Written by: NeonDomino & Screaming Faeries for the Capture the Flag competition on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft of Wizardry (challenges & assignments).

Prompts used: (dialogue) "You will obey me", (word) lamp, (emotion) anticipation, (emotion) disgust, (word) staircase. - These have been underlined in the story.

Word Count: 4,272

Barty sighed as he headed towards the Library. In his haste earlier that day, he had forgotten one of the books he needed: 'A Practical Guide To Runes'. It had been written on the list he had left on his bedside table, but that list had mysteriously disappeared.

The updated version of the book had just arrived in the Library, and Barty had been working from an old copy which was over fifty years old. He needed that book straight away. He headed through the doors, paying no attention to the librarian who glanced his way, and walked over to the Runes section, where he knew the book would be.

As Barty turned down the aisle, he spotted Regulus Black leaning against the bookcase, flicking lazily through a book. Paying the other student little mind, Barty began scouring the shelves, searching for his book.

After two checks through the bookcase, Barty stepped away, frowning. Had someone checked the book out already? He couldn't think of anyone who would know about the updated version of the book. He only knew because he had been sending letters requesting information to the bookshops, who had informed him of the new book and also of Hogwarts' order for a copy.

"Can't find what you're looking for?" came a voice next to him, and Barty sent Regulus a sharp look—he didn't want his help.

His eyes moved down to the book in Regulus' hand, and his eyes widened at the sight of the indigo leather and gold writing on the front of the book.

This is what he had been searching for, and it was Black who had it all along.

"I require that book." Barty turned his full attention to Regulus.

"Ah, that'll be a problem," Regulus replied, his eyes not lifting from the page.

"A problem?" Barty repeated.

"Yeah," Regulus said. "You see, I'm in urgent need of this book right now. Now, if you were to consider sharing it with me…"

"I need to study it," Barty explained, trying to be patient with Regulus. "If you need it too, you could let me use this copy and I have a copy in the dormitory that you can use."

"This copy will be just fine," Regulus stated idly, turning a page and staring intently at the words on it. "I'll let you know when I'm finished with it."

"Black, I'm not in the mood for this," Barty snapped. "Just give me the book."

For a moment, Barty thought that Regulus was just going to hand it to him, as he carefully closed the book. His hopes were dashed as Regulus lifted the book above his head.

"Come and get it," Regulus murmured, shooting a wink in Barty's direction.

Barty stared at his dorm-mate. Did Regulus really just wink at him?

"You're not going to be able to reach it from over there," Regulus pushed. "You'll have to come closer." Barty didn't like the smile that played on his lips as he closed the distance, determined to leave with the book.

"Look," Barty muttered, advancing slowly on Regulus, hoping to reason with the other teen, and get away quickly. "I need that book for something I'm working on. I'll only need it for a couple of nights at the most. I'd really…appreciate it, if you'd let me check the book out first."

"And what's in it for me?" Regulus asked, raising his eyebrows. "What do I get out of this arrangement?"

Barty shrugged. "Is there something you want?" he asked.

"I have a few things in mind." Barty wasn't ready for the way Regulus' eyes moved down his body, slowly taking him in before quickly flicking up to his eyes. Barty was tempted to just walk out—clearly Regulus was messing with him, because he couldn't imagine that Regulus was attracted to him.

"Is there a problem here?"

They both turned away from each other, looking towards Madam Pince who was looking between the pair of them and the book. "Mr Crouch? Would you care to explain?"

"Nothing," he stated. He wasn't about to tell her that they were fighting over a book - she would probably ban them both from the library—plus, the other Slytherins would just give him more grief.

"Mr Black, I suggest you return that book to the shelf—be careful with it—and leave," she said, her eyes narrowed on Regulus.

"Spoilsport," he muttered. With another wink at Barty, he slid the book back onto the shelf and turned towards the doors.

Madam Pince gave Barty a suspicious look before leaving and once she was out of sight, Barty carefully took the book from the shelf and went to check it out.

Walking out of the library, book in hand, Barty briefly wondered what was going through Regulus' head. He tried to push it from his mind—he had more important things to think about.

Barty had forgotten the library incident by the next time he needed to go there. He made his way up through the castle, mentally cursing the library for being such a long distance away. Not paying attention, he didn't notice someone fall into step beside him.

"All alone I see," came a voice. Barty almost jumped as he turned to look at Regulus Black, rather than at the stairs. He cursed as his leg went through the trick-stair.

