Harry Potter 1. Questions Posed

A/N: My first story ever posted! W00T! I'd really like reviews. Good, bad or indifferent! As long as it's constructive I'll do my best to change and make this story and future ones better. So here goes, tell me what you think.

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How had she gotten to this point? When had she made the mental transfer from doctor-patient to friend? It was a lonely job, being his friend. No one wanted to associate with the former, thought still considered loyal by the populace, Death Eater and the woman in charge of his rehabilitation.

When the ministry had decided that extensive therapy might be able to bring back some of Voldemort's followers into proper wizarding society most of those who were actually members of said society had doubts, if not out right disdain for the project. She had been chosen to be the first, hopefully of many, to work with patients. And the very first patient to go through the process would be Barty Crouch Jr. He had originally been set to receive the terrifying Dementor's Kiss 7 months after his capture but he seemed perfect for the program. Primarily, he was willing. This was more than could be said for most of the prisoners in Azkaban. She found it amazing that so many would rather rot away in that horrid prison awaiting either death or the aforementioned Kiss but that was how powerful the Dark Lord was. And considering the recent break out of several of his followers, she supposed they all thought there was a third option. But not Crouch. He appeared to have lost that hope, which was good for her, and hopefully for him as well.

She peered down at him, lying motionless in a bed, stashed away in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. The safest place for both of them. A lot of people wanted Crouch dead, or at least tortured, and they were willing to do it themselves if the Ministry wouldn't. Of course a lot of people also wanted her dead merely due to proxy. She thought it remarkable that Dumbledore allowed him back into the castle. Crouch's betrayal was still in the forefront of many minds, and most definitely the head masters, but it was also well known that Albus Dumbledore was a forgiving man. She genuinely hoped that he would practice some of that forgiveness when Crouch regained consciousness.

She knew why Crouch had done what he did: to protect her from Malfoy. Not to mention send a warning to anyone left in the castle that might be vengeful or sympathetic to the Dark Lord. He'd have none of it in Hogwarts, and most especially in the vicinity of her. It had been an ongoing problem for them. Half the school, those who believed Potter and Dumbledore, hated Crouch for his betrayal. And the other half thought Crouch should've been left where he was due to his past. Then there was a handful that didn't fall with either group, like Malfoy, and they were the most irritating. At least they had been until a few hours ago, when they had become dangerous. In their eyes, and their parent's eyes Crouch had turned on them and more importantly the Dark Lord. Evidently someone decided that action must be taken. It had started out small, eventually escalating to the events of the current evening. It was yet another river to cross in their time together.

She'd watched him sleep countless times but this was different. It felt almost like a vigil. She supposed that made sense. He had indeed saved her. Without hesitation or prior thought to the outcome. Barty Crouch Jr. became her hero. No one but her might ever see it that way but it was the truth. The candle on his bedside table flickered violently, as though it would go out. It suddenly transported her to earlier that day.

She had been alone in a corridor, suddenly she was being bull rushed by too large men. Slammed against the stone wall, the crack from her head had echoed, at least she thought the sound hadn't come from inside her head at the time. Malfoy's smug smirk and pretty boy features came into focus. He looked pleased and that never accompanied something good for the person he was grinning at. She had tried to take action of some kind. Scream, run, kick, anything to alert a random chance passer-by. He was moving in on her, taunting his prey. Just as he was about to open his mouth and speak a brown streak shot into view, grabbing Malfoy and tackling him to the ground. It was Crouch.

She was dropped by her human restraints as they ran in the opposite direction of the escalating fight between Malfoy and Crouch. She could hear Malfoy whimpering as fists made connection with his face. A flash of red appeared between the opponents and the previous brown streak went flying again, this time against his will.

She grabbed inside her robes for her wand. Drawing and pointing it into Draco's face. Crouch had saved her, it was only right that she return the favor. She knew that Crouch had no wand and was now unconscious to boot, but she needn't worry because Draco was a true Malfoy and promptly peeled out of the corridor. She assumed any direction was better off to the boy than the one he had been headed in. She found a near by student, who had come looking for the source of the uproar, and sent them for help. Eventually winding up in her current position, standing at a bedside vigilance of a former dark wizard who had yet to awaken from his injuries.

She could hear shuffling and voices outside the hospital wing. It sounded like Professor Dumbledore and the Minister were attempting to have a hushed conversation and failing miserably.

Deciding to leap into the lion's den and be done with it she left her post and headed for the now heated commotion in the hall.

"We were wrong Albus, I'm sorry, but Crouch is just too dangerous."

"What would you do with him Cornelius? Throw him back in Azkaban and let the Dementor's have him? You've given him a chance at freedom; you can't just take it away."

"Exactly! We gave him a second chance and look what he did with it?! He attacked a student!"

"Actually, the student attacked me." All eyes fell onto her.

"What did you say Miss Birch?" Apparently Draco left a few parts out during his assured discussion with the headmaster.

"I said the student attacked me. Crouch was defending me when Malfoy did this to him," she replied evenly and continued with the same calm tone, "If anything, Minister Fudge, it proves that the therapy is working."

"How so? He stilled attacked someone, even if it was with so called 'good intentions'."

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eye returned after a long period of being absent as he spoke, "He attacked the son of not only a well known pureblood family but of a fellow Death Eater. To save a half blood witch whose job it is to set him against his former master."

"Precisely Professor," she was glad someone was on their side. "What was he supposed to do in that situation? He had no wand, and the closest thing he has to a friend right now was at the business end of Mr. Malfoy's wand, who I might add probably didn't have the best of intentions. He did what anyone would've done. And for that I don't think he should be punished."

"Alright, alright. I'll allow his rehabilitation to continue, but this can't get out Albus. It would be detrimental to the project."

"I'll take care of it Minister," Dumbledore said assuring him. Fudge turned on his heel and exited the hall.

She turned to the headmaster, "I assume 'detrimental to the project' translates to 'bad PR for the Ministry'?"

"Essentially. Do you truly believe he's getting better Scarlett?"

"Well sir, he's been here 8 months and this is the first time he's had a violent outburst, so I'd say he's making progress, yes." The headmaster couldn't help but smile wryly at her answer.

"Oh I agree completely, but how much better do you think he can get?" He inquired sobering.

"Honestly sir your guess is as good as mine. No one thought he would get this far, so who can tell what lies ahead but I'll be here to see it through, that I am certain of."

"Barty couldn't have asked for a better person to look after him. Get some rest Scarlett, I'll have Madame Pomfrey send for you if his condition changes." She nodded in agreement, bid the headmaster good night and headed for her quarters.

Upon arrival she put on a kettle for tea and sat down to think. What was next? Where did they go from here? The kettle squealed and she poured her tea, trying to decide what to do. She thought back to her earlier question, when had things changed? She finally decided that the best way to answer the questions of the present and future were to look to the past.

Standing up from her chair by the hearth she moved to her desk and pulled out a large brown leather book. Its only markings were a few embellishments down the spine and a cross with forked ends on the front cover. Opening the book, she sat back down and began to read.

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Please read and review! Thanks!


	2. Introductions

A/N:I should be updating a chapter a week if everything goes well. Much thanks to my beta Kerridwyn!

I own nothing but Scarlett

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The tea kettle screamed above the fire, she took it off and began to prepare for her visitor. Like clockwork there was a knock at the door. She walked across the room and answered it. There stood the headmaster, several men and who she assumed was Barty Crouch Jr.

"Good day Professor, gentlemen," She nodded to each of them and then offered her hand to Crouch, "You must be Mr. Crouch." He looked at her hand but did not take it.

"He's bound Miss Birch otherwise I assure you that he has manners," the headmaster explained.

"Please come in," She waved them into her quarters, closing the door after they had entered. "Tea?" She offered.

"I'd love some," the headmaster sat down on her couch. The men accompanying her patient put up their hands and nodded, turning down the offer. She made tea for Dumbledore and herself finally turning to Crouch who was still standing.

"Would you like some tea Mr. Crouch?" He didn't answer her, but she pressed on, "well, at least sit down sir." Still nothing. Feeling a bit frustrated she addressed the men, who she assumed were Aurors, "gentleman, unless you require anything else you can release Mr. Crouch into my custody. I can handle it from here." It sounded short to her but the charm was making simple niceties impossible and this wasn't exactly a relaxing situation to begin with. They exchanged looks but relinquished their prisoner and headed for the door. She was sure she heard one of them snicker, though she wasn't completely sure why. Crouch stumbled as he was released from the charm.

"Tea?" She offered him again with an eyebrow arched.

"Yes, please" he answered, finally capable of speech.

"I don't mean to rush you sir, but we have much to do. I must admit I'm quite anxious to begin." She gave Crouch a small but reassuring smile. Crouch tried to smile back but was preoccupied with looking confused. He wasn't sure who she was talking to, or what the hell she was talking about for that matter.

"Of course Miss Birch," apparently Dumbledore wasn't confused by her statements, which wasn't really surprising considering the old man's reputation for knowing everything that was going on.

"If you'll please have a seat Mr. Crouch." He did as he was told and was handed a cup and saucer. Dumbledore continued with his instructions, "You will not be permitted a wand during your treatment. You are confined to the grounds, and must be escorted by Miss Birch or a member of the faculty until otherwise deemed by myself and Miss Birch. Avoid the students if possible and do not speak to them at all. You are not allowed in any classrooms or the library. Curfew is sun down unless you are with approved supervision. Breaking any of these rules will lead to the loss of your freedom and you will be immediately sent back to Azkaban. Do you understand and comply?"

"Yes sir."

The headmaster nodded and rose from his chair, "With that I will be off, have a good day." He swept off the couch and across the room with her in tow. She opened the door; bid him farewell, closed it after him and turned to her patient.

"Well we have a few hours before dinner, and a full pot of tea. I suppose we can get started." He was staring intently at the fire, seemingly oblivious. "Is something wrong Mr. Crouch?" She broke through his thoughts.

"No," he shook his head still not looking at her. "I just remember him more whimsical and light hearted," he explained quietly with a slight shrug.

"Considering recent events it's remarkable he allowed you in the castle at all really."

He quickly turned a darkened face towards her. "I should be so lucky," he sneered.

"It was a statement sir, not an accusation." She informed squarely. "Now if you'd like, I took the liberty of acquiring you clothes that make you look less like a prisoner and more like a person." He'd nearly forgotten he was still sporting the dreary mandatory Azkaban dress. His brow knitted at her donation but he nodded in acceptance. "They are in the other room, take your time." She gestured toward a door off of the sitting room, and then busied herself at her desk.

He rose, setting down his tea and entered the indicated room. Inside he found a spacious bathroom. Deep green marble floors with gold veins running through them and chocolate brown Venetian plaster adorned the walls. A smoky grey granite bathtub that looked more like a hot tub than a standard bathtub dominated the space. Surrounding the monstrosity was some type of heavy brown fabric that matched the walls that could potentially encase the bathtub. Off to the left of the tub was a wide cherry vanity with intricate brass pulls on the front of its many drawers. On top was a sizeable white porcelain bowl with a brass spigot and ornate matching brass vines complete with leaves for the taps. On the right was a standard toilet, it was the only thing in the room that wasn't lavish. Setting on top of the vanity was a pile of clothing. Deep navy blue pin stripped robes with a crisp white shirt, an earthy brown vest and tie, and the necessary underclothes. Nestled off to the side of the chest was a pair brown leather shoes. She hadn't simply obtained clothes for him; she had gone above and beyond standard etiquette. It was something he would've chosen for himself, had he not been spending all his free time in prison. To say he was surprised at her treatment and fore thought for him and his tastes was an understatement. He began to undress from his tattered clothes, if they could even be called clothes, and slip into the new robes. A few minutes later he exited looking very much the gentleman he was once perceived as.

She hadn't heard him come back into the main room and was still studying and shuffling around papers on the desk. The whole day thus far had passed in a whirlwind and he took the opportunity to get a better look at her. She wore rich purple robes that cut conservatively around her few curves. The fabric looked bulky and cocooned around the majority of her body. Regardless he could tell she was very thin, almost gaunt. This only exaggerated her sharp features and intense bone structure. Her medium colored skin was the only thing that kept her from looking truly ill. She was tall for a woman, not taller than him but damn closer than most. He noticed that her fingers were identical to her body, long and thin. Though she was willowy she didn't look as if she were fragile. In fact she came across as very comfortable in front of that desk, watchful and knowing eyes scanning parchments. Raven tresses neatly tucked up into a twist, very few tendrils escaping. Her hair made her almost attractive. Dark and thick, with a soft sheen. He determined that he had ogled the woman long enough and cleared his throat to announce his reentry into the room. She turned at the noise.

"Have a seat and we'll begin." She made no comment on his attire or the fact that he was clean for the first time in months, which he was thankful for. He carefully sat down on the sage colored sofa. She took the high backed chair across from him and opened a large brown leather book.

"What's that?" He inquired motioning toward the book.

"Notes. Of our sessions and my own insights on you."

"Can I read them?"

"Of course you may. They're simply there for me to write down thoughts and keep record of what we talk about."

"Who else will read them?" He asked suspiciously.

"No one. They aren't apart of my official recommendations to the Ministry."

"Oh," he paused looking around room, "Should I lie down or something?"

"Only if you want to."

"No, this is good."

"Are you feeling well?" She asked concerned. He was looking about the room as though some one would attack from the shadows at any moment. He seemed nervous, then very quickly his tongue darted to the corner of his mouth and back.

"Yes, of course. Shall we?" He gave the impression that he was unaware of his momentary tick but very focused on everything else around him.

"What's your favorite color?" He looked at her as though she had suddenly sprouted a second head and it was blowing a raspberry at him.

"Pardon?" Was all he managed.

"I said, what's you favorite color?" She repeated evenly.

"Is that important to the therapy?" He was now wholly uncomfortable as well as confused.

"No but it's as good as any place to start." He didn't look reassured, "Mr. Crouch, we will be spending quite a lot of time together. Honestly I think it would be best for us to get to know each other. That is unless you wanted to jump in head first and talk about all your deep, dark thoughts with a complete and utter stranger instead."

He nodded but continued to look confused. "Can I ask you questions?

"Yes, anything you'd like in fact."

"And you'll answer them honestly?"

"To the best of my ability, yes."

"What does that mean? You'll tell me what you think I want to hear or just what the Ministry tells you to tell me?" He was getting progressively more irate.

"Actually I was implying that if you asked a question like, 'What is the meaning of life,' I can only give you my personal beliefs on the subject"

"Oh," he said quietly and looked a bit sheepish.

"Indeed. So?" She looked expectant.

"Huh?" He had gone into the distance again.

"Your favorite color?" She reminded.

"Oh, well," he appeared to be in deep thought before finally straightening and stating, "Fuchsia."

She couldn't help but crack a smile, "Fuchsia? Really? That's an interesting choice," she made a note in her book.

"Why is that an interesting choice? It's as good a color as any other!" He said defensively. "What are you writing?" He had noticed that she was entering things into the notebook. She handed him the book, at the top was his name and the date. The first line read:

Favorite color: Fuchsia

He didn't immediately give the book back to her instead he looked directly into her eyes, so that they were face to face. And tested their agreement.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Are you married?

"No."

"Ever been in love?"

"Yes."

"How many times?"

"Twice."

"Are your parents still alive?"

"No."

"Are you a pureblood?"

"No. Mum was a muggle, Dad was a wizard. Do you foresee that being a problem?"

"No. Favorite food?"

"Chocolate mousse with blackberries."

"Where do you live?"

"310 Jeffers Street, when I'm not here. Mr. Crouch I don't intend on lying to you or playing some childish and manipulative head games. It won't do either of us any good, not to mention its just plain impolite." She stated without hesitation, there was no fear in her voice or behind her eyes. She had tired quickly of watching him try to gain some sense of control and understanding over her. The mystery he was searching for wasn't there. He was safe here; it would just take time for him to remember what that entailed.

"Barty," he said still looking her in the eye. But something about his eyes had changed, she wasn't sure what but they were different nonetheless.

"Pardon?" Concerned that he might have begun to refer to himself in third person or was now incapable of internal monologue.

"My name is Barty. Not Mr. Crouch or sir," he corrected.

"Scarlett." She returned the gesture.

"Nice to meet you Scarlett." He offered his hand and she took it into her own.

"Lovely to make your acquaintance, Barty."


	3. Peek into the darkness

A/N: Thanks for all the adds! And thanks so much for my reviews Greg and Gem. Yes there are small sparks igniting! Give them time to get the bonfire going! Sorry it took so long for me to post! I just started working 3rd shift and I'm trying to get used to no longer being apart of the daytime experience! Anyway, here is the third installment, let me know what you think...

I only own Scarlett

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At first glance he wasn't sure where he was. Where ever it was it sure as hell wasn't prison, it was too comfortable. And people weren't talking to themselves. It was a nice change. Opening an eye he saw four posters and a canopy. He was still at Hogwarts. Turning his head slightly to look at the bedside table which held the clock he saw that he had an hour until he was suppose to report to Scarlett. Their meeting the prior evening had gone reasonably well, and he had been reassured that she didn't seem intent on murdering him whilst he slept. Then again looks could be deceiving and he had learned the hard way not to depend on first blush. He unceremoniously rolled off the bed and stumbled toward the bathroom, determined to get the longest shower possible before his appointment. It was simple things he had missed about civilized life, like being clean and waking up to a quiet room instead of muttering psychopaths.

Much later, after he had sloughed off a few more layers of grime from his body, he was finishing buttoning his vest and taking stock of his appearance in the bathroom mirror. He was well put together but he still looked terrible. Old and worn out, like he had dropped several hundred feet from a broom in mid flight. There were shadows beneath his eyes, creases in strange places around his face and hollow eyes stared back at him as he straightened his tie. A knock at the door pulled him away from the marked man in the mirror. He opened the door to reveal the obviously displeased face of the deputy headmistress.

"Let's go," She said.

"Good morning to you too," he mumbled.

"What was that Crouch?" Narrowing eyes bore into him.

"Nothing headmistress," he replied quickly. She nodded and turned heading off, seemingly not caring whether he came with or not. He grabbed his jacket, and pulled the door shut behind him, following McGonagall. She was walking at a brisk rate through the corridors, more than likely to get away from him as soon as possible. Very shortly they were at Scarlett's door. He felt relieved for some strange reason when Scarlett's face appeared welcoming him in. She quickly exchanged pleasantries with Professor McGonagall and soon it was once again just the two of them.

"Have you eaten?" She asked.

"No."

"I thought not. I had the house elves bring some food up. Tea?"

"Of course, thank you." She handed him a cup and went to a series of book shelves behind the couch. He assumed this was his queue to eat so he did. A wonderful array of fruits and pastries had been laid out on a silver tray on the coffee table. When he had finished, he sat sipping his tea, deliberating. He was curious about something but wasn't sure how much he could trust her. She came off as on her side but she _had been _appointed by the ministry. He finally settled to beat the bush.

"So what will it be today?" He had caught her attention and she looked turned to look down on him on the couch. "Are we continuing with 20 questions again?" He queried, he had to admit he had been slightly amused by her approach the day before. She smiled and went to her desk and retrieved her notebook before settling in the chair across from him just as she had previously.

"Person, place, or thing?" He asked playfully. She arched an eyebrow at him and opened her book.

"Read any good books lately?" Her tone was absolutely serious but she hadn't been able to keep the mirth from her gaze.

"Oh, you're hilarious," He countered sarcastically.

"It passes the time," she shrugged. "Now that we have the rainbow under control how about music. What kind of music do you enjoy?"

"I'm still not sure of the relevance of this," he noticed she was writing again. "Do you always use a pen?" Despite the odd question she didn't seem to be caught off guard by it.

"Would you prefer I use a caterpillar?" She paused a moment as if actually considering the possibility, "I imagine it would be a bit too wooly to work well."

Fantastic, his therapist was crackers. "No, I just meant, you don't use a quill, but instead a muggle pen, why?"

"It was my mother's. She liked to write, good at it too. She only wrote with one pen, I kept it when she died. Everything she ever wrote came from this pen. The beauty, the fantastical, the pain and suffering all spewed forth with this instrument. It's a way of reminding me of her everyday."

"Is it enchanted?

"Oh no, just an ordinary fountain pen. Though many magical things were written with it, no it was only fueled by her passion and talent."

"What were they like? Your parents."

"They were good people. Mum was a fighter. Very fiery, and I've been told quite rebellious in her youth. It was always so funny to me when people would tell me they knew my mother when she was young, 'Quite the spit fire she was!' they'd say. Then Dad would mumble from somewhere, 'What do you mean _was_?' Then mum would get cross with him," she smiled at the memory. "Dad lived in a different world than everyone else. I learned early that facts could be just as bizarre as make believe. He was slated in the scientific, yet something as simple as air was its own entity to him. They complimented each other well."

"They sound nice," he was envious of her normal life. "What was is like? Being mixed, did you get picked on in school much?"

"No, I was like everyone else. When you're one little girl in with a hundred other half-blood's no one really takes much notice. Why? Were you the school bully?"

He noticed the mischievous look in her eye, and felt that while it was a serious question it hadn't been meant in a negative way. "No, not really. I was quiet when I was very small and as I got older I became progressively more snobby I suppose."

"What do you mean 'snobby'?"

"I thought I was better than everyone else because of my heritage. I had a small group of people I got on with and didn't associate with anyone else. It was a time when purity of blood mattered."

"And now?"

He stared at her realizing the point she was making, "Huh. It hasn't really changed, has it?"

"Perspective is a funny thing, isn't it?" His brow furrowed, while posed as a question it was really more of a statement.

"Baroque," he said suddenly.

"What is?"

"I like Baroque, you asked about music, that's the answer." She wrote it down, "What kind of music do you like?"

"Rock, I listen to a lot of AC/DC."

"That's an interesting choice. Muggle music, muggle pen, anything about you that doesn't lean to the muggle side?" He joked.

"Well there is my magical ability," she replied dead pan.

He couldn't suppress the chuckle that rose in his throat, "My we're cheeky today!"

"Generally am, you'll get used to it," she threw back nonchalantly.

"I like it." He leaned forward and looked her over, "Can I ask you something?"

"You haven't been?"

"Something pertaining to our situation." She stopped scribbling notes and looked at him, denoting his serious tone. It was game time.

"Anything."

"Why did you take this job?" He asked slowly, as though he had reservations about inquiring as well as her answer.

"Because I was asked," she responded simply.

"That's it?" He was thunderstruck, absolutely bewildered by her answer. "You didn't have anything better to do than talk to a sociopath all day? I'm not buying that! People don't put themselves in danger for shits and giggles!"

"Barty, this is my job. If I wasn't talking to you I'd just be talking to someone else. That's what I do." She took a deep breath, "The Ministry came to me and asked if I was interested, and I'm sure I wasn't the only person in my profession they were talking to about it. Yes, I took a sabbatical from my private practice to work with you bu…"

"But why?!" He interrupted. Yelling at this point, "Why not just stay in your safe little office and help semi-normal people with their crappy personality quirks?!"

"Why do you think I'm in such danger?"

"The students arrive in a week. Potter's people hate me," he paused a moment in contemplation, "okay they all hate me but the children of Death Eaters are going to be roaming the halls looking for vengeance on me, on you! How are you not in danger? Not to mention that even if that wasn't the case you'd still be spending your free time with a monster!"

"You think of yourself as a monster?" She implored, curious as to his choice of words.

"How would I not?!" He bellowed, "Scarlett I killed my own father, what makes you think I couldn't murder you just as easily?" He was breathing heavy, with clenched teeth and fists, fingers white.

"Because I didn't spend years making your life miserable, telling you that you weren't worthy of your namesake." He sat in stunned silence. The ager vanished and abrupt anxiety coated him. Once again his tongue darted to the corner of his mouth and back. The motion encouraged her to continue. "Not in those words but oh, it was there. In every look and gesture. Berating your mother for caring for you, coddling he called it."

The darting tongue didn't cease. Instead it became more frequent. She knew she was hitting a nerve, but she was unsure of which one. Sensing that this was sensitive territory she changed tact, "This could've been an elaborate scheme to procure your freedom and return to the Dark Lord. Or perhaps to become some sort of spy. But you and I both know that everyone is watching you like a hawk, and they'll never trust you again. On the reverse side when you were captured you were given Veritaserum. What did you say under its influence? Or rather what does Voldemort think you said? You have no where to go and don't want to die. This is your only option so I'm curious how _I _am in danger from _you_. A desperate man with no wand who is being watched every moment of everyday like a hunted animal."

She paused allowing her words to sink in fully then pressed on, "I took this job because I was asked, by the ministry and by the Dumbledore. Because I like a challenge and this is what I 'm trained to do, help people. Not just good people or bad people because there is no such thing. Such black and white concepts do not exist. Maybe you're a bad person finally trying to do the right thing, maybe you're a good person who made mistakes. I don't know, no one does, perhaps not even you. But no one else was willing to find out. I didn't want the whole project scraped because everyone was too afraid. That's all we have right now, fear. And it's not going to get us any where but into trouble. The Only way to beat the darkness is to face it but it's also a difficult thing to do. You took the first step towards doing that by agreeing to undergo this experiment. The least we can do as a society is meet you halfway." She leaned forward in her chair closing the gap between them more.

"Your question of 'why?' can only be answered with why not? If it doesn't work what have I lost? I have no family to murder, no lover or children to torture, just me. And I knowingly and willingly walk into the darkness. But what if it works? What then? Imagine the potential and the doors it could open for so many. You can't succeed if you never try, and I couldn't not try. I had to take the risk. The risk of failing or succeeding."

There was a long silence between them. Finally Barty broke it, "I'm not sure who's crazier. You or me."

"According to the ministry, it's you."

"And according to you?" He asked grimly.

"Oh, it's still you. Whose favorite color is _fuchsia_? Except those that are obviously mad?!" At first his face was masked in total disbelief then ever so slowly a genuine joy crept into his eyes and touched the corners of his mouth until it ultimately culminated into gregarious laughter. It was contagious, she couldn't hold back a warm smile and light chuckle. "Let's go for a walk, we've been in here all morning and it's a beautiful outside."

"Can we do that?"

"It's up to me."

"Oh, well then yes. It would be nice to get out for a while." She sat down her notebook on the coffee table and stood. He mimicked the movement and they headed out. Quickly moving through corridors and soon emptying out onto the grounds. It was indeed very pleasant. The sun was out creating nice pools of shade as it hit trees and walls. They began their walk. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"About my father."

"Some people wear their heart on their sleeve," she said with a shrug.

"I don't." He affirmed solemnly.

"No, you don't. But some people spend so much time trying to hide what could be on their sleeve, that they forget they're wearing more than a sleeve," she grinned at him.

He chuckled at his own stupidity, she was right. "You're quite clever."

"I didn't get where I am today on my good looks and charming personality!"

"Which is where exactly? Having a leisurely stroll with a convicted killer?"

"I've had worse dates."

"I very much doubt that. And when did this become a date? I don't remember asking you out!"

"Gambling venues are bad places to meet people. And you didn't ask me out. I asked you out, remember?" She held up her hands like sock puppets, "Barty, would you like to go for a walk?" She asked in a high pitched voice. "Yes Scarlett I would," dropping a few octaves. "Perhaps we should look into a potion for your memory." She said in her normal speaking voice, as though what she had just done was completely normal.

"Maybe when we do we could see if we can't find one for you being bat shit crazy!"

"Takes one to know one."

"Ingenious! What child's book did you get that from?"

"I'll read it to you at bed time. Remember, you're not allowed in the library."

"Touché." They meandered through the grounds for a while in quiet until, "Scarlett?"

"Yes, Barty?"

"You know what people used to say about your mother?"

"Is this going to be a 'yo momma' joke?"

"I'm not sure what that means but I was referring to earlier. People said your mother was a spitfire."

"Yes?"

"Is that where you inherited it from?"

"Barty?"

"Yes Scarlett?"

"Shut up."

A few beats passed, "Do you think that would help?"

"Do you think you're capable?" She turned around and headed back towards the castle.

"Where are you going?"

"It's lunch time. I wonder if there will be pudding."

He turned to follow her back. "Are you planning on blowing bubbles in it if there is?"

* * *

Love it? Hate it? Tell me what you think! Please Review!


	4. Death by Thoreau

A/N:Thanks so much to Kagirinai and La Fleur de Lys for the kind reviews! And so many others who want to see where this crazy thing will go! I've had tons of adds and I'm thrilled about it! I'm glad that you are enjoying the banter between Scarlett and Barty, Fleur. Look for it to be a standard as this moves forward. Once again I'm very sorry about the chunks of time in between updates! Unfortunately my health took an unexpected turn for the worse so I've been playing on the physicians merry-go-round for the last few weeks. Good news though! I can't return to work until the problems been resolved. And because a doctor giving a definitive answer is about as likely as me sprouting a third arm I should have plenty of time on my hands to work on this! Yay!...I think...anyway enjoy and let me know what you think!

I own only Scarlett.

* * *

The remainder of the week continued in a similar manner. Every morning someone less than hospitable retrieved him and brought him to Scarlett. They talked about nothing, exchanged verbal blows, and went for walks and as a treat he began teaching her about Baroque music. The latter was the most and least pleasant. She had come up with a whole repertoire of "broke" jokes that irritated him to no end. But on the other hand she was receptive to his music and it passed time quickly. The whole experience was much more pleasurable than he thought it would've been. It was almost fun. He couldn't help but think that there was a catch. Unfortunately he was right. The day after the students arrived the other shoe dropped. Malfoy and a couple of his idiot followers came across Scarlett and Barty out on one of their walks. One minute they were discussing Rococo and the next they heard Malfoy's moronic voice.

"New girlfriend Crouch? Rumor had it you were dipping your _ahem_ interests into lesser social circles, but I had no idea you had stooped so low. A dirty half breed? What would your father say?" Barty opened his mouth to respond but Scarlett put a hand in front of him before he could.

"You aren't allowed to talk to him remember? What is your name?"

"What's it to you?" Malfoy spat.

"Let me clarify, it wasn't a request. Give me your name." Her voice was somehow menacing despite her thin silhouette.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Barty answered for him.

"You're disgusting Crouch," Malfoy sneered contorting his face to show his apparent disgust, "where's your leash?"

"You'll be hearing from the headmaster shortly I'd imagine Mr. Malfoy," she told him curtly.

"I'll get out of it," he threw back as though it were a threat.

"Good luck with that. And we're off, nice chatting with you gentlemen."

As they walked away, "You know I hate to say I told you so, "he began.

"No you don't. You enjoy it very much. And I never disagreed with you, I'm just not concerned about a 15 year old boy."

"It's not the 15 year old boy, it's the parents behind him I'm concerned about."

"No, it's the man behind them you're worried about," she corrected again.

"Damn straight, wait a minute," he suddenly stopped. She did the same, "what's wrong?"

"Do you swear?"

"What are you talking about? Swear what?"

"Curse, do you ever use expletives? I've never once heard you swear."

"You know, you have a very bizarre thought process," she resumed walking. He caught up to her, they were now approaching the courtyard before the main doors. Students littered the area but immediately began backing away to the far corners as they entered.

"Is that your professional opinion?"

"Yes."

"So? Do you swear?" He prodded. They had reached the steps leading into the castle. She stopped and turned, he nearly ran into her.

"Fuck." She said rather loudly, drawing even more attention to them. "Do you feel better now?" She didn't wait for an answer but turned and headed into the castle. He once again followed.

"See? Now was that really so hard?" He mocked. "Where are we going?"

"To see the headmaster, where else?

"Tattle tale."

"We're going to have more problems with Malfoy, might as well start alerting Dumbledore now. I am surprised I have to admit."

"About what? That Malfoy mouthed off? I'm not."

"No, I thought Potter would beat him to it."

"How very encouraging," he muttered humorlessly as they paused at the gargoyle.

"Fizzing Whizbees."

"I've often wondered if he ever runs out of weird passwords."

"You need a hobby Barty."

"Why? I have you." They climbed the stair case and knocked.

"Enter." A muffled voice from inside called. Upon entering they saw the head master seated behind his desk and Professor Snape leaning against the mantle of the fireplace. A few moments later McGonagall's face peered around from one of the high backed chairs in front of the desk.

"Good day to you all," she greeted.

"Miss Birch, Mr. Crouch what brings you here?" Dumbledore asked, not looking nearly as surprised as he should've considering they truly were dropping in out of the blue.

"One of your students Professor Snape," Scarlett replied then leaned into Barty to ask, "He is in Slytherin isn't he?"

"Yes," Barty answered.

"Of course he is," she mumbled and rolled her eyes.

"Be nice. I was in Slytherin," he whispered back vigorously.

"You're not helping the case." He glared in response.

"Which student are you referring to?" Snape asked coolly, trying to look wholly uninterested in the whispering couple.

"Draco Malfoy, we ran into him and his goons outside just now. They were taunting Barty."

"And what would you like me to do about it?" He seemed immediately bored by the conversation.

"Do I get a vote on this?" Barty was gleeful about the concept.

"No," the entire room resounded.

"I don't care what you do as long as it stops." She was irritated that she was getting no where very fast.

"Avoid him," Snape responded putting his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose as though he were trying to stave off an impending migraine.

"Give me his schedule and I'll give it a _shot_," she said through clenched teeth.

"Let's be reasonable," Dumbledore cut in. "I will talk to Mr. Malfoy, Severus he will serve detention Friday night with Mr. Filch."

"Satisfactory?" Snape inquired with an eyebrow arched.

"Fine with me. As long as I'm here I'd like to put in a request."

"That being?" Dumbledore asked.

"Permission to grant library privileges for Barty."

Again the entire room responded, this time including Barty, "What?!"

"Surely not Albus?" McGonagall spoke up.

"Why not?" Scarlett asked the other woman.

"Because knowledge is power Miss Birch, and he obviously shouldn't have any," Snape responded for his colleague.

"Idle hands are the devil's handiwork. See? I can spew meaningless clichés to fit the situation too!"

"Severus has a point Miss Birch. It has only been a few weeks," the headmaster began.

"And he hasn't killed anyone yet. I think he deserves a cookie."

"Anyone bother to notice how I'm still in the room?" Barty mentioned.

"Good point Mr. Crouch, Minerva please escort him back to his rooms." The headmaster instructed.

"Gee thanks, now I feel loads better!" Barty threw up his hands.

"My rooms will be fine Professor."

"Scarlett are you sure you want him left alone in your quarters?" The elder woman looked nervous about the prospect.

"If he's wearing my underwear on his head and my socks on his ears when I return you'll be the first person I call."

"Hpmh!" Was all she got in return. They exited the office and Scarlett threw herself into one of the chairs.

"What have you learned?" Snape started in immediately.

"What are you referring to sir?" She returned matching his earlier icy tone.

"Crouch! What has he told you?"

"That's confidential Professor Snape."

"Would you like me to step out and listen at the door instead?" He sneered.

"It wouldn't matter if you stepped out and into a wandering black hole! It's confidential information between me and my patient."

Snape growled in frustration. "There must be something you can divulge," he persisted.

"No there really isn't. I'm sorry but everything Barty and I discuss, no matter what it is falls under doctor-patient privilege. The only thing I can tell you is he doesn't plan to harm others or himself. And that I would report to the authorities, not you Professor Snape." She turned to Dumbledore, "I'm sorry sir but Barty's privacy is important to him, and the oath I took is important to me. But even more important is that I gave my word to Barty, and frankly if he's going to get any better he has to learn to trust people again. This time however, they need to be trustworthy."

"I understand Scarlett. However I cannot allow him in the library, I'm sorry."

"Can we compromise?" She offered. It was a bit of a long shot but she could at least try.

"Such as?"

"Allow him access to my personal library."

"I think not!" Snape interjected. "Information is information, regardless of where it comes from. We can't even control what he gets from you!"

"My library consists of medical texts, Freud, Byron, Shakespeare, Yeas, Kant, things of that nature. I have no magical texts. He can't do anything with them. Unless of course you think he might take over the world and kill us all using Thoreau. Walden can be an eye opening experience but that's a bit of a stretch. The worst he could read is Machiavelli and I can remove that."

"I don't see the harm," Dumbledore began.

"Albus, he's not on vacation!" Snape argued.

"He's also not in prison! Good lord, he wants to pass time, he's not secretly working for Voldemort!

"How do you know that? Do you honestly think he'd tell you?" Snape was beginning to invade on her personal space to make his point.

"No, but you would know," she shot back getting in his face.

"Oh? And how would we know? ESP?" Sarcasm dripped off of him but he refused to back down, verbally or physically.

"You're wearing more than a sleeve professor." She warned, refusing to back down from her once time potions professor.

"What?" He physically reeled back looking at her like she was completely batty.

"Never mind. It's not up to you. Headmaster?"

"Permission granted," Dumbledore stated with an affirming nod.

"Thank you." She rose from her chair and Snape snarled from behind her, she exited without looking back. By the time she navigated the corridors back to her quarters night had fallen. In all actuality they wouldn't have been working this late but she also knew what was coming. She had been left alone in the headmaster's office with Dumbledore and a "former" Death Eater. The situation didn't bode well for Barty's trust in her. When she entered her rooms instead of finding Barty at his usual spot on the couch she saw that he was sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the fire place staring diligently at the flames. Before she could say anything his already angry and dark voice rang out.

"What did you tell them?" He demanded.

"Nothing," she answered quietly. "They asked, well more Snape asked but I refused to tell them anything more than you were neither homicidal nor suicidal, which is all I'm required to reveal."

"You're lying," his tone was even darker. If she had been a lesser woman she would've been frightened but she had known this was coming.

"Barty whether you're aware of it or not our conversations are legally protected."

"Enjoy Azkaban." Was the only return from him. She walked around until she was beside him. Something was wrong. His hair was disheveled, his tie was undone and hanging lifelessly around his neck. His vest was open and he was gripping his forearm tightly. His face wore a mixture of pain, anger and defeat. She sighed and dropped down next to him.

"I'm so sorry Barty. I knew this day would come but I was hoping to prolong it." She took his arm, removed his white fingers and peeled back the sleeve. There was the black skull with a snake slithering out of the hole that would've been the skull's mouth. He stared at it with hatred and hoplessness. "Well, we can't get you a potion for the pain. Madame Pomfrey was called away this morning for some kind of emergency and Snape's gone by now."

"How?" He knew what she meant about Snape but didn't understand how she could possibly have the information.

She sighed again, "Barty I had you figured out before you walked through that door. The ministry file on you is extensive," she explained. "I had seven years of teaching from that man. Seven years of observation. He hasn't got a sleeve to stand on." He gave a slight smile to that before he hissed in pain again. "So what are we going to do?" When no answer came she offered a suggestion, "We dull the pain."

"How?" He repeated.

"We get trashed," she'd said it as though it was the most mundane sentence she had ever uttered.

"What?!" His head snapped up to stare at her. She was unbelievable!

"C'mon my liquor cabinet is always stocked." She got up and went to a highboy behind her desk.

"You can't be serious!" She removed two glasses and a decanter proving that she was indeed very serious. She poured a shot for each of them and handed him one of the glasses.

"Now shut up and drink Bartemius." She put the glass to her lips and upturned it taking the whole thing in one swallow. He followed suit while she refilled her glass and then his. He recognized the drink as whiskey, good whiskey in fact.

"What is this?" He finally asked after their third round.

"Jack Daniels single barrel. My parent's used to drink it. First thing I ever got drunk on."

"The first thing I ever got drunk on was butter beer," he said a little pink in the cheeks. She was unsure if he was embarrassed or that was his reaction to liquor.

"Pussy. Drink!" She demanded and another shot went down.

"What kind of child were you?!"

"Shut up Barty." And yet another round was finished off.

"That's becoming progressively more difficult." They had another round, and then another, and another. Soon they were reduced to giggles and lying on the floor with the once nearly full decanter empty.

"Beer run!" She shouted to no one. "I have some wine, if you're interested," she offered.

"What's that old saying? Wine before beer but never drink milk? No, that was a personal experience, never mind," he wondered aloud. After their booze induced laughter died down she grabbed another bottle and headed back to their little camp of pillows and empty glasses on the floor.

"Is it wine before beer and shots all around?" She tried, and he giggled at her.

