FIC: "Persuasion" for ria_awesome Recipient:arcadian_dream Author:lee_west / westwardlee Title: Persuasion Rating: NC-17 Pairings: Barty Crouch Jr./Rabastan Lestrange Word Count: ~3,300 Warnings: Dark, with torture. There are wee kisses between young boys, but nothing explicit until they are eighteen and older. Summary: Barty Sr. had high expectations for his only son, a boy with extraordinary intellect and high morals: a career in the Ministry, a happy marriage to a nice witch, a few children with the same rectitude and intelligence. Fate had other plans. Author's Notes: Many thanks to my beta. arcadian_dream, thanks for listing the two boys; I've always been intrigued about Barty Jr.'s motives in joining the Death Eaters, and I really enjoyed writing this tale.
Barty walked stiffly between his parents across the crowded Platform 9 3/4, looking around surreptitiously, trying hard to disguise the fact that he was scared beyond belief. His mother's hand brushed his from time to time, and he was torn between the desire to grab hold of it and clutch it for comfort and the sound of his father's stern voice ringing in his ears, telling him that he was a big boy now and should act as such.
His father nodded at several people and actually stopped to shake hands with some of them, probably men as important as he was. Barty also noticed that his father ostentatiously blanked a few witches and wizards, most of them in green robes. Those were probably the "enemy," as Barty had come to know them. At least they were his father's enemies, dark wizards whom Barty Sr. detested above all.
Barty Jr.'s father had advised him to steer well clear of the Slytherins, especially those whose fathers were followers of the wizard who called himself Voldemort. But the boy wasn't too worried about them; he expected to be sorted into Ravenclaw, like his father and mother. He knew he was very intelligent and didn't really think any other house would suit him as well. And, once sorted, he would be spending most of his time with his housemates, with little or no chance to socialize with the Slytherins.
Students were hugging their parents goodbye and climbing into the Hogwarts Express. Barty flinched a little - it was time to go, to leave the comfortable home where his father admired him, his mother pampered him and Winky doted on him. The elf had been in tears when the Crouches were leaving home that morning: she had packed a large lunch for him with all the things he liked best, and pressed the bundle into his hands, her eyes red and swollen.
Barty swallowed hard. It would be very bad if he started crying over an elf! And there would be elves at Hogwarts too, to prepare his favorite foods, he was sure. It was just a matter of finding out where the kitchens were. He hugged his mother and followed his father on to the train and into a compartment where two students were already sitting; they were probably also first years, judging from their anxious faces. Barty Sr. nodded briefly at them and shook his son's hand formally.
"Good luck, son. I know you'll make us proud."
He left the compartment and Barty watched him remonstrating with his mother on the platform, obviously telling her it was time to go now. Without even being able to hear the words, Barty knew his father was complaining that he was late for work. But she stayed put, tears pouring down her face, and waved at Barty as the train pulled out.
He craned his neck to see her one last time, missing her already but embarrassed to show it. It wasn't until she was out of sight that he looked at his traveling companions a little more closely: a boy and a girl, who shyly introduced themselves to him as a twin brother and sister. They didn't seem very interesting, in his opinion. Probably Hufflepuff-bound.
At least they weren't Slytherins. According to his father, all evil wizards had a mean expression on their faces, but these two looked harmless, even pleasant. They could be Gryffindor, he supposed, but one thing he was sure of: the brother and sister definitely weren't bright enough for Ravenclaw. He wouldn't have too much to do with them, he decided, picking up a book and burying his face in it.
Suddenly there was a loud noise in the corridor outside. The twins started visibly, their eyes wide, and the girl squealed, "What's happening?"
Her brother, who obviously wasn't any braver - and obviously not destined for Gryffindor - told her they should sit quietly, especially as they could now make out the sound of angry, quarreling voices. Barty was as unwilling as they were to check out what was going on outside, but he refused to be as cowardly as those two children gazing apprehensively at the door. He stood up and, trying to look braver than he was feeling, opened the door and stuck his head outside.