Arms encircled his waist, holding a lot tighter than Barty was used to and he was pulled out. Hands slid from around his waist, tightly gripping his hips as Barty attempted to regain his balance and a hand lowered, moving towards his arse.

Barty pulled away, glaring at Regulus, disgusted.

"This is the part where you thank me," Regulus stated, acting as though he hadn't tried to get a feel of Barty's behind.

"If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have fallen through that stair," Barty snapped.

"You're very welcome," Regulus replied, clearly amused. "I was going to do some studying myself, want some company?"

"No," Barty replied shortly. He quickly continued his journey, glad that Regulus had stayed where he was, on the staircase.

Barty was too busy to think about how Regulus Black had bothered him a second time. He needed to find a reference in one of the books. He had searched for about half an hour, finally spotting the heavy tome.

'The Advanced Guide to Non-Verbal Spells.'

He had been assured that all new books referred to this one, so he needed the information right from the source. He reached out, pulling the book from the shelf.

"Busy?"

Barty dropped the heavy book to the floor, the sound echoing throughout the library, causing students to glare in his direction. Barty didn't notice—he was too busy gagging on the dust that had flown from the book into his face.

He wiped at his face with his sleeve and looked back at the gap he had made in the bookcase to see Regulus Black looking very amused.

"What is the matter with you—" Barty began, watching the teen disappear from the bookcase, and quickly appear next to him. "What is it that you want from me?"

Regulus stared at him for a moment. "I don't think you're ready to hear what I want," he finally replied. "But I want to know more about you."

"What? You want to be friends? Is that what you're asking?"

Regulus nodded slowly, lost in thought. "Friends could work," he replied.

"Fine, whatever you want, just stop with whatever it is that you are doing."

Regulus smiled and leaned down, retrieving the book. Barty stared down at him, wondering why Regulus was lingering. Grey eyes met his and a seductive smirk crossed Regulus' face.

Before Barty could say anything, a cough interrupted them, and they both looked over at the glare Madam Pince was shooting them.

The Christmas holidays were supposed to be enjoyable. All of the other students at Hogwarts flocked to their homes when the Hogwarts Express arrived a few days before Christmas, looking forward to presents, family gatherings, and a huge turkey dinner. As he shuffled along the train, looking for an empty compartment, Barty heard various other students gloating about how much of a wonderful Christmas they were expecting to have. It took every ounce of strength inside Barty for him to not to express his envy.

Christmas at the Crouch household had never been particularly enjoyable. Barty's mother had tried her hardest when Barty was growing up, but his father was too much of a workaholic. He would work solidly throughout Christmas eve, hastily eat dinner on Christmas day, and then return his study shortly after, not to be seen again until Boxing Day.

However, this Christmas was bound to be different.

When Barty arrived home later that day, the manor was dark and gloomy. There were no curtains drawn; no sign of Winky the House Elf, no sweet voice of his mother calling him from the kitchen. As expected, his father was most likely shut up in his study, leaving Barty to fend for himself.

He wandered around the ground floor of the large house for a few moments, worry beginning to pool in his stomach as he realised that his mother was nowhere to be found. After a couple more minutes of consideration, he decided to brave going upstairs to his father's study.

After rapping on the wooden door several times, Barty's father finally replied, albeit slightly disgruntledly, from the other side. "What?" he uttered.

Barty slowly pushed the door open, and headed into his father's dimly lit study.

The place stunk of sweat and coffee and smoke from the awful pipe that he often smoked when he was under stress. Barty's father was sitting, hunched over at his desk, his quill scratching rapidly across a large sheet of parchment. His robes were loose at the neck and looked as though they hadn't been changed in days, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He didn't look up a Barty approached him.

"Hello, Father," Barty greeted slowly. When his father didn't respond, Barty cleared his throat. "I'm...I'm home from Hogwarts," he added stupidly.

"Obviously," murmured his father, still failing to turn and look at his son, never mind to give him a welcome.

Barty rolled his eyes behind his father's back, and went for another approach. "Where's Mother?" he asked. His father didn't respond. "Father? Where's Mother?" he reached out to grab his father's shoulder.

As soon as his hand made contact with the older man, his father whipped around on his stool, glaring up at Barty with malice in his eyes. "Bartemius, can't you see that I'm working," he hissed, his thick grey moustache quivering as he spoke.

"Where is Mother," repeated Barty, gritting his teeth. Frankly, he didn't care that his father apparently wanted nothing to do with him. If he was going to spend his Christmas at home, it was going to be spent with his mother.