"No that's not it," then he spied the bottle. "Fuck it, where's my glass? Can we get straws?" Finally finding his glass he held it out to be filled. He upturned the glass once again and promptly grimaced. "This idn't whissskee," he slurred. His mouth still puckering from the sweetness of the drink.

"It's amaretto, you sip it Barty."

"Oh. Well you probably should've told me that before I made it my bitch. Can I ask you someding?"

"Stop asking if you can ask me something, assume I said yes and just ask."

"You're not as smart drunk," he observed with a goofy grin.

"But I'm so much prettier! Was that your question?"

"No," he began.

"I'm not prettier? Well that fucker lied to me!" She interrupted only to end up talking to her self.

"What in the name of Merlin are you talking about?"

"Never mind, ask your damn question."

"If you knew what was wrong with me when I walked in why didn't you just tell me and be done with it?"

"That would never work." She shook her head vehemently and waved her arms in negation. In they're current state it was quite natural looking.

"Why?" He asked looking like a puppy trying understand a mirror.

"When I was a little girl I loved to climb trees."

"Does this have a point?"

"Yes, now shut up. I loved to climb trees, but the best part was jumping down. My mother told me not to but I did it anyway. One day I jumped out of one of the trees in our backyard and landed wrong. I broke my leg and it hurt like hell but I stopped jumping out of trees. Do you see what I'm saying?"

"Yes. You were a stupid child."

"No! I had to learn for myself that it was dangerous. And you have to learn for yourself how to recognize your problems and be your own man. Me telling you won't do any good, only you can fix you, I'm just here as a guide."

He set down his drink and sat up to face her. He took her free hand into his and kissed it, "Thank you."

"For?"

"For being the one person in my whole life that doesn't want me to be something other than what I am, for not trying to control me or hide me away. For believing I am capable of being a person," he paused questioning whether what he was about to tell her was a good idea or not. He had come this far, he might as well jump down the rabbit hole. "Scarlett, I had a lot of time to think in Azkaban, and I realized that I've never been on my own. And that I very much wanted to not be the monster I am. I joined the Death Eaters at a very young age. At 19 I had never had a real friend, fallen in love, or really thought about my future. And I gave it all away when this wretched mark was placed on my arm. Then I was a torturer, then a prisoner. First at Azkaban, and then in my own home, and eventually in someone else's body, then Azkaban again. I've never been free. Not at 19, when I was just weak and stupid or at 32 when I had no better options. What you're talking about is loyalty to myself, something I've never tried, or even considered. I became a Death Eater to be accepted some where because I wasn't at home, I allowed my mother to switch places with me because she told me to and she was my only ally. I became Alastair Moody because the Dark Lord offered me freedom from my father. I don't want to be this anymore," his voice cracked with desperation. "This mindless zombie, following who ever is willing to take me."

"But you're not, you chose this. Not because it was the best option, though it was, but because you genuinely wanted to step out on your own. You fucked up Barty, we all do."

"Not like I did!"

"Some do, some people have done much worse, which doesn't lessen what you did but it's in the past now. You have to deal with it."

"How?"

"Part of it is time, the other part you must figure out. It's different for everyone. I'll help you all that I can but the actual act is up to you. But the desire to change is the first step." She leaned back to look at him. He was the same Barty Crouch Jr. that had walked through her door just a few weeks ago and yet he wasn't. His eyes had changed that first day. Almost like something had broken down inside him. And now his demeanor had changed. The flood gates had been opened ad instead of the quiet fury and untrusting man that had sat in her front room that first day, here was an albeit drunk but happier and more hopeful man. He could do this, she could indeed help him. They would do it together.


	5. Higher standard of living

When he awoke he didn't immediately open his eyes

When he awoke he didn't immediately open his eyes. He'd been having a wonderful dream. He tightened his grip on the warm soft mass next to him and tried to go back to sleep. He suddenly realized that nothing in his rooms created its own heat, and he was certain he owned nothing that felt like a woman. His eyes snapped open. There were no posters holding a canopy where he laid. The previous evening flashed through his mind, the little he could remember. The mark, Scarlett, whiskey, giggling on the floor, kissing her hand in front of the fire. He mentally screeched to a halt and backed up. Scarlett. Kissing. Booze. He dared to peer down at the sleeping form curled tightly against him. The thin frame and coal black hair fanned around them both was unmistakable. It was Scarlett.

"Oh god!" He yelped and rapidly crawled away from her. The sudden movement woke her as the half of her body what had been entwined with his crashed to the floor with a thud.

"What the hell?!" She questioned, then she looked at Barty huddled next to the fire place as if he were trying to become apart of the stone hearth. Panic riddled his face. She quickly put the pieces together. "Oh, well this is exceptionally unprofessional."

"What. Happened. Last. Night?" He asked, ignoring her sarcasm.

"Mission accomplished. We got drunk, really really drunk."

"I kissed your hand!" his voice had moved up an octave.

"Yes, you did. I think. Details are a bit blurry. I know we had a good time." He made a strange squeaking noise in his throat.

"Did we. . ." his voice had gone up another octave. She was starting to wonder what invisible force was squeezing his balls.

"You were fantastic. You're in incredible shape considering your incarceration," she said slyly.

He audibly gasped and let out a high pitched, "Oh my god," on the exhale. "I'm going to hell, oh god no I'm not! I'm going to jail, it's worse!"

"Oh Barty you're not going to jail," she said as she got up on all fours and started to crawl towards him with a teasing little grin. "You're going to my room for a morning after romp!" Her tone silky smooth.

They were nose to nose and his eyes held absolute terror. "I . . . uh. . . .err . . . you . . . um . . . we. . ." he stuttered unintelligibly. She couldn't stand it any longer and burst into laughter. Barty furrowed his brow and looked at her as though she were mad.

"I'm sorry Barty," she explained through her giggling. "But it was too good of an opportunity to fuck with you!"

"We didn't…?" he gestured what she assumed meant sex.

"No, nothing happened. We talked for a bit and then you passed out."

"Don't do that! It's not funny!" He said angrily.

Suddenly the fire place erupted in green flames and the headmaster's face appeared. "Scarlett I'm sorry to bother you, but Crouch wasn't in his room this morning," he reported. Concern was etched on his features. Upon hearing this Barty crawled from the edge of the fire place to sit in front of the lime flames. As soon as he came into full view Dumbledore's expression turned to relief then intrigue. "I'm sorry Mr. Crouch, we weren't aware that you were with Miss Birch last night."

The headmaster's wording of the situation threw Barty back into his previous stuttering mess. "I was here but we weren't together sir. I mean to say that we were both here, together," he paused realizing that his explanation didn't sound right and it was reflected in Dumbledore's face. "That is, you see, we were both her but we were just talking," Barty's tongue darted to the edge of his mouth and back.

The headmaster raised an eyebrow at him, "I see."

Barty cut in, quite frantic, "Please don't kick me out Professor I swear nothing happened despite the fact that this looks really bad and I can't remember most of last night because I was drunk off my ass." He finally stopped to breathe, "That didn't sound any better did it?" He smacked his head into his hands with a sigh.

"No, not really," Scarlett said grinning. "But it was damn amusing!"

Barty parted his fingers to look at her. "Are you still drunk?" He asked her through his hands, "Or just insane?"

"Yes," came the reply followed by a myriad of giggles.

Dumbledore had watched their exchange with interest. "Out of curiosity sir, who was supposed to get Barty this morning?"

"Professor Snape." Scarlett quickly sobered and Barty's hands flew into his lap. His expression turned from panic to terror.

"This is bad. Really, really bad," Barty barely managed to mutter.

Scarlett looked at Barty and addressed the face in her fireplace, "Meeting?"

"Oh yes Miss Birch."

"See you then."

The green flames dissolved and Barty looked to Scarlett. "What's going to happen?"

"I imagine a lot of yelling, some explaining, more yelling, the headmaster will intervene and then everything will be fine."

"We won't lose the project?"

"Over my dead body."

"That's what I've been afraid of."

It wasn't long before they were knocking on Dumbledore's door. They had literally run through the hallways to get there. The sooner the situation was explained the better. They were called in, Snape was leaning on the fire place looking incredibly surly and McGonagall was standing next to Dumbledore's desk, pink in the face as though she'd been screaming. Barty moved to sit down but Scarlett stopped him.

"As I'm sure you're aware of by now Barty stayed in my chambers last night." There was a derisive snort from the fire place, Scarlett narrowed her eyes but continued, "And you're probably aware that there was a revel last night. I didn't learn of it until I returned from our meeting yesterday, and as both Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape were not on the grounds I had no other practical way to dull the pain Barty was experiencing, which by the way I'm also sure you're aware of, other than alcohol."

"You assume an awful lot," Snape snarled. The bat-like professor didn't appear elated at being stood up that morning. And especially not since he had then been required to begin a man hunt for someone who, in his opinion, shouldn't even be in the castle. His black eyes were gleaming as they settled on Barty. "Do you really think she's upheld your secrets Crouch? That we don't know all the things you've talked about? Your father's end and the things he did to you prior to it?"

Barty's head whipped around to look at Scarlett with desperate pain in his eyes. Would she have told them? He'd wanted to believe her, needed to. But in reality, he hadn't actually known her that long. She was working for the ministry, he should've known better than to trust her. She had lied to him, betrayed him. She wasn't denying it. He felt as though the floor had given way and he was falling into a bottomless pit. All the wonderful moments they had shared swirled past him, crushed.

"About torturing the Longbottoms into madness? Oh the way they had screamed," Snape continued his taunting.

The falling halted and Barty snapped back around to face Snape. "Liar!" He screamed at Snape, who was taken aback by the sudden fury he was presenting.

"Liar, you are a fucking liar! Scarlett would _never_ breach out trust, never! She's not like that, not like you! You manipulative son of a bitch!" He was becoming increasingly paler and shivering with what could only be assumed to be intense rage. "She did what she could to help me the way she knew how since you had slipped off to your precious dark lord to grovel! Despite what all of you think I won't go back to it and I won't give up! Nothing happened. End of story! I'm terribly _sorry_ for your inconvenience! Let's go Scarlett I'm done with this so called meeting. You want to know the details Snape, you can ask in a civilized manner and I will _consider_ telling you. But don't hold your breath!" He grabbed Scarlett by the elbow and turned to leave. Before exiting he threw over his shoulder, "On second thought Snape, hold your fucking breath. It would do us all worlds of good!" He slammed the door and rushed down the stairs, pulling Scarlett with him.

Instead of heading back to her quarters he turned and made for the grounds. Still yanking her along he finally stopped before the lake. He peered out at the water for a long while before facing her.

"I need to know now. Before this goes any further." The words were difficult for him to say and slow to come out, "Can I trust you, implicitly?"

She looked into his eyes, searching for what was going on in his head. She saw fear and guilt. He was so vulnerable in that moment. She did the only thing she could think of to attempt to relieve his pain. She reached out for him and wound her arms around his body. He didn't seem to know what to do at first. Eventually he wrapped his arms around her and returned the embrace.

She twisted her head around so that she faced the crook of his neck. Ever so gently she leaned up and whispered in his ear, "Always Barty. I promise to _never_ betray you for as long as I live." He inhaled quickly and clung to her more tightly, as if she were the only thing keeping him standing.

"God Scarlett we almost lost it all," he whispered.

"We'll never lose it Barty, never. Because we're both fighters. Do you realize what you just did in there?" She released him just enough to look up into his face.

"Fucked up?" he offered, obviously frustrated by his outburst.

"You fought for us. For you. You stood up for yourself in there Barty." She closed her embrace on him once more, "I'm so proud of you."

He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. Each and every word struck deep within his heart. No one had ever been genuinely proud of him for anything before. "So, what's next?" He managed to ask.

"Breakfast," came the muffled reply underneath his chin. "How did you know Snape was lying?" She asked as they turned and headed back towards Hogwarts.

"We've never talked about the Longbottom's," he answered with a shrug.

"You've mentioned it though, how did you know that wasn't what he meant?"

"Because if we had talked about it and he'd tried to bring it up he'd have lost the argument immediately."

"How so?" She questioned confused.

"Because," he shook his head, "I didn't torture the Longbottom's." He continued the trek back to the castle but Scarlett stopped in her tracks.

"What do you mean you didn't torture them?" She was wide eyed and slack jawed at the news.

"I didn't…" he realized she was no longer by his side and looked around for her. "Where'd you go?"

He turned to find her several feet behind him. "I never tortured them. I was there but just as the errand boy. Bellatrix did most of it, I just fetched food and the like."

"You've spent this whole time in Azkaban for something you didn't even do?" She paused as if trying to fathom the possibility, "Why?"

"I'm just as guilty Scarlett!" The wind picked up and tossed his messy morning-after hair around. "I knew what was being done, heard their screaming and pleas, and I did nothing. No action can be just as damning as negative action."

"But you called yourself a torturer, it's not the same."

"It is, in a way, but I meant the muggles. We were sent into muggle towns to wreak havoc. And we succeeded, beautifully. I took part in my fair share of them. Between that and just standing idly by while a boy lost both of his parents," he shook his head again, looking out across the grounds. "I didn't deserve anything less than what I got. Probably deserve much worse actually."

She walked up to him and linked her arm through his. "You're something else Barty Crouch, you know that?" She tugged gently on his arm and they continued their journey to breakfast.

"Something good or something bad?"

"Something different."

He rolled his eyes at her and let out an exasperated sigh, "You never make things easy."

"Wouldn't be as fun if I were easy don't you think?"

"What exactly are you offering?" He arched an eyebrow and grinned.

"Bartemius! You know what I meant!" She playfully slapped his arm.

"You said it not me!" He defended, "Freudian slip perhaps? I just think it would complicate things."

"Shut up Barty," she warned.

"Not likely," he snorted.

Later that night Barty threw himself down on his bed. For a day that had begun so poorly it has ended up being a pretty good day. He was exhausted, he still wasn't used to being active on a daily basis. The bed was so soft and his head seemed to sink into the pillows. He could feel his muscles unclenching as he relaxed. His eyelids felt heavy and they slowly slid closed Soon his breathing became shallow and he fell into a deep sleep.

Images began flashing across his vision. Jets of green, faces twisting in agony, bodies strewn across rooms. A man using his final breath to scream before crumbling to the floor. Pleas for a quick end or to spare them altogether. A child simpering in a corner, crying out for parents that had most certainly perished.

He couldn't breathe yet some how he was screaming at his own mind to cease this horrid show. "Barty," a calm voice called out to him through the whirlwind of gut wrenching pictures.

The faces began swirling around him, threatening to descend him into an unseen hole. He couldn't clear them away. Couldn't run, he was drowning in these people.

"Barty," he heard the voice again. It seemed to come from beyond the storm of images and he tried to cling to it.

"Barty!" The world shattered, breaking him free. Scarlett's concerned face peered down at him. He was covered in a layer of sweat and his breathing was labored but he was in his own bed, relatively safe at Hogwarts.

He felt something soft slide across his forehead and then his cheek. He leaned into it for any comfort he could. Her sleeve, it was the sleeve of her bathrobe.

"It's alright, everything is fine. You're safe now Barty," she cooed. He lifted a shaking hand to her cheek. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

Tears escaped the corners of his eyes. It hadn't been real, and then he realized that it had been real once. His hand ran across her cheek, reaching around to her neck pulling her down to him. He tightly enveloped her, nuzzling into her neck and inhaling deeply.

"Please don't leave," he begged knowing how pathetic and desperate he sounded.

"I wouldn't dream of it." She stroked his hair and whispered soothing words. Slowly his breathing calmed and the bitter taste in his mouth dissipated as the adrenaline rush subsided. Her hushed words continued and although he felt better he didn't want to let go yet.

He didn't want to talk about what he had just witnessed, what he had participated in. He knew he would enviably have to but not tonight. Eventually he released her and she looked up at him, still half lying on his chest.

"Army of menacing penguins and ferocious midgets?" She asked, serious as tuberculosis. He caught her meaning and gave a half chuckle.

"How'd you know?"

"Sounded most likely," she said with great certainty.

"Of course," he said wryly, glad that she wasn't pushing him to talk about it.

Out of nowhere Albus Dumbledore appeared at his bedside dressed in his house coat. "Is every thing alright?"

"Just peachy Professor. Barty had a night terror triggered by recent events and stress."

"How would you like to proceed Miss Birch?"

Upon propping himself up on his elbows he realized that not only was the headmaster present but all four heads of house were in his rooms.

"Where from here Barty?" Scarlett addressed him and his attention snapped back to her.

"What do you mean?"

Snape was gearing up to run his mouth again so Scarlett quickly jumped to her feet demanding, "Out! All of you!" She shuffled them through the front door and placed a silencing charms on it. "Do you want to stay in your rooms tonight? If so, do you wish to be alone or with me? Or do you want to stay in my rooms with me?"

"With you," his mouth blurted out before it had fully reconnected with his brain.

"Okay, where?"

He looked around his rooms, they were practically barren. He might sleep among these walls but it was a far cry from home. On the other hand, her rooms he knew. He spent hours there everyday. It was a close to 'home' as he had. "Yours."

"I'll notify the headmaster. Why don't you change, unless you usually sleep fully dressed. Which if that's the case I need to make a notation in my notes."

"Why?"

"Because it's fucking weird," she winked at him before letting herself out into the hall.

He released a sigh, grateful for once that his therapist was a wack-job. He jumped up from his bed and began gathering his necessities. When she re-entered he was standing in the center of the main room, still fully dressed, with an overnight bag at his feet. She held out her hand to him, which he took and the pair descended down the hall. No one followed them, just Barty and Scarlett, and Barty's bag holding hands and walking the moonlit paths through the castle.

"How are you feeling Barty?"

"Um, okay I guess, why?" He thought it an odd question considering the context and she'd never really asked before.

"I meant are you tired?"

"Oh! No, not really."

"How about a midnight stroll?"

"Yeah, okay," he looked sideways at her a bit strangely but didn't let go of her hand.

They reached her door and he opened it setting his bag inside before they continued on. Eventually they made their way to the main doors and slipped out into the empty courtyard.

"Tag! You're it!" she said gently pushing him back a step and breaking away, sprinting into the darkness.

"Oh come on! What are we, twelve?! Scarlett I'm not in the mood for this! ...Scarlett?"

Something flashed in his peripheral vision and he darted after it. She increased speed and prepared to side step him. Unfortunately Barty anticipated the move and stepped directly in front of her.

"Tag, you're it," and with great agility he shot away from her.

Back and forth they went through the courtyard. Squealing and giggling when they were caught. Finally Barty tagged her. Wrapping himself around her and rolling to the stone surface of the floor.

"Gothcha!" They wrestled for a minute before splaying out side by side, once again joined at the hands. Both were trying to catch their breath and laughing.

"How do you feel now?"

"Good. A little tired but good. I don't even want to know how you knew that this, of all things would make me feel better."

"Never take yourself too seriously Barty. And never let a bad moment ruin the next, you never know when the next moment could be one of the most important of your life."

"Somehow I don't think this was that moment."

She picked up a loose pebble and tossed it in his general direction. Her aim was better than she thought and hit him directly on the forehead.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" He asked rubbing his head with his free hand.

"Never underestimate a moment either. C'mon it's bed time."

"Just five more minutes mom," he mocked, but got up any how.

They wandered back into the castle and to her quarters. As soon as they entered she pointed her wand at the fire. It sprung to life and a kettle put itself on for tea. He grabbed his overnight bag and headed for the bathroom, presumably to ready for bed.

She went to her desk to make a few notations in her notes and then prepared each of them a cup of tea. She realized that she could count on one hand how many people she could properly fix tea for. It was also not lost on her that she didn't need all of her fingers.

She needed to figure out how to get Barty more companionship. She enjoyed the time that they spent together but everyone needed friends, well except maybe Snape. She decided to talk the matter over with Dumbledore the next day.

Barty exited the bathroom, in much more comfortable looking clothes. He slumped down on the couch and began drinking his tea.

"Where would you prefer to sleep tonight?"

"Somewhere safe," he blurted out before thinking. She smiled at him, noting the heavy eyelids and his intermittent yawns. He was exhausted.

She offered her hand to him, which he took with a questioning glance. She pulled him to one of many doors that came off the main room. She pushed the door open and led him in. He couldn't see a damn thing, the room was completely dark. She guided him a few feet, spun him around to face her and began to undo the belt of his robe. He tried to stop her, to keep a final ounce of pride but the dark hindered him and within seconds he was standing in front of her bare-chested. She pushed him into a seated position, removed his slippers and flung back the covers.

A small light appeared on a bedside table. Barty quickly crawled beneath the blankets attempting to save face. She tucked him in and then laid down next to him, pulling another blanket seemingly out of thin air.

"How's this going to look?"

"Who cares? No one will see it, the headmaster knows where you are and the situation. Are you afraid of house elf gossip?"

"I suppose you're right."

"We'll figure out a better situation in the morning."

"A better situation?"

"Sleeping arrangements, I'm not against having attractive men in my bed. I'm just opposed to those which are my patients. I thought having your own room would be better don't you? ...Barty?" He was fast asleep, and looked fairly content. She watched his chest slowly rise and fall for a few minutes in the dim light before drifting off herself.


	6. Crazy Bitch' gets results

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews, as well as the adds! I appreciate them all, believe me. I really, really want to thank my beta Aana. Without her I would completely suck!

I own nothing but Scarlett. Please don't sue me, besides I have nothing to take. I'm a college student, I don't even own my soul!

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A dull sound thudded through the walls of their quarters, awaking Scarlett with a start. Her eyes shot open but she didn't dare move. Hearing no other sounds she moved to investigate. She looked over, wondering whether Barty had fallen out of bed. He was still happily curled beside her. The blankets had pooled around his waist during the night and she realized he was shirtless. She hadn't been that far off when she was mercilessly teasing him the morning after their drinking binge. He was in surprisingly good shape for a man that had spent the better part of a year imprisoned. A little thin, but much better than when he arrived a few weeks prior. He had looked quite scraggly, like a mutt with mange you'd find wandering in garbage in an alley of London. With time, patience, and a lack of three cement walls and a flock of Dementors, he was filling out quite nicely. His time in Azkaban was still visible. He was much younger than he looked, but he had retained most of his original handsome features. The dark circles beneath his eyes, numerous lines around his face, and sunken cheek bones were easily discernible. But it was his bright dancing eyes when he laughed or teased her, or the naturally elegant way he moved and held himself, that made him still Barty Crouch Jr.

She gently brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. He barely stirred before nuzzling further into the pillow. She slid carefully out of the bed so she wouldn't wake him and padded to the front room to search for the offensive noise. Finding nothing apparent out of place, she opened her door to see if there had been a student in the hallway. On the door was a parchment knifed into the wood. She glanced up and down the hall for some sign of the culprit, as though they'd be stupid enough to stick around to make sure she received the note. She found no sign of anyone. Dislodging the dagger and removing the parchment, she went back inside to see what someone had to say.

"This should be good," she told the paper.

Scrawled on it was an extremely to the point message. 'You are not wanted. Leave now bitch. Or else.'

"Or else what?" she asked the paper again. "You'll uselessly continue attempting to murder my door?" She released an exasperated sigh and laid the evidence on her desk.

Trying not to wake Barty, she changed, scribbled a quick note, grabbed the items, and headed for Dumbledore's office. She was getting sick of this. She spent almost as much time avoiding students and dealing with their moronic attempts at death threats as she did actually treating her patient. Hogwarts may have been the safest place for them but it certainly was not the most convenient.

She didn't find the Headmaster in his office, but she eventually remembered what time it was and realized he was more than likely at breakfast. When she had finally reached the hall, time and her rushed walking had fueled the fire and her anger had moved from a flare to a flame devouring everything in it's path. She entered the great hall looking terrifying. Her note in one hand, the dagger in the other, slightly disheveled, and completely pissed. She imagined she looked fairly deranged, like an escaped madman, but didn't really care. She was on a mission. This had to end.

"Why, Miss Birch, how lovely of you to join us," Dumbledore welcomed as she approached.

"Not that lovely," Snape scoffed.

This only added to her ire. She stopped dead in her tracks and glared at him. Note and dagger still in hand, which was now resting on her hips. "Don't you _ever_ teach? You are actually employed here, right? I'm not just imaging that?" She spitefully asked throwing up her hands.

Instead of pausing in front of the table, as was expected she went up the stairs behind the table and stopped beside Dumbledore. Every eye in the hall was on her, a mixture of curiosity and fear, though primarily disgust.

"Hear ye, hear ye, calling all midgets!" She held up the knife and drove it with all her force, tip down into the table next to the headmaster's plate. "Get the fuck over it!"

She handed the note to Dumbledore, adding, "He's moving," before exiting the hall the same way she had entered. She left a room full of dropped jaws and disbelieving stares. There would be dire repercussions to her actions, but these acts were foolish and wasting their time. It had to end, and she'd do whatever was necessary to get the point across.

"You did _what_?!" Barty's mouth was agape and his eyes were the size of saucers.

She waved a hand as if pushing the subject aside, "Now they have something to write home about."

"Exactly! They'll shut us down!"

"Well damn the man!" She threw up her fist in mock rebellion.

"This is serious, Scarlett." He flopped down on the couch, defeated.

"Stop worrying about it. The politics are my problem, not yours," she shrugged, and moved to her desk.

"We're in this together, damnit! Too many lives have already been ruined on my account!" He screamed furiously.

"Oh Jesus, Barty!" She threw up her hands, "Did you ever think that I can handle myself? Do you really think I got this post because that's where the dart landed?" Her voice began rising to match his, "I am very good at what I do, yes. However, I'm also a talented witch!"

"I recant my earlier statement. Not only are you most definitely bonkers, but now I'm questioning your intelligence!" He sat in thought for a moment, "Yep, you're a fucking idiot!"

"Yes, but I'm a fucking idiot without fear!" She proclaimed.

"Oh, in that case, I feel loads better."

She ignored him and went on, "Unlike everyone in that room, I accept the fact that everyone dies. And this world will keep on spinning whether I'm on it or not!"

"Don't you have any kind of self preservation?" He pleaded.

"I do, but there's a difference between surviving and living." Her voice had suddenly dropped to just above a whisper. He quickly looked up at the change. She was quieter but just as resolute in her words. "I refuse to merely survive. I want to live. A life like that has no use or room for regrets. Or for that matter, fear. I admit not all of my choices have been particularly bright nor without consequence, but they have led me to who I am now. This is my path, Barty. And I could walk no other. Nor would I want to."

He sighed and nodded, acknowledging her stance on the subject. He wasn't going to change her mind, at least not currently. He knew she was exceptional in all aspects of her life, but so were the other hundreds of people Voldemort had slaughtered. Regardless of how he felt about it, he had to respect her wishes and back off. She had given him the same courtesy. "What would you like to talk about today?"

"Nothing. Today we get you settled in." She immediately brightened.

"Pardon?" He was confused at not only the statement but her quick turn in mood. "You know, 80% of the time you make no sense."

"And you ask really random questions. What's your point?" She replied casually, leaning against her desk.

"I ask random questions? Are you aware of your external monologue?"

She had a dreamy look on her face then, suddenly replying, "Lizards. Huh? What?"

He narrowed his eyes, "I hate you."

"I highly doubt that." She grinned at him.

"I don't." His sour looks only made her grin deepen.

"C'mon," she yanked him up by the arm and began dragging him across the room.

"Where are we going?" He asked, not bothering to fight her.

"Your room," she pulled him to one of the doors coming off the sitting room. "Go ahead, open the door." She urged eagerly.

He complied and stepped into a barren room. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Um, it's a room, Scarlett," he said, stating what should have been obvious but she seemed to think this was really amazing. He was beginning to wonder if Snape hadn't drugged her out of spite. Or to molest her, she was kinda pretty. Or both. He wouldn't put it past him.

"Not just any room, it's your room Barty." She was pretty chipper about it.

"What?" His head was reeling through the possible potions he could've doped her with.

"Makes things simpler and still gives you your own space. Ask the room for something and it will appear."

"Seriously?"

"As dismemberment."

Despite Scarlett being somewhat unbalanced, the idea was brilliant. And perhaps a bit more than 'somewhat.' "Uh, hello room…um, I need a…bed?"

"Are you going to name it?" A sleigh bed shimmered into existence in the center of the room as she spoke.

"The bed?"

"No, the room."

"Am I supposed to?"

"You're the one talking to it like it's a person." She muttered.

"Oh, shut up," he retorted. He'd forgotten that many Hogwarts rooms could be altered to suit the inhabitants. Through out school, there had always been tales about how exactly the magic worked. Was it like the rumored Room of Requirement? Now he was getting firsthand experience with it.

"I can't, you don't know how to work Edith yet."

"Edith?" He was confused again.

"The room."

"I thought we weren't naming the room."

"You started it. Tell it where to go, the color, size, type of wood, all of it is up to you. Ask and you shall receive. Bathroom is through that door and I'll be in the sitting room if you need me." She turned to leave.

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"I can have skeletons dangling from the ceiling and blood pouring from the sink if I like?" He was dubious.

"If you want, I'll never see it unless there's an emergency or you invite me in."

"Anything I want?" He asked again watching her with disbelieving eyes.

"Yes, what about this is giving you problems exactly?" She asked sarcastically.

"That's a lot of trust Scarlett," he replied earnestly.

"I trust you and I know you. You aren't going to decorate in Marquis de Sade."

"What makes you think that?" He was genuinely curious as to how she'd somehow conjured such knowledge.

"Fuchsia Barty, fuchsia," she crossed her arms giving him a pointed look before exiting into the front room.

He looked back at his bed, choosing to ignore her comment on his tastes for the time being. His shoulders immediately slumped at what he saw. Covering the bed was a bright fuchsia duvet. "Scarlett!" He bellowed, hearing a familiar snicker behind him from the main room in response.

"Hey Scarlett, come have a look!" He yelled excitedly from the other room.

She set down her paperwork on her desk and moved to his room. The first thing that struck her upon entering was how lively it was. He'd put in beautiful windows that ran the length of the farthest wall, allowing copious sunlight to pour in. As she wandered through the room, she saw marvelous maple floors, impressionist paintings on nearly every wall, and intricate scroll designs on the mirrors, glass and white marble tiles in the bathroom. White crown moldings led to vaulted ceilings, crème Venetian plastered walls, and all the furniture was crafted from light woods. Every where she looked it was bright and airy.

"Wow," she said in awe. She spotted a few throw pillows on the bed, they were fuchsia.

He followed her eyes to the bed and smirked. "Just couldn't bring myself to get rid of them. Do you like it?"

"Do you?" She asked, smiling at his enthusiasm.

"Absolutely!"

"Then I love it. Hungry?" She offered.

"Starving." He snatched her arm and tugged her out of his room and out of their quarters.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise." Rushing past students and occasionally a member of the faculty, he maneuvered the halls until he stopped in front of a tapestry containing a bowl of fruit. "Stay right here," he told her before quickly entering what she knew to be the kitchens, returning with a basket and a blanket.

He grabbed her again and hurried out to the grounds toward the lake, continuing along the shore line for about twenty minutes before reaching an out of the way nook. Barty spread out the blanket and began unpacking the basket. "We should be far enough away from the students to not be harassed," he explained as he moved plates, silverware, and bundles of food. Lastly he pulled out a pair of crystal flutes and a bottle.

"Are we celebrating?" She inquired eyeing up the bottle.

"No, I'm just an exceptionally thoughtful rapist." She laughed at the jab, thinking that perhaps she was rubbing off on him. She was sure the headmaster would be pleased as punch. He popped the cork and poured them each a glass.

"A toast," he tilted his glass toward hers.

"To?"

"The winds of change are upon us, and hope is on the horizon," he offered. "To a new world, a better world, one step at a time. To walking away from past mistakes to a bright future." They both smiled at the prospect before taking a long pull of the sweet champagne.

"Good lord, let's eat before I wither into nothingness!" She begged.

They sat on the blanket and dove into the food, wasting away the remainder of the afternoon drinking, eating, talking and laughing. For a few hours they forced the rest of the world to wait. Leaving behind the politics and problems they were forced to face. They just existed, without fear or worries. The threats were hollow and discarded, the conversations meaningless and meandering. Both were hesitant to finally return to reality. But as the sun began to fall into the sky, they begrudgingly packed up and returned to the confines of their quarters.

"Goodnight Scarlett," he said turning to retire to his room. She was sitting in her usual chair, a fire in the hearth and a book in her hands.

"Goodnight Barty, sweet dreams."

"You too," he returned, taking one last look at her before closing the door.

"Please god, let him have sweet dreams," she begged the blazing fire and empty room.

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Please read and review! I like reviews, they make me happy. But then again so does Ambien, but I shouldn't have access to that anymore. At least that's what the insurance company said.


	7. Fire side chats

I liked to dedicate this chapter to flower, thanks for reviewing I really appreciate it and am sincerely going to try to update more often! Hope you enjoy!

I own only Scarlett, everything else came from somewhere else.

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She knocked on Dumbledore's door. This wasn't going to be the greatest day of her life. She knew she had lost her temper and stabbing the head table wasn't the way to fix anything, though admittedly she did feel better. Something about a hall full of shocked children left her with a smile. Her time with Barty was helping him, but not her. Perhaps outlooks were like energy, transferable.

"Come in Miss Birch." It was never a good sign when the headmaster knew it was you at the door. Through the door.

Surprisingly, Dumbledore was the only one waiting for her in the office. She had expected an onslaught of screaming red faced staff members. Instead she walked into a quiet room with a very irritated head master. Even the portraits were silent. Technically he couldn't fire her, only the Ministry could do that. But Fudge would have to be able to find her body to terminate her position, and by then it would be too late.

"Sir I…" she began.

"Sit down." His demanding voice interrupted. Any trace of the friendly old man that she was used to was gone. She sat obediently.

"Your actions today were, to say the least, inappropriate. What on earth made you think that was a good idea? Scarlett, do you have any idea what kind of situation you've put me in, with the parents and the Ministry?"

"I'm very sorry sir, I lost my temper. And I'm sure Fudge is throwing a fit. I'll understand if we're not welcome here anymore." She realized the weight of her actions and what it could mean for her and Barty.

"We, Miss Birch?" His face had changed instantly from anger to interest. "If removed from the grounds you intend to stay with Mr. Crouch then?"

"Yes sir, I do."

"You do understand what would eventually happen out there don't you? People want him dead." He said slowly, possibly to make sure she understood what he'd said.

"I know sir, but I've made a commitment to my post and to Barty."

"I'm very angry with you, and I suggest that you both keep your heads down. I'll try to keep this as quiet as possible but I require your cooperation. There can be no more incidents like the one today. And don't ask for anything for quite a while. Just assume the answer is a resounding no. You are not a child Scarlett. I might have expected this from Mr. Crouch but not you. What was it exactly that caused you to completely break your professionalism? This note?" He held up the note, his expression disbelieving.

"Yes sir, not what was in it, it's just…I can't get anything done continuously looking over my shoulder." She was frustrated with the whole situation.

"I understand your irritation but I assure you I'm doing everything I can to keep the students away from you. Unfortunately it's catching them that is the problem. Everyone was at breakfast when this happened. And I can't post someone in every corridor. I'm sorry but you'll have to find some way of dealing with it, I'd recommend someone to talk with about it but I assume you'd sooner poison yourself than have a civil conversation with Severus. Ironically, he'd still be the man to see."

"Yeah, you hit the proverbial nail on the head sir," she gritted her teeth but said nothing more.

"Regardless, stay quiet Miss Birch. Any more incidents and not only will you lose the support from this office but you will find yourselves unwelcome at Hogwarts. Do I make myself clear?" His offer was tense to say the least. She had no choice to concede.

"Of course, Headmaster."

"Then you may go Miss Birch." She scrambled from the office. As she made her way down to their quarters she was sure she looked like a scorned child, and essentially she was. Perhaps it was best to heed Albus' warning and make themselves scarce over the next few weeks. Hopefully they'd manage to stay under the radar, for the most part.

The following weeks were all the same, seemingly pointless banter over tea, rotating harassment and threats from random students, mostly Malfoy and his posse of thoughtless bandits, and useless arguments with the administration. They used every holiday as an excuse to find themselves intoxicated and giggling. Halloween and the entire week leading up to Christmas was a drunken blur. They were told to tone it down by Dumbledore after they spontaneously decided to play hide and seek in the halls at one in the morning, wearing curtains as capes. Rather than actually quieting down, wards and extra locks were put on the doors to prevent further incident. However they'd managed to not attract any more unwanted attention from the staff, students, or Ministry.

"Come in Miss Birch," the Headmaster's voice called from the opposite side of the door. She entered the large office and took a seat across from him in front of the hearth. "Lemon drop?" he offered.

"No sir, I think I've had enough of a sharp tongue this term."

He smiled compassionately at her, "I understand you are protecting your patient. Speaking of which I expected Barty to be accompanying you, from what I've surmised the two of you are practically joined at the hip."

"He's in his room or at least somewhere in our quarters."

"How has your therapy been coming along?" he asked casually.

"Just fine, we've made good progress so far but I've been backing off for a while now." Dumbledore tilted his head and looked at her inquiringly. "We're dealing with very sensitive subjects and long hidden pain. Pushing too much too quickly can be detrimental. You wouldn't tell someone your life story the day you met them, it's very similar."

"He appears to trust you quite a bit, which in its self was very difficult I'm sure. I never thought I'd see the day that Barty Crouch Junior would stand up for a friend the way he has. But they say that time heals all wounds."

"You and I both know that is true, but sometimes you run out of time."

He nodded in agreement, somber for a moment. "What will you do at the end of the year?"

"I don't know, I play most of this by ear to be honest with you, I sort of have to. No matter how calm the water may be, you never know what's around the bend. A lot of it will depend on where we're at in our sessions. What options are even available to us will also play a large part in the decision." The Headmaster nodded again. "He'll never be able to have a normal life again though. But we'll deal with that when the time comes."

"I agree on both points. Nothing is easy and a second chance will only go so far." Dumbledore seemed much more interested in listening than talking at current. Her intuition kicked in and she felt it necessary to ease his mind.

"Sir," she paused, "I'm just fine, you know." She met his gaze with a serious face. "Really, I'm a bit drained from the students' antics but I'm truly doing fine."

The Headmaster nodded in acknowledgment. He seemed to have a great weight on his shoulders. As if the whole world might collapse in on itself at any moment and he knew he was the only one who could save it. She was compelled to reach out to him, the way she had to Barty, to ease his buzzing mind and heavy heart.

"You know Albus," she began casually. "I am posted at Hogwarts for Barty's care but that doesn't mean he's the only one that can utilize my skills."

He nodded again, recognizing her offer. "While I realize my need to talk to someone and your very fine abilities, the less people who know what lay in my head the better."

"I understand sir, right now everyone has extenuating circumstances. But my services extend to all staff and students as well, just something to keep in mind."

"I will Scarlett, and I'm glad to hear that you're making progress. You were set with a very difficult task." He looked at her, searching for something in her eyes. She knew he wasn't completely sold that she wasn't about to crack from the stress.

"It's the hard tasks that are most worthy of doing Albus," she said with sincerity. Barty was worth it, every minute of bullshit she'd had to wade through, and all that was to come. She still felt it was a worthy cause.

He smiled at her and for a moment his grin glinted in his eyes before quickly disappearing again. She nodded to him and moved to leave. She was halfway out of the door when Dumbledore called her back.

"Scarlett, you said that Barty would never have a real life again," she nodded. "You're partly correct. He will never have a normal life here again, not in this region and most certainly not in the wizarding world. But somewhere else, on another continent in the muggle world, they know nothing of his past discretions, just something to keep in mind."

"Thank you Albus, I will." With that she left to return to their quarters.

As she walked through the hallways she wondered what Barty had been up to in her absence. Hallways after hallway, watching students glare and cower as she passed. She wondered briefly if that was what it was like to be Snape.

She turned a corner into an empty corridor, then another turn and yet another barren corridor. She hadn't seen them, why she wasn't sure. They were massive. But she felt the contact as they grabbed her and pinned her to the wall. Smashing her head against the stone.

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Please read and review! Every review helps!