He saw two boys with black hair, one of them very handsome and haughty-looking, the other with messy hair and glasses, They were facing up to a girl who could have been the handsome boy's twin, and two other students who looked like brothers.
There was no-one else outside, and all the other doors were closed, as if people knew better than interfere with the feud between the five students. Barty knew that the intelligent thing would be to go back inside and shut the door securely. But he just couldn't move. The two black-haired boys had on scarlet robes, which he knew from Hogwarts: A History meant they were Gryffindors. The others were in Slytherin green. He wondered if they would really fight, and his eyes darted from one group to the other. How strange that the handsome boy and the girl, who looked like relatives, were opposing each other. And one of the Slytherins was obviously younger than the others, probably no more than a couple years older than Barty himself.
The boy must have sensed Barty's eyes on him, because he turned and glared at him. He had cold green eyes and a disdainful look on his face. In a voice that was still unbroken, but laden with scorn, he said, "Aren't you a firstie? This is not for children. Go back to your compartment."
There was no disobeying that voice. Barty went back into his compartment and closed the door. He remained there until they arrived at Hogwarts, ignoring his companions, wondering who that boy with the cold green eyes could be.
It didn't take Barty more than a couple of days to identify the green-eyed boy as Rabastan Lestrange. It was a name he'd heard before in his house, during the dinners to which high Ministry officials were invited. His father had always made a point of allowing Barty to attend those events, taking the time afterwards to explain the topics of discussion. It was no secret that Barty Sr. wanted his son to follow in his footsteps at the Ministry, and eventually surpass him. It was never too early to learn.
And, of course, his father had mentioned the name Lestrange many times, never in a good way; and certainly often enough for Barty to know that he should have nothing to do with Rabastan.
It was too bad that he often felt those piercing green eyes fixed on him. His place at the Ravenclaw table was right across from the Slytherin's, and as the first weeks of term went past, he found it increasingly difficult to avoid staring at Rabastan.
He was feeling a strange desire to talk to Rabastan, even be friends with him, but, of course, that would never be possible. He should concentrate on making friends in his own house.
Barty found an empty compartment and cheerfully waved goodbye to his mother. His father had, of course, been too busy to accompany his son to King's Cross. Besides, at fourteen, in his fourth year, Barty considered himself way too grown-up to have his parents seeing him off. It was bad enough that his mother insisted on coming and was now, as usual, crying openly as the train pulled out.
Just as the train rounded the bend, the door opened and Rabastan came in. He locked the door and, with an easy grace, sat down next to Barty.
"How was your summer?" Rabastan asked, as he'd done for the past two Septembers, his voice deep and more sensuous than before.
"Boring," Barty answered. "The same old people and relatives." He stretched his legs, happy that his voice was now deeper and less childish. "Yours?"
"Went abroad with the family, same as usual." Rabastan leant closer to Barty, whose heart skipped a beat.
Barty flattened his straw-colored hair and fervently wished that he wasn't so freckled. Rabastan had become even more handsome during the holidays, and his complexion was flawless. At sixteen it seemed like adolescence had passed him by, and he looked like a young man. He was very tall, and Barty wondered when he'd stop growing. As it was, the two years' difference between them felt like decades.
He had a horrible crush on Rabastan; now he knew that he'd felt that way since that first meeting three years before. It had gone from a childish infatuation to something that was too complex for him to fathom. His feelings had been exacerbated towards the end of his first year, the day Rabastan cornered him in the library and demanded why Barty was always looking at him. Barty could only respond by staring at him yet again, and the encounter culminated with the soft brush of Rabastan's lips on Barty's, and the words, "There's much more to come, little boy, once you grow up."
It had only happened that once, and Barty kept wondering when Rabastan would consider him grown up. He didn't dare ask, the same way he didn't dare start anything, for fear of rejection. Rabastan didn't even talk to him again after that day, until September first on the Hogwarts Express, when he walked into Barty's compartment and spent most of the trip making small talk about school and the summer holidays, all the while sitting so close to Barty that they could almost have been sharing a body.
