have – and yes, I do know that you have them; I had them too at your age, and, aside from that, you and Rabastan are louder than you two seem to think; it’s lucky for you that Regulus and Rodolphus sleep like rocks – anyway. You have those dreams for a reason.”
“Yes. Because I’m jealous and need a rest from schoolwork.”
“Hardly! You have them because of your power!”
Barty pauses, dumbstruck. “My… power?”
“Your power. My power. The power of all Blacks, even those disappointments named Sirius and Andromeda. They only think that they can run from it-”
“I have no idea what you’re-”
“There’s a reason why we are better than the common rabble, Barty, and it is not just about money or purity of blood. We have the power in us for immeasurable greatness, and yours is just starting to awaken.”
“But it wants me to-”
“Don’t fight it! Embrace it!”
“Bellatrix! It wants me to kill someone I don’t know, just because she’s in my way! I – no. I can’t embrace that.”
She smiles knowingly, nostalgically, and sits back in her chair, sipping her tea as though he’s said nothing. The silence is nerve damage.
“No, no,” she says finally, her voice more wistful than Barty likes. “Perhaps you can’t just now. We all come into it at different rates. When you’re ready, though, I will gladly be your instructor.”
“I won’t be ready. I’m not going to just… accept this.”
“That’s what Rodolphus said,” she comments lovingly. “I’d tell you to ask the Auror down the road how that turned out, but I’m afraid that you’ll find that he and his Mudblood wife are quite incapacitated.”
With a laugh, she finishes her tea and leaves Barty alone. The Prophet headline for that morning: “Unknown Dark Wizards Murder Favourite Auror.”
Character Pairing: Severus Snape/Barty Crouch, Jr.
Prompt: "is that your final answer?"
Rating: PG
Word Count: 787
Summary: “Oh, Barty, no,” she sighs. The loving tone in her voice is strange, and Barty doesn’t like it. “I meant real solutions...”
Author's Notes: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5.
Link to Prompt Table: Link!
In the morning, Barty tries to go about his business – getting breakfast, getting clothed – as though nothing happened. He can’t rely upon Kreacher (the elf isn’t Winky and, as such, doesn’t know the specifications to follow) and evading Rabastan’s ever-watchful eye is sometimes difficult, but given that sleep is rare for both of them, early mornings often find Rabastan in bed.
To be honest, Barty can’t much help waking early; the less time he spends with those vile creations of his mind, the better. True enough, he loves them – rather, how they make him feel – but they cannot gain more ground. They already have his sleeping mind, and they already trouble his waking hours more than their fair share; to let them have any more of himself would only end in ruin. For as much as he doesn’t like his father, pointless rebellion against him wouldn’t prove anything. Indulging these horrors would be, if nothing else could claim the title, entirely pointless.
The old man shows up in the visions, sometimes. Before shambling into the kitchen this morning, Barty dreamt again that he tortured Evans, killed her, and made Severus watch. This time, though, Father was also present, and found himself sliced from nave to chops – and by his only son, the supposed weakling. While making tea, Barty sees the previous night play out again, but he tries not to think about it.
“Have a good night?” Bellatrix, and her hand on his shoulder. Barty didn’t even see her come in, he was so preoccupied with his tea. Her voice is light, deceptively sweet.
“I’ve had better,” Barty answers bluntly.
“There are solutions for that, you realize.”
“They say there are, but nothing works.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Sleeping is a solution. Rest is a solution. This whole, bloody trip is a solution, but-”
Bellatrix laughs loudly enough to silence him. “Oh, Barty, no,” she sighs. The loving tone in her voice is strange, and Barty doesn’t like it. “I meant real solutions, not those anodynes that Rabastan so foolishly subscribes to.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, so if you’d care to elucidate things for me, I’ll listen.”
Her eyes glint then and Barty remembers things that Regulus has said to him and Rab in whispers. About that madman, Voldemort, and his henchmen, the Death Eaters. They’ve had a surge in activity against Mudbloods and Muggles, oddly coincidental with Bellatrix’s uncharacteristic good mood. Cup of tea and saucer in hand, she follows Barty to the table, still smiling, still pleasant.
“Don’t deny it, Barty,” she says delicately. “It’s quite alright. After all, it’s what you’re bred for-”
“Excuse me-”
“Was your grandmother Charis Black or not?”
“Yes, she was, but that hardly-”
“So admit you are a Black. Your father and grandfather were rather disappointing, but you’re different. You know you are.”
“Fine, I’m a Black. What does that-”
“Those dreams you have – and yes, I do know that you have them; I had them too at your age, and, aside from that, you and Rabastan are louder than you two seem to think; it’s lucky for you that Regulus and Rodolphus sleep like rocks – anyway. You have those dreams for a reason.”
“Yes. Because I’m jealous and need a rest from schoolwork.”
“Hardly! You have them because of your power!”
Barty pauses, dumbstruck. “My… power?”
“Your power. My power. The power of all Blacks, even those disappointments named Sirius and Andromeda. They only think that they can run from it-”
“I have no idea what you’re-”
“There’s a reason why we are better than the common rabble, Barty, and it is not just about money or purity of blood. We have the power in us for immeasurable greatness, and yours is just starting to awaken.”
“But it wants me to-”
“Don’t fight it! Embrace it!”
“Bellatrix! It wants me to kill someone I don’t know, just because she’s in my way! I – no. I can’t embrace that.”
She smiles knowingly, nostalgically, and sits back in her chair, sipping her tea as though he’s said nothing. The silence is nerve damage.
“No, no,” she says finally, her voice more wistful than Barty likes. “Perhaps you can’t just now. We all come into it at different rates. When you’re ready, though, I will gladly be your instructor.”
“I won’t be ready. I’m not going to just… accept this.”
“That’s what Rodolphus said,” she comments lovingly. “I’d tell you to ask the Auror down the road how that turned out, but I’m afraid that you’ll find that he and his Mudblood wife are quite incapacitated.”
With a laugh, she finishes her tea and leaves Barty alone. The Prophet headline for that morning: “Unknown Dark Wizards Murder Favourite Auror.”
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Date: 2007-11-03 08:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-03 09:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-06 11:49 pm (UTC)Yay Barty. I'm totally rooting for him now. :)
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Date: 2007-11-07 04:23 am (UTC)Thank you! ♥♥