	8. Bishop to King's coma

A/N: Yes, I know it's been awhile but here it is. Unfortunately I decided to take 3 history courses this semester and now ALL I do is read! However, I'm on spring break this week and already busy writing Ch 10, and re-writing Ch 9 so hopefully there will be loads more coming soon. And boy will it be weird! Not in our usual Scarlett/Barty way either! This will be a whole new ball game folks, so please stay tuned over the next couple of weeks! I hope you like this chapter and as always please let me know what you think. The good, the bad, and the ugly! Thanks!

As always, I own nothing but Scarlett. Though, if anyone has the rights to own Keegan de Lancie do let me know. I'm willing to take out a loan! ;)

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The book fell from her lap. The light thump was enough to wake her. For a few moments she was disoriented, but soon images began flooding into her head and she remembered why she had drifted off in a chair instead of her warm bed. Eventually drawing herself up she went to change clothes and then return to Barty's bedside. She felt as thought she were going through the motions of normal life. A soulless corpse doing as it had always done.

How much of last night's recap had she read, and how much had she relived in a dream? Her original question was still unanswered, but for now all questions would have to wait. If Barty never regained conscience neither her questions nor the elusive answers would matter. The project would be over, obviously. But she would've also lost a very close friend. The prospect hurried her out the door, and back to the hospital wing.

It had been dark when she had left but she wasn't sure if it was the same dark or not. Barty's room was the only one in their quarters with windows and she wouldn't have noticed any way.

As she entered Scarlett saw a light flickering in Madame Pomfrey's little office. She assumed the woman was still monitoring Barty, she wasn't sure how to interpret that. Barty's bed was sectioned off, probably for security purposes. Or it was to keep from scaring the little punks that roamed the halls of Hogwarts. His bedside candle was still going, casting shadows on the cotton barricades around the bed. She could plainly see his silhouette lying prone. Another figure was standing over him. She could tell it wasn't Poppy and rushed over concerned. As she rounded the corner she saw someone she neither expected nor comforted her uneasiness.

"What are you doing Snape?" He was messing with something on the bedside table.

"I thought Albus told you to get some sleep." He replied, not turning around.

"I did, you didn't answer my question Professor."

"It's been four hours since you left, which can hardly be counted as resting." He still hadn't turned around, but she could see that he had a vial of something blue in his hand. He uncapped it and moved towards the bed. She immediately intercepted him, standing between her patient and the potions master.

"What do you think you're doing?" She questioned with narrowed eyes.

"Attempting to ease his pain, unsuccessfully, I might add, seeing as how you're in my way."

"You're not putting anything down that man's throat until I get the all clear from Madame Pomfrey."

"In that case, I suggest you go find her."

"And leave you alone with Barty? I think not."

"Why must you be so belligerent Miss Birch? Most of the potions in Poppy's cabinet come from me. If you hadn't noticed I'm perfectly qualified to make such things." His sarcasm was less than charming.

"I don't care, I don't trust you. For all I know you're trying to poison him."

A deep growl erupted from this throat. "Yes, of course I am. Right here in the middle of the Hogwarts infirmary and now that I have a witness to my to my cruel acts I can begin disemboweling him." His sneer deepened when her features hardened. She wasn't amused in the slightest.

"Get away from him Snape, or so help me god…"

"Or what? What do you think you're going to do?" He leaned towards her. His intimidation tactics were useless on her. She was trained to read a man like a book. He stared deeply into her eyes, raising an eye brow. "You'd seriously give your life for this vermin?"

Damn him and his legilimency. She should've known better than to meet his gaze. "Yes, I would. I owe him."

He laughed, it was a foreign sound to her. In all her life she'd never heard him even snicker. But his biting laugh was hardly a welcome noise in the near empty chamber. "You don't owe him anything. Malfoy is hardly a serious threat. There is no life debt between you."

"Honorable acts deserve to be repaid, the rest of the world may not recognize that fact, but I do. Jesus Snape, are you really such a bitter fuck that you won't allow him to have one exception to the rule?"

"I question your motives. To me, there appear to be none. Or is this your good deed for the year?" He retorted sneering.

She shook her head, "Your world must suck Snape, I'm glad I have no part of it."

"Oh but you are Miss Birch. Crouch didn't end up your patient because he spread too much sunshine you know."

"Yeah, Snape, surprisingly enough I'd caught on to that. Had you noticed that I don't really care?"

"Indeed I have, and it will most likely get you killed."

"Unlike you Professor? No one has ever made a difference in the world by shutting up and sitting quietly on the side lines, you of all people should realize that."

He grunted, and released a weary sigh. "Are you going to allow me to administer this or not?" He asked holding up the still uncapped vial.

"If he dies, they will never find your body Snape." She warned but stepped aside to allow him access. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, he did have a point. He wasn't going to poison Barty right in front of her. She watched closely as Snape tilted Barty's head up and poured the blue liquid into his mouth, by the grace of god he swallowed what she was sure a very foul tasting potion.

"Was that you're good deed for the year Professor?" She could almost hear him roll his eyes, though he wasn't facing her.

"You're so very welcome Miss Birch." His tone was harsh. Her question hadn't been meant to be a cruel return of some kind, but she realized it probably hadn't sounded the way she had intended.

She was genuinely curious as to why a man who had done nothing but bitch and moan about Barty's presence here all year long would suddenly use his skills to relieve his suffering. He still had his back to her, so she reached out and gently touched his shoulder. His head immediately snapped to stare at her quizzically.

She stared into his eyes. "Thank you Professor." Her voice was quiet but steady. "I appreciate your help." He said nothing but nodded and went back to fiddling with the vials on the bedside table.

Scarlett moved around to the other side of the bed. A thin layer of sweat coated Barty's brow. She tugged at the edge of her sleeve, bringing it up to dab at his forehead. Snape stopped all movement and watched her in his peripheral vision. She noticed his watchful gaze, but what the hell did she care? She pushed a lock of hair away from his face and pulled the blankets up closer around him. Snape turned to watch her blatantly. She was sure there was a sneer on his face as usual but she didn't care enough to look, her focus was entirely on Barty.

"Is he going to be alright?" She finally asked, still not looking up but instead peering down at Barty's motionless face.

"We don't know. Malfoy hasn't been forth coming as to what he cast on Crouch. And Albus and I agree that we don't want to try and reverse the wrong curse, it could end up doing more damage to him if we get it wrong."

"Severus," she looked up at him for the first time since he'd administered the potion. Her voice was again quiet but this time she wavered slightly. "Can he dream right now?"

"Once the potion enters his system, and the pain wears down, probably. Why do you ask?" His tone wasn't as harsh as it had been. She'd never called him by his first name before. She wasn't a child anymore, and it had been years since she'd been his student. Given his instant switch to cooperative she assumed it mattered to him.

"Will you give him something so he can't dream?"

"I can, but you still haven't answered my question."

"Why do you always looked so tired?" She asked with an arched eyebrow.

"He's still having nightmares then?" He asked as he turned back to the many concoctions on the table.

"Every now and then, yeah. I'm just afraid he'll have one and it's not like he can wake up from it. He'd be lost in his own mind. Unfortunately no matter what I do or, he does for that matter, he'll probably always have them."

She paused, "How do you know he's in pain?" She had apparently taken up Barty's penchant for odd thought patterns in his absence.

"Other than the fact that he was thrown across the corridor into a wall you mean?" The look on his face as he stared at her was one that she could only describe as if he was mentally saying 'duh.' She never thought a man like Severus Snape could procure such a look but there it was, plain as could be.

Despite this he continued, "Albus," he stated simply.

"Ah." The headmaster had quite an array of things in his bag of tricks.

Snape returned to the couple, vial in hand. She immediately reached for Barty's head, cradling it so Snape could empty yet another potion into his mouth. When she looked up he had arched yet another eyebrow at her action.

"Whatever it is Snape, just say it."

"Are you sleeping with him?"

The question was so abrupt she accidentally dropped Barty's head. She stared at him for a long moment. Then realization dawned on her.

"That's why Albus was so concerned. He thought we were sleeping together." It really hadn't been directed at Snape but more to herself. So that was the unasked question floating in the air that she couldn't quite grasp during their last meeting. She knew his mind had been else where but she certainly hadn't thought it was _there,_ of all places. And if she had to be honest with herself, she was a little disappointed that she hadn't caught it.

Scarlett finally came back to herself, only to realize that Snape was still waiting for an answer. "No, nothing's happened between us."

"Yet," He amended.

"I haven't exactly been plotting the event!" She snapped more defensively than she'd meant to.

He chuckled, "Are you certain of that Miss Birch?" He was almost smiling as he asked. Was that amusement in his features? Yes, yes it was. She'd needed a second look considering what an odd occurrence it was.

And so he continued, more than slightly pleased with the situation. "I find it curious that a woman such as you spends all of her time with a man convicted of being a Death Eater." He was nearly giddy, well as giddy as a socially inept, sexually repressed Englishman could get. "It's perfectly natural. He's still a fairly young man, he's been incarcerated for quite some time. You're a beautiful woman, whose come to whisk him away and make everything right again. You've had many lonely nights together…" he trailed off, presumably to allow her imagination to wander. Since his obviously was.

"I'd tell you to get a hobby but it appears you already have one." She looked at him pointedly, "You know, they have chat rooms for that now."

"I'm just saying that…"

"Regardless of your assumptions," she interrupted, "it's never happened. Why are you here Snape? Shouldn't you be at Malloy's interrogation?" She was cross but she didn't like where the conversation was rapidly going and wished for it to end. Immediately.

"Lucius will be here in the morning when Fudge will talk to Mr. Malfoy and his friends. Until then my presence isn't required." He recognized the change in conversation but didn't seem to desire to push the matter. She was a little surprised. He seemed to be relishing the experience a moment ago.

"I see. So those boys aren't going to get into any trouble for tonight, are they?" She should've been infuriated, an absolute raging mess, incredulous at the very least. But the perpetrators were three young men from some of the highest ranking wizarding families in society. They may or may not have attacked a convicted killer and possibly committed murder. But some how it evened out. The world was a truly fucked up place.

"No, it's highly unlikely they will be brought up on charges. At best, Albus might be able to give them detention."

"Maybe it's not worth it after all." She said slumping into a nearby chair.

His head shot up to look at her curiously. "What isn't Miss Birch?" He asked slowly. If she thought he was capable of it, Snape looked worried.

There's been a question nagging me since I left here yesterday." She wasn't sure that pouring heart and soul out to Severus Snape was a brilliant plan, so she hesitated.

"And what's that?" She wasn't sure that he was actually urging her to continue, but at the very least she needed to talk aloud, it would help clarify the thoughts darting haphazardly around her mind.

"Our relationship," she motioned toward Barty. Snipe's eyebrows shot up, and his slightly menacing look returned. "Not like that," she retorted.

"I believe I would call Barty my friend. Not my patient. And definitely not what you're implying. But what comes next? Where do we go from here?"

He looked a bit incredulous. "Miss Birch, isn't that your job?"

"Yes, it is Professor Snape. I was more thinking out loud than anything." She was suddenly frustrated by the man.

"I can't save the world, but I can save Barty. And that power comes with responsibility." She moved to stare down at Barty again, lacing her fingers with his. "I don't believe we'll be staying after the end of the term Professor." Her voice was firm, her earlier hesitance had vanished. The features of her face became steely and resolute.

Snape could only watch her as the cogs inside her head began to move once again, preparing for an unknown future. He was quickly pulled from his thoughts. "Do you think anyone else in Azkaban can be helped?" She asked.

"You're privy to their files, I'm not." His brow knitted in confusion. What was she getting at? What was going on here?

"You know them better. Some you may have even taught, but you assuredly know them on a level I never will."

"What are you implying Miss Birch?" He asked defensively, almost daring.

"Roll up your sleeve and it won't be an implication Professor."

"How _dare_ you. I've tolerated your cheek for too long…"

"Despite what my cheek may or may not do for you Professor," she growled, "the truth is a simple one. You are who you are, and I know what you once were. Now answer the damn question." She had one finger pointed at him, and was angry as hell.

She was tired of playing games with him and everyone else on the fucking planet. She could do nothing for Barty at the present but she could take action for the future.

"And why should I?" He challenged, leaning towards over the bed. He was now sick of her insolence.

"It will go into my report, anonymously of course, as well as recommendations for my replacement." His eyes darted furiously across her face questioningly. Now he just looked confused again. His expressions had changed throughout the conversation, meandering as it was, like a rapid succession of night and day.

Before he could ask her to clarify she continued, "It is no longer my intention to stay with the program. I will be replaced with one of the other qualified individuals who were offered my position, and Barty and I will be relocated to quietly continue our work. There is no other obvious alternative."

She could tell his mind was reeling, questions and answers zipping as swift as a river but he held his tongue. "I'm all he has right now, and this idiocy can't continue. We're getting no where with it."

She let go of Barty's hand and moved around the bed to face Snape. "Severus," she began, eyes darting from Snape's face to Barty and back. "He's not just my patient, Barty's my friend. You can't go through the things that we have endured without forming a bond. And regardless of what you think, he is a good man. Just like you Professor. The difference between you two is honor and loyalty. You've already found your path Severus. He's still searching for his. Someone had to help you along your journey. I am that person for Barty. Who helped you?" She searched his eyes desperately.

"Do you play chess Miss Birch?"

She blinked at him. "What?"

"Chess, can you play? It wasn't a difficult question."

"I'm capable, yes. But what the hell kind of question is that? I plead for Barty and you respond by asking if I play chess? Have the potion fumes finally affected your brain?..."

Snape was ignoring her inane ranting. Instead, he pulled up two chairs and a make shift table. Removing a small object from his pocket, he extracted his wand from its usual place in his sleeve. A quick flick of his wand and a chess set grew to standard size. He sat down in one of the chairs, steepling his fingers, waiting for her to shut up.

"…you could have at least told me you were mental when we began this conversation!" She'd continued ranting through his set up of the area. She took pause, replaying the scene that had just unfolded in her head. It was very familiar, but at the same time something wasn't quite right. She stared once again at Barty's prone figure.

"I just realized a terrible truth Severus," she assumed he had cocked an eyebrow, or some such thing. "I desperately miss him. What will I do if he doesn't wake up?"

There was no response. All she heard was a heavy sliding sound. She looked down to where Severus and his chessboard sat. A black pawn had been moved two spaces toward her end of the board. He'd gone first. White was supposed to make the first move. She supposed, technically, white had. Now what? She sat down and thought about her first move. There was nothing else to do.

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Please R&R if you can! Your responses fuel the fire beneath the muse!


	9. Bartemius 9:17

A/N: Okay, so I said 2 chapters by the end of the week. Well that didn't work out so well. But here's one brand spanking new chapter that I hope you all enjoy! Thank you for the reviews, they made me oh so happy! I'll try and get the next chapter up as soon as I can. I ended up spliting Ch 9 into two different chapters because I thought it flowed better. So I hope to have that up soon. Let me know what you think!

I own only Scarlett, which is a handful if you hadn't noticed! Again get back to me on the de Lancie thing guys! I'm willing to put up the house for that! Anyway enough of my weird rantings, enjoy!

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She awoke to a slight chill. A wool blanket covered her but still couldn't fight off the draft of the large room. She was still at Barty's bedside but Snape had vanished as well as the chess set. Light was pouring in from the large windows in the hospital wing. Her best guess was that it was early morning. She looked to the bed in front of her. Barty hadn't moved an inch. Some distant part of her wanted to cry at that moment. She didn't have a lot of close friends, and somehow in the course of the last several months Barty had become one of her closest.

Her head fell into her hands, "How did it come to this?"

Despite her desire to sink into her chair and scream she pushed herself up, added her blanket to Barty's collection, and went in search of Madame Pomfrey. She needed to find out what was going on. She couldn't care less about the students but she wanted to know what was being done for Barty. Or more likely, what wasn't being done for him. She told Poppy to fetch her if anything changed with Barty's condition.

It was still fairly early in the morning and classes hadn't convened for the day yet. Students, many not looking fully awake, littered the corridors on her way to the Great Hall. As she entered she noted the absence of both the Headmaster as well as Snape. Thankfully McGonagall was at her usual place next to Dumbledore's empty seat. Scarlett hurried towards her. McGonagall's face wasn't entirely welcoming as she approached.

"Professor, pardon the interruption to your meal…"

"Indeed," came the stiff reply.

"I implore you Professor, I need to know what's going on." Scarlett begged.

"I can assure you that I know nothing Miss Birch."

"That's a lie." She challenged.

McGonagall's face twisted into anger instantly. "Pardon me Miss Birch, but how dare you…" Scarlett cut her off.

"No, how dare you Minerva. That is a blatant lie." She whispered fervently. "If I learned anything during my time at Hogwarts it was that none of the staff know 'nothing'. And knowledge is exactly what I need right now."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Her anger hadn't completely dissipated but was now mixed with confusion.

"I need help. To hell with Malfoy, he's going to get off no matter what I do. But my friend is lying in the infirmary and we don't know how to fix him. So, as I said, I need your help. How do I help my friend? And don't tell me there's nothing I can do because I simply won't accept that." She was out of breath by the time she'd finished her plea.

"Patient." McGonagall amended.

"What?"

"Patient, he is still your patient is he not?" She questioned pointedly.

Scarlett understood what the other woman was trying to get at. Losing her professionalism with the situation looked bad for all parties involved. But Scarlett didn't care didn't care at the moment.

"Semantics Professor, damn the means, I need an end."

"Scarlett," her voice softened.

"Terminology is pretty low on my givashitometer right now." She knew her face was desperate as well as worn from the last 48 hours but she was, desperate.

"I'll meet you in half an hour in my office Miss Birch." And she dismissively went back to her breakfast.

Scarlett nodded and quickly headed back out of the Hall with a long stride. That meant she had 30 minutes to find out what happened with Malfoy and discretely ask Snape for his help. She walked quickly through hallway after hallway, faces of students flashing by her. As she reached the open space in front of the Headmaster's office, a small crowd had formed.

"Miss Birch?" Dumbledore had noticed her entry into the space.

Everyone turned to look at her. The Minister, Snape, and Malfoy, with a huge shit eating grin on his face, all stared at her. Snape had turned, putting his back to the group and though his demeanor never changed, his eyes held a questioning, almost frightened look. A man stood next to Malfoy. By his features, or rather Draco's, she was certain it was Lucius Malfoy.

"I didn't mean to interrupt, I'm sorry." She needed to talk to Snape, needed his mind, really. But she wasn't about to say that in front of this group.

"Did you need something?" The Minister asked. Snape narrowed his eyes, as if to say 'keep your mouth shut'.

"No. I was just taking a short walk to stretch sir."

"How's Crouch? Any change in his condition?" why the Minister had decided to make small talk with her now of all times was beyond her, but it would have to serve a purpose for now. She hoped that Snape would catch on.

"No, there's no change thus far." She paused, unsure of how to send Snape a message while still being discreet. "But some new possibilities have opened up recently, and I'm hopeful that not all is lost."

"Oh?" The Minister seemed intrigued, as did the elder Malfoy, that couldn't bode well. Dumbledore and Snape appeared confused. Draco just looked bored. "I wasn't aware of a breakthrough on the matter. What are you considering?"

Good god, couldn't the man just shut up? She tried not to allow her panic to be evident. She took a deep breath and prepared to bullshit her way through. "There's always the possibility that he will wake up on his own, which would be ideal but can also be dangerous. The longer he's comatose, the more likely he'll stay that way. We can obviously try to reverse," she was about to say 'the curse' but in reality she had no clue if it was a curse or not, "the problem. But that may prove difficult as well. I always like to have a plan B, just in case, so I'm looking into other alternatives."

"I wasn't aware that wandering around constituted 'looking into other alternatives'." Draco sneered. His father squeezed his shoulder, she assumed as a warning to hold his tongue. Scarlett thought that was a splendid plan and was willing to use a nail gun to assure the utmost efficiency.

"It's how I think, Mr. Malfoy." She plastered on a saccharine smile. "Ideas can come from odd places occasionally. A walk, a game of chess, playing with your cat. All of sudden the thought just comes to you. Don't you agree Headmaster?"

"Yes, indeed I do." She smiled at him, far more genuinely than she had at Malfoy's spawn. She didn't think Dumbledore had any idea what was going on, but then again he had a tendency to surprise one with his knowledge.

"If you'll excuse me gentlemen, I should be on my way." She nodded politely, pausing to stare intently at Snape for a moment before beginning her trek to McGonagall's office. Crisis one had been averted, onto the next.

Once out of sight from the group Scarlett broke into a run. She needed as much distance between herself and Malfoy as possible. Although her first reaction to the situation had been to focus on Barty that didn't mean that she didn't want to ram Malfoy's wand so far up his ass that every time he sneezed he shot sparks out of his nose. The thought warmed her heart actually. Fucking weasel. It didn't take long to reach McGonagall's office. She knocked on the door still trying to catch her breath.

"Come in." Scarlett rushed inside after taking one last look around the corridor. She had told the group she was out for a walk and she didn't make a habit of visiting the Professor's office in her spare time. Despite the situation she didn't trust a lot of people right now. And if all had gone well Snape should be on his way. Fraternizing with the enemy wouldn't look good. No need to blow his cover.

"Alright Miss Birch, I'm listening." McGonagall was sitting behind her desk with her arms crossed.

"Professor, I don't know what to do. I usually at the very least have a glimmer of what needs to happen, but I am completely lost this time. This is beyond my experience. I need some guidance." Scarlett felt that at this juncture honesty was her best bet. Apparently she was correct because McGonagall uncrossed her arms and her features softened.

"I'll do what I can but I don't know how much of a help I can be, Scarlett."

"You have experience and knowledge on your side, Professor, that's more than I've got."

"Have they tried to wake him up?" Scarlett's look she added, "I wasn't present when he was brought in, I was with Malfoy and his friends."

"Making sure they didn't staple themselves to anything I assume."

"Something like that. So did they try to wake him?"

"No, I don't think so. And he's been drugged ever since. Even if he wanted to wake up I doubt he could. I sort of wonder if Snape didn't plan it that way." She fell into one of the customary chairs in front of her desk.

"I highly doubt that." Scarlett sent Minerva a look at this. "Okay, it's possible."

"So you're suggesting casting Rennervate and see what happens, after the potions wear off of course."

"It's a start." The older woman shrugged.

"That it is. Wonder what Snape gave him." At that very moment the door opened and closed quickly. Both women looked to see who it was. Snape was moving toward them and slid into the other seat. "I wondered if you got the hint." Scarlett said to him.

"Perhaps if you hadn't stared at me as though I were prey Miss Birch," he sneered.

"I need your help Severus." She stated bluntly.

He arched an eyebrow. "With what precisely?"

"When Barty came in did you try to wake him?"

"No, the Headmaster and I agreed that the best course of action was to keep him unconscious until his wounds could be healed."

"Wounds?! What fucking wounds? I wasn't told about this!" Now she was furious. Such information was important.

"He had a moderate concussion, contusions on his back from the impact with the wall, and a deep laceration across his torso. Most likely from the curse. We treated the bulk of his injuries and I was left to administer the appropriate potions to retain his unconsciousness." He stated flatly.

She jumped out of her chair. "Why wasn't I notified of this and how about you define 'bulk' for me?"

"We assumed you knew, you were there, or don't you remember either?"

"Yes, of course I remember! What do you mean by 'either'?" She was still enraged from not being told about Barty's injuries but confusion was quickly setting in. Despite her yelling, Snape stayed calm throughout. His voice was a bored drawl.

"Apparently, young Malfoy can't remember what he cast on Crouch. He remembers Crouch attacking him, and defending himself. But has no recollection of what he cast."

"Oh that's bullshit!" She was pissed again. Scarlett began pacing between Snape and the desk.

"Normally I would agree with you Scarlett." This time McGonagall popped an eyebrow up. Apparently Snape rarely called people by their given names. "But Albus cast Reminiscoria on him and tried Legilimency to no avail. The memory is _not_ in that boy's head."

She stopped pacing and looked at him. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know. Either the Dark Lord himself, whom Malfoy hasn't been near in months, erased the memory or something went wrong. Though I have no idea what went wrong or how since we have no clue as to what he cast on Crouch. Scarlett, I don't know what happened. I've never seen something like this before, and I've seen _a lot _of dark magic." He leaned forward, steepling his fingers, obviously deep in thought.

"Okay, so we have no idea what was cast, which means we don't know how to reverse it." She resumed her pacing. "Well, what did you give him last night?"

"A standard sleeping draught, calming draught and upon your request a dreamless sleep potion. The effects should wear off within 24 hours."

McGonagall interjected, "I suggested simply trying rennervate, it's basic but it's a start."

"That it is. However, considering the severity of his injuries and the fact that Malfoy's memory is completely absent I have my doubts about its effectiveness."

"You keep making reference to the injuries inflicted. How bad are we talking about Severus?" Scarlett asked. She didn't like the way this sounded.

"I think it best that you see for yourself." He replied darkly. She had her reservations about actually viewing the damage. If Severus was telling her that she needed to see the laceration, it was definitely bad news bears.

She sighed deeply, as though it took quite the effort. "As I said, I like to have a plan B. But I don't think there is one at present." She fell into the chair again, "So, we wait. The potions will wear off tonight?"

"Correct. I can calculate out an exact time for you if you'd like." Snape no longer had an irritated tone but was almost conversational. It sort of freaked Scarlett out, but he was cooperative so she wasn't going to question it.

"That would be very helpful Severus. Should I discuss this with the Headmaster?"

"I'll inform him of the plan Scarlett, you just focus on Crouch." McGonagall answered her, "And it would be prudent to be as inconspicuous as possible right now. Especially with that cur Umbridge wandering about, stay away from her at all costs." McGonagall warned.

"I will, but she stays away from both Barty and I. We're a part of a Ministry project, and that nut job wouldn't dare interfere with anything tied to her dearest Ministry. Thank god for small mercies."

"Consider yourself lucky, she'll be observing my classes today. I can only hope that I have the patience, or at the very least, restraint to keep from wrapping my hands around her neck and squeezing until her eyes roll back into that thick head." As she spoke her voice got higher and her lilt became more pronounced. Scarlett bit down hard. It was all she could do to keep from laughing at the older woman's ire.

"Once Severus gets me an exact time I'll owl you" she nodded to McGonagall, "and we can all meet at the infirmary then. Does that work for both of you?"

"Assuming no crisis occurs between now and then? Yes, I'll be there." McGonagall said.

"I concur. And I'll get you the calculation within the hour." Snape nodded.

"Alright," She nodded to them both and went to the door. After double checking the corridor she slipped out and headed back to Barty to sit at his bedside and wait. Once again, there was nothing else she could do. At least they had a plan. Admittedly it wasn't a strong plan. But it was still a plan, and better than nothing.

* * *

Scarlett was standing over Barty dabbing a crisp white towel across his forehead. She couldn't sit in the chair anymore. It was starting make her muscles ache. She couldn't imagine how sore Barty would be when he finally woke. If he woke. No, she shook her head attempting to get the thought out of her head, he would wake up. Whatever it took, she'd find a way. Severus' owl had arrived over two hours ago and she passed the information on to Minerva. 9:17 pm. She just had to make it to 9:17pm. Her mind had been reeling all day. They'd been through a lot in the last several months, but nothing quite like this. Throughout everything she had always been the strong one in the relationship, the one that had it all together. She was supposed to be, she was the shrink after all. But now she was the weak one. And he was unconscious. It was odd, they had essentially reversed roles. Without him she was weak, she was nothing. She felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest and knots wrenched her stomach. She'd never experienced feelings like this before. She paused. That wasn't true. She'd felt like this before. This scene was all too familiar to her. She'd stood in St. Mungo's for days at her mother's bedside before she'd died. The memory welled up in her eyes. She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. A tear escaped her eye falling onto his cheek and rolled down his face. She wiped it away with the towel. She proceeded to do something she hadn't done in a very long time. Since her mother had laid dying in fact. She scooted a chair up to Barty's bedside, sat down and leaned across his body. Scarlett clasped her hands and prayed, begged, to whatever omnipotent being in the universe that might be willing to listen. She prayed for strength and patience. For hope. For a damn answer to repair whatever this was. For her Barty. Tears fell from her eyes onto her gripped hands eventually tumbling onto his blankets.

When Scarlett woke she was lying across Barty with her fingers still interlaced. What time was it? She sat up and looked around the room. The light streaming through the magnificent windows looked to be that of late afternoon. She pushed back the chair and pulled out his personal items from beneath the bed. Rummaging through them she finally found Barty's pocket watch. 4:36 pm. Just a little over four hours left before the potions stopped working. She had a sudden realization. How much pain would he be in when the effects of the potions wore off? And he would be able dream. Depending on how much of his unconsciousness was from the drugs and how much was natural he could be in little to no pain. Or they might revive him screaming. Only time would tell, if it was a natural coma then she should be able to tell when he was dreaming. His eye movements would be visible. Though there was no way of knowing what kind of dream it was. And if it didn't work Severus could easily drug him again. Pain. It occurred to her that she hadn't looked at his injury yet. Severus had told her it was something she should see for herself. She wasn't sure she wanted to, but she knew that she needed to.

Gathering the necessary courage she stood up. A shaking hand gingerly pulled down his blankets. He was wearing the standard white hospital gown. It tied in the back. Just her luck. Cautiously she peeled up the gown. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. Naturally. She averted her gaze but not before getting an eyeful, albeit unintentionally. Very carefully she continued to pull the gown up until an angry red scar came into view. The mark ran from his left pectoral down to about two inches above his right hip. It still looked raw despite being mended as best it could be. She pulled the blankets up to cover his lower half then she sat down on the bed. There were several other scars all over his torso that had obviously healed long ago. A few were little more than silver shadows, most likely from his childhood. She hated Malfoy at that moment. How dare he do this to Barty, how fucking dare him. She wanted to rip him apart limb from limb until there was nothing left. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks, dripping onto his chest. She lay across his naked flesh and sobbed into his shoulder. His body was warm and she could hear his heart beating against his chest. But in all other aspects he was little more than a breathing corpse. Another wave of even more despondent sobs wracked her body and she clutched Barty tighter. She could smell his distinctive scent. It roused so many memories and she clung to them with all her might. His smile, his laugh, the way his tongue darted to the edge of his mouth when he was nervous or agitated. The way his hair stuck out in every direction when he first got out of bed. All the things they'd shared. The sound of clinking glasses from dozens of drunken nights, the numerous intoxicated giggles, pillow forts. The long walks, the long talks, and comfortable silences. Nothing else existed but those moments right now. She cried for close to half an hour before the tears refused to continue falling. She laid there and remembered until she fell into slumber once again.

The next thing she knew there was a firm hand shaking her awake. Her eyes opened and closed a few times before focusing on Professor McGonagall's face. She quickly realized she was still half lying on her patient and sat up. She assumed it was nearly time to attempt their plan. She slid off the bed and turned back to Barty to lower his gown and tuck the blankets around him. She turned back to Snape and McGonagall. Snape had a snarky look on his face and an eyebrow cocked. McGonagall's face was very firm. She'd seen that look before. She made the same face right before she lectured one of her students. Instead of approaching them she pulled out Barty's pocket watch again, which she'd stashed in the pocket of her robes. 9:03 pm.

She looked at them both. "You're early." She said simply. She was sure she looked like hell but she didn't care. She'd return to caring once Barty was conscious again.

"Scarlett, perhaps this can wait until…" McGonagall began.

Scarlett immediately cut her off. "No. We do this at 9:17, just as the calculations said. I can't leave him like this Minerva, I won't."

"Alright, but then you are going back to your quarters for some real rest. Regardless of what happens," She insisted.

"Fine," She muttered. Scarlett went to stand between them to wait for the appropriate time. 9:17 pm.

Snape leaned over, "What the bloody hell did you do all day?" He asked with slight distaste. She didn't blame him. Her robes were wrinkled, her face was tear stained, and she hadn't had a full night of sleep or bathed in nearly two days.

"Well, Severus I cried then I prayed then I cried some more and then you showed up for this whole thing. What did you do?" She replied flatly.

"I taught morons new and interesting ways to blow up cauldrons and set one another on fire."

"Trade you."

"I never thought I'd say this but, no thanks. I'll keep the morons." Under different circumstances she would've laughed until she ached, but at the present moment the whole world had lost its humor. So this is what it was like to be Severus.

She looked at the watch again. 9:12. She closed it and stared at Barty's still motionless body. His chest rose and fell and rose again. She opened the watch again. 9:13. These were probably the longest minutes of her life. She checked the watch. Still 9:13. Damn.

"You know a watched cauldron never…"

"…explodes, covering everyone and everything in the room in a liquid that will eat through their clothes, skin, and the floor." Scarlett finished. "But thanks for the advice Minerva. Say did Malfoy happen to fuck up a potion today that left him horribly disfigured?"

Without missing a beat, "Unfortunately not." Snape answered.

"Like it wasn't already a shitty day." She looked at the watch. 9:16. Just one more minute. She pulled her wand out of her robes in preparation. In one hand was her wand at the ready, in the other was the watch. She took a deep breath and looked at the watch, his watch. 9:17.

"Rennervate!" She put all she had into it. A bright light shot from the tip of her wand. The beam went directly to Barty and his body arched into the air in response. They all moved in to see if it had been successful. Though he had initially jumped he was motionless once again. They stared for what seemed like hours at him waiting for something to happen. It never did. Barty was just as unconscious as he had been previously. Scarlett looked at Snape. "He should have woken up by now, shouldn't he?"

Her face looked like a pouting child's, he knew he was about to break her heart. "Yes," he whispered. "I'm sorry Scarlett." It was all he could offer her.

Minerva grabbed her up into an embrace. "I don't think I can cry anymore, I don't know how much longer I can do this before my heart gives out on me." Scarlett told her. She felt dead inside. The older woman released her and Scarlett moved to Barty's bedside once more. She cupped his cheek and it all came back to her. All of the thoughts that had raced through her head that day. She saw his smile in her mind's eye, heard his laugh and felt his hand in hers. She saw the sparkle in his eye when they verbally jested and when his smile reached his eyes. That spark, however small it may have been, relit the fire within her. She had to do this. For Barty. She turned to them, "What's next?"

"What do you mean Scarlett?" Minerva's voice held pity for the woman.

Scarlett looked at Snape. "The king is in check Severus, what's our next move?" Something lit up in his black eyes. "There has to be a way, there just has to be."

"What about the Imperius curse?" Both Snape and Scarlett turned to look at McGonagall. "Perhaps Malfoy cast the Imperius curse on him but can't remember it so Crouch is lying dormant, for lack of a better term." Minerva suggested.

"It's possible." Snape agreed.

"No, it's not unfortunately. It's a really good idea but it's impossible." Scarlett told them.

"Why?" Minerva questioned.

"Barty's father cast it on him so often and for so long that resisting the Imperius curse comes naturally to him." She remarked. They stared back at her. "He's a very talented wizard, you know. His life wasn't _entirely_ murder and destruction of others. He had his fair share of trauma, just like everybody else."

"Scarlett, your father using one of the Unforgivable curses on you on a daily basis isn't even close to 'everybody else's trauma'." Minerva pointed out, obviously perturbed by her statement.

"Oh, well maybe I should spend a little less time with the criminally insane then." She paused then moved on, "So any other ideas?"

"I have one but it's unlikely." Snape affirmed. "Antonin Dolohov has a sort of customized curse he likes to use. It deals brutal damage and can be lethal if he so desires."

"That sounds like it might fit." Scarlett said as she hoped up on Barty's bed again. Minerva followed suit, settling into one of the nearby chairs.

"As I said it's unlikely, it typically causes severe internal injuries. Crouch didn't appear to have any internal wounds. And Dolohov doesn't spend much time with the Malfoy's, I doubt Draco could have picked it up, let alone actually managed to successfully cast it."

"But wasn't that part of our theory? Something went wrong? Maybe he didn't cast it successfully and this is how a failed attempt presents its effects." Scarlett observed.

"Perhaps, but as I said the likelihood of Malfoy ever coming across it is nearly impossible."

"But there is still a possibility." She argued.

"No it isn't Scarlett." His was resolute in the matter. "Dolohov primarily uses his curse during muggle raids. Malfoy has never been a part of one. And we don't share our creations with each other. That curse is Dolohov's alone. Draco wouldn't have the opportunity nor the means to learn it."

"Does he have internal damage?" Minerva asked.

"We never checked, there was this little thing called a crisis occurring. It was low on our list once we heard that the Minister was on his way." He retorted sarcastically.

"Okay let's look now then." Scarlett turned to Snape, "I've heard you're an incredible healer, can you do this?"

He was unmoved by her attempt to suck up. "Yes I can, and don't do that again Scarlett. I don't need you to boost my ego in return for favors." He moved to Barty.

"You know Snape, for a snarky git you're a pretty honorable man." She returned.

"What did I just tell you?" He shot a terrifying glare at her.

"I was serious." She sent back her own challenging stare. "Both times."

Snape cocked his head for a moment then turned back to the patient at hand. He began muttering under his breath while moving his hands the length of Barty's torso. His murmuring took on a musical element, like a scale being moved up and down. It was hypnotic, delicately leading her into a trance. It seemed as though his song went on for ages, like it stretched past time and normal motion. His hands flowing with the scale up and down and up again. All too soon his melodious whispers ceased and he looked up. She held her breath, unsure of what kind of news she was hoping he had. If he had internal injuries then they had an answer but more physical complications. If he didn't, well he wasn't as wounded as he could be but they still lacked an answer. It was a catch 22 really.

"No damage. The contusions on his back run fairly deep into the muscles and the initial strike nicked a few things but they're already healing. Oddly, considering what he's been through, he's doing well physically." She let out the breath. Now they needed a new theory but at least he was alright.

"Any other ideas?"

They all sat in silence for several minutes trying to find the missing piece of the puzzle. A few obvious curses were suggested and quickly tossed aside. They couldn't come up with anything. Eventually Minerva proposed that they all sleep on the subject and reconvene the next morning. It was agreed. And they all went their separate ways. Minerva had insisted that Scarlett return to her quarters which she did. She shuffled into the bathroom and peeled off her robes. She hadn't had a proper shower in days but the oversized bathtub beckoned to her. In the end the bath won out. She slipped beneath the hot scented water. The room smelled of jasmine and ylang ylang. She'd needed this. Lying back she submerged her head under the water. A penetrating silence surrounded her. She pushed herself to the bottom of the tub. Opening her eyes she watched the candle light dance across the water. It glimmered brightly. An absolute calm washed over her and all her pain and anxiety left her for the moment. The outside world and all its hurt could wait until after her bath. The warm water caressed her skin and enfolded her in a safety that had been absent for too long. She resurfaced taking a deep breath. The water trickled down her face and long tresses in its return to the deep water she sat in. She ran her fingers through the liquid mesmerized by the ripples it created. The water felt like satin against her skin. Leaning back she immersed herself into the tranquility of the liquid again. It flowed over her flesh touching every part of her. She transcended the darkness that had covered her the last few days, washing it away.

She came back up and decided to take advantage of the peace she currently felt. So she washed and slid out of the bath. Grabbing a towel off the shelf, she dried herself. The towel was fluffy and soft against her flesh. Everything seemed to be pulling her further into relaxation. Maybe Snape drugged her somehow. He was sneaky like that. She giggled at the thought. Wrapping herself up in the oversized towel she padded through their sitting room into her bedroom. She dropped the towel and slipped in between the sheets of her bed. The bed was soft and cool. Her muscles rewarded her for sleeping in an actual bed by slowly unwinding. Pushing away any thoughts of the day or her current predicament she succumbed to her body and mind's desire for sleep quickly. Visions of Barty danced through her subconscious. His handsome grin and pleasant sounding laughter. Flashes of his twinkling brown eyes. Soft hands clasped, enclosing hers. His grinning face gazing down at her, cradling her head in his lap and running his fingers through her hair. The intoxicating scent of soap and aftershave that wafted from him after his morning shower. The feel of his exposed skin beneath her roaming finger tips. She exhaled deeply in her sleep, completely giving over to her wandering mind. Tomorrow would be treacherous, she'd be back in the trenches so to speak but tonight would be blissful.

* * *

Please R&R! C'mon the button right about.........................................................................................there (?)

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	10. Men Prefer Blondes

A/N: First and foremost I'd like to thank jen-pongo, VivaLaAmber, and mardar for their reviews. Every review I get makes me want to write more! I'm sorry its been so long since I posted a new chapter. I've actually been writing several at one time but school, work, and life in general seem to get in the way! But I'm back at it for the summer so hopefully I can get at least two more chapters out before next term begins.