During the school year they rarely acknowledged each other's presence, although Barty seldom thought about anything else. Rabastan was with him in his dreams at night, during lessons and free time alike. He followed Rabastan's every move, and could hardly bear the knowledge that he couldn't talk to him in public, in case his father heard that he was consorting with the enemy.
This past summer, however, had been almost unbearable. Barty's hormones were raging and, more often than he'd ever admit, he'd only been able to fall asleep after jerking off, making believe that Rabastan's hands, instead of his own, were bringing him to ecstasy. In the mornings, he avoided Winky's eyes while she changed his soiled sheets. He was terrified that his mother might find out, but the good elf adored him and kept quiet.
But there was nothing he wanted more than to have Rabastan in bed with him, especially now, as they sat together in the otherwise empty compartment.
"You've grown a lot this summer," Rabastan said appreciatively, and Barty was sure he'd edged a bit closer.
He swallowed hard and asked, "Grown up enough for you?"
Rabastan threw his head back and laughed out loud. "Eager, aren't you? But, sadly, not yet. I don't want to get into trouble and be sent to Azkaban for corrupting a child. But one day, when you're an adult wizard," he whispered in Barty's ear, "I'll show you. Just wait." He kissed Barty's lips softly and stood up. "You're too tempting. I'd better take my leave now." With a mock bow, he unlocked the door and was gone.
Barty cursed his impulsiveness. Now he didn't even have Rabastan's company for the long trip.
Barty was looking around the platform anxiously, craning his neck to see if he could spot Rabastan. His mother was chattering next to him, informing him needlessly that he had to study harder that year to get as many O.W.L.s as he could. He was not paying any attention to her - he'd made up his mind to get twelve O.W.L.s and he would achieve that goal. He had the brains for it. Besides, he spent a lot of time in the library, because his housemates bored him and the library was the only place he could see Rabastan once in a while. Granted, whenever Rabastan graced the library with his presence, Barty couldn't concentrate on his work. The penetrating green eyes were constantly staring at him and, a few times, Rabastan gave a small, secret smile that made Barty shiver with anticipation of the pleasures to come. One day.
This would be Rabastan's seventh and final year, and Barty was already sad that he wouldn't have his company the following September. He knew he had to get on to the train if he was to find an empty compartment for the two of them, but he was feeling uneasy: normally Rabastan was already waiting at the platform when he arrived, easy to spot with his tall good looks.
Just as he was giving up hope, he glanced at the train and saw Rabastan sitting in a window seat, watching him with a smirk. Barty grinned happily, waved his mother good-bye and boarded the train quickly. He was anxious for the meeting - in a rare owl sent that summer, Rabastan had promised Barty that he was now old enough for a real kiss.
Hogwarts lost all appeal to Barty once Rabastan had left. Without any distraction, he immersed himself even more in his studies. He had, indeed, achieved his twelve O.W.L.s, which made his father proud beyond belief. Barty Sr. had taken his son to the Ministry many times that summer, introducing him to the heads of departments and dropping hints that in two years Barty might well be working for them.
Barty himself was not that sure; during Rabastan's last year - and after the many kisses they had exchanged - he had become very interested in Rabastan's political views. In reality, Barty didn't have anything against non-purebloods, but Rabastan was very convincing, especially when his mouth was so close to Barty's. He had also promised Barty many things as soon as he turned seventeen, including a meeting with a powerful wizard who could transform his life. Barty was no fool and he knew exactly who the powerful wizard was. He also knew that there would be hell to pay if his father suspected that he was friends with one of the powerful wizard's followers.
But what his father didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Besides, Rabastan was also promising other, even more enticing things as soon as Barty came of age. He would agree to meet any wizard, dark or not, in exchange for time alone with Rabastan.
Barty could hardly wait until his birthday in June. A couple of weeks later, at the end of term, he arrived at King's Cross and shook his head when he saw his mother waiting for him. That was pathetic - he was, after all, an adult. He brushed aside her invitation to lunch.
"Sorry, mother, I'm having lunch with a friend."
"Who? A girl?" she asked anxiously.
"No, a boy. He finished last year and I haven't seen him since then."