His father licked his lips carefully, and sighed loudly, dropping his quill down on the parchment. "Son, I'm very busy," he told Barty, trying a softer tone to his voice. He gestured to what he was working on, which appeared to be a list of names. 'Avery', 'Lestrange' and 'Nott' stood out to Barty, and he felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. Those three were some of Barty's biggest tormentors at school—if his father had done anything else to reprimand their fathers, he was no doubt in for even more trouble when he returned to Hogwarts. "Your mother was...your mother was very ill, Bartemius."

Barty felt his heart sink. His mother had always been sickly and liable to contracting various illnesses. Tears prickled the backs of his eyeballs, and he felt his hands balling into fists. "Why didn't you write to me? I could've come home. Where did you bury her?" he demanded to know, biting back the urge to throw his fist straight into his father's face.

"Bury her?" his father looked dumbfounded. He adjusted his glasses quickly, and shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous, boy—your mother is in St. Mungos."

Barty cocked an eyebrow. "Why is she in there?"

"Well…" his father looked slightly uncomfortable. "Son, you know how much I am forced to work. There's just no way I can look after her this time...it's better for her if she is looked after professionally. I've paid a considerable amount of money for her to receive high quality care."

His father continued to sit there stoically, occasionally twitching his nose and shooting glances back to his parchment. Barty could tell that he didn't want to be here, in this conversation with his son. He wanted to be back in his work, back at the Ministry. It had probably been only just too easy for him to ship her straight to St. Mungos, the moment any sign of illness appeared.

"I want to go see her," Barty muttered, narrowing his eyes at his father. "I'm going to go see her, today."

His father shook his head, and stood up from his seat. "No, Bartemius. You'll only upset her. She's very ill."

"It's Christmas, Father!" Barty continued, his voice raising as irritation spread through him. "I haven't seen her since September—I'm going to see her." Barty turned on his heel, ready to storm back through the study door, and head downstairs to the fireplace. However, he didn't get far enough, as his father clamped a hand down on his shoulder.

"Don't you have studying to do?" he inquired, his tone dangerous.

"Father, I've only just returned home."

"You have twelve subjects to achieve O grade OWLs in. I think you ought to be studying at any free moment you achieve—how do you think I managed to earn all of my immaculate grades?"

Barty took a deep breath. "I'm going to see Mother first," he replied confidently. "Then I will do some studying when I come back."

Suddenly, his father grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him closer, so that they were face to face. "You—are not—going—to St. Mungos—tonight!" he hissed, spraying Barty with spittle. "Do you understand me?"

Another surge of tenacity coursed through Barty, and he shoved his father back. It wasn't too difficult, as the older man was fairly small and weak-bodied. "She's my mother!" Barty yelled, squaring up to his father.

"You will obey me," his father seethed, reaching slowly into the pocket of his robes. He retrieved his wand, and Barty's eyes widened. Never, not in all of his life, had his father ever turned his wand on Barty. "You're going to study for your OWLs. Imperio."

Even though it had been two days since Barty had returned from the Christmas holidays, he still couldn't stop thinking about what his father had done to him.

He had used an Unforgivable Curse on his own son. It was unfair, and totally unjustified. But even worse than that; he hadn't allowed Barty to visit his mother. He had spent the rest of the Christmas holidays in a numb, mindless state, until he was returned to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

Barty felt as though he had been on the cusp of tears since he returned to Hogwarts. All he wanted was an opportunity to have the Slytherin dormitory to himself, so that he could risk letting his emotions loose without any of his dorm-mates overhearing him.

Finally, during dinner in the Great Hall, Barty sought his opportunity. He wasn't entirely hungry, and it appeared that Regulus and his bunch of thuggish cronies were much too engrossed in a deep conversation about the oncoming Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match. It was easy to slip away from the Great Hall unnoticed, and scurry down to the Dungeons.

The Slytherin boys dormitory was blissfully peaceful. No one was around, not even in the Common Room, so Barty couldn't even overhear any distracting voices. After stripping out of his school robes and changing into some comfortable pyjamas, Barty climbed into his four-poster bed and hastily pulled the emerald green curtains closed, allowing himself some much needed privacy.

He eased himself into the warm sheets, and rested his head on the pillow. For a moment, Barty wondered if he even still had the urge to cry—but it was as though his body was automatically reacting to being alone. Within minutes, the backs of his eyes were prickling, a lump forming in the back of his throat, and tears began to spill down his face.

Before long, Barty's delicate whimpers had turned into full blown sobs. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, his nose felt blocked and his eyes were dreadfully puffy. He was crying so loudly, that he didn't immediately notice that the lamp beside his bed had been switched on, casting an eerie green light through the thin material of the curtains.