I recently recieved some good and bad news. My best friend and grammar beta (yes, I have one for grammar and one for content) is moving out of state to finish her degree and begin her new life with my adorable godson and her handsome (she hates that word) boyfriend. While I'm very happy for her success and proud of her in general, I'm now on the hunt for a new grammar beta. If you're interested or have a suggestion send me a message.

Without further ado, enjoy the next installment!

I own nothing but Scarlett...

* * *

She awoke refreshed and content. Stretching and rolling over she remembered the reality of the situation. "Oh hell. Same shit, different day. " She told the empty room.

"Indeed." The room replied. She jumped three feet off the bed landing on the floor beside it, instead of on it, with a thump.

"Whatthefuckareyoudoingsnape!" He was on the other side of the bed, the one she hadn't fallen off of, sitting in a chair. "Why," she questioned as she finally disentangled herself from the sheets and popped her head over the edge of the bed to glare at him, "are you sitting in my bedroom? In the dark?"

"I didn't want to wake you, and it was before our agreed meeting time." He made no move to get up or leave.

"So you just sat in the dark and stared at me while I slept?" She began pulling herself up. "This is why people think you're creepy Snape." She turned on the light from the bedside table and moved to get dressed.

"Scarlett," He was staring at her again, or some more depending on how you looked at it. "Is that yours?" She looked down. Oh god. She was wearing one of Barty's shirts. She must've put it on during the night, but she couldn't quite remember.

"No, it isn't." She answered shortly, continuing her quest for clothes.

"Are you going to elaborate?" He asked.

"What would you like me to say Severus? It's Barty's."

"I was told that the two of you weren't sleeping together, perhaps my source was incorrect." She couldn't tell if he was being coy or he thought that she had been untruthful.

"Oh they were completely wrong. We just fuck and fuck and fuck some more. Loads of hot sex happening here, that's why we're always so relaxed." Her voice monotone and she flailed her arms for dramatic impact. She ripped open the shirt, grabbing clothes from the bureau. She felt a cold hand on her shoulder. Spinning, she met his coal eyes.

"Scarlett, calm down. I shouldn't pry and even if I do, you shouldn't answer me. I know you weren't lying, I understand more than you realize." This should've been the most awkward conversation of her life. The snarky Potions Master, and her ex-instructor, comforting her after asking if she was screwing her patient. All the while standing there in a pair of panties and her patient's dress shirt open, baring her chest to him. But this was becoming normal to her, sadly.

"Y'know, you'd think that once we became a part of the dark side we'd get laid more but not so much." It was all she could think to say. It was true but didn't really help the situation.

"You'd think. I believe your patient once summed it up nicely." She cocked her head at that. He continued, "If I remember correctly it was something along the lines of 'There's not a lot of pussy in being a servant of the Dark Lord. It's not surprising, look at the list of followers. One giant sausage fest.' Crouch wasn't known for his eloquent speech. You have that in common."

"Fuck off Snape," she replied scrounging through her drawers.

"It's not even worth the comment." He said returning to his corner.

She finally found the item she was looking for and pulled it on. Piece by piece she became less nude. "Why are you here Severus?"

"There's a new option." She immediately froze with on arm in a sleeve and her head half through the opening.

"What is it?" Her dressing became hurried.

"Last night I was graced with a visit from the Headmaster. He told me of a book that had come into his possession, in which it detailed a few rare but dangerous spells. We don't know much about them but it should be considered."

"Does Minerva know?"

"Unknown, but we know where to find her."

"Indeed we do." She turned to look at him, resting her hands on her hips. "Am I correct in the assumption that this is going to lead to research?" She moved across the room to her jewelry box, rummaging through she found the items she was looking for.

"Yes, that is correct. Unfortunately this might surpass the Hogwarts library's resources." He cocked both his head and an eyebrow.

She wasn't wearing her usual robes, or robes at all for that matter. But instead an odd concoction of muggle attire. It looked like, well, something that Crouch would wear. At the very least a man's clothing. A white button up shirt, obviously Barty's, it was large on her, with sleeves rolled to the elbow and unbuttoned to just above her cleavage. Dark pin stripped trousers, a fitted vest and of all things, suspenders. A rosary adorned her neck and a pocket watch holding the Crouch family crest was displayed across the vest. Snape decided she was dressed to pick a fight. She'd need that attitude.

"I love field trips to Knockturn Alley." She said breaking him out of his reverie over her clothing choice.

"Scarlett…." He began, and then thought better of it, "shall we?"

She nodded and they departed for the Great Hall to retrieve Professor McGonagall. As they passed students in the hall odd looks of terror and curiosity littered their faces. Crowds parted for them and moved to the edges of the corridors, cowering slightly. They avoided the volatile pair as best they could at every turn. They entered the Hall striding shoulder to shoulder, every set of eyes was on them and a cacophony of whispers spread through the large space. Approaching the teacher's table, Scarlett began a quick hushed conversation with McGonagall and Snape exchanged a few words with the Headmaster. McGonagall rushed around the table to join them and the trio turned and strode out just as quickly as they'd entered. Leaving most students gossiping about what they had just witnessed and what might it mean.

They settled around a table in the restricted section of the library. The door was locked giving them as much privacy as possible. Snape descended into a nearby chair, his fingers steepling. Scarlett was quickly learning that this action meant he was either in intense thought, which was often. Most people never recognized that Severus was indeed quite the scholar. Or he had significant information to give. Currently, she was confident it was both.

"There is a very dark spell that _may_, and I do mean _may_have occurred during the fight. Malfoy could possibly have had access to a book containing such a spell." He pulled a book from inside his robes, it was beaten and worn and extremely aged. The title read _Serpentigena __Grimoire. _She finally grasped just what they might be going up against. This was the dark arts at its most sinister.

"In this book are numerous spells that should be considered. Some are mentioned in passing, others are explicit. Specifically, Plasma Occisor was pointed out to me. It's a cruel spell, but in comparison to some of the others one could consider it a godsend. It works a bit like a boggart, except it can be conjured at will by the caster. A phantom appears and transforms into what the victim fears most. If it is strong enough, taking hold of the prey's mind firmly, forcing him to believe what he sees is real, the victim will die of fear."

"Jesus fuck." Scarlett's shoulders slumped in defeat. Minerva put a hand over hers. Scarlett looked at the older woman and then at Snape. "Okay," she took a breath, "it's possible that Malfoy could've cast this, yes?"

"Again, it is a possibility, but we don't have many hard facts on the whole ordeal. The problem in lies with ascertaining what truly transpired"

"How many alternatives are in that book?" She pointed at the thing with detest.

Snape sent her a look. His meaning was clear. The book held as many possibilities as it did pages. She sighed heavily, "Then let start dwindling it down. Plasma Occisor, we're looking at it as though it wasn't strong enough to kill him, but not weak enough that he could fight it off, correct?" They nodded. "Well, let's take into account that Barty has a very strong will to resist attacks to his mind and is a skilled Occlumence. He would have a fair chance of fighting it off, or at the very least realizing it wasn't real. To be honest, even as his close friend and psychologists I've haven't the foggiest what he would have seen."

"Scarlett, I realize that these are somewhat extenuating circumstances but don't disclose anything unnecessarily." Minerva reminded her gently.

"I have the responsibility to keep my patient from harm. Well, my patient has been viciously attacked and has lain unconscious for days. I'm confident he's in harm. Not to mention this is not exactly an A typical situation to begin with. We're making this up as we go. I have to create my own set of ethics based on the situation and then adapt as needed. In other words, I think this is understandable and necessary." She stated firmly, "That being said, I have no idea what he could've seen."

"Does it really matter?" Minerva asked, hesitant about even discussing the matter.

"Severus, does it say how to counter the spell?"

"Not in this particular book, no."

"Then I think that's a good jumping off point. We need more information, how do we reverse it, and we still have to account for Malfoy's memory loss." She said as she began walking down one of the many aisles leaving the other two to their own devices. McGonagall and Snape looked at each other and headed down separate aisles.

Scarlett began pulling books she thought might hold an answer and thumbing through them, enchanting them as necessary. Tome after dusty tome she found nothing. Every book she grabbed became more and more malicious looking, holding illustrations of decapitations, and diagrams to create dark and forbidding items of wicked intent. There were stacks upon stacks of them. She felt consumed as she stood in their midst, powerless against their masses. How could she ever unearth the information she sought in all of it. As if some greater power felt her hopelessness Minerva's voice broke through the endless abyss, "I've got it!"

They all rushed from the stacks to the table. She had a finger marking the page, flipping it open they saw a sketch of some blurry figure moving towards a cowering man. "Scarlett do you remember seeing something like this?" She pointed at the blur.

"Minerva, I had a concussion, everything was blurry."

"Yes, but do you remember there being an extra blur that shouldn't have been there? Like this?" She pointed again at the picture. Scarlett fixed her eyes on the illustration, concentrating on it. She closed her eyes trying to picture the moment between Barty and Malfoy. Had there been anything in the space between them? No, there had been nothing but a red flash. A red flash! Whatever they were looking for it emanated a red stream from the wand. Her breath quickened.

"No. There wasn't a blur, I'm sure of it," Minerva's shoulders fell slightly. "But there was a red flash. I remember it distinctly, whatever he cast it gave off a red stream from his wand." She looked to Severus, "Does that help?" Her eyes were wide in anticipation and her heart pounded with a renewed hope.

"It narrows it down." He rushed to the grimoire, ripping through page after page in search of something specific. "Only four spells in this book contain both Crouch's symptoms and emit a red stream or flash. Do you recall which one it was, a stream or a flash?"

She closed her eyes again. The scene played before her. Malfoy's wand had sent out a red flash, then a short stream, then nothing. Her eyes shot opened with clarity. "It was both."

"It can't have been both. It must be one or the other." He snapped.

"No, it was both. It flashed from the tip of his wand, the light encompassed them both. Then a short stream went across Barty." She swallowed. She had seen that he had been injured, she just couldn't remember because of the trauma of her head injury and the emotional pain of the event. "And then it disappeared, then Malfoy ran off."

Snape stopped to stare at her. He looked deeply into her eyes, she didn't hinder his search. Understanding, then realization dawned ever so slightly in his features. Turning back to the book he continued rapidly turning its pages until he found his objective. "It was supposed to be a stream but Malfoy wasn't strong enough to produce the spell properly. That leaves us with two. Neither is particularly kind." He opened a page for them to see. At the top were the words Potentia Dictum Mortificare. There was a short paragraph and another illustration of a man yelling at a corpse. He quickly thumbed to another section, pointing to a line in a paragraph, specifically, Anima Corripio. Neither sounded pleasant.

"What do they do?" Minerva finally asked hesitantly.

"Potentia Dictum Mortificare kills with a single enchanted word. A very powerful and dark spell, but that is all it tells of it. I've only come across it in my research once before. I have a manuscript in my personal library containing limited information on it. But nothing useful is given on Anima Corripio. It is mentioned only in passing as an example for something else unrelated to our needs." He fell into silence, his brow knitted in thought. "Minerva, can you please notify the Headmaster that Scarlett and I will need permission for an outing."

"Where should I tell him you're going Severus?" Her features held an astonished look.

Scarlett hadn't taken her eyes away from Snape's face. Interrupting, she stated, "Knockturn Alley." Scarlett heard McGonagall's quick intake of breath but she kept her gaze on Snape.

He returned the intense stare, "We need to stop at my quarters first." She nodded and without giving a glance back they turned to leave the library with McGonagall quick on their heels. The diverged at the library entrance, Minerva resolutely in search of Dumbledore and Snape and Scarlett proceeding to Severus' quarters for their required book.

She strained to keep up with his long strides. He walked with purpose, always demanding a level of respect or fear from those that crossed his path. Following him down corridors, delving farther into the depths of the castle towards his quarters, after several minutes they reached a winding stairway eventually leading to his office door. He stopped momentarily, pulled his wand, muttered quietly and pushed open the heavy wooden door. During her time as a student she had never been in his office but the contents of the room were what she expected. Bottles, jars, weird creature looking things pickled and suspended in glass containers. Something purple was smoking in a bubbling cauldron in the corner. He strode behind his desk and began scanning through his books. The whole place reminded her of a cross between a mad scientist's lab and a torture chamber. Some how it was fitting for Snape's personality. She stood in the center of the room, trying not to touch anything, partly because she was afraid that if brushed against something it would eat through her skin, and partly because she didn't want to incur the wrath that was Severus Snape.

"You know you're going to have to some serious damage control, being seen with me. I'm sorry about that." She said conversationally while staring up at the curved archways in the ceiling.

"Yes. I doubt 'Dumbledore made me do it' is going to work considering I'm aiding what is currently considered the deepest betrayal to our side since the Dark Lord disappeared." He paused, "Scarlett how did you know? Did Albus tell you?" His tone held great concern.

"It's what I do Severus, size men up, figure them out. It's just a puzzle, if you look long enough there's a key. And I've had a long time to study you. It's been bit by bit, I put the puzzle together. But I was never completely sure. At least not until…" She paused, hesitating. She didn't want to offend him.

He stopped searching his manuscripts to look at her. She was staring intently at the ceiling and chewing her lip, she didn't want to tell him. "Finish your sentence."

She finally turned to look at him. Her face was empty of all emotion. "Severus, you didn't deny it."

"Deny what?"

"We got into an argument, one of them, and I implied you were one of them. Naturally you were angered, got up in my face once or twice, but of all the things you did, not once did you deny it. If someone wasn't a Death Eater and was accused repeatedly don't you think they would, at the very least, deny the accusation?" She paused again. He didn't look angry but he didn't exactly look happy either. "Remember what I once told you in a meeting? You're wearing more than a sleeve? It was a reference to something Barty and I talked about. You were so busy trying to appear as though you were totally Dumbledore's man, you slipped. It was obvious, if you were looking for it, which unfortunately for you I was."

He stared at her for a long time. No emotion ever crossed his features. She stared back, sympathetic. She didn't want to offend or upset him. And naturally such an oversight was probably a blow to his self image. He was always cold, every word calculated. No one knew his secret except those he chose to tell. And yet here she was, completely aware of what he was, without being let into that small and close kept circle.

"I'm glad you took the job." He finally broke the awkward silence. "You were the best choice for the position."

Considering the individual the statement was coming from she felt a surge of pride. She smiled at him, "Thank you."

He nodded and moved toward one of the windows. She knew it had to be enchanted, they were too deep down in the castle for it to be real. He pulled his wand again, murmured under his breath and the wall became a door. He sheathed his wand and pulled the door open, disappearing through the opening. She turned her attention back to the archways in the ceiling. She assumed that she wasn't invited into what was sure to be his personal quarters. Despite her curiosity to behold a rare glimpse into the mysterious Severus Snape.

He returned with a surprisingly small manuscript in hand. Quickly finding the nearest flat space, one of his work tables, he paged through it searching for the spell in question. He motioned for her to come to where he was, complying she stood next to him looking down at the text. She narrowed her eyes, trying to decipher the script. It was in Latin, which she barely understood from her limited exposure to the language. Despite her ignorance, he seemed to read the pages as though it were the simplest thing on the planet. The title was the only thing she recognized, _Potentia Dictum Mortificare, _she felt like it was taunting her. She searched his face hoping to see the dawning of realization but to no avail, he was obviously silently contemplating something but there was no relief in his features. Just the opposite, in fact, there was even more tension. Despite that she was glad to have him. She was happy to have help in all of this. She knew she wouldn't have been able to do this alone. McGonagall, Snape, Dumbledore, these were her pillars of faith.

"The _grimoire_ was incorrect," he pointed to a line of words that meant nothing to her.

"What?!" She looked from his face to page and back again. "How can that be? Are you sure?"

He shot her a meaningful look, "No, Scarlett, maybe I'm reading this wrong. Could you check for me?"

"I would say 'sarcasm doesn't become you' but it's sort of your thing," she spat wryly.

He glared at her but continued, "I know this text to be accurate…"

"I don't want to know how."

"…and it makes no mention of a red flash or stream of light. According to this," he said pointing to yet another line she couldn't read, "the word is what implements the spell not a wand. Malfoy's not brilliant but he can read." He looked at her again.

"It's a dead language Severus."

"I understand it. Malfoy could read it."

"Oh get off your cross, for fuck's sake. We need the wood…to stoke the fire, to heat the cauldron, to make the potion, to fix this cluster fuck of magic."

"I'm merely pointing out…" he drawled.

"You do have a point."

"Glad to see you're coming around," he leered at her.

"This isn't the spell we're looking for."

"No it isn't. So let's hope for better luck in Knockturn Alley." He moved passed her headed for the door.

She followed quickly after him muttering, "I can't believe that actually worked," the door closing its self behind them.

She caught up to him in the hallway. He was moving swiftly through the halls and she struggled to keep up with him. Instead of heading towards main entrance Snape was directing them to Scarlett and Barty's quarters. She wasn't sure why they were going to their rooms but she silently followed. Which brought the query to mind, why was she following him unquestioningly anywhere? Let alone her quarters? Upon reaching the door he stopped and moved aside for her to open it. She pulled out a ring filled with keys and started shoving different keys into the row of locks seemingly at random. Then Scarlett leaned down to the handle and whispered something. A loud click sounded through the hall, she opened the door and they rushed inside.

Snape dropped onto the sofa, "Remind me to ask about that door when we aren't running around trying to save the life of a criminal."

"He's not a criminal!" She snapped, "And what about the door?"

"No wand necessary? Keys?" He asked. She was thankful that he didn't pursue the question of Barty's innocence. She had no desire to debate the topic with him or any one else for that matter.

"It had to be specific and special for security purposes." Her explanation earned her a cocked eyebrow. Her hands went to her hips as she regarded him, "Once again allow me to reiterate that Barty is an exceptional wizard."

She sank down next to him on the couch. Turning to face him, "Severus, the rule that Barty isn't allowed access to a wand is a joke. He doesn't need a wand any more than you do. He could've unlocked any door in this castle. You hate him for his betrayal, which is understandable but think, truly think of what he has done. He could've made Hogwarts his playground, escaped back to the Dark Lord, or manipulated us all with diabolical intent, anything he wanted. Anything at all." She stared intensely at Snape, inadvertently leaning towards him. In a hushed voice she whispered to him, "But he didn't."

Suddenly she stood and spun around to the fire place. A blazing fire jumped to life in the hearth. Grabbing her teapot, she began to make tea for them. She refused to turn around to look at him. Barty was certainly not a criminal. He could've done anything he wanted, she knew that. She realized it as soon as she read his file after taking on the case. But he didn't. Which she was sure left Snape begging the question, 'why?' She knew the answer. Barty wanted help, wanted to change, to be a better person. And it got her out of bed everyday. Fuck everything else.

She grumbled to herself as she moved cups and containers around on the tea tray. Snape hadn't said a word. This suited her just fine. Finally she set the tray down on the coffee table and sat back down on the couch next to him. Slowly sipping her tea she thought of her mother. She'd always said that there was no problem that couldn't be solved with tea. Scarlett could only hope that her mother had been correct because they had a hell of a problem in front of them. Realizing that their tense silence wasn't a solution to anything she broke the quiet with a flat tone.

"Do you have a plan?"

Snape turned slightly to regard her, "You don't?"

"Of course not. I make this shit up as I go along."

"That's reassuring," he scoffed.

"Well I can assure you that this was not a part of any plan I could've had."

"Yes, I have a plan."

"Please, don't leave me in suspense Severus." She mocked.

"Scarlett, ignore me. Please. My dislike is…"

"Shut up Severus." She interrupted. "Whatever you feel towards me or Barty isn't important right now. The fact that you're aiding me in this truly insane quest is more than I could hope for." She finally looked at him. She didn't like his opinions of Barty but she needed him. And when it came down to it Severus Snape wasn't that bad. She could've been dealt a worse hand then the one she currently held. Which should've been surprising to her, possibly terrifying but it wasn't. Her father had occasionally used a term in his work that she didn't really comprehend until that moment. She briefly considered sharing her realization with Snape but figured muggle terms were beyond him. She had reached SNAFU. All she could think was 'Well, fuck it, what's next?'

"What's the plan?"

He smiled. Well she thought he was smiling. It was hard to tell she'd never really seen it before. The foreign action transformed into a rather indecent smirk.

"What?" She began to shy away from him slightly.

A strange grumbled emanated from deep in his chest. Was he laughing? Scarlett looked at him with a tilted head. Like a confused puppy. He advanced on her. Very quietly he whispered to her, "I'm going to spend the day with a lady of the night." His grinned intensified.

Scarlett's eyes widened. "You're plan is that I'm a hooker?" She was shocked. And that was hard to do at this point.

"That is indeed the plan." He was enjoying this. Perhaps a little too much. "We can't be seen together, especially in a place like Knockturn Alley. But we both need to be there. I'm a lonely man. It isn't that unusual that I would go looking for some sort of…company." He was leering at her.

She looked him square in the face. "Severus, this truly fucked up. You know that, right?"

His smirk widened. "I feel like a blonde today."

* * *

Please R&R! Thanks!


	11. Last Place You Look

A/N: I want to thank VivaLaAmber and jen-pongo for their reviews and continued support! As well as thank DevilsToenail and BEN-Beyond the Elusive Nomads- for their reviews and welcome them to this crazy journey. Trying to get the updates a little closer together before next term begins but as many of you know, I'm notorious for large gaps in updates. Sorry for that but thanks for hanging in there with me! Hope you enjoy!

I own nothing but Scarlett.

* * *

Scarlett stood in front of the fireplace looking rather dejected and nothing akin to her previous self. Medium length bleach blonde hair hung around her shoulders, a bit ratty and dull. She was dressed in the working girl's equivalent to the nines, complete with six inch heels and bright cherry lips twisted into a disapproving scowl. Snape was lounging on her couch, obviously admiring what would be his 'company' for the day.

"Did I mention how fucked up this is?" She snarled at him.

"Six times," he drawled. "Now, extinguish the fire and roll around in the ashes."

"Oh, hell no!"

"Have you ever seen a clean whore in Knockturn Alley?" He questioned.

"I've never seen anything that was clean in Knockturn." She admitted.

"Precisely, now go have a romp in the soot, we have time restrictions." He lazily pointed toward the fireplace.

She glared at him. "You do realize how much I hate you at this moment, right?"

He pulled out his wand flicking it toward the fire. The flames died down. "I'm weeping on the inside."

Scarlett glowered at him another moment before turning to the fire place to pat herself down with the soot. She tried to balance as carefully as she could but it was difficult in the stilettos and barely there skirt she was wearing. She knew Snape was watching and that this was the best entertainment he'd had in years. If she hadn't needed his help, she would've killed him right then and there.

"I'd just like to state something about his plan." She said over her shoulder.

"What?" She could hear the mirth in his voice.

"It sucks."

"Noted. Now let's get going." He stood up and went to the door, she moved to follow. He turned to her, "Where are you going?"

"With you." She looked confused.

"Not dressed like that," he scoffed. "Floo into Hogsmeade and then apparate into London, take the muggle entrance into Diagon Alley. I'll meet you in Knockturn Alley." He turned back to the door and was through before she could ask any questions.

"Great. This is just fucking brilliant." She complained to the room.

Doing as she had been instructed Scarlett flooed into the Leaky Cauldron. Nodding to Tom she went to the back alley and tapped the correct pattern of bricks. She moved through Diagon Alley slowly, trying not to attract too much attention. This was totally pointless. She might as well been wearing a sign round her neck offering 'stare at me or bend me over a table, your choice, but only one's free.' People moved away from her and gawked, shielding small children from this scarcely clad and quite dirty woman. It was sort of like being at Hogwarts. She slipped into a small passage that was dimly lit, vaguely hoping that it lead to Knockturn.

A deep growl came from behind her. Glancing back she saw a man that looked like a train jumper and smelled like rotted haggis. At least she knew she was in the right place. She kept moving through the winding passageway hoping that Severus would appear soon. Spilling out into the main avenue of Knockturn, Scarlett looked for a nook to begin staging her performance. She figured if they were going to sell this and not get caught they'd have to actually have to put on a show. And if that hadn't been Snape's intention well, at least it might freak him out, which would be worth the entertainment. Not to mention the revenge for making her dress in this despicable get up. Scarlett found a small section carved between two buildings and set up shop, so to speak.

She must've stood there for close to twenty five minutes watching people pass by without a single offer. "Well don't I feel pretty. No wonder I'm single, not even degenerates want me." She muttered.

"Show a little leg and maybe someone would've come to call," a familiar voice sneered over her shoulder. She turned and threw her arms around Snape's shoulders, leaning into him.

"If I was showing anymore leg it would be my bloody hip." She whispered smiling seductively at him and slid her hands down his back. Noticing that he was suddenly uncomfortable, "You look a little scared professor."

"Slightly, I have a hell bent crazy woman running her hands over my…" he paused.

"…Back?" She offered.

"It ceased to be my back eight centimeters ago Scarlett." He looked at her pointedly.

"Oh," she moved her hands back to his shoulders. "Should we set off or do you have other plans?"

"Am I going to have to endure this all day?"

"Pay back's a bitch Severus."

"You're definitely a bitch." He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her down the street. She couldn't help but laugh.

People turned to stare at her laughing and hanging on the arm of _the _Severus Snape, if only they knew the real man, not merely his reputation. Crowds would still part for him but perhaps some of it would be respect. The further they wandered into Knockturn the more dangerous looking it became. Scarlett leaned closer to Snape, profoundly glad that he was there. He threw her a sideways glance before leaning to whisper in her ear, "What are you doing?"

"Being terrified," she whispered back into his ear. Even in her fear she realized she was taller than him, she was only used to being this close to Barty. Even with the absurd heels she had on Barty still would've been a little taller than her. It made her feel even more awkward.

"We'll be fine. People tend to stay away from me."

"Can't imagine why," he scowled at her comment. "Sorry, habit. So, is there any thing I should be doing right now?"

"Such as?"

"I have no idea what a prostitute should act like Severus, what should I do?"

"Act like a stupid girl, I think you can handle that."

"Thanks so much, that helped loads." She tried not to roll her eyes. Instead she pushed back her shoulders and tried to play her part the best she could.

He gently steered them to Borgin and Burkes. She stood behind him trying to look slutty while he inquired with the shop keeper about the book they needed. It wasn't difficult. He grabbed her around the wrist and moved toward the back of the shop. They were given a private room and the grimy shop keep delivered the book. Snape carefully disentangled himself from her.

"Can they hear us in here?" She whispered.

"No, but just in case go ahead and cast a silencing charm," he was already flipping through the pages of the book.

"Severus!" She hissed.

"What?!" He looked up annoyed at the interruption.

"I don't have my wand."

"You went into Knockturn Alley without a wand? My mistake, you don't have to act stupid, you are stupid!" He pulled his wand and cast the charm.

She grabbed his wand, "Where would I put it Severus, look at me! I don't have enough clothing to cover it!"

"Let go of my wand." He warned.

She stepped closer to him. "I've never heard that before."

"Now." He demanded.

"Are you sure professor?"

Through gritted teeth, "Positive."

She released her grip and turned to the book. "Give me some good news. I'd hate to think this was for nothing."

"You seem to be having fun."

"So if the _grimoire _was wrong about the other spell what says that it's correct this time?"

"It doesn't but would you really be content with the assumption that if it was wrong once the entirety is incorrect?"

"True and you're sure this is the book you need? I assumed we'd be looking through dozens of them."

"I knew what I was looking for. I've been trying to get a hold of this particular book for years."

"Because you couldn't find it?"

"No," he offered no further explanation. His brow furrowed as he read through the pages. Finally he looked up at her. "Scarlett do you remember hearing anything when Malfoy cast the spell? Perhaps a sound or a voice that shouldn't have been there?"

She thought for a moment, replaying the scene in her head for what felt like the hundredth time. "No, no I remember the crack of my head hitting, Barty and Malfoy yelling, Barty hitting the wall and sliding to the floor and Malfoy's footsteps as he ran away. But that's it, nothing else. Why?"

"There should've been a scream, voice, or at least a noise if Malfoy cast it incorrectly. Think carefully, maybe you're forgetting something."

Closing her eyes, Scarlett concentrated on the memory as hard as she could. Opening her eyes she stepped closer to Snape staring into his dark orbs, "See what I see."

Images of the past darted through her mind as he rifled through her memories. She saw her father laughing, her mother stooped at the fireplace, the faces of friends long forgotten, and a few she remembered. Bits of conversations with patients, some pleasant, some not, then her mind settled on Barty. They watched as he laughed, cried, and yelled at her for her foolishness. A single image flickered. Barty was standing on a hillside. The wind caught his hair and whipped it around his face. In a flash it was gone. Then he had a flute of champagne raised in a toast. "The winds of change are upon us… to a new world, a better world." He smiled and then suddenly they were watching the accident. She wanted to turn away or close her eyes, to not watch again but she knew she couldn't. Finally they were staring back at each other again. Snape raised a hand running his thumb across her cheek, brushing away a tear she hadn't realized was there.

"I'm sorry," She turned away from him to wipe away the remaining tears.

"For what?"

"I didn't mean to show you those things, or to cry. It's inappropriate and you don't want to see it."

"It's alright, and I'd be more concerned if you had no emotion at all. You were right, there weren't any other noises. Which means that this isn't the correct curse either, I'm sorry Scarlett I was hoping we wouldn't go back to Hogwarts empty handed."

"Thank you for trying Severus, I suppose this means we're out of options then?" She turned back to face him.

"I'm afraid so. I can't think of anything else. I'll keep going through my sources, perhaps I missed something."

"I doubt it but thank you anyway. Let's get out of here."

They exited the room. Snape exchanged a few words with the shop keeper then they left the store. As soon as they were outside he had a hand at her back. He steered them towards Diagon Alley. She felt like she could breath a bit easier but they weren't out of the danger zone yet. They still had to get back to Hogwarts. Not to mention out of the area with the least amount of notice. Suddenly he pushed her into a small passage just before they entered back into Diagon Alley. She heard the echo of footsteps approaching them. Snape raised a finger to his lips, motioning for her to be quiet. Another moment went by, the footsteps continued to get closer.

"Who is it?" She whispered to him.

"Malfoy, I don't know if he saw us, but he might recognize you and that would be unfortunate for us both."

"Time for plan B, follow my lead, truly sorry." She grabbed his shoulders pulling him closer to her. Swinging a leg over his hip she thrust her hands into his hair, planting her lips on his. He stared at her wide eyed for a moment through the impromptu kiss stiff from shock then he relaxed a bit, leaning closer to her placing one hand on the thigh that was wrapped around him and the other on her back. He walked them backward until she was pinned against the wall. Removing his hand from her back he yanked her other leg up around his waist. They both heard the footsteps stop right next to their little outlet. Thinking quickly Scarlett grabbed at the collar of Snape's clothes and tugged. Buttons sprayed across the alley, giving her access to more of his body. She deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue over his lower lip. He took the hint and allowed access to his mouth. Returning the gesture he taunted her mouth with his tongue. She suddenly broke a way from the kiss to pull open the cloth concealing the better portion of his throat. Scarlett nipped and sucked every bit of skin below his jaw line to just short of his collar bone.

Snape leaned his head back in ecstasy, lips parted, a small groan emanated from him. She didn't know if he was actually enjoying her ministrations but it served her initial purpose, he could manage a better visual on Malfoy. Sure enough, there stood Lucius Malfoy, in all his blonde wonder smiling at the couple. Severus returned the gesture, his face and neck dotted with red lip prints. They nodded at each other, and as quickly as the game had begun, it was over.

Within seconds she felt the familiar pull of apparition. The wall behind her had vanished and she fell backwards with a yelp, thighs still firmly locked around Snape. Even upside down she could tell they were in a pub, a very dirty pub. From somewhere beyond her peripheral vision appeared a goat that wandered over to lick her face. "Severus!" She yelled.

Snape walked backward as quickly as he could with the extra weight hanging off of him, the goat followed. Her hair was swept across the ashes of a fireplace and suddenly she was covered in floo powder, "Dumbledore's office."

One second she was staring at the goat, screaming, "Son of a…"

The next she was looking into the Headmaster's office, "…bitch!"

"Good day Miss Birch," the Headmaster was sitting at his desk. He hadn't looked up at her sudden intrusion of his fireplace. "How was your outing with Severus?"

"Cheapest date I've ever had, though admittedly she is a screamer," Snape responded for her. At this Dumbledore looked up. His features went from mild surprise that they'd returned together to intense mirth and further surprise at seeing them joined at the middle.

"I didn't scream until the goat." She corrected him.

"You're making this sound worse than it was." Snape insisted.

"I don't know where that tongue's been!"

"You don't know where mine has been either but that didn't stop you from putting it in your mouth."

"Give me a hand, I'm getting dizzy."

"Why? If you black out perhaps you'll stop talking." Severus retorted.

"Is that how you prefer your women Severus? Unconscious?" She asked, trying to provoke him.

"Ahem," the Headmaster cleared his throat. They both looked at him. "Severus, if you'd be so kind as to aid Miss Birch so you can inform me of the situation."

"Yes sir." He stretched a hand down to her. Before she could grab onto it there was a knock at the door. They both froze and stared at it.

A muffled "Albus, its Minerva," came from the other side.

"Come in." Dumbledore called.

The door swung open and the deputy Headmistress stepped in. "Have you heard any thin…" her question died on her lips as her eyes fell on the two of them.

"I was just wondering how this situation could get more awkward." Scarlett mused.

McGonagall shut the door quickly. "What on earth is going on?" Her voice went up an octave as she asked the question. She looked sternly at them both. "Scarlett what are you wearing? What happened to your robes Severus? And whose lipstick is all over you?" The more questions she asked the redder her face turned.

"What?" Snape asked confused as to what she was talking about. He looked down at himself, finally remembering that Scarlett had ripped open the top of his robes and he was covered in her lipstick. "Oh piss." He muttered.

"Severus!" Scarlett yelled breaking him out of his thoughts.

"What?!"

"I'm still down here!" She reminded him. He reached down and pulled her up. The sudden return to right side up sent her blood rushing in the opposite direction. "Severus?" She whispered.

"What now?" He snapped.

Instead of a verbal response she swayed a moment before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she began to fall backward again. Snape threw his arms out in an attempt to catch her. Unfortunately he hadn't moved fast enough and the added force of her dead weight falling knocked him off balance. They both fell to the floor, Scarlett first then Snape on top of her. He pushed himself up so he was peering down on her. "Are you alright? ...Scarlett?"

McGonagall and Dumbledore rushed over. They were all staring at her when her eyes fluttered open. "Owww," she moaned. "Am I dead?" She asked trying to focus her eyes. Looking up into Snape's coal black eyes she blinked. "Oh god, I'm in hell."

Snape glared at her in response. "I think she's fine."

"What happened?" She questioned groggily.

"You fainted," Dumbledore explained.

"Why are you on top of me?" She asked Snape.

"It's where I landed," he drawled.

"Fair enough. Why are you _still _on top of me?"

"Your legs are wrapped around me. Please remove them." She obeyed, disentangling her legs from him and he peeled himself off of her. He kneeled beside her. "How do you feel?"

"Like I should be getting worker's comp," she tried to sit up but the world kept getting fuzzy.

"She hasn't eaten all day. Albus, do you happen to have any lemon drops?"

"Of course," Dumbledore brought a bowl from his desk and Severus cradled her head popping one of the candies into her mouth.

"Lie there and suck," he instructed. Quickly adding, "And shut up."

"While our trip to Knockturn was thoroughly amusing it was unfortunately fruitless. Malfoy didn't cast Anima Corripio on Crouch. I'm genuinely at a loss, though I plan to continue searching through my library for possible explanations. If you have any insights Headmaster they would be very welcome." Snape informed. McGonagall let out a sigh. Apparently she'd been as hopeful as the rest of them that their search for an answer would end in Knockturn Alley. Scarlett tried to pull herself up again only to have similar results. "Was getting up part of my instructions? Actually, I believe I specifically told you to lie there."

"I can't lie here all day Severus. Besides my head isn't what hurts."

"What do you mean?" asked McGonagall concerned.

"I think you broke a rib," She told Snape.

"You mean you think you broke a rib." He corrected.

"No, I didn't fall on me, you did. So, you broke my rib."

Snape put his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Scarlett's head.

"What are you doing!?" McGonagall snapped.

"She can't wander the castle looking like a prostitute Minerva! She needs medical attention. What did you think I was going to do? I broke her rib therefore I should finish her off?"

"We have a club you know, we call it Snape's Secretly a Slaughterer Society. I do love a good alliteration, five galleons to join if you'd like." Scarlett smirked at him.

"I'm so very glad you retained your sense of humor," he pointed out sarcastically. He waved his wand over her. The changes made to her appearance melted away, the blonde giving way to her raven tresses, and bright blue eyes darkening to her natural hazel ones. Snape turned to Dumbledore, "We'll need clothes."

"She most certainly does, I can't believe you let her wander about dressed like that. She looks like…like…"

"A whore?" Scarlett offered.

"Well I wasn't going to use such harsh a word but yes." McGonagall said tartly. "I'll fetch you some proper clothes Scarlett."

"Minerva, bring Barty's watch please. I didn't have any pockets to put it in." Scarlett requested. The older woman nodded.

"Headmaster if you would?" Snape asked.

"Of course Severus," Dumbledore agreed and they headed out of the door.

Scarlett looked up at Snape. He still had lipstick all over him. She briefly considered letting him stroll around with it on for the remainder of the day but thought better of it. Besides, he'd helped her a lot with this mess, it was only right that she didn't let him make a fool of himself in front of the students and staff. "Severus," he looked down at her. "You might want to wash off the evidence."

"Thank you," he left her, presumably to remove the offending red stains. "You left a mark."

"I left a lot of them," she tilted her head back, Snape had both his outer black and inner white shirts off, using the latter to clean off his face and neck. What was it with her and half naked Death Eaters?

He walked over to her and kneeled down again, tucking his black over shirt under her head. "No, I meant you left a mark." He pointed to a spot where his neck and shoulder met. Even in her hazy state she could make out the beginnings of a red splotch.

"Oh, um oops?" She at least had the decency to look slightly ashamed. "I'm really sorry Severus, I hadn't intended on branding you." Then she caught sight of it. The mark was faint yet it was all she could see. He followed her gaze to his forearm. They were both silent for a moment then she reached out to touch the skull and snake before quickly pulling her hand back.

"Sorry, morbid fascination I suppose. I hardly even notice Barty's any more but then again I see his all the time." She glanced at his face afraid she'd crossed a line. But to her surprise he had cocked an eyebrow and was staring down at her quizzically.

"You see it all the time do you? And why is that I suppose?"

"He rolls up the sleeves of his shirts whenever we're inside, but thanks for making the assumption." She rolled her eyes at him, which only made her head hurt worse. Her torso hurt more, but her head still ached.

"Oh is that so?"

"You're mocking me aren't you?"

"Very much so. But it must feel good to know you were right. About me."

"No, actually it doesn't. I wish…" she trailed off, hesitating yet again.

"You wish? What do you wish Scarlett?" He pushed.

"I wish that everyone could see what I see." She looked away from him.

"And what is that?"

"An exceptionally intelligent man, as well as a truly incredible wizard. A man with a dark past that still haunts him but with more depth than the sea, who might instill fear but deserves respect because he's honorable and brilliant and worth a second glance. When the mask falls away you are an entirely different man Severus. I wish people could see that but I know, just as you do that they can't ever see it. I wanted to be wrong, I really did. Because if weren't true, what kind of life would you have? Anyone who is close to you is in danger, and you have so few of them. How painful and lonely it must be."

He swallowed. It was the only time she'd ever seen him look vulnerable like the weight on his shoulders was too much to bear. She doubted she would ever see it again.

"Crouch is very lucky to have you."

"He's lucky to have a second chance." She stated.

"I was given a second chance Scarlett. No, he's lucky to have you."

"I don't think so. I think I'm lucky to have him."