He ignored her question. "I have to go, mother. I'm running late." He kissed her forehead, shrank his trunk and handed it to her. "Can you take it home for me?" He rushed to the Floo area and directly to Lestrange Manor, where he fell right into Rabastan's arms.
Finally, he was grown up enough.
Barty spent most of the summer with Rabastan. The Lestranges welcomed him into their house and, if they knew exactly what kind of friend he was to Rabastan, they never let it show. It irritated him that he had to go home from time to time, but at least his father was rarely there during the day, so he could do pretty well what he wanted. His mother fretted about his absences, but he only told her that he was with friends. And Winky covered for him many times, when he was not home until the small hours of the morning.
Slowly and steadily, he was indoctrinated by Rabastan, until he started believing in the supremacy of the purebloods. One day, dizzy after lovemaking, he finally consented to meet the Dark Lord. He would have done anything that Rabastan had asked him that day; he didn't even flinch when Rabastan told him that he would receive a mark of allegiance to the Dark Lord.
Barty dreaded to think how his father would react to such a mark. And he wondered what his father would say if he knew that Barty would never marry a nice witch or have children, or follow his father into the Ministry.
"Crucio!" four voices exclaimed in unison.
During an evening in London, they had cornered a group of homeless men, huddled together under their thin coats for warmth. It had been almost too easy to subdue them and take them to Lestrange Manor for what Bellatrix called "a little practice session."
The men's screams would have been heart-wrenching to a more sympathetic crowd. But for Barty and the three Lestranges, the sound was like music to their ears.
"Now you alone, love," Rabastan whispered hoarsely in Barty's ear. "Get the youngest one, he's coming to."
Barty shivered. He knew that tone of voice, which promised amazing sex as soon as the men were disposed of - or maybe even while Bellatrix was finishing them off. Rabastan got turned on most by torture, by the screams of the victim, by the sight of blood.
Especially by the sight of blood. Barty lifted his wand and shouted, "Reseco!". The Muggle screamed when his arm was sliced off, and blood spurted from the wound. Rabastan let out a cry of pleasure, and pressed his body more closely against Barty's.
Barty suppressed a smile and gallantly indicated to her that she should deliver the final blow. It was all he had time to do, because Rabastan pulled him by the hand, in the direction of their room.
"Crucio!" Of the four voices, Bellatrix's was the loudest. And, instead of four different targets, the four Death Eaters were concentrating their curses on the same person, the Auror Frank Longbottom. His wife, Alice, lay prostrate on the floor, of no further interest to them for the moment.
Frank, after a loud scream, passed out like his wife. Sweating from the effort, Bellatrix lowered her wand for a brief moment before directing it back to Alice. "I'll revive her, and we'll do it again and again, until she dies," she snarled, almost insane with the pain of having lost her Lord.
Her husband immediately agreed, but, when she looked at her brother-in-law, she must have noticed that his mind was somewhere else. He was grabbing Barty from behind, thrusting his pelvis against Barty's buttocks. Barty's eyes were closed, and he was pressing against Rabastan in tandem with the thrusts.
"Rabastan," she called out, "just fuck him and get this over with. I need your help to finish up here."
Rabastan didn't need any more incentive. He quickly undressed Barty and pulled his own robes over his head. Barty had a moment's hesitation: he was a bit ashamed of being naked and having public sex, but, as Bella and Rodolphus screamed Crucio! again, Rabastan whispered a spell and entered Barty, who forgot all about modesty.
Alice's screams were drowned by the two men's cries of pleasure and they were just about to come when they heard the crash of splintering wood as the door was broken down. A large group of Aurors stormed in, wands at the ready, shouting jinxes as they fanned out around the room. Rabastan had only enough time to separate from Barty before they were hit by a strong Impediment Jinx and frozen in place.
Mad-Eye Moody watched the two men with an inscrutable face. Then, shaking his head, he said to Barty, "I don't know if your father would be more shocked by this display or by the mark on your arm." Then snidely, "I'll make sure you two have separate cells in Azkaban."
Azkaban. The fool didn't know that he would never go to Azkaban. His father would never let him be sent there. He would make up a story, pretend he had been under the Imperius curse. He would be free.