It wasn't until he felt the mattress sink, did he realise that he had company. Barty hadn't heard a sound, but an arm carefully wrapped around him. Before he knew what was happening, he was pulled into a firm chest and the arms held him tightly. "Barty," came a whisper, and he knew it was Regulus in his bed, holding him, stroking his hair in a comforting manner. "Talk to me, what's wrong?"

"What're you doing?" mumbled Barty, his voice thick with tears. His initial reaction was to push Regulus away from him; out of his bed, but he realised he didn't have the strength. Also, he wasn't sure he really wanted to. There was something that felt quite right about the way he seemed to mould into Regulus' slender form. Barty could hear his steady heartbeat through his chest, and his breath was slow, gently brushing against Barty's ear. "You shouldn't be in this bed...yours is over there."

Regulus let out a small laugh at his words. "You seem quite comfortable, it would be rude for me to move now, plus…" his fingers worked through Barty's hair again. "You seem happier than you did moments ago." Barty wasn't sure what to reply. For a moment, he had actually forgotten about his father's actions, but at Regulus' words, it all came rushing back and he tried in vain to hold back the tears.

He blurted out the story in an emotional babble, unsure and uncaring as to whether he was making sense. It felt good to say the words out loud; to express to someone just how horrible his father had been during the Christmas holidays. Regulus continued to carefully stroke Barty's hair, his fingers dancing towards the nape of his neck. "What an arsehole," Regulus finally replied softly, when Barty paused for breath. "You're probably better off without him."

Barty let out a snort at the comment, not able to find the breath to explain what an understatement that was to Regulus. Instead, he closed his eyes, savouring the moment in his friend's arms. It had been such a long time since someone had held him tightly when he was upset. The last, being his mother before she had fallen ill and frail. He didn't know if he'd get another chance, so he buried himself into Regulus' chest, his own arms wrapping around his friend, returning the embrace.

After a few moments of silence, Regulus pressed his lips to Barty's forehead, and Barty felt him smile against his skin. He didn't know just what it was that was causing him to allow Regulus to lie in bed with him quite so intimately—he was sure that Regulus didn't climb into bed with Nott or Lestrange—but in that moment, he didn't really care. They were just two friends—very close friends, it seemed—enjoying a quiet, personal moment.

At least, that's what he tried to tell himself whilst he tried not to think of how warm his forehead felt after Regulus' lips had pressed lovingly against it. He knew the other teen hadn't had the most affectionate parents either, so he was most likely making the most of the moment too. With that thought, he tried to tighten his grip even more, ignoring the part of him that wanted to just stay like that with Regulus and not let go for a long time.

"Regulus," Barty whispered into the neck of his friend. When Regulus murmured something ineligible in response, he continued. "Don't you worry that your friends will laugh at you for being friends with me?" He fidgeted with a loose thread in the t-shirt that Regulus was wearing, and bit down on his lip. Over the last couple of weeks, Regulus had become his only friend. Even if it was a slightly unusual friendship, Barty still didn't want to risk losing what he had started to develop with Regulus.

Regulus lifted his head to look at Barty properly. "Of course I don't," Regulus stated, and Barty couldn't help but smile at the honest truth behind his words. "I don't care what they think about what we have, and it's not any of their business. You have nothing to be worried about. What we have… it's special, and I have no intentions of letting you out of my life."

Barty felt his heart swelling, and the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at Regulus' silky words. He stared into his friends seemingly endless ebony eyes, and saw himself reflected in them. Suddenly, the urge to glance at Regulus' lips was evident, but Barty refrained himself from looking, instead allowing himself to savour the way that Regulus' breath ghosted across his face, causing him to shiver with anticipation.

It was at that moment that Barty realised just how close their faces were to each other. When Regulus had lifted his head, it had left just inches between them. He tried to gather his thoughts, trying to work out if he should move away, but realising that putting any distance between them was the last thing he wanted to do. He was sure that Regulus could hear his heart pounding hard against his chest. Barty had always been quite sure of what he wanted, and how to get it… but he found himself at an utter loss on what to do next. The eyes fixed intently on him only distracted him more.

"Can I do something, Barty?" murmured Regulus suddenly, causing Barty to suppress a flinch. They had been silent for quite some time; he had almost forgotten that either of them could talk. He gazed into Regulus' eyes questioningly, and nodded slowly in response. Taking a deep breath, Regulus allowed his hand to flatten against the back of Barty's head, and he carefully closed the few inches of space between them, sealing their lips together in a silent kiss.