Before Snape had a chance to ask anymore questions McGonagall and the Headmaster returned. Pulling out shrunken clothes from their pockets and returning them to a normal size. Snape immediately began pulling on his shirts. He leaned back down, pulling his wand again to heal her torso. She instantly felt better, her head was still throbbing but she could breathe more easily. She reached up to grab the clothing that Minerva had dropped into a chair and slowly started to dress on the floor. She just couldn't get up. Every time she tried she became dizzy again. Snape moved to help her but was shooed away by McGonagall who proceeded to aid Scarlett. When they were done Snape picked her up and the four of them proceeded to the hospital wing. He laid her down on a bed beside Barty's. Madame Pomfrey immediately set to work on her, verifying that she did in fact have yet another concussion.

Scarlett could only stare at Barty's motionless body. "I failed you Barty, but I won't give up. I'll never give up on you." All movement in the room stopped. Suddenly Snape exited the room without explanation. His foot falls echoing in the silence. Madame Pomfrey resumed her task of fixing up Scarlett but it wasn't long before there was another interruption.

"Hem-hem," Umbridge had made her way into the hospital wing presumably looking for Dumbledore. At least she hoped so. No one was supposed to know about what had transpired that day, Snape's cover and more importantly his life depended on it. "Oh my, is everything alright Miss Birch?" She asked upon seeing Scarlett lying in one of the beds.

"Yes, yes of course professor. I just bumped my head is all, the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall were concerned but as you can see I'm in Madame Pomfrey's capable hands."

"How are things going with the prisoner?" She motioned to Barty. "I thought perhaps we should restrain him, just in case."

"That won't be necessary. Mr. Crouch isn't going any where any time soon." Scarlett had to bite her tongue to keep from bashing in the other woman's skull. Barty was a patient, not a prisoner.

"Well you're in charge I suppose," she didn't quite keep the dismay out of her voice. "Headmaster, may I speak with you?"

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore was fairly cheery about it but everyone there knew that no one in the castle could tolerate the woman. But no one could get rid of her either.

McGonagall followed shortly after them once Scarlett assured her that she would be fine spending the night in the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey was still fussing over Scarlett as she was the only treatable patient in the ward currently.

"Prisoner indeed!" Scarlett complained to the other witch. "He's my patient not a prisoner, but I suppose they both begin with the same letter and that's the best we can expect from that moron! How long will I be down?"

"You need rest Miss Birch."

"I need to find out what happened more than I need to rest Poppy. Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

The older woman looked down at her with a sigh, "_Seen_ it? No. But I have _read_ about it before."

Scarlett gasped. "What?! Poppy, do you know what Malfoy hit him with?"

"I believe that I do, yes. But _I_ can't treat it."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, no one ever asked me. The Headmaster's been so busy with that Umbridge woman I could never get a word in. And you, Professor Snape, and Minerva have been running around so much I couldn't find anyone to tell them. I found it last night after you all left. The book's in my office, you stay right here." She hurried off and returned shortly with a large book that looked to be rotting in its own binding. She handed the book to Scarlett. A white ribbon marked the page. She stared at the text. Every bit of it was in Latin. Of course. She needed Severus.

"Poppy, I'm sorry but I have to find Severus right now. I'll come back as soon as I can."

"Miss Birch I insist that you…"

"Poppy I know that you are only trying to do what's best for your patient, but so am I. Barty is my charge and my friend. I have to go."

"Wait!" The older nurse shuffled to her office once more and came back with a vial. "Invigoration draught, you'll need it my dear," Scarlett looked at her amazed. Not only was she going to let her out of the infirmary but she was keeping her from fainting again. "I understand Scarlett." She said simply.

Scarlett uncorked the concoction and tossed it back. With in seconds she could feel a new found energy coursing through her. Hopping off the bed she sprinted down the corridor in search of Snape. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her down to the dungeons. She knocked on his office door. Receiving no response she rushed to his classroom. She knocked again.

"Enter!"

She burst through, "Where have you been?! I've been looking for you for hours!" She lied to the classroom full of students.

"I've been busy doing things of more importance than heeding your beck and call Miss Birch. What do you need?" He drawled. By god he caught on quickly to the charade, if she hadn't just had such a huge break through she would've been impressed.

"The Headmaster is looking for you."

"And?" He asked bored.

"And you're to report to his office immediately."

"For?"

"I have no earthly idea Snape, I'm the messenger. He's running the damn show here! So, if you would just kindly get your ass to his office and I can return to _my _more important things!"

He descended on her with lightening speed snatching her wrist. "It would do you well to watch your cheek with me Miss Birch."

She glared at him. "It would do you well to stop asking so many useless fucking questions, but I doubt I'll being seeing that anytime soon either." She moved to leave but he still had her wrist in his grip. "Let go of me Snape."

"Class dismissed. Your essays will still be due on Monday." He finally dropped her wrist and she left with the students, heading in the opposite direction as Snape.

She wound her way around the castle and back to her rooms. Entering she went straight for the fireplace flooing into Dumbledore's office. Upon emerging from the flames she saw Snape and Dumbledore waiting for her. She marched up to Snape, "My mother always told me that when you are looking for something it's always in the last place you look for it. This never really made sense to me because of course something was in the last place you looked. It wouldn't be in the second to last place you looked, or the third to last place or the first place because why would you keep looking if you'd already found the thing you were looking for, right?"

Snape blinked. "Are you high?"

"Yes. But that isn't the point."

"There's a point?" He wondered aloud.

"Yes. My mother was right. It was in the last place we looked."

Snape turned to Dumbledore, "What the hell is she talking about?"

"THE ANSWER!" She yelled.

"The answer was in Knockturn Alley?" Snape was thoroughly confused.

"No. It was in the last place we would've ever thought to look in."

"Scarlett, you found the curse?" Dumbledore asked beginning to understand what was going on in her head.

"Yes, well no. Poppy did. She's had the answer this whole time. No one ever thought to ask her." She seized Snape's shoulders, "We didn't exhaust all of our resources. We ignored some of them! It's in Latin Severus I need you to translate it. We need to find Minerva and tell her. You two go to the infirmary and begin the translation. You're supposed to be together anyway. I'll go find Minerva." She was out the door before they could say anything to her.

She had to find Minerva, to tell her what had happened. This was it, she could feel it. The answer they had been searching for all week. It had been sitting on a shelf just meters away from Barty the whole time. She wasn't sure if it was the potion that had her so crazy happy or the sheer thought of having Barty back. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered at that moment apart from finding McGonagall and getting back to the hospital wing. Rushing through hallways she headed for McGonagall's office. Not finding her there she went to her classroom which turned out to be empty as well. Eventually she just started wandering the castle asking students if they'd seen her recently. Finally one of them told her they'd seen the professor in the main hall and Scarlett departed in that direction.

"Miss Birch, I insist that you walk in the corridors!" A familiar voice rang out. Scarlett quickly walked over to McGonagall.

"You are needed immediately professor. The Headmaster sent me to find you."

"Yes, of course."

They walked to the infirmary in silence except for the occasional instructions to students. Upon entering they saw Snape, Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey huddled together. They joined the group. Scarlett was swift to catch McGonagall up on their new found information. She was as stunned as Scarlett had been.

"What's it say Severus?" Scarlett asked what had become the man of the hour.

"Nothing pleasant, but it does account for everything. The red flash and stream, we were right Malfoy didn't cast it with its full power. The damage, even the memory loss, it's all detailed as part of the curse."

"How is that possible? I've never heard of any spell that causes memory loss except for the obvious memory charms." Scarlett queried.

"Whoever the curse is cast upon essentially ceases to exist. Not in the sense that they are dead but that they never existed. It erases them from the world. It is also blindly bright and emits a red stream. Malfoy botched the curse in multiple ways from what I can tell. You saw the flash Scarlett because he couldn't cast it strong enough initially, causing the flash to become a stream once he put more effort into it. And Crouch wasn't erased from our minds. The curse backfired in a way, and removed the incident from Malfoy's mind. The entire thing is exhibiting a wholly different set of consequences than it is suppose to. The boy mangled this curse, which is actually in our favor."

"How is any of this in our favor?" Scarlett was shocked. How could a fifteen year old boy get his hands on something like that? What kind of person created something so horrific?

"Because Scarlett," the Headmaster spoke up, "It should've killed him, and erased all memory of him. He would be dead and you wouldn't have remembered him ever being alive."

She inhaled deeply. She hadn't been able to fathom how she'd managed to keep going knowing that Barty was lying there in some unknown state of being. Let alone how she would've reacted to forgetting him. She supposed that there wouldn't have been a reaction as she wouldn't have known he was missing but the idea truly disturbed her. He had become such an important and constant fixture in her life she had trouble imagining her life without him. "Okay, how do we reverse it?"

"We can't." Snape shrugged.

"What? There has to be a way to fix this." McGonagall said.

"It's too dangerous." Snape explained.

"Snape did you actually just utter the words 'it's too dangerous'? Really? You?" Scarlett smiled at him. "I haven't come this far to turn back because I might get hurt. I'd hope that we would've all realized that by now."

Snape continued, "Scarlett you'd have to go into his mind to retrieve him. It's described as excruciatingly painful and rarely successful. I can't give you anything either, you have to be a willing sacrifice to restore his cognitive abilities. According to the text you could die inside his mind or become lost forever."

"I'm sorry Scarlett but I can't allow you to do that. I know that he means a lot to you but it's simply too dangerous." The Headmaster did look truly sorry that he couldn't help her. But she couldn't give up now. They were too close.

"I'll take the risk."

"Your dedication is admirable but the danger is too great." Even as Dumbledore spoke she grabbed the book from Snape searching the page for the necessary incantation. Fortunately for her it was in bold letters at the bottom and underlined.

Snape snatched the book away from her but it was too late she pulled her wand and flicked it toward Barty yelling "Sacrifici libentis!"

She heard numerous loud cracks accompanied by intense pain all over her body as her bones broke. The world around her began to scream. No, that was her. She'd never felt pain like this in her life. The blood in her veins was boiling. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. Light poured from the scar on Barty's chest, like the dawn was breaking inside of him. She could see her form become wispy like a mist but somehow she was still in intense pain. She couldn't stop screaming, the pain had no other way out of her body but through her throat. Suddenly some unseen force was pulling her away from Barty. She walked towards him. It was like walking through Jell-O. She struggled against the force and her own pain, finally reaching him. Then as though this had been the force's plan all along it hurled her toward the glowing scar.

Before she disappeared inside of him she heard the Headmaster shouting. "You can't do this Scarlett, it's too dangerous! You may never come back!"

But his insistence was futile. She had no way to reverse the spell even if she wanted to. Stuffing her wand into her robes she held her breath wondering what would come next. And then she was gone, leaving them staring at Barty's body in horror.

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Please read and review! I appreciate the input!


	12. The Tale of Two Bartys

A/N: I know! I never update this quickly! But admittedly I've been working on this chapter for 5 or 6 months. I've been writing it at the same time as chapters 8-11, so at this point there's no excuse. I want to thank BEN-Beyond the Elusive Nomads- for not only the review but also for the advice…I know it doesn't seem like it's there but it is and it will become more important in upcoming chapters. Thank you so much! Anyway here's the next chapter, hope you all enjoy!

I own nothing but Scarlett…guess no one's heard anything on the ownership rights of Keegan de Lancie huh? Well, let me know! ;)

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"You can't do this Scarlett, it's too dangerous! You may never come back!"

Dumbledore's words echoed in her head as the world became a fuzzy blur. She felt a little woozy. Then the distinct feeling of falling came upon her.

Down………..Down…………Down……….

Wind was rushing past her, tossing her hair in every direction.

Down………Down……….…Down………..

She felt unbalanced, her limbs spreading in every direction, trying to keep her from twisting too much.

Down………Down…………Down…………

All around her was a deep violet haze. She had no idea if this carnival ride had an end. Logically, it had a beginning, therefore it must have an end. She waited, unsure of what waited for her. She began to feel sleepy, struggling to keep her eyes open. She hadn't slept, really slept in so long. The flapping wind was soothing, like a mother's song. Finally she succumbed to the desire.

Down……….Down………...Down.

When she woke, even before she opened her eyes, she realized she was crying. The tears rolled down her face, bringing a hand up to brush them away. Her face was covered in tears. She wondered how long she'd been crying to produce so much moisture. Taking stock of her surroundings through still wet eyes, she was in some kind of cave. A distinct feeling came over her. This was not a place she wanted to be. This was a bad place. Tears were still coming down. Why was she crying, and why couldn't she stop? Moving cautiously, she began looking for a way out. Over and over again, the voice in the back of her head told her that she shouldn't be there. After minutes of searching she found a hole in the wall of the cavern just large enough she could fit through. Very carefully she crawled in. It was dark and visibility was nil but the need to get out of that cave was strong enough that almost anywhere would be better. The little passage was getting warmer but not any brighter. Though her previous intense feeling of danger was fading. She could feel the rock beneath her hands and knees tearing at her flesh. She put out another hand to move forward but found nothing there, unfortunately she'd put too much weight into the action and fell into the nothingness before she could grab onto anything.

She was plummeting toward an unknown location with force. Bouncing off the edges of the rocky tunnel, ripping her clothes and when they were gone, her skin. She hit the ground with a sickening thud. Every inch of her ached. Spots where the flesh had been torn away burned. She felt around her, hoping for something to pull herself up. All she could feel was wet. She was lying in a pool of some warm liquid. She finally brought her self to a sitting position. It was still pitch black, and now she was wet. She groped inside her robes, clasping the end of her wand. Pulling it out she concentrated on the invisible tool. "Lumos," light poured from the tip of her wand. At least now she could see, but what the hell was she sitting in? She brought one hand to the other to examine the liquid. Both hands were covered in a red substance. It was blood. Still warm, and upon the realization she nearly choked on the coppery scent it produced. Was it hers? She navigated her wand around. Whether it was indeed hers or not was inconsequential. Where ever she was, every bit was covered with blood. It poured down the walls like a trickling fountain, dripped from the ceiling, and gathered on the floor. Why was this in Barty's head? What was this place? She began looking for another exit. Every step she cringed at the thick sloppy sound her feet produced as she navigated the area. This time though, she found nothing. If it was possible the copper scent was becoming more prevalent. It made her gag and sputter. She had to get out of here. Searching the space again for some mysterious opening that may have eluded her, but the search was fruitless. She was stuck in a room of blood and darkness with no escape. Standing in the middle of the room she moved the light around as if some door would just appear. From somewhere behind her came a noise, like a deep exhale. Quickly swiveling on the spot, prodding the darkness with her wand, searching for the source. There was nothing. Then she heard it again. It was like creepy breathing.

"Who's there?" She kept turning in a circle on the same spot, trying to find the source of the breathing. "Who's there?" She called out again.

The breathing got louder. She still couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Looking in every direction, but no one materialized. "Where are you?" She called.

She wasn't sure she wanted an answer. "Show your self!" She demanded with more confidence than she actually felt. Suddenly the breathing was intertwined with unintelligible whispering. She was still revolving with her light. Terror was washing over her in waves. "Show your self!" She repeated.

The breathing began to fade but the whispering became more prevalent. At first it seemed to always be coming from behind her but now it echoed from every direction. Her own breathing quickened. The whispers surrounded her, bouncing from one wall to the next. "What do you want?"

The whispering became louder and more incessant. She was terrified. What was lurking just beyond her little light? Who was taunting her from the shadows? The whispering accelerated.

"Who are you? Leave me alone!" She screamed, disregarding her contradiction.

"No." It was quiet in comparison to the cacophony of other whispers, but she'd been listening for it.

"Who are you?" She begged.

The voice laughed. It wasn't a pleasing sound. It was a sinister echo with dark intentions. The previous room had felt dangerous to her, but now she wished she'd stayed there. Whoever was just beyond reach wasn't a good person.

"What do you want?" She should've just stopped asking questions but she was more frightened than she could ever remember being.

"Want?" The voice asked. Suddenly all the whispering ceased, silence hung in the room for a moment. "I want you."

Scarlett released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She was crying again but this time she knew why. This voice wanted her, and the feeling of impending doom was back. She could not only hear the voice's intentions but she could feel them as though they were her own. A bitter taste filled her mouth. Who was this she wondered. Could this be the Dark Lord?

The voice laughed mockingly. She stilled, a realization coming to her. It was in her head, whatever it was, it was inside her mind.

"No," the voice breathed, "You're in mine." She gasped. This couldn't be Barty, there was no way. "Oh yes," it taunted. "And you will become mine."

"No, that's impossible!" She knew Barty, he would never do what she could feel this disembodied voice wanted of her. It laughed again.

"Succumb to me." It was louder now, more powerful.

"Never! Get away from me!" She demanded to the space.

"You will succumb to me." It was louder and more pronounced. Hot tears were rolling down her cheeks. She had jumped so blindly into this and now she was paying dearly for it. She had to get out of this place. This wasn't how she'd pictured any person's mind, let alone Barty's. What _had_ she expected? Regardless she could die in here, or worse if this thing got a hold of her. This wasn't Barty, she decided. It just couldn't be.

"Oh but it is. You came to me. You want this." It said quietly. "Succumb to me."

She let out a sob. The feeling inside her was so strong. She could feel the hostility and aggression of this thing pulling at her. This thing was determined to forcefully take what it desired from her. Desperate, she stumbled throughout the space, seeking any kind of escape. The voice laughed at her as she felt all along the walls and floor for some kind of hope. The flowing blood poured down her arms, and then her torso as she ran her hands up and down the length of the walls. It soaked through her robes when she kneeled on the floor searching. It splashed upon her face in reaction to her clumsy movements. She wouldn't allow it to take her, there had to be a way out. Falling to her knees she shuddered with another sob. Tears were falling from her face and dripping into the blood on the floor.

"Succumb to me." The voice hissed.

She shivered despite the room being so warm. This thing was going to take her, she knew it. Its desire was inside of her, she couldn't stop it. She wanted out of this hell, didn't want to die like this, but something in her soul told her that she wanted to give herself up to this thing. On some level she knew it wasn't actually her making such decisions but the urge was too strong, she couldn't fight against it any longer. She began to cry even harder, allowing her sobbing to wrack her entire body, her heart was racing wildly.

"Succumb to me."

The voice shook her back. She hadn't noticed the blood rising up around her, enclosing her like a blanket. She was helpless to stop this, so she allowed the blood to creep up her body. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the pooled blood. She was nearly consumed with the red liquid, bawling incessantly, and about to be raped by the shadows. She stared at her reflection as long as she could. Tears fighting off the blood in long tracks down her cheeks, until they lost the battle and blood completely covered her face. Instinctively she tried to fight it, sputtering and gasping for air but to no avail. The blood didn't stop. It held her lips together and blocked her nose. She fell to the floor, wriggling and convulsing pointlessly. It seemed like an eternity, but was closer to a minute until the light from the wand tip went out and she crumpled to the floor in a heap. The blood continued to raise over her then it slowly sucked her down into what she knew to be a solid floor just moments before.

She awoke unsure of where she was. Curled up in the fetal position, she was terrified to open her eyes. God only knew where she would be this time. Regardless she reveled in the delight of just being alive. Her eyes fluttered open, which was pointless. It was dark here too. Then she saw it. The light. It wasn't much, just a thin strip but it was at least light. It was located in front of her on the ground. No, she realized, it was above it slightly. She was in a cupboard. The light bounced off something on the floor. She could just barely make out the shadow of her wand. Thank god, she quickly grabbed it, clenching her fingers around the base. There were muffled voices, someone was outside the door. She could see their shoes. She stayed very still, considering the last entity she met in this labyrinth of severely fucked up. For all she knew this was where the voice was coming from. What if it was? What if the worst was yet to come? Her heart began thumping in her chest yet again. The knob turned, and the door opened. Two men and a house elf came into view. Her eyes widened, afraid of being found lounging in a stranger's coat cupboard. Instead the house elf pulled over a stool from out of view, stepped up, pulled down a large cloak, handed it to one of the men, put the stool back and closed the door as if she weren't there. Scarlett stared at the closed door a moment. She scooted over to press an ear against the door trying to make out what was being said. The words were unintelligible but at least the voice didn't sound like the previous one. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Then there were footsteps, the sound of a heavy door opening and closing, more footsteps that became softer and softer, and then silence.

She soon decided that she couldn't very well sit in a cupboard all day, and Barty was assuredly not in there. With shaking fingers she reached for the knob. Turning it carefully, she slid the door open. It made a tremendous creak in protest. She quickly got up, as she did so she heard the scuttle of light footsteps shuffling towards her. In a panic she hopped behind the open cupboard door. The little foot falls halted just next to her, a tiny hand clasped the door and shut it. Her eyes snapped shut as her cover was moved. 'That was a stupid plan.' She thought. She waited for something, anything, to happen. But there were no cries or sharp screams of 'intruder'. She opened her eyes. All she saw was the house elf's back tottering down the hallway. She looked around. The entire area was devoid of anyone but her. Directly in front of her was a parlor. She began searching, for what she knew not. The whole of the ground level looked similar to almost every wizarding residence she'd ever been in. The floor plans varied, but the all had a 'place the 18th century forgot' décor. Plush area carpets with intricate floral designs, high backed chairs, and a large fire place dominating every room. She could tell the owner had some wealth or power from the craftsmanship of the furniture. Now she knew where Barty got his decorating tastes from.

She immediately halted. The profile of one of the men she had seen flashed through her mind. She recognized him. Everything had been happening so quickly she hadn't been able to make the connection earlier. One of the men had been Barty's father, Bartemius Crouch Sr. She'd read his file in preparation for taking on Barty's treatment. This was Barty's home. And he might be here, somewhere. Quickly maneuvering back to her starting point at the cupboard, following the path the house elf had gone, she went down the hall finding a stairway at the end. She flew up it only to find another hallway with dozens of doors on either side lining the length. "Shit." She declared, "You've got to be fucking kidding me." Immediately clapping a hand to her mouth. Just because she didn't think they could see her didn't necessarily mean they actually couldn't. Let alone hear her.

She turned to her left and grabbed the handle of the door and swung it open. A bedroom. There were little soaps in the shape of seashells next to a bowl on the bureau. Probably guest quarters. She closed the door quietly. She went to the door opposite it and tried again to similar effect. Next door, another guest room, how many could you possibly need? Next door, a bathroom. Next door, presumably the master suite, it was twice the size and had more amenities than the guest rooms. Next door, a library. It was actually quite expansive but there was still no sign of life on mars so she moved to the next door. She found Crouch Sr. at last. He was sitting behind a massive mahogany desk in what she assumed was his study. He looked up. His brow furrowed in confusion but then he went back to the paperwork on his desk. 'Yeah, there's no way in hell they can see me,' she decided.

Stepping into the room she saw a huge window across from her. Though she knew it wasn't real, the wall it was located on went to a bathroom. The light was welcome anyway after being in the dark for so long. 'What a place to grow up in,' she thought. Moving over to the window she peeked out. Outside was a large well manicured lawn, with gardens dotting the terrain. Out of the corner of her eye she spied an old maple tree with a small structure in its branches. It was a little worse for the wear but it still looked relatively safe. How many hours had Barty spent up there as a child, imagining the wildest of things? The sight warmed her heart. Barty as a young boy, it wasn't something she'd ever thought of before. Well, she had, but not in the way she was currently. At the moment he was just a happy child playing to his heart's content in his tree house. Not a care in the world.

However, the moment was shattered when she heard the house elf's quick shuffling. She burst into the room in a panic. "Master, sir, Master Barty is missing! Winky is sorry Master, so sorry!" She wailed. "All Winky's fault!" She picked up a nearby book and began beating it against her head.

Crouch Sr. immediately got up from his desk, rushing past the house elf, who did a turnabout and made to follow her master, all while still smacking the book against her head. Scarlett was right on their heels. She hoped the trail would finally lead her to Barty. Crouch ran down the hall to the very last door in the corridor, one she hadn't gotten to in her previous search. In a flash he'd pulled his wand. "Alohamora!" He demanded of the door. It obligingly unlocked and Crouch barged through, Winky right behind him with her book. Before she reached them Crouch was rushing back out of the doorway and down another set of stairs, tucked at the end of the hallway. She chased after him, down a small set of stairs, an abrupt ninety degree turn, and another small set of stairs. He pushed the door open easily and it swung back, nearly hitting her in the face. But she pushed it open, emptying into the kitchen. Crouch ran through the room, dodging counters and a maid. She had to sprint to keep up, he yanked open a set of French doors. He jogged across the yard to the maple tree with the house nestled in its branches, seizing the rope ladder he pulled himself up and into it. She was right behind him.

"Barty?" Crouch said quietly.

"Father?" she heard a meek voice reply. Once inside the tree house she saw half of Barty curled in a corner. Her mouth opened in awe, she'd never seen an invisibility cloak before. It was odd seeing only half of him but she was relieved to see him. At least until the rest of the cloak fell away. Barty was shaking uncontrollably, like he was convulsing. He was gaunt, thinner than she'd ever seen him. Shadows hung underneath his eyes, and his skin was stretched across his bones. "I'm sorry Father. I just wanted to be outside. Wanted to be outside. Outside." He repeated over and over like an old and broken record player. For a moment she thought that he'd realized she was there, but he quickly looked away, as though he'd merely been lost in thought. She was watching from the outside, like a memory she was witnessing as the fly on the wall. She knew what would come next, the Imperius curse. She felt sick to her stomach.

As if on queue Crouch pulled his wand and muttered the word. Barty stood up straight as a rod, a far away look in his eye, and covered himself once again with the invisibility cloak. Just as she'd finally found him, in one quick movement he was gone again. A moment passed and Crouch climbed down the ladder. She stood in the tree house wondering what to do next. Should she follow them? Although she'd found Barty it wasn't the Barty she'd truly been looking for. She wasn't sure what to do next. Her surroundings didn't allow her the opportunity to make the decision.

The floor suddenly jerked in one direction, throwing her off balance. Falling flat on her face. She looked up, peering into Barty's face peeking out of the cloak as he began climbing down the ladder. For yet another short moment it was like he could see her, but she knew that had to be her imagination. To her surprise he whispered, "Be seeing you," and continued to climb down.

He knew she was there. She gasped in shock, reaching out for him. Her groping hand found nothing as the world around her began to spin. The boards she was lying on creaked and crumbled beneath her. Landing in the large tree like a discarded rag doll. The tree sunk into the ground, going through the earth as if it weren't actually there. She screamed as she rode the tree down. It slid through the ground landing with a huge jarring crash. She lay in the branches for a moment as the world around her continued to spin. The colorful swishing around her began to slow, abruptly halting. A horrific scream pierced the air, it hadn't come from her. A whirlwind of panic surrounded her. Women screaming, children crying, crackling fires, yelling, pleading. She looked down from her vantage point to see what was going on. Where this carnival ride had taken her this time, and if she might be able to find the real Barty, her Barty.

There was absolute chaos. Her flying tree had landed outside a small village she didn't recognize. People were fleeing in every direction. Several of the buildings were on fire, and no one was attempting to put them out. They were scattering as fast as they could, some searching for an exit, others for their loved ones. Women were running with small children in their arms. A few of which, even she could tell, were limp in their mother's arms, never to awaken. Flashes of red and green stopped men in their tracks, they tumbled face first into the mud. In one of the burning homes she saw two teenage girls in the window screaming for help. As quickly as she'd spotted them the roof collapsed in and they were both gone with a single heart wrenching wail left lingering in the air.

A stream of green light burst from somewhere in the little town shooting into the sky. A skull formed from the clouds, entwined around it was a slithering snake that glided through the skull's mouth. She recognized it immediately. Permanently imprinted in her mind was the vision of Barty's left arm and the tattoo branded into him. It was the Dark Mark, and this was a raid.

She tried to climb out of the tree but she lost her footing, falling to the ground in a painful lump. Slowly pulling herself together she stood next to the tree, unsure of what to do next. This wasn't real. Well it might've once been real. She hadn't figured out if this was a figment of Barty's imagination, or memories being played like a disconnected movie. She knew two things though. Most importantly she could die in here, and secondly Barty wasn't in the tree. Staying where she was meant possibly staying alive, going into the village filled with Death Eaters meant potentially finding Barty. Of course it also could mean dying a horrible death and not finding Barty at all.

She sighed heavily and sprinted toward the town. She hadn't gotten as far as she was by not taking chances. Running past screaming villagers Scarlett pulled her wand and busted through the first door she could find. The entire home was an inferno. A little girl was lying on the floor unconscious. Scarlett grabbed her wrist and dragged her out of the house and into a nearby field. She had no idea if the girl was alive or not but then again Scarlett was still uncertain if any of this was once real or some nightmare in Barty's head. After depositing the girl she ran back into the village and resumed clearing house after house. All of the Death Eaters were ignoring her. Perhaps because they couldn't see her like Crouch Sr. or because they were too busy setting things on fire and torturing people. She knew better than to try and take on a small hoard of the Dark Lord's inner circle all on her own.

She burst into another house. It was one of the few that weren't on fire yet. She located a set of stairs and rushed up them. Finding the home empty she headed back down to the ground floor only to find that she wasn't alone. A man had singled out a young woman that looked to be no older than eighteen and was advancing on her. The man was unbuckling his belt, preparing to molest the poor girl. The woman was pleading for help. Scarlett walked up behind the man and grabbed a handful of hair and yanked. The man yelled and wrenched out of her grip.

Scarlett looked at the younger woman, "Run, the back door, don't stop. Now!" The girl did as she had been instructed.

"That was a very bad idea," said a familiar voice from behind her.

Scarlett turned to look at the man who had spoken to her and tried to rape the other woman. His dark hair swung in his eyes but she instantly recognized the shining orbs staring holes through her. She gasped, "Barty."

His lips twisted into a dangerous smirk, "Have we met?"

"Met? Barty it's me, it's Scarlett. Don't you remember?"

The smirk deepened, "There's been so many, you can't possibly expect me to remember every single woman." He moved towards her, grabbing her around the waist, "But perhaps you could refresh my memory."

"Barty! What has gotten into you? Have you lost your mind?" A brief thought went through her head. He hadn't lost his mind, she was standing in it.

"I don't know what's gotten into you but I know what is about to." He leered pushing her back against a table.

"Oh no, you're not _my _Barty, are you?" This was another weird version of Barty that was wandering around the funhouse that was his mind. Within seconds she had her wand at his throat, threatening, "Now _that_ was a very bad idea."

He backed up a few steps and then, "Expelliarmus!" She hadn't noticed that he'd pulled his wand as well. And now she was without the only weapon she'd had.

"Oh, I do love the chase," he told her.

"Not really," she said. It had sort of fallen out of her mouth. "You love it in this situation but not in a steady relationship. You enjoy spontaneity in a woman but you find that too much unpredictability is frustrating."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Tell me I'm wrong," she challenged. Maybe her wand wasn't the only weapon she had after all. "I know you better than anyone on this planet Barty."

"Who are you?" He demanded.

"Your friend, well I'm not _your_ friend per se. I'm a friend of a version of you."

He squinted, "Are you mad?"

"Yes she is, but not nearly as mad as I am."

Scarlett looked at the person that had just entered the house. She blinked, and then blinked again. In front of her stood Barty, another Barty. He wasted no time in landing a hard fist into the side of the first Barty's head, immediately rendering the other man unconscious dropping him to the floor.

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Please read and review!


	13. Keeping Up With the Jones'

A/N: As always read and review if you please! And thanks to all who have already reviewed! Many, many, MANY thanks to BEN-Beyond the Elusive Nomads- for all her help, advice and impromptu betaing! I sincerely appreciate it!

I own nothing but Scarlett...

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Chapter 13: Keeping Up With the Jones'

"Okay," Scarlett was desperately trying to wrap her head around what had just occurred. "Who the hell are you?"

"Fuchsia," the man that looked like Barty replied. "We need to get out of here, now."

"We can't just leave him here," she pointed at the other Barty on the floor.

The Barty that was still standing stared at her. "He tried to rape you!"

"Yeah, but we still shouldn't just leave him here. There are Death Eaters outside."

"He _is_ a Death Eater! Are you mental?! Oh wait, how silly of me. Of course you are!"

"Oh my god!" She rushed over and threw her arms around him, "It's really you! Barty!" She hugged him tightly, "I was afraid I'd never see you again."

He returned the embrace but then attempted, unsuccessfully, to step back from her, "Wait you didn't believe it was me, did you?" She buried her face into his neck. He took it as a sign of guilt. "You didn't!" He accused. "_Fuchsia_ didn't narrow it down for you but questioning your sanity did? Merlin, you are a piece of work!"

"Well any version of you could know your favorite color, but only _my_ Barty would openly call me a nut job." She explained, still wrapped around him.

"Oh I'm pretty sure anyone who spent any real time with you would do the same." He finally managed to pry her body from his. In any other situation he would've thoroughly enjoyed the moment, but considering their present danger he thought it best to focus on surviving to hug another day. "Now can we get out of here?"

The explosion of another house bursting into flames cut off her response. Reacting quickly, Barty grabbed her wrist and yanked her towards the back of the building. A sudden rustling at the front of the house caught their attention. Fearing that his alternate self may have roused or worse, more Death Eaters had come to join in on the fun, Barty grabbed the knob on the back door, pushing Scarlett out in front of him before exiting himself and closing the door. Once outside they took off at a full run into the night.

They made it to a field that lay just beyond the village. Scarlett stopped, trying to catch her breath. Barty swiveled, grabbing and pushing her forward. "We have to keep moving. They won't stop and neither can we," he heaved. She whimpered in protest but pressed on.

Barty led them away from the village and headed for the edge of a forest about a kilometer off. He could feel the bottom of his trousers become damp and then drenched as they soaked up the evening dew from the tall grass. His heart was pounding in his chest and it felt as though it might explode but he continued forward. Even if his chest caved in from the exertion it would still be better than the Death Eaters getting a hold of them. They were coming up on the dense trees quickly but the moon was shining full and made them easier to spot.

He had to keep her safe. She'd kept him from falling apart for the last several months before his departure, keeping him safe from himself. The least he could do in return was keep her alive. It seemed like he'd been doing a lot of that lately, not that he particularly minded. Admittedly, his desire for her safety ran deeper than returning a favor. If he was truly honest with himself his desire extended to her happiness as well. He cared for Scarlett, very deeply, in fact. She was his friend, had given him hope in a bleak world that had long ago turned its back on him, given up on him. But she hadn't given up. Oh no, not at all. Instead Scarlett had begun to empower him, to the point that he'd started believing in himself, against all odds. But now wasn't a time for being honest with oneself. It was a time for running like hell and hiding like a bitch.

A tree root, half unearthed, broke him from his reverie. His paced faltered as he stumbled over it. Scarlett reached out for him but his weight was too much for her and they toppled over together on the edge of the forest.

"How does this keep happening to me?" Scarlett mused aloud. "Is it my perfume or something?"

"Shhh," he quieted her, listening intently for a long minute. Barty couldn't hear or see any movement around them. "I think we got away clean," he whispered, "Are you alright?"

She nodded silently. A building suddenly collapsed in the distance causing them to jump, startled. They continued to lie motionless beneath the treetops for several lengthy moments before Barty looked over his shoulder at the sky above the village. The mark in the sky was fading, slowly being replaced by the previous twinkling stars. Barty silently marveled for a moment at the night sky's apathy. Such a tragic evening for so many in the village, yet the stars seemed unmoved by the pain and suffering of those under their dark and wondrous blanket.

He finally looked back down at Scarlett. It was abruptly peaceful and Barty struggled to concentrate on anything beyond the feeling of Scarlett's body pressed beneath him. Her skin seemed luminescent under the moonlight, giving her an ethereal appearance. She'd gotten paler in Barty's absence, and it caused her already startling features to appear more pronounced. The air Barty had just taken in refused to expel itself from his chest, leaving a burning in his torso.

"Barty?" Scarlett whispered.

Upon hearing her whisper his name the breath in his lungs shakily escaped. "Yes?" he implored.

"We aren't being mortared."

He looked down at her quizzically, the moment shattered by his confusion. "What?"

"You can get off me now."

He looked down at their bodies. All of his weight was lying on top of her. Barty then realized he was probably crushing her thin frame. Thankful for the darkness, as he was certain it was helping to mask a deep blush, he muttered "Oh, right."

He hesitated a moment before rolling to the right. "We need to get out of here. I'm fairly certain the Death Eaters are gone but the authorities will be quick behind them. Here," he sat up and pulled Scarlett's wand out of his waistcoat and handed it to her, "I grabbed it before we ran."

Barty hesitated again, his tongue darting to the corner of his mouth.

Scarlett caught the quick movement in the moonlight as she reached out for her wand. "What's wrong Barty?"

'That's a loaded question if I ever heard one' he thought. He wanted to say so many things at that moment but deciding that this wasn't the appropriate time, as they needed to get to reasonable safety, and soon. He shook his head, "Nothing. Let's get out of here."

She stared at him. Scarlett knew there was something he wasn't saying but he made a good point. They were still in danger.

"Will apparition work here?" She asked.

He nodded, "Yes, but we can't go back to Hogwarts or my place, or yours for that matter." He thought for a moment. Where could they go and be safe? An idea popped into his head, "Muggle London. We'll find a room there."

He stood up, offering his hand to Scarlett. She accepted the help, standing. Sliding her arm around his neck, Barty wound his arms around her waist and held her tightly against him. A loud crack echoed through the still forest as they disappeared.

"Where are we?" Barty asked trying to get his bearings, "And don't tell me 'London' Scarlett."

"Across the street from my office, it was the first place I could think of in London besides my flat." She supplied.

"We can't go to your office Scarlett, you still exist here."

"Where ever or what ever _here_ is," she scoffed.

"Yeah, I'm still a little fuzzy on the details," Barty agreed.

"I may have some answers for you but they will probably only bring up more questions. We'll have to discuss it later. First we need to find a place to crash."

She moved out of the alley toward the street, crossing through the traffic to where her office building sat. Barty was right behind her but twice as cautious. She went into the building, nodding to the security officer at the front desk as they passed him. Stepping directly into the waiting lift, she punched the button for her floor, watching the lobby disappear as the doors slid shut.

"Scarlett, what are you doing?" Barty was thankful that no one was in the lift with them but this was a risky move on their part. "We shouldn't be here," he hissed.

"I just need a few things out of my office." She reached out for his hand, wrapping hers around it, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze. "We'll be careful Barty, I promise."

The doors opened, halting all conversation. They stepped out into a bland hallway.

In Barty's periphery he spotted a brass plaque on a door just to his left. It gleamed at him. The corners of his mouth quirked as he read it: Dr. Scarlett V. Birch, Ph.D.

Barty had completely forgotten that Scarlett was a professional. He vaguely remembered her saying something about leaving her private practice to work with him. He thought of her as many things but a therapist hadn't been one that he'd considered for her in a very long time. How much time had she spent at school? He imagined acquiring a title like "Doctor" couldn't be easy. Just how clever was she? Probably more than he ever gave her credit for. He watched her move down the hallway through different eyes. What had she seen before him? She once mentioned that she'd seen worse than him, what did that entail exactly? Quickly shaking his head to clear the string of questions for the moment, he could think about such things later. They had to keep moving to survive.

Scarlett led them down the corridor, a short ways from the door containing her name. She slipped through another door, which emptied them into a darkened room. Flipping on the lights, Barty quickly realized that the room must be her office. As Scarlett ran to a near by cupboard and began pulling items of clothing out and tossing them into a blue gym bag, Barty took the opportunity to survey the space with his new found insight that Scarlett had a real job. Her office looked nothing like their quarters at Hogwarts. Beige Berber carpet and cool sky blue walls covered the area. With light woods, and brushed stainless steel accenting portions of the room. It looked more like a contemporary version of his rooms than the dark colors that ran through their shared parlor or her rooms. The scene struck him as odd considering his previously held beliefs about her tastes.

After clearing out the closet, Scarlett moved to the desk. Opening the center drawer she stuck her arm inside, almost to her shoulder. Barty stared in confusion and awe at her. Removing a brown package from deep inside the desk she grabbed a pad of paper, scribbled a note, tossing the note pad off to the side. She then proceeded to slide her arm back into the desk, presumably replacing the note with where the package had been. Grabbing the package and her bag, they went back out the way they'd come in. Exiting the lobby back onto the street she then led Barty away from the building.

"Did you just steal from yourself?" He asked staying close behind her.

"Not exactly, since it is mine, and this isn't entirely real. But that's why it was there in the first place: in case of emergency. I'm willing to label this as an emergency, how about you?"

"Oh, I wasn't going to condemn your actions. I've been borrowing money from my alter ego for a while now. I'm just as guilty of the same crime. So, where are we headed?"

"There's a hotel about another six blocks this way, we can stay there until we figure something out."

He grunted and tried to keep up with her through the crowd.

After half an hour of negotiating the packed London streets Scarlett stopped, causing Barty to run into the back of her. "Here."

Barty flung open the door and held it for Scarlett, entering the hotel lobby. The man behind the desk looked up as they approached, taking in Barty first and then Scarlett's thoroughly disheveled appearance.

"We don't have hourly rates," he tersely informed them.

Barty was taken aback by the comment and he swiftly looked to Scarlett. Her eyes were bulging from her head and she started towards the man as though she was preparing to climb over the counter and pummel the clerk. Barty reached out, catching hold of her to keep her from reaching the idiot.

The clerk raised an eyebrow in response but seemed otherwise unmoved by Scarlett's potential attack. Barty thought that was an altogether unwise move on the clerk's behalf.

"No sir," Barty intervened, "you misunderstand…"

"I'll say he does!" Scarlett yelled while struggling against Barty. In response Barty held her tighter, while attempting to quiet her by covering her mouth with his hand.

"Sir," Barty continued despite the thrashing woman in his arms, "my _wife_ and I would like a room for the evening."

The word "wife" caused Scarlett to cease her physical fight temporarily and stare up at Barty. Barty was staring hard at the clerk. The clerk was unimpressed by the whole scene as well as Barty's request.

"Your wife sir?" The man looked down at Scarlett skeptically. "Of course, a room for this evening, correct sir?"

"Yes," Barty replied warming slightly.

Scarlett recovered and moved to stand behind Barty staring daggers at the clerk.

"And your name sir?" The clerk drawled, obviously bored.

Scarlett piped up over Barty's shoulder, "Octavia and Magnus Jones."

Barty quickly glanced at her before returning his attention to the clerk.

"_Jones, _yes, of course," the clerk responded.

Barty completed the transaction, yanking the room key card out of the clerk's hand adding darkly, "You should be more careful with your accusations sir, she could've killed you, which is to say nothing of what I could do to you."

They turned and moved into the lift, when the doors closed Scarlett regarded Barty, "You didn't mean that."

He gave her a sidelong glance, "Of course I did."

"No you didn't," she accused with a wry smile and slight chuckle.

"Whatever makes you think that?" He mocked hurt. "And why exactly am I parading around as Magnus Jones?"

"Because I said so."

He looked at her pointedly, "Thanks mum."

She tossed her bag at him, narrowly missing his face. "Here, _darling,_ you're the man, carry something."

"Humph! Yes, of course _dear_" he said as the lift doors opened and Scarlett sauntered out.

She located their room and stood aside to wait as Barty juggled her gym bag and slid the key card in to open the door.

They walked into the room. Bed, television, makeshift desk with a chair, uncomfortable chair in the corner that was meant to look inviting but wasn't once sat in, bedside table with telephone, mirror, and separated bathroom; it was every hotel room Barty had ever seen in all his life. He dropped Scarlett's bag on the bed, taking immediate note that there was only one bed. They'd shared a bed before but things had changed since then, hadn't they? At least Barty thought that they had for him.

"I'm going to take a shower," Scarlett announced pulling his attention from the singular bed.

"Yeah," he managed to grunt in response.

She grabbed her bag and went into the bathroom, shutting the door and leaving Barty alone with his thoughts.

He slumped down on the bed, pushing himself up against the pillows. It felt good to know she was in the other room, with him. Closing his eyes he imagined they were back in their quarters, just another day. For a moment he could almost believe it but when he opened his eyes he was back in the dull hotel room again. At least Scarlett had returned to him. The last couple of weeks had left him running and thinking, without a break from either. Even with Scarlett it didn't appear to have hope of a pause anytime soon. The nights without her had left what felt like a hole in his heart. Last week he had finally surmised as to why he would feel like that: he cared for her.

Not because of what she'd done for him, though it meant a lot to him. No, he cared for Scarlett because she was…well, Scarlett. Barty had thought about all the things that had passed between them. The picnics and drinking binges; the quiet evenings in front of the fire, filled with books, tea and banter. Then he'd thought of specific things about her; the way she moved or her smile. But as much as he treasured all of those things as well as the fact that he'd been privy to them was nothing compared to a single moment, that since he'd remembered it, he had clung to.

It had been one of their afternoon strolls, and they'd found a tree to lounge beneath on a rare warm, sunny autumn day. She'd brought along a book, something by Dickens, and was reading it to him. Barty didn't personally care for the author, but he knew Scarlett loved him. So he leaned against the tree, listening without really listening to her voice. Her head was nestled in his lap and he lazily ran his fingers through her dark hair. He watched the way her lips formed every syllable and her pretty hazel eyes darted from word to word on the page in front of her. He had been so content that day, so complete.

As much as his mind wanted to linger in that single frame of memory something was tugging him away. He suddenly remembered the string of events that had occurred when he'd found her again. Bitterness filled his mouth at the memory.

"How could he," he wondered to the room. "How could _I_?" He corrected.

A pain flooded his body at the revelation. He had done, or almost done…_that_ to his precious Scarlett! Merlin, what she must think of him! He had to apologize to her immediately. He had to make her understand that what she saw was a piece of him that was dead, never to return. And if it tried he would kill anyone he had to, including himself, to keep her safe.

The last two weeks had been difficult for him. Finding himself dropped, literally, in a back room of what had turned out to be Flourish and Blotts. One minute he had been pounding away on Malfoy's face, the next he was surrounded by piles of books flat on his ass. It had been bewildering to say the least. It had been that day in which he'd found out that where ever he'd landed no one wanted him dead. As he'd navigated the passages in Diagon Alley people had acknowledged him without fear or loathing. This had also been the day when he'd first laid eyes on _him._ His other self, either prior to his arrest and subsequent incarceration, or it had some how been deferred altogether. He'd originally begun to wonder if he was dead, he still wasn't sure that he wasn't. Though Scarlett's strange arrival put such a theory in the back seat as it were.

He'd been surprised at himself. Not only were there two of him wandering around but he hadn't shriveled into a dark corner and cried for weeks on end at finding this out. He'd spent the remainder of the day doing reconnaissance. Barty's other self was an exact replica of himself years previous. He ate at the same places, talked to the same people, wooed the same type of women, and at the end of the day he'd gone back to the same flat with said women. 'Probably did the same things with them too' he thought wryly.

Then he had considered the possibility that he'd somehow gone back in time, however unlikely a possibility it was. Time travel was feasible but not particularly conducive. 'Well, outside of a time turner,' he thought with a grin. He'd used one in school to keep a full course load. But he didn't see how that was possible, thoroughly doubting that Malfoy slipped one around his neck and wound it for nearly an hour without him noticing. Despite this fact, he had held to the rules which applied to a time turner anyway, as a precaution. He never went anywhere he knew he'd been before, or talked to anyone he'd previously known. He stayed away from his other self, until tonight of course.

Tonight he'd broken all the rules. He knew there was to be a muggle raid that evening, and he knew where, seeing as how he'd already been there once. He quietly snuck into the village, trying to get as many people out as possible. It was a difficult task, especially after his other self had arrived. Villagers trusted him, but it was the wrong him. It had been more than the usual chaos. Standing across the narrow street he'd seen his other self advancing on a woman through the window of a house. He watched as Scarlett appeared and felt his heart soar, only to abruptly plummet again. She was alone with a previous version of him. He knew where this was headed.

Sailing towards the house and barging through the door, Barty had done the only thing he could do: hit the other man. Physical violence was becoming a reoccurring theme in his life, more prevalent than it had ever been. Even as a Death Eater he'd never been involved in so many fist fights and bar brawls as he had been in the last couple of weeks. Running for one's life tended to do that he supposed. Of course adding Scarlett into the mix had brought out a ferociously protective side of him. 'Very masculine of me,' he thought. Barty was used to applying his mind to problems, not his fists. But of course there was a woman involved. This had, rather oddly, turned him into an ill tempered brute.

"What are you thinking about?" Scarlett broke him from his reverie, startling him.

He recovered quickly replying in an even tone, "I was realizing my newly found talent of 'Ugg smash'." She laughed at this, Merlin how he'd missed that sound.

"You have been flaunting your physical dominance a lot here recently, haven't you?" She removed her bathrobe revealing barely there shorts and a strappy tank top. She dropped her bag on the floor at the foot of the bed and crawled up the mattress to where Barty was propped up.

Barty set his jaw, and hoped that his eyes hadn't too noticeably bulged out of his head. 'That is so completely unfair,' he thought, 'is she trying to kill me?' He thought he could feel a massive accumulation of blood forming in his head, preparing for an impending cerebral aneurysm. Despite the likely outcome of death in that situation he silently thanked god that the blood was trapped in his brain.

"Do you think less of me for it?" He tried to buy himself some time to remember how to form more than monosyllabic words.

Scarlett crawled underneath the covers in an attempt to keep warm. She wasn't currently, he could tell. "Not at all," she said with a flick of her wrist as though to dismiss the idea entirely. "It's very manly of you."

He was thankful she was under the blankets, as speech seemed to be returning to him slowly. "Was I not manly before I instigated bashing people?"

"No, you were more cerebral though."

"Oh so now that I'm partaking in, what did you call it? Oh yes, my physical dominance, I'm somehow magically thicker than I was previously?" He was baiting her. He knew it, as did she.

"No, but it adds a new layer to you. You're no longer just a thinker Barty, albeit a very proficient thinker, but you've suddenly become a doer as well. You've solidified more of your belief system. And proved to me once again that not only is there absolutely no such thing as an obstacle for your clever mind, but that you are, at your core, a good man." She grinned up at him. "So I suppose you aren't in fact, 'less cerebral' but using it a different way."

He put his arm around her. "Is that good?"

If she was surprised at his advance she hid any acknowledgment in her face well. "You seem to be more confident, and that is a good thing."

The word "confident" caused his arm to suddenly go slack around her. "Scarlett, about what happened tonight," he began. "I want to apologize for what you witnessed. Please know that I would never, ever attempt to push myself on you or harm you in anyway. What you saw was a part of me that…"

"It was a part of you," she interrupted, leaning against him and looking up into his face, "once upon a time you were that guy. But I know that you aren't anymore. Besides Barty, if I thought you were truly dangerous I wouldn't be laying here with you now would I?" She smiled playfully at him.

Barty took what he knew to be forgiveness from her and decided to play back. "So you're saying that I wouldn't force myself upon you because I'm a rational individual. Yet just a moment ago you implied that my aggressiveness made me less astute. So which is it, eh?" He grinned wickedly back at her.

"I'm saying I'm not worried." She said with a shrug.

"Why's that?"

"Because I could take you," she challenged.

He burst into riotous laughter, "Like hell you could!"

He saw her cock an eyebrow and instant later Scarlett had straddled him with his hands pinned above him. He stopped laughing.

Bringing her face just centimeters from his, she whispered "You were saying?"

This was a dangerous position for him to be in. His potential blood clot had passed, which meant he had a plentiful supply for other things. Trying to think quicker than his bodily reactions, "This is a bit of a compromising position don't you think? Is this typical of a doctor-patient relationship?"

Thankfully Scarlett leaned back and let go of his hands, though she was still firmly planted over parts that were beginning to twitch to life. "First of all, there is nothing 'typical' about our relationship, had you not noticed." She motioned to the room around them. "Secondly, I've been in more compromising situations in the week you've been gone."

His forehead scrunched in confusion. "Pardon?"

"Yeah, Severus had me in this ridiculous get up, pretending to be a prostitute, while we were trying…"

"_EXCUSE ME_?!" He roared sitting straight up. He pushed her off of him, while pulling himself to his knees on the bed. "Since when do we call him_ Severus_, and why in _hell_ were you pretending to be any such thing with _him?_" He managed to back himself away from her and off the bed and was now standing over her incensed.

Now she was surprised, "Barty, if it hadn't been for Severus I would've lost my mind while you were gone!"

"I don't want to hear this! I absolutely don't want to know!" He turned away from her, hands on his hips. He couldn't look at her right now. He had to calm down, why was he reacting like this?

He felt a tug on his elbow. He turned his head away from it. "Hey," she said softly "hey, nothing happened between Severus and me." He heard her heavy sigh, "Okay, that's not _entirely_ true. But hear me out? Barty? Please?"

"No! I said I didn't want to know! What you do, and with whom, is none of my business!" He knew that to be true, but it sure as hell didn't feel that way.

"Barty, please let me explain?" She pleaded. She took his silence as compliance, "Severus and Minerva were immensely helpful in trying to figure out what had happened to you. He went through every dark arts book he knew to find an answer for me, out of the goodness of his heart!"

Barty snorted at that.

"He did Barty! Severus came up with this cunning plan to get both of us into Knockturn Alley without question to look through books!" She sighed again then muttered, "Albeit part of that plan sucked for me."

He threw up his hands and turned away from her again.

"And, yes, at one point we had to do less than dignified things in an alley," she admitted. He closed his eyes, hoping that the act would also turn off his ability to hear. "But I did it for you Barty, to save you at any cost."

"Well that's just brilliant!" He swung around unexpectedly to face her, "Just fucking _brilliant_! You were shagging Snape whilst I was wandering about in this goddamn circus!" His voice began to rise with each word until he was screaming at her. "And apparently having so much fun at it that you didn't even notice how long I was gone!"

He dropped down onto mattress, head in his hands. Shaking with fury, and desperately trying not to cry all at once. He finally whispered, "I was gone for two weeks, Scarlett, not one."

It was her turn to be confused. "Barty I didn't sleep with Severus. Lucius Malfoy caught us in Knockturn so we improvised until we could safely apparate away. I kissed the man, but I definitely did not sleep with him. And you were only gone for a week, at best. Believe me I spent hours in the infirmary watching over you. And when I wasn't at your bedside I was trying to find a way to help you. I counted every minute you were unconscious. It was four days, fifteen hours, and about forty-five minutes. Give or take a few days, considering the maze I had to work my way through just to find the _real_ you."

She dropped onto her knees in front of him. "I'm sure of it Barty. It was only a week."

He picked up his head to look at her. "It was two Scarlett. Believe me, I counted the minutes too."

She stared at him for a minute, obviously deep in thought. "Wait! I have an idea!" She jumped up and went into the bathroom. Returning with what Barty recognized as his gold pocket watch, his family crest emblazoned across it.

He looked down at the chain that ran across his vest, "Did you steal my watch?" He reached into his pocket to find the watch still there and pulled it out.

"Well, sort of. I took it from your personal belongings after you were attacked," she explained blushing. "It became a way to have a piece of you with me even when I couldn't physically be next to you."

His eyes softened, "Really?"

She ducked her head slightly as if embarrassed. He thought it was incredibly sweet, and all the anger still coursing through him over their previous argument dissipated instantly. "Yeah, as well as a sort of battle flag to signify that I wouldn't give up. But that's not the point," she opened it and stared at the face then displayed it to him.

The time was wrong. "Did you wind it?"

"Of course I did Bartemius. I know how to work a watch for god sake! I'm not stupid!"

"I wasn't saying you were…" he amended.

"This watch is from the real world, our world Barty. Yours is a figment of your imagination, all of this is, in a way."

"What are you getting at?"

"Barty, we are inside your head. This," she waved her hands around to indicate their current location, "is your mind. Malfoy cast this weird dark curse on you but he fucked it all up. Which Severus tells me is actually good, because otherwise you would've not only been dead but it would've been like you were never alive and we would've forgotten all about you!"

Her eyes were dancing like she was really excited by the concept, which only served to make him confused and nervous. "Yeah, that sounds great."

"Actually it would've been terrible," she had the courtesy to look dramatically sad for a moment before continuing enthusiastically, "but Malfoy screwed it up and you were trapped inside your own mind. In order to retrieve your conscious mind I had to go in and retrieve you, which I have!" At the end she took a deep breath.

"And?" He trailed off, hoping she would continue.

"And what? That's all I know."

"Scarlett," Barty said slowly, "how do we," he pointed to both of them, "get out of here?" indicating the room on the word "here."

"Not a clue," she stated candidly.

"Dear Lord," Barty moaned as he flopped the rest of his body against the bed, exasperated. "We're going to die in here."

Scarlett lay down next to him, offering meekly "Maybe, but at least we're together."

He couldn't hide his smile. She was right, at least they were together. He rolled over to face her, propping himself up on his elbow. Brushing her hair away from her face he agreed, "That's true. There's no one else on earth I'd rather be stuck in my own head with than you Scarlett."

She reached for his hand, stroking the back of it. "You going to take a shower before bed?"

"Nah, I'll worry about it in the morning."

"Then let's go to bed, I've had a hell of a day."

He sat up and peeled back the covers motioning for her to get underneath. She smiled and crawled into the sheets. Barty replaced the blankets and tucked them in around her while she giggled. He smiled down at her, still perched on the edge of the bed. Leaning down gently he kissed her forehead. He began to move away from the bed but she caught his sleeve.

"I'll sleep in the chair," he supplied. "You deserve a bed all to yourself."

"No," she gasped. He gazed down at her, concerned. This wasn't like Scarlett at all. Barty wrapped his hand around hers, kissing it in an attempt to reassure her.

"Barty," she paused sitting up a bit, "I'm sorry, it's just that…well…this has all been so surreal. And I've come across so many incarnations of you that weren't really you that…" she trailed off.

"What is it Scarlett? Anything," he promised despite his confusion. He'd never seen her so shaken.

"I'm afraid that I might wake up and you'll be gone again. That," she reached out for his watch that sat on the bedside table. Holding it tightly against her chest, "this will have all been some terrible dream. This isn't science Barty, science I understand, this is science fiction."

Realization finally dawned on him. Her whole world had been turned upside down in just a week. Scarlett was a strong woman, that he knew. But as it turned out she had been just as lost without him, as he had been without her. They'd both survived their time apart but struggled regardless.

"Barty," she whispered, nearly begging, "Please stay with me."

His insides crumbled. No one had ever needed him, not like Scarlett did at that moment. Her whispered plea took his breath away. He could never turn down such a request as his mere presence beside her tonight.

"Of course," he crooned cupping her cheek. "Of course I will."

He stood and began turning lights off through out the room. She needed him, the thought still stunned him; and touched him deeply.

Going into the bathroom he stripped off his clothes, leaving him in only his boxer shorts. Folding them and placing them next to the sink he turned off the light in the bathroom and felt his way to the bed, slipping in beside her. He had expected to sleep next to her but she had other ideas about the matter.

He heard a gentle thud, indicating that she had placed his watch back on the table. Then he felt her hand wander across the sheets and up his bare chest. Shortly the rest of her slid next to him, wrapping her arms and legs around his body. She was cold to the touch. He rubbed his hands rapidly against her skin to warm her. Scarlett rested her head on his chest, tucked underneath his chin. Her right hand lay over his heart. Nothing could surpass this moment.

Soon her breathing became shallow and steady. He knew she was finally asleep. Wrapping the blankets and his arms tighter around them to ensure her comfort, Barty slowly drifted to sleep.

* * *

Barty stirred slightly, caught between a dreamless sleep and wakefulness. He pulled the warm mass pressed up against him closer, moaning softly as it pushed back, cuddling closer and pressing gently into his groin. Guiding his hand across subtle curves to stretch over a flat space, drawing lazy circles along the surface. He sighed contently. Subconsciously preparing to fall back to sleep a light sigh, not his own, roused him.

His eyes fluttered open to reveal Scarlett's silhouette pressed against his body in the near darkness. He gasped but stopped himself from pulling away from her, fearing that he would wake her. The plane his hand was on was her lower abdomen and her ass was the soft flesh pushed up against his crotch. Barty groaned despite himself. Slowly moving his knee over trying to pry her ass from his quickly swelling member; this would be awkward if Scarlett woke.

Despite his attempt Barty heard her yawn. Stretching her arms above her head Scarlett rolled over on top of him covering most of his body with hers. And placing her thigh directly over his morning erection. He tried to stifle another moan unsuccessfully and looked down cocking an eyebrow. For a moment he was sure that she had fallen back asleep and was trying to decide what to do next.

"What time is it?" Her sleep filled voice startled him.

'Maybe she isn't fully awake,' he thought hopefully. 'Or maybe she's forgotten where she is?' He rolled his eyes at his own ridiculousness. He glanced over at the clock on the nightstand, "8:22."

"I'm late," came her muffled reply.

Maybe she _wasn't_ completely awake he wondered, but "Umm?" was all he managed.

"God, when the fuck did we finally go to bed last night Barty?" She asked as her arms snaked underneath him, pressing her even closer.

She was definitely awake, and there was no way she couldn't feel him beneath her. He looked down again. There was _absolutely_ no way she couldn't feel him. So why wasn't Scarlett reacting to it? Did she not care? Or did she care, and enjoyed it? His body immediately responded to his last thought. He had to stop thinking about it; it would go away.

"Uh, I'm not sure. 2:30, maybe?" He answered.

Her response was to groan, which he could feel reverberate through his own body, and to rub her thigh along the inside of his thigh, thereby rubbing his still growing problem. He moaned again, this time low in his throat, catching her attention. She looked up at him. Barty knew there was no way to mistake his parted lips or his quickened breathing for anything but lustful desire. Let alone the obvious sign currently pressed against her stomach. He was only thankful that she wouldn't be able to make out his darkened eyes with their surely dilated pupils.

"Barty," she whispered.

That was it. He couldn't stand it any longer. Hearing hear whisper his name in the darkness was his undoing. He had to stop this before he lost control of all of his faculties.

"Scarlett," he began. "You have to…"

A loud rapping on the door interrupted him. Breathing a sigh of relief, he slid out from underneath her and padded to the door, grabbing Scarlett's discarded robe from the previous evening off the floor as he went. Barty was never so happy for the maid or room service or whoever the hell was on the other side of the door as he was at that moment. But upon looking out the peep hole he saw no one. He stepped back for a second. In his pause there was another knock. He peered out again, still no one.

"Open the fucking door Barty!" Scarlett whined, still face first on the bed.

He opened it as instructed. Blinked at the sudden intrusion of light on his eyeballs, his sight began to return at snail speed. Standing in the hall in front of him was Scarlett. He stood there a moment, staring. Then he looked back to the bed. Scarlett was still wrapped up in the blankets. He looked back out into the corridor, staggering for a moment. But the image of Scarlett had not budged. He blinked several times trying to clear away the confusion. No luck, she was concurrently standing in the hall and lying on the bed.

"Magnus Jones I presume?" Hallway Scarlett asked him.

"Yeah sure, why not," he drawled stepping aside and motioned for her to enter. "Jesus and I thought one was enough to kill me sufficiently," Barty muttered, shutting the door.

* * *

Drop me a line and tell me what you liked, what you hated, whateva! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


	14. The Others

A/N: I want to thank everyone who is still reading this, and everyone who has commented on it. I appreciate the feed back and continued support! Special shout out to BEN~Beyond the Elusive Nomads~ for her support, advice, help, and general awesomeness, sorry it took me a couple of weeks to get this up! And thanks to Aana for being a bitch, I need it! As well as Andy for his guidance!

Hope you all enjoy! Its a little different this chapter than usual, so let me know what you think.

I own nothing except Scarlett and Oliver....(what? *gasp*)

* * *

Chapter 14: The Others

The Previous Evening

Barty's eyes fluttered opened. He stared curiously at the timbers of a house. What had happened?

Anger rose in his chest like an uncontrollable fire as he remembered the woman and the imposter. Tenderly touching his jaw where he'd been stuck at the memory, he sat up and looked out the open door. There was no movement outside. He realized that he had to get out of the area immediately to return to the safety of his flat before the Aurors arrived. Searching the floor littered with remnants of the previous residents, Barty found his wand.

He disappeared with a pop, reappearing in the comfort of his home.

A high pitched giggle caught his attention. Some blonde slut was sprawled across the divan in his sitting room. Ignoring her in hopes that she'd get the hint and bugger off, he moved down a hallway to the lavatory. The lights lit up as he entered. Regarding the reflection in the mirror he could see a bruise forming on his jaw. Spitting into the sink he saw oxidized blood. Narrowing his eyes at his messy appearance his ire grew. He went back into the sitting room to annoyingly find that the bird was still there. Again he ignored her, crossing the blazing fireplace to the bookcases along the back wall; pulling the potions book he knew so well out from amongst the many dark labels.

Another giggle. He felt arms wrap around him and lips make contact with the back of his neck, then teeth. He shrugged her off, adding, "Get out," before moving to a nearby chair.

The woman, make-up was smeared, not looking particularly reputable, whined and followed him to the chair where he was perusing the pages of the book.

Crawling on the floor, up his legs, and planting her face over the open book the woman asked coyly, "Playing hard to get, are we?" Her hands clawing at his thighs.

"I said, get out," he repeated darkly.

"But love," she pouted, "you said when you got back we'd…"

"I don't care," he interrupted, "plans have changed. Now get out of here you filthy whore, before I make you sorry you stayed."

Only slightly off put by his comment the woman continued to paw at him. "Can't we change the plans back? I so desperately want you to..." She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before he closed the book, forcefully pulling it back, and struck her across the face with it, knocking her back onto the floor.

"I said, get out you stupid cunt! When I say get out, it means you take your two galleons and leave!" His eyes were wide, the fire reflecting off them, causing their appearance to be in his brown eyes.

The woman scuttled across the floor away from him. She stood quickly, gathering her things. She took one last longing look towards him. He didn't bother looking up, but flicked his hand dismissively toward her, as if reiterating his desire for her to leave.

She humphed at him before letting the door slam, indicating that he was finally alone, "Good company just isn't what it used to be," he reflected to himself before returning to the ingredients list for Polyjuice potion in front of him.

He surmised that it was the only way, well, not only, but surely the easiest, to create a copy of someone. But why him? It had to be his nearness to the Dark Lord, though very few knew about his involvement with such circles. Perhaps his wealth? His name then? He was a well known member of wizarding society, what with his father at the ministry and the Crouch's being an older pureblood family and all. They had certainly accumulated a good amount of money through the years.

That must be it. Either his money or his status had drawn these two to him. But how did they get close enough to procure a part of him, something necessary to the potion? He knew he'd never seen her before, but her accomplice was another matter. They could be anyone. Though, she did admit to knowing him, perhaps they had indeed crossed paths at some point and he didn't remember?

Barty decided that he needed help of some kind and not reputable help either. Lowly scum of the earth help. He knew just the place to procure such filth.

Placing the book back on the shelf in its proper place he went back down the hallway to the end where his bedroom was located. He stripped out of his disheveled clothes and changed into another set of robes. Taking a final look in the mirror to ensure his proper form, Barty strode from his flat, down the stairs and into the streets of Diagon Alley.

Casually strolling towards Knockturn Alley, so as not to rouse suspicion, he kept to the shadows. Upon entering the disgusting street he ducked into the Borgin and Burkes storefront. Though it was long past shop hours, he knew that someone would be there. Sure enough, after a moment or so he heard shuffling from the second floor. About three minutes after the initial movement the greasy form of Mr. Borgin emerged in the main level of the shop.

"Mr. Crouch," the older man spoke warily, "what an unexpected surprise."

He didn't sound surprised nor particularly happy to see the younger man, but that was inconsequential to Barty, who knew that for the right price the shop owner would be as pleasant as Barty wanted.

"Mr. Burke is gone for the evening I take it?" This wasn't merely small talk, Barty also knew that Borgin would not only give him a better price for services rendered but knew even seedier people than Caractacus Burke. And he did want the scum of the earth on this little project of his after all.

"Yes Mr. Crouch, if you'd prefer, Caractacus will return in the morning."

"No, no I'm much obliged for my current company Mr. Borgin. Yes, I believe you are exactly what I need sir."

"I'm happy to help any way I can but may I be so bold as to inquire about the hour of your arrival sir?" He paused momentarily to ensure that he hadn't angered his potential customer before explaining further, "It is quite late Mr. Crouch."

"Indeed, and I apologize for my disturbance but I need a bit of advice, as it were," Barty broke to gage the interest of the other man. When Borgin's eyebrow rose he continued, "It appears I have a problem, and I was hoping that you might be able to point me in the right direction."

"I'll do my best," Borgin said with a shrug.

Not the enthusiastic response Barty had been hoping for so he added with a light laugh, "For the right price of course. A man with your connections deserves only the best."

"Thank you sir, anything you need sir."

Now that was more like it. Barty flashed him a smile, "I'd appreciate that Mr. Borgin."

With a slight bow Borgin asked, "What do you require?"

"I seem to have an imposter roaming around. I'd like to find out who and why, then properly…_rid_ myself of the problem."

"Ah, I see," Borgins face was alight, "you need someone to do some…_research_ on the matter, or rather, the individual and his motives."

Barty was quite pleased that the man understood. "That is _exactly_ what I need sir."

The older man grinned, revealing broken and blackened teeth. Barty inwardly grimaced, but returned the gesture with a nod.

"I can set up a meeting if you'd like sir?" Borgin went on at Barty's affirming nod, "Tomorrow night perhaps? Would you prefer it here or else where Mr. Crouch?"

"You can find someone that fast?" Barty pseudo marveled; he knew how to chat a man up.

"I already have someone in mind sir. He's very good," Borgin was obviously very happy with himself.

"And he's discreet?"

"Very much so," he nodded enthusiastically.

"Wonderdful! Yes, tomorrow evening would be perfect. Here I think. Wouldn't want this getting out to the wrong people, it's bad enough as it is. No telling what this scoundrel has planned, let alone the disgrace he may have brought to my reputation by now." Barty pulled a small but weighty purse out of his coats inside pocket and dropped it into Borgins waiting hands. "An initial fee. We can firm up the final price at tomorrow evenings engagement. Oh, Mr. Borgin? This individual impersonating me, he has an accomplice, a woman. That won't be a problem, will it?"

"No sir, not at all," Borgin smirked.

Barty nodded at the other man, "I'm very pleased with your assistance in this matter Mr. Borgin, I look forward to our next meeting."

"Until tomorrow night sir," Borgin bowed as Barty let himself out.

The walk back home was less cautious than his previous journey that night, as far less people were on the streets. None the less, Barty was much happier once he had closed his door, shutting out the world. Heading to his bedroom and stripping once again, he wanted to shower immediately in order to remove the last remnants of Knockturn Alley from his body.

Forty minutes later he emerged from the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist he went to the basin wiping the perspiring mirror above it. Tilting his head and pouting his lips, he gazed at his reflection asking aloud, "Merlin, how can you be so very irresistible?"

He smirked, answering "Just comes naturally I suppose."

Chuckling at the exchange between himself and his visage and slicking his wet hair back he continued with his nightly routine.

Well, not exactly. Part of his nightly routine didn't often occur alone. The though caused his grin to deepen.

"As gorgeous as you may be my friend," he regarded the mirror again, "there can only be one, Barty Crouch Junior. So, we will have to dispatch with all others now won't we? Believe me I will crush those two when I find them, and find them I will. Might even have that bird delivered to me in naught but a bow so we can enjoy her fully before she's lost to this world for good, don't you think?" He simpered leaning closer to the mirror, "Pleasure as punishment, eh?"

He gave his reflection a devious, toothy smile, "It'll be the best beating I've attended in a while," he said chuckling.

He snapped his fingers, extinguishing the lights as he left the room.

The Next Morning, 5:00 am

She awoke in her bed, alone. She hadn't been alone a moment ago. She had been with him, with Oliver, in this very bed, warm and happy in her dreams. But that was a lie, it was all a lie. A disconnected anger flooded her and pushed her out of bed. Resetting her alarm, she donned her morning sweats and sneakers. She moved silently into the kitchen to start the coffee pot. Once finished, she grabbed her key from its place on the key rack and swung it onto her neck. She locked the door as she left, and once outside double checked it. Heading for the stairs she descended the three flights into the buildings small lobby and out onto the London streets.

Fog hung heavy this morning, she loved London like that. She began stretching her legs, the trip down the stairs was sufficient enough of a warm up, taking the time to enjoy the relative calm of the city in the early morning hours.

"Okay Scarlett, let's go," she said to herself and set out at an amply paced jog.

Some people found that running gave them the ability to leave their world and all its problems behind. Scarlett found it to be uninterrupted time in which she had no choice but to face her own mind which included her worries, doubts, and fears. It was like running head long at her problems, staring them in the face for three long miles.

This was a time of self reflection and analysis for her. Most people didn't care for such things but Scarlett found a kind of strength in it. That strength had kept her going for the last year.

She picked up her pace a bit once she entered Regents Park. Scarlett enjoyed living in the area, mostly due to convenience. There was an area in which she could run every morning just blocks from her place and she was incredibly close to work. She liked simplicity in her routine these days, lavishness had led to ruin, therefore simplicity would restore order, it seemed obvious enough. Unfortunately along with said simplicity came a certain amount of isolation. But that was for the best, she feared she would be like poison to any potential companions right now. It was best to settle in her life a bit more before branching out.

Life was like a morning run, she surmised, if one kept a steady pace one would eventually reach one's destination. Too fast and you would run out of energy, leaving you short of your goal. Too slow and you'd either get left behind or take too long to complete the goal and someone would take your place.

Someone had taken her place with Oliver.

She circled back by the zoo, heading for her flat. She was well over half way there and her previous thought about him fueled her forward. But she was careful to keep her steady pace. Yes, running at break neck speed had led her off a cliff, so keep it steady and she'd be safe.

Security was a necessity in a world gone to hell in a hand basket. She would find security in her day to day life and that would give her further stability. The key to that security was her work.

Halting in front of her building again, she returned to her flat the way she had come. Removing her key from her neck she opened the door and the scent of fresh coffee wafted towards her. Going into the kitchen she prepared her first cup of caffeine for the day and left it to cool on the island, moving through the open floor plan to the back of her flat and into the bathroom for a shower. She turned on the water, not caring about the temperature, and stepped in. The drizzle was lukewarm at best, but it felt quite cool against her perspiring skin.

She didn't linger for more than fifteen minutes under the nozzle before getting out and grabbing a thick towel from the stack in the cupboard. Drying her self and twisting the towel around her hair she went back into the bedroom to begin pulling on the clothes she had set out the night before.

Taking her wand from the nightstand she flicked it toward her hair, instantly drying both it and the towel. She dropped the towel into the laundry bin on the way back into the lavatory. Scarlett set to work with her wand using charms to fix her hair and apply makeup. When she was satisfied with her appearance she clicked off the light and went back to her suitably cooled coffee.

She popped two pieces of bread into the toaster and sat down in one of the bar chairs at the island silently sipping her coffee.

Looking at the clock she knew she had time to kill before going into the office. She was glad that she didn't have an appointment first thing in the morning; there was paperwork to catch up on. Well, that wasn't accurate. All of her paperwork was done but she wanted to reorganize some of her files for a more efficient system. The toast popped up and she mindlessly buttered them. She remembered that she needed to talk to Susan about moving the Thorne case back to Thursday afternoons and post new office hours.

Taking a bite of toast she considered her change in hours again. She'd gone back and forth on lengthening her day for the last month; even now she came to the same conclusions. Longer hours meant more flexibility for clients, and had the potential to bring in more clients, Susan didn't have to stay for the extended hours, and Scarlett put off going back to her empty flat for an extra two hours. By the time she'd get home there was enough time for dinner, a review of the following day's cases, and maybe a chapter in a book. That was it. The less time she spent wandering her apartment the less she dwelled on recent events in her personal life.

She sighed deeply. As a mental health professional she knew she had to think about it, to come to terms with it. But Scarlett wanted to put some time between her and Oliver so that she could look at the situation objectively. This would inevitably lessen the guilt and pain he had left in his wake. In the mean time she could focus on her budding career. More cases and longer hours meant more experience which would eventually lead to more intense cases.

Scarlett excelled with trauma patients and abnormal psychology, some how it was easier for her to make sense out of chaos. People who had control over their lives and selves frustrated her. It was boring. Though she hid those feelings well, always appearing to be interested and engaged. She had no problem noticing details in people and their behavior but she couldn't connect with patients like some of her colleagues could. Perhaps the added case load would give her that experience, adding that elusive ability to her repertoire would be indispensable as she moved forward in her career.

Finishing the last of her toast and pouring herself another cup on coffee she moved to the sitting room where a stack of files were waiting to be retrieved. She did so placing them in her briefcase and setting that next to the door. Going back into the bedroom she picked up the remaining clothes and tossed them into the laundry bin, sipping coffee as she went. Coming full circle again in the kitchen she grabbed the stack of bills waiting on the counter that she finished last night tucking them into her briefcase front pocket. Taking one last pull from her coffee she placed the mug in the sink along with the single breakfast dish.

Pulling on her coat, she picked up her briefcase and pocketed her keys, locking the door and checking it before descending the stairs again. The morning walk to the office took about twenty minutes. The fog was slowly receding from the grey streets. Despite her appreciation of London weather she was still glad to see the large art deco building of her office come into view.

Once inside the building she bustled up the stairs and into her still dark office. She still had another fifteen minutes before her secretary, Susan was scheduled to arrive. Turning the lights on in the waiting room she moved to her actual office to turn on the remaining lights. Setting down her briefcase next to Susan's desk she removed her coat and hung it up and went to start more coffee. Scarlett usually only drank another cup before switching over to tea but she knew Susan drank it all day long.

She liked Susan. Her secretary was short, in her forties, married with no children, efficient, friendly with clients and kept to herself. The perfect assistant for a young, rising therapist. Technically, they were apart of a larger clinic, but it was strong place to begin, and Scarlett had begun working her a year and half ago, right out of school.

After the coffee was beginning to percolate she returned to her office, briefcase in hand. She pulled out the files setting them on her desk. She was about to reach back in for her mail when she did a double take.

Something wasn't right.

She looked over her desk, scrutinizing everything that laid on it. Picking up the files and dumping them into her chair she stared at the desktop. It suddenly dawned on her: the pen was tossed on the desk and a notepad was lying askew across the desk.

The notepad wasn't where she'd left it. And Scarlett always placed her pens back in the center drawer of her desk. She looked down at the drawer to find it ever so slightly ajar.

Her brow furrowed. No one knew about her emergency reserve of money, so surely…she glanced up at the cupboard. The door wasn't completely shut.

Scarlett opened her desk drawer, quickly finding her wand. She moved cautiously toward the door, wand poised as she grabbed the knob and flung it open. There was nothing there except a few empty hangers swinging. Now that definitely wasn't right. The closet had also had a store of clothing and a bag previously. It was quickly becoming obvious that someone had been here in her absence.

Hurrying back around her desk she stashed her wand and pulled out the center drawer. Reaching her arm inside, she found nothing. At least not the package containing over a thousand pounds, instead her fingers found a slip of paper. Removing it, she moved the files again to sit in comfortably in her chair. Who could've done this? No one knew but her.

Gazing at the paper she read the note left by the perpetrator:

_Scarlett,_

_I know this may seem impossible but I need your help._

_Or rather you need your help, as we are one in the same._

_No, I'm not some lunatic. But as Dad says, with magic,_

_all things are possible. We're at the Brown under Mum _

_and Dad's name. Please come as soon as you get this._

_P.S._

_Trust your self, you're the only one in the room you_

_know isn't lying._

_S.V.B._

Scarlett stared at the piece of paper in her hand, then re-read it, and read it again. She could hear Susan in the other room. There was no other explanation for what was in the note, no one knew where her stockpile was, let alone what her father had told her in her youth, and especially the fact that she a witch. But it was the last part of the note that drew her in. Lying. It was meant to be a reference to Oliver, she was sure of it. Only one person could know all these things: herself. One or two could be found somehow, but all these things added up to the least likely culprit but the only possibility.

She stood up, grabbing her briefcase and the note, and rushing into the waiting room.

"Susan, when's my first appointment today?" She asked breathlessly.

The older woman looked confused for a moment before looking into her date book, "Not until 9:15."

"I need to run an errand. I'll be back before then." Pulling on her coat she left before Susan could question her fast exit.

She walked as quickly as she could to the hotel that was specified in the note. Unfortunately morning rush hour had begun and people were beginning to litter the streets, impeding her journey. Finally arriving in the hotel lobby, she went to the clerk's desk. A young woman was manning the post.

Scarlett smiled at her as she approached, "Excuse me, but are Octavia and Magnus Birch staying at this hotel?"

The woman smiled back, "Let me check," she perused the registrar then nodded, "I'm sorry they aren't."

Scarlett frowned. Maybe it had been a hoax.

The clerk saw her reaction then offered, "But we do have a reservation for an Octavia and Magnus Jones, is that maybe your party?"

"Yes, yes that's them," Scarlett was relieved and smiled again at the obvious mix up.

The woman at the desk gave her the room number and Scarlett thanked her before getting into the lift.

Quickly locating the room she knocked on the door. She could hear some shuffling from within but a moment later no one answered. So she knocked again, hoping for a different response.

"Open the fucking door Barty!" She heard a woman yell.

The door opened to reveal a man in his mid thirties clothed in a terry cloth bathrobe. His brown hair stuck up in every which direction and his brown eyes squinted, obviously still blurry with sleep.

He stared at her a moment then turned to look back into the room then resumed staring at her, obviously confused.

After he didn't say anything for another minute Scarlett spoke, "Magnus Jones I presume?"

Looking further confused he finally shrugged, "Yeah, sure, why not?"

Despite the oddness of his response he stood aside for her to enter the dark room. She steeled herself for what might inside the room and entered.

She heard him grumble, "Jesus and I thought one was enough to kill me sufficiently," as he closed the door, shutting out all light.

'What rabbit hole have I fallen down?' She wondered while waiting for what would happen next.

Despite her extensive training and experiences in the magical world, nothing on earth could've prepared Scarlett for what followed.


	15. Ms Scarlett in the bedroom with the towe

A/N: Okay so,...I'M BACK! Yes, like herpes, I have returned yet again! I'd love to say that my absence was due to the aliens but unfortunately my only excuse was that I was busy writing a real life love story of my own. It didn't turn out quite as well as one would hope. :( But that's life and I'm consoling myself with writing, which is great! I want to shout from the roof tops all my love to myediting team. Thanks goes to Andy, as always, for guidance, patience, and listening when I get frustrated. And to my real life Malk bunny, never to be confused with a plot bunny, as that would be very very bad! But thanks for listening and all the input! You are, if nothing else, ...unique! ;) And to SD, forever my muse.

BEN-Beyond the Elusive Nomads-: As always thank you much for the comments! You've been sooooo helpful throughout this entire story! All I can say is poor, poor Barty. What do you think of the Eleventh so far?

MustLoveCas: Indeed there is quite a bit of "crazy shit" afoot! And it will only get crazier! It's just Scarlett's nature!

Lola: Despite my lapses in updates I assure you I will never abandon this fic. I'm in it for the long haul. And could never forgive myself if I gave up on Scarlett and Barty. I love them too much!

PrincessOfSilence: Well here it is m'dear! Hope you enjoy! Yet again, I do apologize for the wait! Please stick with me!

Oaklee K Torchio: I promise to keep writing it, as long as you promise to keep reading it!

I own nothing but Scarlett...

* * *

Chapter 15: Ms. Scarlett, in the bedroom, with the towel

The light clicked on revealing a thoroughly disheveled Barty, a wary young Scarlett, and the back half of another Scarlett on the bed. Barty looked from one woman to the other, back and forth, trying to grasp what was going on. The young Scarlett raised an eyebrow and attempted to keep both people in view. The note had been telling but she still had her reservations about the situation.

From the bed Scarlett drug her head up, blinking repeatedly to adjust her eyes to the light. Several beats passed before she flung herself over onto her back and stretched deeply.

"Hello there," she said to the younger version of herself. "I assure you that this," she pointed to her body, "isn't what you have to look forward to waking to every morning. I've been to hell and back in the last week. And I do mean that quite literally at a couple of points."

"Hello. You'll have to forgive my lack of manners but, what is going on?"

"This version has manners?" Barty mumbled. "I just assumed you never procured them Scarlett, not that you'd once had them and somehow misplaced them." A pillow vaulted from the bed, landing against Barty's face with an "oomph."

"I apologize for my companion…" the older Scarlett said to her younger counterpart.

"Your companion?" Barty interjected, "I'm not a cocker spaniel…"

"…He can be very…" she trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Lovely? Charming? Unconventionally handsome?" Barty supplied.

"Quirky, perhaps?"

"Quirky! I am most certainly not quirky. You make me sound as if I have some strange obsession with stuffed rabbits and perpetually wear plaid or something."

"Ubiquitous then."

"Ubiquitous is a word you use to describe ugly deep sea fish. Do I look like an ugly fish?"

"Really, Barty? Are you really going to make it that easy?"

"Why did I miss this?"

"Pardon me, but you still have yet to answer my question," the younger Scarlett finally interrupted.

They both looked at her, as though they'd just remembered she was in the room. Scarlett pulled herself up off the bed, moving to the other version of her and extended her hand.

"My apologies Doctor. I am Dr. Scarlett Birch, and this may seem very strange indeed, but I'm you. Many years later in life obviously, but regardless we are the same person."

The other woman took the proffered hand, "How is this possible? Time travel?"

"We aren't really sure, to be quite honest. I can assure you that we don't intend on staying. However there is a catch." The older Scarlett explained.

"Oh?" The younger woman's eyes darted to Barty before returning to the woman in front of her.

"Yes," Scarlett hadn't missed the look, "he is the catch. I have to begin research of how to get back to our time but I also know that Barty needs to continue with his therapy. I can't be in two places at one time…" she looked at the woman and smiled fondly, "well I suppose I can't be in three places at once then. I also know that you want to expand your abilities so that you could potentially take on more interesting clients. Barty is one such case. Unfortunately you won't get credit for working with him but you will get experience, if you'll settle for that."

The young doctor looked at Barty. He was still wearing the robe he'd greeted her at the door in, and was leaning up against one of the walls looking at her expectedly.

"I could be interested, but I'd like to review the full case file before I make a commitment."

"I'm sorry doctor, but I'm afraid it's an all or nothing call. You understand of course, I have to protect Barty's privacy."

"Will you at least provide me with a case file if I were to take over?"

"No, I realize how unusual that seems, not to mention unprofessional but I need a second opinion. A fresh set of eyes, as it were."

"You want to know if you're correct or not?"

"Exactly."

"This is a high level case then, for you to be second guessing your diagnosis, and seeking a second opinion, albeit an unconventional one?"

"It is, but I don't consider Barty's case one that which will launch my career, if that's what you're thinking. I don't want there to be doubt that what I say is anything but accurate; if nothing else, for his sake. I'm not going to redefine psychological medicine or change the world, but I might get the chance to help a good man. You can choose to help or refuse on whatever grounds you'd like but that, and for no other reason, is why I'm being so particular."

"Let me think about it. I'll call in the next twenty four hours with my decision."

"That is perfectly acceptable, doctor." The older woman assured her.

The younger woman was suddenly unsure of herself. "I need to get back to my office; I have an appointment in a few minutes."

"Of course," Scarlett said, moving to the door to let her out. They shook hands before parting ways. Turning back to Barty, who was still leaning against the wall, "I'm going to run out for a few minutes. We need supplies and you need a shower." She moved to her bag and began pulling out clothes.

"Are we staying here indefinitely?" He asked.

"I don't know; we can talk about it later."

"When were you going to tell me that you'd decided to hand off my sessions to someone else?"

"It's not someone else Barty, it's still me, just a younger looking me, that's all."

"No, it's not. And I think you should have at least asked me."

He was beginning to annoy her. "I need a second opinion."

"Why?"

"Because!" She roared. She hadn't meant to yell at him. "Because, I just do, Barty. Can't I have the luxury of asking what someone else thinks?"

He nodded then quickly went into the bathroom to allow her privacy. Arguing wasn't going to help anything at this point. Turning the appropriate dials, scalding hot water flowed from the shower head and he quickly undressed.

The heat soothed muscles sore from weeks on the run but it did nothing for his mind. He hadn't intended on angering her but it's not like this didn't involve him at all. After two weeks of looking after himself having decisions be made for him again, with absolutely no consultation bothered him. It was like he stood on his own for the first time and suddenly Scarlett came through and took his legs out from under him without warning.

He put his hands on either side of the shower nozzle, allowing the water to run from the crown of his head, across his face and down his torso. Exhaling deeply he resolved that the topic needed to be discussed. As soon as she got back he would confront her with his concerns, as gently as possible. It wouldn't do to start another argument; though he wouldn't classify what had been conspiring as fighting. There was a tension between them that rose momentarily, and then fell, only to rise yet again. And it had only come about since meeting again in this place; this very strange place where everything was the same except the two of them, which brought his mind to the young Scarlett.

She wasn't what he'd expected, well he'd never thought he would see a younger version of Scarlett at all, but the prim young woman wasn't what he'd envisioned. The Scarlett he knew was unconventional and he had just assumed that she'd settled down since her younger days. Merlin knew he had. Apparently she'd grown into her free spirit much later in life.

Much later in life? What was he thinking? Scarlett was still young, a woman in her prime. How sad that she would be spending the best years of her life with him instead of some gorgeous, successful man that would give a large home, beautiful family, and summer holidays in Bath. He'd inquired many times whether or not there was someone she would rather be with than holed up with than him. She'd always told him no, that there was no one, and that was part of the reason she was best suited to her position.

But he'd never asked _why_ there wasn't anyone. Why a beautiful and intelligent woman like Scarlett had no one to miss her. Maybe he didn't want to know; perhaps the knowledge that Scarlett was available was enough for him.

The water began to cool so he shut off the shower and stepped into the steam filled room. Wrapping a towel around his waist Barty let water droplets fall from the tips of his hair onto his back and shoulders. He dragged a hand over the foggy mirror, wiping his face into view. After seeing what he once looked like, before prison, before his father, before life had chewed him up and spat him out made him realize just how old he looked. Instead of a thirty something face staring back at him in the mirror he found a middle aged man, washed up, and running out of time.

Scarlett was in her prime, but Barty had passed the top of the mountain without even knowing it. He sighed deeply again, he'd missed out on the best years of his life and he couldn't get them back. Part of him wanted to cry, but most of him knew that was simply how it was.

He vowed not to gaze into the mirror any longer, for fear of lingering on subjects he could do nothing about, instead toweling off and redressing. Though he suspected he was still alone in the hotel room one could attempt a sense of propriety, just as a precaution.

Sure enough upon opening the door he found the silent room waiting for him. He had no idea how long Scarlett would be gone and suddenly realized that he had absolutely nothing to do. Sitting down on the end of the bed he looked at the television warily, he refused to give in to such mindless drivel on day one. He began wandering around the room looking for something to keep him occupied until Scarlett came back. He'd never had this problem in their rooms, nearly every shelf contained books. Barty came across the desk; surely there was paper in its drawers and a pen. He could write, but what would he possibly write? The hobby had never really held any interest for him; that was fair enough, he thought, as he'd never held the skill for the hobby.

Sighing he started picking up the clothes that Scarlett had strewn all over the room and putting them away, he made the bed, and tidied the bathroom. Glancing at the clock he realized that only half an hour had passed.

Slightly defeated he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. They hadn't gotten up that long ago but he'd been so very tired the last couple of days, the running and hiding finally wearing him down. Perhaps a nap would do him some good. A hot shower and sleep, two things he could appreciate before all this madness, but at the moment was treasuring. It was like the clothes Scarlett had waiting for him when they'd first met. Something so simple means the world to someone who hasn't had it for a very long time. He could still smell soap lingering on that shirt as he'd pulled it on, and the crispness of the trousers, the fabric had been soft but had yet to be truly broken in. He smiled to himself as he drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

The sound of the door swinging open startled him awake. His knee jerk reaction was to run but Barty fought against it knowing that it was more than likely only Scarlett. He got up to find that he was correct; Scarlett was in the door with an arm load of bags and packages, he took several of them from her. He attempted to remove the contents but she shooed him away.

"I'm not allowed to help?" He asked testing her mood.

"There is an organization to this chaos before you Barty, believe it or not. Besides you just want to know if there's anything in here for you." She grinned up at him.

"Actually I hadn't thought of it before you mentioned it but now that you have, is there?" She seemed to be in a good mood. He was almost reluctant to approach the subject of his therapy.

"There are clothes for you; I wasn't sure how much you had with you so I thought a little extra might be needed."

"This is all I have," he extended his hands representing that what he was wearing was all the clothing he had, "well that's not entirely accurate. I have you."

She smiled at him. He had no idea why he'd said it but it was true and she wasn't off put by the idea.

"I dropped in at Dr. Birch's office while I was out," it was an offhand comment but it tore the previous smirk from Barty's lips.

"And?" He tried to keep his tone level despite his annoyance as he dropped into the chair.

"She's agreed to take over your sessions. I thought she might, she so desperately wants the experience." She offered as she began removing items from the bags.

"You lied to yourself today," he remarked, watching her unpack her purchases.

"I lie to myself all the time," she said with a shrug. "This chocolate won't make me fat, so what if I can't remember his name, it happens."

He narrowed his eyes, "Is this about the Snape thing?"

The words surprised even him. 'That was slightly random, not to mention a huge leap of logic. What is wrong with me?'

Letting out an exasperated sigh, she finally looked at him. "No, this isn't about the 'Snape thing'. I can remember Severus' name without difficulty."

She looked at the objects in either hand, sighing deeply she tossed them both onto the bed, turning to walk away.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a shower," she responded, not looking back.

Releasing a sigh, he began to push himself out of the chair. "I have to learn when to shut my mouth."

He raised a hand banging loudly on the door, far more aggressively than he'd meant to. The door swung open instantly to reveal Scarlett wrapped in a towel looking irritated.

"What?" She snapped.

For a moment he was distracted by the image in front of him but quickly shook it off. Leaning on the door frame, he tried to sound as sincere as he felt. "I don't want to fight about this."

"I'm not so sure about that," the edge in her voice portrayed her annoyance.

"I really don't," he resigned "but I do want to talk about it, we need to."

"I thought you didn't want to know."

"I don't. I don't want to know, but it's obviously bothering me, and I'm taking it out on you. That's not fair, to either of us. As much as I don't want to know, I want to fight with you even less. Sometimes you have to make the sacrifice." He looked away for a moment. While he was aware he was doing the right thing in this situation, it didn't make it easy. "Look, it's none of my business, and you have every right to tell me to get bent. I'll completely understand if you do. But I don't like this, us snapping at each other randomly."

She stood there contemplating what he'd said for a minute. "Not tonight. Tonight I'm mad and I want to forget it for a while. We'll talk about it tomorrow night when I get back, when I've cooled down and had time to think on it."

It wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping for, "That's fair."

She turned away and moved to close the door. Suddenly Barty put up his hand to stop it.

"What the hell Barty?"

"As I was saying, that's fair but I have a few other things I'd like to discuss with you as well." He knew this wasn't the most diplomatic approach but his therapy took precedence over their bickering.

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Before you turn over my very soul to a random stranger." So that was a bit over dramatic but hopefully it would get the point across.

"Excuse me? I'm standing here in naught but a towel had you not noticed, so could we divest with the theatrics and get to the goddamn point?"

"I had in fact noticed Scarlett," so much for hopefulness, "and the goddamn point is still my therapy." She sighed deeply, as though this were an annoyance to her.

"Scarlett this is important to me. I made the decision to seek help, to trust _you_, to face down my demons with _your_ guidance, hell to even move into _your_quarters; the consistent elements here being: my decisions and _you_. And suddenly both of those things have been removed from the equation entirely. I didn't decide anything, I was told. I've been told for too long, and you've given me a taste of what it's like to decide; it's the difference between cough syrup and chocolate sauce."

"You may have once been that woman, Scarlett, but you aren't anymore. She may be an equally skilled therapist, but I haven't been spending all this time with you because you're skilled, or meet the requirements, or some other bollocks. You are good at helping me. I trust you. And the woman that stood before me earlier is not the same woman that rid me of a nightmare by playing tag at 3 o'clock in the morning in Hogwarts' courtyard. That woman thinks I'm a file; a case, to be studied. Scarlett, you think I'm a man asking for help. You are _not_ the same."

He'd stated his case and he could only hope that she would see the logic in it; that she wouldn't burst into a screaming fit. Either scenario would leave him feeling thick and guilty for even bringing it up.

To his shock the corners of her mouth began to curl. Meeting her gaze he saw mirth, and she quickly covered her mouth to stifle a quite ridiculous giggle. Part of him was angry that she would laugh at him after he'd very obviously poured out his heart and soul on the matter. Yet another part was plainly perplexed at her inappropriate reaction.

Apparently one of the emotions was evident on his face because she tried very hard to calm herself and explain. Unfortunately only the latter actually occurred. "So what I'm getting out of that is that you want chocolate syrup and me, is that correct?"

Some part of his brain realized that he would look back on this moment one day and find the same amusement that she did. However that part wasn't currently directing his speech patterns. "That is all you got out of what I just said? Does it even register that what you did hurt me? That your actions, much like this moment, were inappropriate and uncalled for?"

Barty released an exasperated sigh before turning away to return to his previous spot in the chair.

"Oh, Barty I'm so sorry," she came to sit on the bed in front of him. "It was just the way you put it and…I'm sorry I shouldn't have laughed, this is obviously important to you."

"And it's obviously of no great importance to you," he replied coldly.

"It is, it really is Barty. I'm very sorry I should have talked with you first before I went making decisions about your treatment."

"Go take your shower Scarlett."

"Barty…" she trailed off.

"I'm sorry isn't enough just now. Go take your shower and we can discuss it when you're out."

"Alright," she replied softly before going back into the bathroom and closing the door.

He heard the shower begin as he slumped farther in the chair, cradling his forehead with outstretched fingers. He couldn't remember the last time he had dictated the terms of an argument. He was tired of this already; tired from running, tired of arguing. But he couldn't let this go; just as he couldn't seem to allow her misadventures with Snape to slide past unnoticed. Both set his blood to boil, yet only one was righteously his cause.

Her previous words floated past his ears again. 'Naught but a towel had you not noticed.' He had stated that he had observed as such, she'd made no further comment. Of course he had noticed. Just as he had noticed the strappy number from last night, the way it barely covered the body that had been held against his as she fell asleep, and rubbed against him as she woke. He'd noticed how good she felt, how much he'd wanted her in the moment she'd whispered his name in the dark. He'd noticed her wandering hands this morning and the parted lips that begged to be crushed beneath his.

Oh yes he'd most certainly noticed. But none of that should matter right now. He tried very hard to focus on his anger but continuously felt it slip away only to be replaced by a warm, queer feeling low in his belly. Finally he gave into the thoughts. Surely a few minutes of daydreaming would be harmless, wouldn't it?

Allowing his jaw to slacken as his breathing quickened, images danced before his eyes. Her slinking her way toward him on the bed on all fours, the thin jumper exposing pert nipples; he could see the rosy centers through the tissue paper fabric. Merlin how he longed to lavish them with his tongue, his mouth dipping lower and lower on her torso, searching. He could make short work of those knickers she had been passing off as shorts last night.

His eyelids fluttered closed as he tried to decide whether he wanted to rip them from her body or slide them down gently, his mouth and tongue following. Soon a new image followed. He could see himself over her, sheets pooled around his middle, thrusting towards a greater goal for them both. He could see her head loll back in ecstasy as soft moans tumbled from trembling lips.

His desire was building, moving from a distant tug to a resounding need that couldn't be ignored. He wanted to feel her hands on his body again, to be able to let his own hands wander over slender curves, dipping into secreted valleys that made her head swim with wanton desire. For his lips to touch hers, to map the sinful delights that lay just beyond with his tongue; to be held in her arms, and enveloped by her body in a most private and deeply pleasurable way.

Merlin, the things he wanted to do to her.

Barty…

He could hear her calling for him, begging for him.

Barty…

She would call out his name as he plunged further and further into their shared desire.

Barty…are you…?

He was so very close, but he needed her release first, wanted it. He wanted to watch her face as she reached for the climatic heavens. He could feel her fingers on his thighs and gasping, he strained to hold himself back.

"Barty, are you alright?"

His eyes shot open with dangerous clarity. The shower was no longer running. The voice he had heard was real. The hands were indeed wrapped around his thighs as Scarlett kneeled in front of him, worry etched on her crinkled brow.

"Oh god," his breathing was still heavy and he stared down at her with lustful dark eyes.

"Barty?" Her breath seemed to catch at his gaze. "I'm so very sorry; I hadn't intended to make you angry, honestly. I just so desperately need a second opinion and I thought this would be the best way to go about it. She's familiar to you because she's me but she's attractive and young and I thought that might be appealing but she's also quite good at her job. Oh I dunno what I was thinking! Talk to me, Barty. Please?"

"Scarlett?" He wheezed.

"Yes, Barty? Anything, I swear it!" She had grasped more firmly onto his legs which was drawing his attention away yet again. "Anything, anything at all, it's yours Barty."

"Scarlett," he swayed forward dangerously close to her face. Just a few more inches and he could capture her lips. "In the name of all things holy. Please. Stop. Talking."

"Please forgive me Barty…"

He finally covered her mouth with his hand. "Scarlett, please, I beg you. Stop pleading. At the very least stop saying my name. And for the love of god get your hands off my thighs."

Her eyes grew wide, slowly drawing her mouth from his hand, she said meekly, "But Barty…"

"Hands off my thighs Scarlett," he hissed, "and away from my crotch."

Her gaze immediately darted to the forbidden place. "Oh…my…"

As she moved away from him he dropped his face into his hands in an attempt to shield himself from further embarrassment and to remove the tainted thoughts from his head. After a few silent moments he pulled up to look at Scarlett who had been watching him intently from the floor in front of him.

"I'm sorry, that was quite inappropriate of me but you caught me off guard." His voice didn't falter, surprisingly, but something about the look in her eyes made him pause. For just a second they had seemed to flicker like polished gold caught in the light before resuming their usual hazel. He waited another beat to see if it would occur again but only the brown and green orbs remained.

"No, no, it's fine. We're living in even closer quarters than we were previously. Privacy was bound to go to the wayside at some point. I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you Barty, or…" she didn't finish but looked away with rosy cheeks.

He leaned back to take in the sight of her. "I never thought I'd see the day when Scarlett Birch blushed!" He said with a chuckle.

"Oh, shut up," she tried to duck her head again, the color deepening in her cheeks.

"Why, Scarlett?"

"Why should you shut up?"

"No, why do you need a second opinion so badly?"

She hesitated, "Because we will eventually be on display for all to see."

He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

"Barty, if we can get out of here I'm absolutely certain your treatment will be considered a success. You're well on your way. Which means that not only will all of the wizarding world be watching us, but I will have to prove to the Ministry you're not a threat to society. Not to mention the fact that my constituents will be expecting a full report on how I managed to rehabilitate a…man with a past such as yours."

"Criminal." He gave her a knowing look, "A man with a past such as mine is a criminal, is he not?"

"You're not a criminal Barty."

"Well, actually, I am. Tried, sentenced, and served. Well partially." She grimaced at his comment. "I am Scarlett. Let's face the truth of the matter, I'm a convicted murderer, despite what you might think, and killers don't often get better do they?"

"No, they don't. Even though no one but you or I will ever know that Dr. Birch was involved in your treatment I need to be sure."

"Sure that I'm not a killer?" He was genuinely disheartened if that were the case.

"No Barty, I need to be sure that my diagnosis is correct. That I'm not too…" she trailed off, looking everywhere but at him.

"That you're not too what? Off base? Mad? I can assure you that you are. Barking, I mean."

She smiled, still not looking at him. "That I'm not too…too…emotionally…attached that I'm missing something that's right in front of my eyes." She finally met his eyes, though her gaze kept faltering. "Let's face it Barty, I ceased to be your therapist a long time ago. For quite a while I've been trying to desperately help a friend in need. I'm doing the best I know how."

"Well until you yanked my destiny out of my hands you were doing quite nicely." He grinned mischievously at her.

"I really am sorry…"

"I'm kidding," he cut her off, "well mostly. Don't do it again Scarlett. I mean it. But I think we both got our fill today."

"Why does Severus upset you so?"

"The most obvious is that I can't protect you from him."

"Odd, I think he feels the same way about you."

"Do you fancy him?" On some level he registered that the answer was none of his business, and that he didn't truthfully want the answer.

She gave him a sad smile. "Severus is an exceptional wizard, loads of people know that, but he's also a decent man and very few seem to realize that. He really did make all the difference for me while I was scouring the earth for a cure for you, him and Minerva. I'd have really gone mad if I hadn't had them by my side. He got me here Barty. Severus got me to you."

He felt his heart plummet. Snape really did mean something to her. And he feared it was more than he himself meant to her.

"Severus isn't dangerous, at least not to me, but I highly doubt he's interested in me Barty. Which is just fine with me, as I don't hold any interest in him past friendship, or more likely his tolerance of me," she grinned.

"I thought you snogged him, you do that with all your friends do you?" He was relieved but couldn't help himself.

"Any particular reason you're asking Bartemius?" Her grin widened.

"Just curious, you know, for future reference." He poked at her with one of his feet. "I'm still not sure how comfortable I am talking with this woman. She isn't you, you know, not at all."

"She's going to ask you a lot of questions. Some of them vague, some very specific and personal. You need to answer her. Not for my sake Barty, not for the diagnosis, but for yourself. You're therapy isn't complete but I don't think you want to give me those answers now."

"I'm not keeping anything from you," That wasn't entirely correct. He was keeping several emotions from her but there was no need to show her cards whose meaning wasn't even clear to him yet. "I'll willingly tell you anything you want to know."

"How did you feel after you killed your father? Did you rape anyone while in the employ of the Dark Lord? Did you enjoy it?" All the smiles in the room had vanished and Barty sat motionless. "You don't want to talk about these things with anyone, especially me. Because I'm not your therapist am I?"

"No," he whispered, "you're not. And you're right I don't want you to know. Nor do I want to talk about them."

"She will ask, and you ought to answer. Divulge your secrets and cleanse your soul. Just consider it won't you?"

"I will, just not now." He looked at her for a long moment, wondering. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

She looked at him, "I've already told you once Barty, you can ask me anything."

"Why did you lie to yourself today?"

"Because, well how would you explain it? To tell her that she isn't real, that everything she is and knows is an illusion? That this whole world only exists in your mind? Imagine if someone said that to you and could actually back it up with proof. What a horrible way to start the day."

"I see what you mean, that isn't exactly easy to tell someone. Not to mention I don't think she'd be particularly willing to help you after that." He thought for a minute or so. "Scarlett, before you showed up I knew that another version of me was wandering about but I didn't know how or why."

She nodded, listening carefully.

"So I adhered to the same rules one would use while employing a time turner. Well, that is until the night I found you in that village. Perhaps, with the exception of Dr. Birch, we should continue in the same vein?"

"Agreed, wholeheartedly. Dr. Birch obviously knows of our existence but can't know why we are here, or rather how we came to be here. Or what 'here' is for that matter. I don't really know what the rules are on moving around in a world that is entirely the inside of someone's mind but that sounds like a decent start."

"I don't think there are rules; actually I think we're making them right now." He paused in thought, his countenance taking on a look of horror, "That's really a rather disconcerting notion. You and I are creating guidelines in a crappy hotel room inside my head. Surely there's a moral code against this."

She laughed, "One could only hope!" He chuckled before trying to stifle a yawn. Despite all the sleep he'd had that day he found himself still drained. Scarlett caught the action and smiled thoughtfully. "Are you hungry at all?" She asked motioning to the still half unpacked bags on the bed.

"No, not really. I am, however, exhausted. I don't know why, I took a nap while you were gone and it's still early." It was only seven o'clock, and he'd had plenty of sleep in the last twenty four hours. "It must be from all the running over the last few weeks. I only got an hour or two a night, must be catching up with me. I remember a time when such deprivation was negligible."

"Yeah, so do I. God how did I get so old? I mean, you saw me, when did _that_ turn into _this_?" She said disgusted.

"Oh shut it!" He stood up, offering her his hand. "At least you don't remember how those years flew by. I know how my best years were spent. I remember it vividly. And I can assure you it didn't fly by."

Taking his hand, "That's true, but it's not like I spent those years doing wild and crazy things. That much should be evident after today."

"That did strike me as odd," he went to the bed and began to move the packages to the desk. "What happened? How did _that_ become _this_? Which, just for the record, I much prefer this."

She laughed again and began helping him with the transfer. "A lot of things happened between now and then. But I'm glad that you think she and I aren't the same, because we're not."

"Did you want to eat something?" The bed was now clear and just because he wasn't hungry didn't mean he should deny her sustenance.

"Nah, we had a late night last night. Not to mention an eventful one. We both have plenty of work to get done tomorrow; sleep sounds too tempting right now." She slipped into the bathroom but left the door open. He took it as an indication to ready for bed and began stripping down.

"Do you ever miss it?" He called to her.

"Miss what?" She poked her head out of the door.

"Your…err…never mind." He had meant to say 'youth' but quickly realized that wasn't the proper way to word such a question.

"No, what?" She pushed, now back in the bathroom presumably changing back into the outfit he'd been fantasizing about earlier.

"Well," he hesitated, "for lack of a better term, your youth. Or rather, being the woman from this morning."

Scarlett padded into the main room, indeed wearing the object of his prior difficulties. "Not in the slightest," she stopped to think, "well maybe I miss some of it."

He divested the last of his clothes, leaving him in his shorts and sat on the bed trying not to stare at her. "Which part?"

She crawled into bed, "The part where my body could keep up with my mind, the runner's physique," she paused again, "_especially_ the runner's physique."

"You look fine," he scoffed.

"Did you see her? I've definitely looked better!"

"I used to have a tan." He offered with a shrug.

She laughed at that. "Where are you hiding it?"

"That's a bit personal, don't you think?" He asked giving her a knowing look.

"I suppose that depends on where it's gone to," she laughed again and nudged him with her covered foot. "Aren't you coming to bed?"

"I'll take the chair, give you some space."

"You don't like sleeping with me?" She pouted and pushed out her lower lip.

"Loaded question, unfair," he dismissed.

"A simple yes or no would suffice."

He grinned at her while pondering how to best handle the situation that was anything but 'simple'. On one hand, from his previous thought pattern, he obviously desired to sleep with her. In multiple ways. But on the other hand, also obvious from earlier, it was perhaps not the wisest choice. She was getting to him in ways he neither fully understood nor could reasonably handle. For Merlin's sake, he couldn't keep fantasizing about his therapist…no, his friend. Could he lay with her and still ignore his feelings? Or was this the best route to understanding what he felt?

His mind wandered back to his earlier musings of the woman that lay in the bed in front of him. Was the mere knowledge that she was available enough for him to never question further? Did it give him hope? Hope of what, that he wasn't the only one alone? Or that she could be his?

"Barty?" She pulled him from his reverie.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said 'a simple yes or no would suffice'."

Did he want to sleep with her? That's all she wanted to know. If it was only a matter of want then the answer was 'yes'. But he feared it was much more than that. What did he want?

Looking into her face as though the answer would be magically scrawled there something welled up in him. He wanted her. He wanted anything she would give him, which was probably an unwise choice, but it was the truth.

He got off the bed and turned towards her. She had a strange look on her face, a mixture of concern and sadness. He realized then that she might genuinely be disheartened at the notion that he wouldn't stay with her. What had happened to her in his absence?

He smiled and crawled up the bed to lie beside her, encircling her in his arms. "What kind of fool would turn down sharing a bed with a beautiful woman?" He breathed into her ear.

He could actually feel her shiver. He slipped beneath the covers as she turned to face him, nestling into his body; once again allowing her hands to wander dangerously across his torso.

Perhaps he wasn't the only one who wanted. Could it be that she held secret desires of doing all the things he wanted to do to her? He reached over and flicked off the light. She was settled on top of him, her warm breath dancing across his chest. He tangled one hand in her hair and received a content sigh in response. The other hand situated over her hip.

No, it was too much to hope for; that something so fine could ever choose to be his. Just enjoy this moment, in this strange, strange place where nothing made sense.

* * *

Please review and tell me what you think! I really appreciate it!


	16. Breaking In The New Birch

Yes, I know it's been over a year. Yes, I know that's shameful and you all probably hate me. No, I haven't given up on this. And no, I will never, ever take so long to update again. I have other chapters in the works and hope to have chapter 17 up in a few weeks after it's done being edited. Thank you to all who have stuck with me and are still reading, and those that have joined the crusade to kick my ass into updating. A thousand thanks and appreciation for Carolyn aka Server #2, Ahri the real Malk bunny, and Andy for their advice and editing. All the love in the world to my (newly engaged) muse, SD. And to my forever love, Keith, thank you for believing in me in all things.

I own Scarlett, nothing else.

Chapter 16: Breaking In The New Birch

Before he opened his eyes he was aware of the drumming of a torrential downpour outside. He imagined the Londoners below rushing in and out of the rain with the hush that crowds tended to have during inclement weather, their noise drowned out by the sound of water displaced by whirring vehicles slapping onto curbs, plopping droplets and sloshing footsteps.

But that was outside; inside he was warm and comfortable. Scarlett was wrapped around him for the second morning in a row. He sighed blissfully. She wasn't making this easy on him, in fact it was quite hard, but he must find happiness wherever he could so he wouldn't be arguing with the situation.

He tried to shift into a slightly more comfortable position and simultaneously take the opportunity to run his hands down her back, over her ass and back up again. Unfortunately, this backfired on him. The movements caused her to snuggle her body closer to him and her legs, already straddling his torso, to close the already decreasing gap between them. His breath caught in his throat but somehow a low moan still managed to tumble out of his mouth.

That's when he felt it. As he grew against her, he could feel wetness between her legs soaking those confounded gauzy panties-parading-as-shorts she kept wearing. And she was beginning to soak his boxers as well. He released a strangled cry and involuntarily thrust against her. He desperately tried to stop, but this was too much too early in the morning. He was barely containing his need to cup her ass as he thrust again.

Her response was a soft moan into his neck, whispering past his ear. Serving to force his eyes back into his head as he pushed against her again, silently rubbing himself against her warm moist center.

This had to stop. He knew that but he thrust again. He didn't want to stop. And as she began to push against him in return, quietly moaning into his ear as she went, he wasn't certain that he could either.

"Devil woman," he hissed as she met his hips yet again.

He thought of how easy and tempting it was to slide the crotch of her shorts to the side and gain entrance to her beckoning flesh. And as her gasps and moans increased in volume he was genuinely considering it an option.

Would every morning be like this? Her unconsciously torturing him until he finally died of an aneurism beneath her? Would that really be such a horrible death? Yes, death, that was the very thing he needed to focus on right now. Surely that would calm him down. Except it wasn't calming her down.

Her desires became more pronounced as her hands began drifting slowly down his torso. It was a few moments before Barty became very aware of her intended target. As her fingers slipped under the waistband of his boxers and began tracing his hip bones, a gasping breath erased the thought of death, carnage, and even mayhem from his mind like a popped balloon.

"Mmmm," She moaned into his neck. Merlin, he was going to lose it shortly. He wanted her, needed her very badly and he was quickly approaching his point of no return.

"Mmmm, yes," There she went again. "Oh, Barty," She gasped.

He was suddenly frozen. He tried to look at her face but couldn't at her current angle. Was she actually awake? And doing all of this under her own volition? He wasn't sure. And if he wasn't sure, he wouldn't continue despite his need.

"Barty," She whispered again.

"Scarlett?" Her hands were beginning to roam further down his stomach. The lower she went the more fire he felt sink into him. "Scarlett?" He pleaded, "Scarlett, I need you to look at me. I need to know you're awake. Please look at me, Scarlett, look at me."

"Barty?" Finally she was looking at him but she was disoriented. She had been asleep after all.

Her fingers still lingered just above his aching sex. She blinked repeatedly, trying to clear her foggy brain.

"Barty? What's wrong?" He was panting and clasping and unclasping the bed sheets below them.

"For the love of god, Scarlett. Yet again your hands are in a place where they ought not to be for my sanity's sake. Hell _most_ of you is in a place it ought not to be."

Her eyes widened, shooting up straight as she took stock of her body and its location in relation to his. Feeling his hardness beneath her, her wetness on him, her hands paused just above his length and her legs wrapped tightly around him. Her hands shot up to cover her mouth as she gasped in shock.

"Dear god, no," He pulled her hands away from her face, "don't put your hands next to your mouth. That is in no way going to help."

She quickly realized the implication of his comment and looked embarrassed, ashamed, and scandalized all at once.

"Come here," He requested gently and she lay back down against his chest. With a grunt and a swift motion he flipped them over so that she was on her back with him above her.

She gasped again and stared at him with frightened eyes. Her gaze hurt him more than the unfulfilled desire. "Shhh," He tried to reassure her, "its okay, Scarlett. Everything is fine."

He pushed away to lie on his side next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Barty, did I do something I shouldn't have, or did you?" She asked with a shaky breath.

"No one did anything, Scarlett. We stopped it before it became something we couldn't come back from. That's all that matters. I would never do anything without your permission, you know that."

"What about me? Did I start this without your consent?"

"Scarlett, I woke up with my consent being given, willing or not."

At this she giggled and he was relieved that she wasn't upset.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I just…ugh!" She groaned and let out a heavy sigh next to him.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Honestly?"

He propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at her. "Always."

"Now I just want to snuggle next to you but I…I don't want to tease you…"

He cupped her cheek forcing her to look at him in the near darkness, "Scarlett, tease me, torture me, anything you'd like, as long as I can be right next to you, I don't care."

"You're sure?"

"Shhh," He pulled her against him, wrapping the blankets around them "I'm absolutely positive."

They still had two hours before the alarm would go off and he would resign himself to his session and Scarlett would begin her dig for answers. The rain continued outside but he was warm and content inside with her. This place was not ideal but it certainly had its advantages. Even if she tried to kill him every morning for a year he didn't want to be anywhere but next to her in the darkness cocooned in blissful ignorance to reality. Whatever that was these days.

He hated this woman. There was no other way to phrase his feelings except plainly. Loathed, despised, disliked, reviled, detested; nothing fit quite as well as the boring "hated". Which was appropriate as she was, in a word, boring.

Prim and proper, she sat in the chair opposite him. Waiting…waiting for him to divulge all the information that had been kept from her prior to taking his case. His Scarlett had told him to share for his own good. As he stared down this woman, no, this girl, he mentally snorted at the thought of telling her anything remotely important about himself.

Her glaring might have unnerved him if he hadn't seen half the things that he had in his short lifespan. But after a broken home, Death Eaters, countless muggle raids involving murder, torture, and rape, prison, his mother dying, killing his own father, living secretly as someone else, more prison, therapy with Scarlett, and _this_ terrible acid trip, this little girl in a woman's clothing was laughable. At best.

This wasn't therapeutic; it was a poor facsimile of an interrogation by a child. Which he was sure would be absolutely hysterical later but for now it was terribly annoying.

He continued to stare back at her. She wasn't his Scarlett by any means, but he could see how one, physically, became the other. Her face still had the sharp angles and led to a black bun at the crown of her head. Hazel eyes watched him but the knowing spark he usually found there was absent. If he saw her out of the corner of his eye or glanced quickly, he would've thought she was his Scarlett.

How was this supposed to start? Hi, my name's Barty and I'm a convicted killer? Previously Scarlett had begun the conversation, not Barty. It probably didn't help that he wanted to be anywhere but here. She might be qualified, but was she really all that trustworthy? Let alone reasonable enough that she wouldn't flip her shit after hearing anything about his life? Maybe Scarlett had initially been correct; maybe the best, the safest, place to start was favorite color but he wasn't exactly sure how to work that into the silence.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself?" She asked, her yellow legal pad settled in her lap with her hands neatly folded atop.

Barty fidgeted momentarily in his chair, "Well, you already know…" he paused, realizing his mistake, "…oh, I guess you don't." This woman and his Scarlett weren't the same person that much was obvious. But the physical resemblance, coupled with the familiarity of therapy sessions was enough to cause his memory to lapse.

"That would be correct."

"I just forget, because, you know," he shrugged as if it were obvious.

"I really don't."

It was like talking to drywall. "You look a lot like Scarlett," he mentally slapped himself in realization. "I mean, obviously, since _you are_ Scarlett but, you know, _my _Scarlett." He paused, "I sound like an idiot."

"Do you often externalize your internal monologue?"

He snorted shaking his head, "Scarlett has asked me the same thing on multiple occasions."

She stared at him and blinked, as though he were laughing at an inside joke. Which, essentially he was. Her reaction halted his laughter and returned him to shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Yeah, and you're asking me again…uh yeah, I…I'm sorry, what was the question again?"

"Do you typically externalize conversations that occur in your head?"

"Sometimes…" she made a note on her pad in rapid script. If she thought his talking to himself was an issue it didn't bode well for future conversations. "What are you writing?"

"I am taking notes."

He shot her an agitated look. He didn't appreciate being patronized. "I get that, _what_ are you _noting_?"

"I prefer to keep that confidential."

How dare she keep information from him? It was his file after all; they were his fucking problems!

"Scarlett always lets me…" he protested. He'd done it again. "Oh yeah, sorry I keep doing that. I keep forgetting." The apology was anything but genuine.

"It's fine." She didn't seem to acknowledge his tone which only served to irritate him further. "You mention Scarlett a lot. Let's discuss that relationship."

Slight panic lit up his features at the words 'Scarlett' and 'relationship' in the same sentence. "Relationship? Scarlett and I don't have a relationship. I suppose by the technical definition we do, as in we are involved with each other…not _involved_, I mean, more of an interaction between two people. Well, not an inappropriate one of course, we're just friends. I mean to say we're not friends, obviously, as that would be inappropriate but we get along…as a therapist…and her, you know, whatever."

He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. That wasn't suspicious at all. Not enough O's in smooth to describe that one.

"I see." She began adding to her notes. Oh, fuck all!

He futilely craned his neck to see what was on the page. "No, really, it's a non-issue." He insisted. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Of course, what would you like to discuss?" She seemed so polite but even that was grating on Barty's nerves.

From the moment she'd walked through the door she had been rubbing him the wrong way. She was young, green. Instincts honed in his Death Eater days reminded him that being green got a lot of his people either imprisoned or killed. Or both. She attempted an air of authority that didn't quite succeed.

Cloaked in arrogance and propriety, her sharp features had instantly been directed towards Barty in a way that said she was meant to be respected because she was better than him. He was juvenile and crazy; she was worldly and sane.

He abhorred the masks people wore. And over the years he'd become better and better at recognizing them.

"Well, what should I refer to you as? Obviously this Scarlett-Scarlett thing isn't working out for me."

"Why do you say that?"

His annoyance was building. "Well, it's confusing the hell out of me!"

"Very well," she was scribbling again, "how would you like to alleviate the situation?"

"Be back in the real world." He muttered.

"Unfortunately, that is not currently a viable solution."

Glaring at her, "I realize that." After pausing to think for a moment he continued, "What's your middle name? I know it starts with a 'V,' I could call you that."

Regarding him coolly, "Are you inquiring out of convenience?"

Now he was just confused. Why the hell else would he be asking such a trivial question? "What are you getting at?"

"You seem to know Scarlett quite well."

He nodded, "I do."

"But you are unaware of her middle name?"

He was wary but couldn't see the trap, "Correct."

"Perhaps she doesn't want you to have that information if she has avoided giving it to you?"

He was now even more suspicious of her and quickly edging from annoyed to angry. "Perhaps."

"And perhaps you are inclined to obtain said information from _me_ because you know Scarlett wouldn't give it to you otherwise?"

Barty glared at her, successfully passing pissed and running at high speed to dangerously hostile. "Actually it hadn't come up." His tongue shot to the corner of his mouth.

"I see," was her only response as she made another note.

"No, I don't think that you do." A dark veil dropped behind his eyes, his voice plummeting into a dangerous hiss. He'd had enough of this stupid girl and her irrelevant banter.

She paused in her pen's incessant scratching, "Oh? What do you mean?"

Sliding to the edge of his chair in order to get as close as possible to her, his tongue once again darted to the edge of his lips. He stared unblinking at her, "Your favorite color is blue; adding chocolate to any dish instantly improves it; you dress conservatively, though you don't have to; your parents names are Octavia Jones and Magnus Birch; you have a doctorate in psychology; and you broke your leg as a child. I know plenty about you."

"While you are correct, you could've been talking about nearly any woman for most of that. The rest is easily observable."

His low tone took on a menacing quality, "Oh? Is that so?" He mocked. "Well then, you broke your leg jumping out of a tree, even though your mum told you not to. The first thing you ever got drunk on was whiskey, as your parents drank it often. Neither of those things is easily observable. Nor is the fact that you've been in love at some point, your taste in décor is far too dark for me, although I don't believe it was always as such. You like classic literature and rock music. You think it is great fun to tease me or burst out the most inappropriate comment for a situation while in a room full of people. You prefer to sleep on your stomach, and you feel sexier when you're wearing cute underwear or when your bra and panties match. For some unbeknownst and fowl reason you have a strange fascination with Severus Snape and to say your powers of deductive reasoning rival the infamous Holmes himself may qualify as the understatement of the millennia. You like the finer things in life, but as I have learned from you, occasionally the finer things are the simplest." Once finished with his little tirade he leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs triumphant.

She quirked an eyebrow in response, regarding him coolly, "You seem to have a pretty good handle on _your_ Scarlett."

"I'd like to think so."

"But I am not that woman."

"I've been saying that all along."

"Therefore, you may call me Dr. Birch."

"Fine," He bit out, this new amendment only serving to further his ire. Merlin, she was so arrogant it practically rolled off her in waves. "So, _Dr. Birch_ where would you like to begin?" He sneered.

"I find that the beginning is typically a good jumping off point."

"Beginning like my birth, or beginning like the birth of the trouble?"

"Where ever you'd like." She said airily. "I'm sure we'll get around to the whole story eventually."

Eyeing her with disdain, "Dr. Birch, may I inquire," he paused, "how much experience do you have with the criminally insane?"

He was fairly confident that he had more experience with crazy people than she did. He'd spent years locked away with enough of them in Azkaban. Hell, you were practically required to be a special kind of crazy to become a Death Eater. Bellatrix, on her own, was proof enough of that. He was absolutely certain Bella's sociopathy made whatever the hell was wrong with him look like child's play. Which almost made him feel better about himself.

She was momentarily startled by the question but tried to cover it. "Why do you ask?"

Barty looked at her meaningfully, as if to say 'why do you think?'

"I highly doubt you would be considered 'criminally insane', Mr. Crouch."

"To say I have a dark past would be a gross understatement."

She arched a slender brow, "Oh?" That slightly arrogant visage he so desperately wanted to smack off returned. "You didn't seriously think," She continued, "I had been led to believe you were Mary Poppins, did you?"

"Honestly," the ice had returned to his voice, "I've made no presumptions about what you may or may not know about me _Dr. Birch_." He continued to place contemptuous emphasis on her name and title. "And, regardless, I _highly doubt_ that you have experience with someone like me."

What kind of idiot taunted a potentially dangerous mental patient? Especially when they were alone and if anyone could even hear her scream they probably wouldn't care. Scarlett was smart; he knew this to be fact but this bitch was a first class moron.

Something akin to anger flashed briefly in her eyes. Noting that he'd never witnessed such a look in his Scarlett, Barty assumed that this signified that his statement had wounded her pride. He felt a little better about the situation because of it.

"I don't intend on being combative with you, doctor. In fact, I was advised that it was in my best interest to comply with any and all requests put to me, but please understand that these are not comfortable subjects for me to discuss." He repositioned himself in the chair, belying just how distressing his past was for him. "As we have both stated you are not my Scarlett and therefore I am not in the position of pouring out my heart and soul, let alone my past indiscretions, with what amounts to a complete stranger. Not to mention you haven't done or said anything as of yet to endear yourself to me or, at the very least, put me at ease and show that you are as capable as you insist you are. You have been cold, presumptuous, arrogant, and condescending thus far, none of which invites 'Come, discuss your deep seated and latent psychological issues with me.' All that you have managed to firmly root into my mind is that you can't handle what is about to come crashing down on your doorstep and if I attempted to reveal anything to you it would, inevitably, damage both of us rather than heal. You act as though you're about to take a leisurely stroll in the park, when in fact you are about to descend into nary a level of hell you knew existed; a darkness that will merrily consume every part of you, including your very soul, before you can even realize what's come to pass. I wonder, what did you expect coming in here today? That we would sit down and discuss my panic attacks or mild depression?"

"Do you have panic attacks and mild depression?"

"No!" He roared, jumping to his feet, panting in anger and frustration. "You stupid girl! You know nothing of me or my world. I don't have panic attacks! And when I've been in a depressive state it is anything but mild! Or unfounded!"

"Mr. Crouch…" She was attempting to calm him, he recognized that. Just as he recognized the fear swelling behind her eyes and coursing through her demeanor; he had seen it a hundred times before in his victims.

"Don't do that!"

"I'm sorry Mr. Crouch, I don't know what I've done…" she was desperately attempting to placate him. Her previous arrogance was replaced by uncertainty for her safety.

She ought to be uncertain; he _was_ dangerous after all, wasn't he? Of course he was but…his anger flashed in his mind, momentarily ceasing, replaced by an image of Scarlett; another flash of red followed by the sudden sound of Scarlett's laughter. His fury was crawling up through him, like a quick rising river. He couldn't let his anger swallow him; he couldn't keep succumbing to it. This wasn't who he wanted to be anymore. Regardless of how little he liked this woman he was tired of terrorizing people; he didn't want to continue being reviled. This was who he once was, not who he currently was. Another visage of Scarlett danced before his mind's eye and he chased after it, determined to quell his rage.

He fell into the chair, dropping his head into his hands. "Don't be afraid of me," he hissed through clenched teeth, fingers clawing at his skull as though he could tear the offending emotions from his body, "I would never hurt you- I can, I just won't."

"I am not afraid, Mr. Crouch. I don't understand what you want from me." She sounded genuinely confused but the tremble in her voice gave way to the bitter lie.

"You're lying, and from what I can tell you have no idea what you're doing." He spat. "I'm going to guess that you've only been taught how to handle this scenario theoretically, with the assumption that it would never actually come up in your field work?"

There was silence. No pen scratching, or pompous 'oh?' response. He could only hear the wheeze emanating from his own chest. He looked up curiously to find her still sitting in her chair with a blank expression on her face. No trace of fear or doubt, just beautifully angled nothingness.

"Are you communing with the mother ship?" He asked wryly.

"Pardon?"

He cocked his head at her, brow furrowing in confusion. "You were afraid, take it from a man that has seen a lot of it in his time, and you are winging this, aren't you?"

Another beat passed. "Believe me Mr. Crouch, I am perfectly capable of handling the situation, as well as you."

"You're perfectly capable of handling me Dr. Birch? Oh really, that's good to know." He nodded as if he were talking to himself. Then he turned back to her, "Exactly which part of me are you handling?"

"Mr. Crouch," she began but he waved her off.

A minute stretched by as silence pervaded the room.

"You haven't asked me how I feel yet."

"Was I supposed to?"

"I expected it."

"Why is that?"

"Isn't that what therapists do? Ask how you feel about whatever statement you've just made?"

"You've yet to make a statement which warrants such a question."

"You've yet to ask me a question, _Doctor._"

"Where were you born?"

"The same as many magical children, St. Mungo's."

She resumed her godforsaken note taking. "Where did you grow up?"

"Godric's Hollow."

"And I presume you went to Hogwart's?"

He nodded, "I did."

"And what profession did you go into?"

"I was a rich kid, I didn't have one," he said with a shrug. Then after a moment of thought, "Well, I taught for a while."

"I see. Did you enjoy teaching?"

"Well," he stopped and readjusted in his chair. "I never really thought about it."

"You never thought about whether you enjoyed teaching or not?" She asked dubiously.

"Well…no, I haven't." He chuckled, "Of all the things I've considered over the years I never thought of what made me happy and what didn't. Not really."

Her pen's scratching stopped causing him to look up. She was putting her infernal pad away and gathering her coat.

"Where are you going?" He stood up.

"Back to my office, our session is completed for today. I will see you tomorrow Mr. Crouch."

"You're leaving? You're…you're…just leaving?" He was awestruck.

"Yes, Mr. Crouch, I am leaving."

"But…why?"

"Because I have other patients to attend to."

"Oh." The thought had honestly never occurred to him. "Of course, well I'll see you tomorrow then."

She nodded and let herself out. He dropped back down into the chair as the door clicked shut.

He sat there, unmoving for a long time, thinking. Had he enjoyed teaching? Barty had mulled over so many things, minute details of most of them, during his various incarcerations. But he'd never thought of what had given him pleasure; a deep satisfaction that he imagined Scarlett felt about her work. Then again, why would he consider such a thing? What he would be doing after school was decided for him, by two very different men, going in opposite directions. Barty turned to stare out the window overlooking London. His life had never been in his hands. Would it ever be?

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Please review and let me know what you think!


	17. The Scarlett Gate

A/N: As promised, the next chapter is up. It should be another week or two until I have chapter 18 up. I doubt I'll get any further before the first of November, which I will be taking off to participate in Nano Wrmo. But I plan to come back, full force, for the holidays! I want to thank everyone for the adds and reviews. The continued support is beyond appreciated. Though, I'm starting to wonder if a lot of people have given up on this. Regardless, I'll see it through to the end.

I want to thank all those that make every chapter possible. My lovely editors, the amazing Carolyn aka Server #2, and the Real Malk Bunny Ahri. Without whom I would never get anything, worth anything, done. Other than of course 12 pages of "God save the Queen." As always, to my muse, SD...345 days left to the wedding ;) And to my forever love, Keith, who inspires me in all that I do and makes it worth doing.

Without further ado...enjoy and review!

I own nothing but Scarlett

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Chapter 17 The Scarlett Gate

Many hours later, Scarlett returned to find Barty sitting deathly still, in front of the window. At first, she thought he had fallen asleep but as she flicked on more lights, she realized he was awake, gaze fixed on the outside city. She could almost see his mind running circles, working through some problem.

"Barty, is everything okay?" Her voice was soft, trying not to startle him from his reverie. She couldn't imagine he had missed the lights and sounds of her arrival but there was no sense in surprising him.

"I hate her."

Her shoulders slumped. "I know, Barty, but can you just try to work with her?" She closed the distance between them, placing her hand on the arm of the chair. "I'm not asking for you to be the best of pals. Just be amicable enough to benefit from the sessions."

He slowly reached out and took hold of her wrist. She opened her mouth to ask what he was doing but she halted. In one fluid motion he yanked on her arm, forcing her forwards, and spun her around until she sat facing him in his lap. Scarlett just stared back at him, slack jawed. He gave her a small smile before wrapping his arms around her and returning his gaze to the window.

"She asked me something today I had never considered before."

"That being?" Scarlett thought it must be one hell of a question to have him acting so…so…uncharacteristically…whatever this was.

"She asked what my profession was. I told her that I didn't have one as my family had money and it wasn't necessary for me to work. But then I said that I had, briefly, taught- which is technically true."

She grinned at this, "And?"

"She asked if I enjoyed teaching," He said with a sigh. "Scarlett, in all my years of contemplation, of breaking down every moment and every decision that led to the life I have, I have never thought about the life I would have wanted. What I enjoy doing so much that I would want to potentially turn it into a career. I'm not even sure I've thought the word 'career' since I was sixteen."

"Is that what you've been doing all day? Sitting here dreaming of the life you would want?"

A mirthless laugh rumbled in his throat. "Oh no, no. I've been sitting here all day wondering why." He turned to look at her again. "Why have I never thought about it before?"

"Barty, if I may go all psychoanalytical on you for a moment?" He nodded, so she continued, "Why _didn't_ you sit here dreaming all day?"

He didn't hesitate but his voice _was_ very soft, just above a whisper "Why dream of something you can never have?"

"Oh, Barty," she cupped his cheek; the words broke her heart. She wanted to give him something no one could ever have; she wanted to give him his life back to change, to do over. But she couldn't.

Why dream of something you can never have, such as Scarlett?

"Why wish to change the past? What is done is done. I keep replaying all the things I've done lest I repeat my mistakes and am forever stuck in a loop. I've done so many things that hurt so many people. I don't want to hurt any more people; it would taint what little is left of my soul. I may be a bad person but I desperately want to slough off my dishonorable past for an honorable future. And an honorable future doesn't begin with idle dreaming." He buried his face into her hair at the nape of her neck and inhaled the lingering scent of her shampoo. "Merlin, Scarlett," he breathed against her skin, holding her even tighter, "you're too good to me."

He could both feel and hear her gasp quietly. Her hands slid up, winding her fingers into his hair, nails kneading his scalp. He couldn't stop the moan that escaped his lips. She giggled in response. While nuzzling her neck, he allowed his lips to drag along her skin. He could feel her skin becoming hot. He was beginning to physically react to their closeness so he pulled back to gaze at her. For just a moment he saw the gleam of copper in her lovely eyes. He smiled at that, "Far too good to me."

He needed to change the topic before he began to experiment with what would make her eyes flash like that. And if it was caused by what he thought it was, how long he could make it last.

"What's your middle name, Scarlett?"

She stared at him, perplexed, for a moment and then burst out laughing. "There's my Barty and his penchant for peculiar questions!"

"You ever doubted?" He couldn't help but to beam back at her.

"Doubted? No. Missed? Absolutely!"

"Well? You haven't answered," He pointed out.

"Why on earth do you ask?" She was still chuckling.

"It came up today. _Dr. _Birch thought I was fishing for information that you wouldn't give me." He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, is that so? Thought you were interrogating her, did she? That's rich! She doesn't know you at all!"

"Is this where I say, 'I told you so'?"

"Don't you dare!" She mock scolded, "My middle name is Victoria, though I can't imagine it will come up again."

"Oh, it will definitely come up again."

"Don't torment your therapist, Bartemius, it's not nice."

"Keep calling me 'Bartemius,' Scarlett Victoria Birch, and you'll find out just how 'not nice' I can be."

"Are you threatening me?" She teased.

"You know I won't hurt you, Scarlett," He gave her a mischievous grin, "but there are plenty of things I can do to you that won't necessarily hurt you but will be torturous none the less."

She leaned in and breathed into his ear, "Such as, _Bartemius?_"

He growled and in one fell swoop lifted her off his lap and tossed her unceremoniously onto the bed. He leapt on top of her and used his appendages and weight to pin her to the bed.

She giggled again, only half heartedly struggling against him. "I feel like the broad tied to the train tracks!"

"I'm not entirely sure what that means. Is it some reference to being easy?" He asked while peering down at her.

"No! Why the hell would you assume that?" Despite the outrage in her voice she couldn't remove the obvious mirth from her features.

He looked pointedly down the length of her body, lying beneath his before responding. "As in 'from the wrong side of the tacks'? Or are you straddling the fence on your meaning?"

"Not yet. Assuming, of course, we're re-naming you 'the fence.'"

"How do you always manage to turn the most innocent thing, dirty?"

"I have skills," she shrugged.

"Hmmm."

"Well, _Bartemius,_" She teased and he growled in response, "now that you have me, presumably, right where you want me, whatever shall you do with me?"

"Don't tempt a starving lion, Scarlett," He responded roughly.

"Meaning?" She arched an eyebrow.

"It has been a very long time since I've had a beautiful woman beneath me."

"I could say the same."

"It's been a long time since you've had a beautiful woman beneath you? I'm intrigued, Scarlett. Perhaps the good doctor was right, I don't know you as well as I thought." He teased.

"That's not what I meant and you know it, _Bartemius_."

He growled again. "Now you're just taunting me, aren't you?"

"Just a bit," she laughed.

With a final deep growl he pulled himself off of her, knowing that if he continued like this it would surely lead to more unfulfilled desires.

He went over to the table that held their small stock of food, comprised mostly of canned soup and dry goods, and began perusing it for something to eat. "What do you feel like eating tonight, Tease?"

He watched her flip over onto her stomach in the mirror before she answered. "I was thinking pizza and cold beer sounded ideal."

He sighed, "Have I ever told you that you're brilliant and possibly the closest thing to a goddess I've ever encountered?"

"Barty?" Her voice was much smaller this time.

"Yes?" He turned around to face her. She sounded unsure and almost scared. Like the first night they had spent together in the hotel.

"Do…do you…" she let out an exasperated sigh, "never mind."

"No, what is it, Scarlett?"

Shining, hesitant eyes turned up at him before turning back down to study the bedding. "Do you really think that I'm beautiful?" She whispered.

"Scarlett," He began. Disbelief teetered between the fact that she didn't know how gorgeous she was and that she was so nervous to ask such a question.

"I'm sorry. Never mind. It's silly to ask. I mean, we're living together. It's not as if you could say no without fear of repercussions."

While all of that was true, he still wanted to tell her, against his better judgment, how attractive he thought she was. "Scarlett, I think you're breathtakingly gorgeous. I really do."

Her head whipped up to meet his gaze. Closing the space between them, he sat down on the bed in front of her. "When I first met you, I thought that you were pretty. Strange, but pretty." He licked his lips before continuing. "But Merlin, Scarlett, the more I got to know you, and the more my fight became our fight, the more stunning you became. Though you can be bizarre occasionally, you are a truly wonderful person. And, yes, you're beautiful both inside and out. As clichéd as that may sound, it's true. I'm amazed that you don't know that. In fact, why don't you know that?"

"I think I'm attractive, and I've been told as much. But I wondered if you really believed that. I don't know why, I just did."

He smiled. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that but he chose not to analyze it much and continue to accept whatever she would give him. He was just glad that his opinion mattered to her and that he had been given the opportunity to confess just how attractive she was to him. He smiled at her and offered his hand. She took it and they silently left the confines of their room, slipping out onto the busy evening streets of London in search of pizza and beer. As she knew the area better than he did, Barty offered her his arm and allowed her to lead the way. They looked like any other couple taking a stroll through the city.

He was wearing denim jeans, which was strange for him. He'd become so accustomed to slacks that muggle attire was borderline uncomfortable. He decided it was too casual for the propriety he had been raised in and had returned to during his stay at Hogwart's. But he wasn't the only one that was out of their usual attire. Scarlett was also wearing jeans, instead of her normal dress. Really, Scarlett didn't come off as the dress type but he assumed her profession required a certain decorum.

He pulled at the outside hem of his pants. The fabric was much heavier than he was used to. The motion didn't go without notice and Scarlett gave him an inquisitive look.

"The denim feels weird." He supplied, which only served to deepen her look. "What? I'm not used to denim, seeing as I don't wear much of it."

"It looks good on you, though." She shrugged nonchalantly.

"You think so?"

"Oh yes," Was her only reply causing him to quirk an eyebrow.

"Scarlett?"

"Yes, Barty?"

"You once called me attractive, did you mean it?" He was being exceptionally bold but she _had_ asked him the same question.

She smiled, playfully punching him in the arm with her free hand, "You know you're gorgeous, Barty Crouch."

"I know what people have told me but I wonder what you think." He said mirroring her feelings.

"I think you're very handsome. Sexy even."

"Really?" He had to admit he was a little surprised by her candid answer.

"Yes, really." She laughed, steadfastly hanging on his arm. "Do you want to know a secret?"

"About you? Absolutely!"

She leaned over and whispered in his ear, "You're even sexier when you have fewer clothes on."

Somehow his feet kept moving but he was sure he'd left his still-beating heart somewhere on the pavement behind them. She smirked at him, winking. She was playing with him, she had to be.

"You're joking, aren't you?"

Her smirk deepened, and looking away she replied, "What if I'm not?"

"You must be."

"And if I'm not? What then?"

"Well…I…I don't know. I never thought that you would think of me like that." It wasn't Shakespeare, but it was honest.

"You said it yourself, Barty."

"Said what? What did I say?"

"'Don't tempt a starving lion.' Why wouldn't I enjoy an eyeful of well put together man? We've already established that you aren't my patient any longer and with Dr. Birch taking over your sessions it makes it official without being official. So why not take a long look at the hunk I'm currently sharing a bed with? Everything leading up to this place has been treacherous so I think I'll take my silver lining where I can get it."

This was the other side of Scarlett, he decided. The side that patients, even ones that she was close to, weren't supposed to see. This was the side that was unabashedly honest, firmly grounded, and simultaneously fragile and unsure beneath it all. Much like the jeans he currently wore, she had become casual. He stopped in his tracks. She faltered in her steps and looked back at him quizzically.

"What?"

"Wow," He tilted his head to the side while looking her over for what seemed like the first time.

"What?" She repeated concerned.

"I just realized what I'm seeing. This is all of you, Scarlett. You're allowing me to see all of you. Not just the clinical yet whimsical side that your patients see. But this," he motioned at her, "this is the rest of you and I feel truly blessed to be given the opportunity to see it. I don't know where I went right, but I'm glad I did."

"I tell you that you look hot in your underwear and you tell me that you feel blessed? You seriously need to work that out with Dr. Birch."

He was fairly certain that the gleam in her eyes meant she was kidding. He threw his arm around her waist and continued walking them towards food; he could see a sign for a pizza parlor less than a block ahead. "I'll tell you what, Scarlett, I'll happily keep sleeping next to you in my underwear if you keep crawling into my bed in that barely there outfit of yours."

"Like that, do you?" She grinned again and leaned against him as they walked.

"I think I've given empirical proof that I do."

"Oh?" It wasn't nearly as obnoxious when she said it as it was when Dr. Birch did.

He grinned down at her, "Every morning."

She blushed in response. That was part of the casual side of her he guessed, certain he had seen her respond similarly since being here.

They reached the shop and went in. Scarlett ordered carry out for them and sat down next to him in a booth to wait.

"So did you get anywhere today?" He asked.

She let out a sigh, "Barely. Madame Pomfrey was the one who had the book in our time so I'm backtracking trying to figure out if she would have it now, and if not, who does."

"Any copies?"

"I'm not sure. The problem is that I'm researching a magical book through muggle outlets. Muggle outlets, I might add, in which the friendly computer database hasn't been invented yet. Needless to say, it's not working out so well."

"I'd imagine not, but you'll figure it out. You found a way in here, we can find one out. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help. Turns out, I'm pretty good at this magic stuff." He said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes, "I should never have told you that you're sexy. Now everything is going to your head."

He gave her a mock wounded face as she got up to get their pizza. He followed her, taking the box out of her hands and they went about finding their next target: booze.

She led them back the way they had come. About six blocks into the trek she ducked into a tiny liquor store. He stayed out front with the pizza, deciding that if she wasn't back very soon he was going to prematurely break into the box and eat half of it. Thankfully for her, she was by his side within three minutes, six-pack in hand. The remaining four blocks were filled with idle chitchat about the weather and the area they were staying in.

Very shortly they found themselves back in their room, devouring pizza and washing it all down with cheap beer. Barty couldn't think of a time when he had been more content with his life. Sure, they were stuck inside some weird level of his head. And, yes, his therapist was the female Spock and had no idea what she was doing. Not to mention the confusing feelings he was having for his previous therapist, deepened by sleeping next to her every night while she was practically naked and waking up to her rubbing herself all over his body. But he was happy. He could laugh with his closest friend, eat greasy pizza and drink beer in a place where no one wanted him dead, or loathed his existence. Neither the Ministry nor the Dark Lord had any bearing on his current day to day life. It felt like he had a fighting chance to get his shit together at last.

He drained his first beer and grabbed another slice of pizza before asking, "So what's the story of _Dr._ Birch?"

Scarlett tossed her can into the bin and reached for another, curling her feet under her as she did so. "What do you mean?"

"You knew that she wasn't trained to handle someone like me. And despite being a more youthful version of you that she's incredibly dull when she's not being smug."

"Hey! We are talking about me you know!"

"I'm not so sure sometimes."

"She is perfectly capable of handling you."

"That's what she said."

"Well there you go, straight from the horse's mouth."

"I asked her what bit of me she was planning on handling."

"Barty! You can't say things like that to her!"

"Yeah, she didn't take it too well either. I figured the handling just transferred."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she isn't going to handle me, so I presumed you'd pick up her slack, so to speak." He wagged his eyebrows at her for emphasis.

"Barty!" She smacked him with a pillow.

"Tease!" He threw back with a grin. "You naughty Birch girls!"

"Are you implying that we're somehow in cahoots to get you into bed?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that! Is it still technically a threesome if two of the participants are the same person in a time warp?"

This earned him another pillow to the face.

"Bartemius Crouch, why you dirty little bastard!" She narrowed her eyes at him but it was useless, they were both trying not to laugh. And the idea of the proper Dr. Birch in a threesome with anyone was too much to hold it in.

"I'm going to get a shower before bed," He said through gasping breaths, "did you want to join and get a head start on the good doctor?"

"Now who's the tease?"

"I wasn't teasing; I'll let you get naked and wet with me." Another pillow. Surely she would run out of ammunition soon? "Just thought I'd offer a jump on your younger self."

He dashed into the bathroom before he could be targeted again.

She heard the shower start as she began cleaning up their dinner mess. The pizza had been a good idea. She was quite satisfied and becoming sleepy as a result. Her confession to Barty earlier in the evening seemed to hold more weight now that bed time was approaching than it had initially. His revelation about her whole self made her smile though. He was right. She was being more open with him than ever before. She had never tried to hide anything from him but there were also levels to her personality. And he was beginning to see the more intimate parts of her that had previously been held only for her family and lovers. She paused. She was beginning to treat Barty either as family or a lover. She was wading into dangerous waters. Treating him as family was one thing but she didn't tell anyone she was related to that the fewer clothes they wore their sex appeal increased. That was something you said to a lover she realized as she changed into the sleeping outfit that they'd struck a deal over.

Did she see Barty as a potential lover? Could she? Well, she was most certainly capable of it and his recent change in behavior definitely provided the opportunity. But could she allow it? She could lose everything if she did. Her career, her reputation, and, hell, even his case could be thrown out if it ever came to light that they had been intimate.

Of course, if it ever came to light that she'd used a younger version of herself to continue his therapy, especially an under qualified version of herself, it would probably wreck havoc on her reputation anyway. He had been correct in that; Dr. Birch didn't have the experience necessary to be handed this case but Scarlett was working with limited resources. Not to mention that her own initial experience in this particular area had come about by being thrown into the lion's den, so to speak, and coming out of it alive, though not unscathed. This was Dr. Birch's sink or swim moment in the field.

The lion's den, a starving lion; her original problem rang in her head. If she was going to be objective about it, she was probably clinging to what was familiar in a wholly unfamiliar situation: Barty. So, the question really became, were her growing feelings toward Barty genuine, or some kind of defense mechanism? At least, that's what her inner therapist was asking her. But she knew better than to rely solely on that. Doing so was why Dr. Birch seemed like a soulless, humorless wretch to Barty. Scarlett had turned into said wretch by listening too much to her heart and when that eventually failed her, depending entirely on her knowledge to make decisions. She had eventually learned of the blessed thing called "middle ground," which kept her on a relatively even keel.

Turning away from her analysis momentarily she asked her heart what it had to say about the situation. When it came down to it she cared for Barty a lot. Every day that passed he became more familiar to her. But did that make him her friend or something more?

She hadn't had sex in a while and that could definitely contribute to the problem. Barty _was_ sexy _and_ available, she thought as she worked her second arm slowly into her camisole.

"Merlin, are you ever a tease." She could hear his grin in the declaration as she somehow got lost in the small jumper, covering her vision and careening into the wall in surprise. Thank God she'd had the good sense to preemptively turn away from the bathroom.

"Ow! Fuck all!" She found the wall with considerable force, shoulder first.

"You know what I love about you, Scarlett?" He moved towards her to keep her from further injury. "One moment you're a teenage boy's wet dream and the next you require a helmet." He grabbed her upper arm to steady her, "I'm not sure how much longer we can pass that off as charm."

She pushed away his hand, nearly losing her balance again in the process. "I'm fine! Stand over there and try to pretend that you're a gentleman!"

"I've seen my fair share of…"

"Barty!"

"Fine, fine," he retreated, "feel free to fall half naked into every wall in the room."

Eventually she managed to right herself and finish dressing. She turned around in triumph to find Barty leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, wearing nothing but a towel and a quirked eyebrow.

She watched, frozen, as water droplets fell from the tips of his hair and left wet, shiny trails down his bare chest.

"See something you like, Scarlett?" His voice was husky.

"Tease." Came the accusatory reply.

A lascivious grin spread across his lips.

"I didn't hear you come in," she explained. "And I was thinking."

"About?"

"Shut up and put your clothes on Barty."

He started to move towards her deliberately. Brushing up against her, he listened to her breath catch, reaching around her for something just beyond, "Are you sure you don't want to see what's beneath this towel?"

She opened her mouth to retort 'what makes you think I haven't' but quickly snapped it shut. Apparently her silence wasn't what he was expecting, because he tilted his head thoughtfully and moved away from her, clean boxers in hand.

She watched intently as he slid them on and removed the towel. Should she tell him that she had in fact already seen what he was hiding beneath? The explanation was going to be awkward and end with his body being further marred. He'd find out about the scar one way or another but she had invaded his privacy, in a way.

When she thought about it like that, he ought to know.

"Barty," she began hesitantly, "I've seen it before."

He grinned and flopped casually down on the bed with one arm tucked behind his head. "Oh, we're not a blushing virgin then?" He teased. "I didn't think you were so innocent."

"No, Barty, I know what a cock looks like." Her comment was met with raised eyebrows. This was also not what he'd expected her to say. "What I meant was I've seen _you_ before." She closed her eyes and waited, honestly not sure what his response would be.

A full minute passed before she unscrewed her eyes and fixed them on his form. His smirk had disappeared, but he didn't look angry, yet.

"What…?" Was all he managed quietly.

"I…" How did she start this? "I…after you took that curse from Malfoy I was so distraught I failed to realize that you'd been injured in the process. Severus," She paused as his eyes darkened at the name, "brought it to my attention and told me that I should see the damage for myself. So I did."

"You and I were alone," She added hastily, "but in the process I, well…I saw all that you had to offer this world, so to speak. It wasn't intentional, and completely out of concern for your physical well being," She blushed, realizing that the latter statement could be construed in another way. "I'm sorry that I invaded your privacy…and saw your dick." She held her breath and waited again.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that." Was all he said.

"Are you mad?" She asked tentatively.

"I'm a little offended that you apologized for seeing it. That's not generally what a man wants to hear from a woman after seeing him naked but, no, I'm not angry."

She offered him a small smile. He'd become so much more easy going since leaving reality.

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Good? Bad? Absolutely hideous? Tell me about it!

Thanks for reading!


	18. Glass Houses and Paper Cranes

A/N: First and foremost, I apologize to those who have had to wait so long for this chapter. But I hope that it turns out to be worth the wait! Please let me know what you think. Is it good, is it crap, does something need to change? I love making my reader's happy! I've had lots of reviews about the potential of lemons in future chapters. To answer that question: YES! It will happen…eventually. You'll have to stay tuned to see how soon! Many thanks to Carolyn and the real Malk bunny, for editing; much love to my muse, Sara. And overwhelming thanks and eternal love to my forever love, Keith.

Enjoy!

I own nothing but Scarlett.

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Chapter 18: Glass Houses and Paper Cranes

"Kiss me, Barty."

The leaves were green and the trees were alive as they lay beneath the canopy. Both her laughter and his heart were light. He watched lazily as bits of spider webs, floating pollen and falling leaves caught the light and imbued her with nature's perfection to make it her own. She lay beside him and he smiled as a passing wish that the barrier of fabric disappear was granted and her skin was open for his exploration. The leaves were green and the trees were alive and they rustled a perfect melody.

"Kiss me, Barty."

The sun shone down in streams through the branches, highlighting her body in all of the spots that the secretive trees knew he wanted to touch. She was so beautiful, so perfect, lying beside and entwined with him. His fingertips slid down her ribs and continued deftly at the slight dip of her waist to come to rest on her bare hip. She laid her palm against his chest, smiling at the steady beat of his heart. The sun shone down in streams through the branches, highlighting her body in all of the spots he wanted to touch, spots where she now appeared adorned in diamonds.

"Kiss me, Barty."

The wind slid through the trees and hushed the audience of the world until only a quiet sonata sang out. Barty leaned down to capture her lips with his. Too long he'd dreamt of Scarlett and her deep, sweet kisses. But now that he had it, and knew how she tasted, it left him wanting to drink from her lips for all of eternity. The wind slid through the trees and hushed the audience of the world before wrapping around them like a shifting shield.

"Kiss me, Barty."

She slid away from him and came to kneel. He sat up, reaching out for her. She stood and giggled, looking down upon him sweetly. Suddenly, the world shifted. She was the same but there were no more green leaves. The trees morphed into bleak grey stone and the sun was swallowed into shadows. The wind was no longer a gentle, comforting breeze but howled and lashed at the gaping holes in the rock walls. Gone was the warmth of the previous moment, replaced by cold and bitterness and anguish. Around the corner appeared a skeletal hand. A hooded figure followed the bony fingers. Soon, a Dementor floated before them. Ignoring Barty and instead choosing to focus on her. Though Scarlett was still smiling at him with laughing eyes.

"Kiss me, Barty."

He reached out for her at the exact moment that a blur of ethereal exchange commenced between the Dementor and Scarlett. It moved closer to her, licking at her soul with an invisible tongue, tasting her innocence as he had done just moments previous. As its pull of consumption upon her increased the push of a wretched wail clambered up his throat from deep within.

"NO!" He screamed with a shudder that startled him awake. Bolting upright and breath heaving, he took in his surroundings with terrified eyes.

"Barty? Barty, what the hell?" Her voice sounded very far away but, as he twisted to look, he found that she was sitting up in bed right next to him just as she had been at the beginning of the dream.

Dream. That was it, he'd been dreaming. No, that wasn't quite right. He'd had another nightmare. Hadn't he?

He leapt off the bed and began to scour their room for a sign that the dream had been true. He peered beneath the bed, through drawers, behind the curtain of the shower, anywhere he thought one of the ruthless phantoms might hide. Anywhere it might bide its time before slithering out to steal the best parts of his Scarlett.

"Barty, what are you doing?" He could hear the sleepy concern lacing her voice.

Suitably reassured that there was no real danger he rushed back onto the bed and gathered her up in his arms.

"Fucking hell, Scarlett," he kissed the top of her head, still breathless. "I thought…I thought it had gotten you."

"Barty? What had gotten me?" She struggled to return his embrace. "Calm down, everything is fine; it wasn't real. Deep breaths, deep breaths, that's it." She soothed. "Tell me what happened."

"I was, we were," He suddenly realized that he couldn't tell her what had occurred without revealing that he'd been having what amounted to a sex dream about her. Before the guards of Azkaban had attacked her while he looked on helplessly.

"We were what…" She coaxed.

He took another deep breath, "We were together…and everything was…fine." That was mostly true. "Then everything changed and we were in Azkaban and one of the Dementors came and," To his horror a whimper sprung from him and tears threatened to spill onto his cheeks.

Before he could curb his need to weep at the memory, she managed to turn his face to look at hers. He could barely see her but he could still make out some of the details he cherished which broke down the few remaining walls he had damming his emotions back. He shuddered as a sob slipped loose and he began to openly cry in front of the one person in any reality that he wanted to be strong for.

Her eyes widened in shock just before she enveloped him in her arms, rocking him back and forth like a child. "Shhh, it's okay, Barty, it's okay. I'm right here," She whispered meaningless consolations in his ear.

Tightening his grip on her, "I can't let anything happen to you, Scarlett, my sweet, wonderful, beautiful Scarlett." He knew he was babbling and probably revealing too much but he suddenly didn't care. She knew that he thought the world of her, that she was gorgeous, that she was the light in his life, and how desperately he cared for her. He was crying on her shoulder, for Merlin's sake, like some sort of ridiculous infant clinging to its mother. He tried to stifle his weeping which only served to make the fit worse.

He eased her back down on the bed and lay on top of her. He placed a kiss on her forehead, then her temple, her cheek, on her jaw line, her collar bone and her shoulder. He picked up her hand and kissed each fingertip. He laid another kiss on her palm before placing it against his wet cheek, cradling it. He continued down her arm, stopping to kiss her wrist, the inside of her forearm, just above her elbow, bicep, and finally the juncture of her arm and shoulder. Picking up her other hand he mirrored his initial kisses.

He kissed across her collar bone as heavy tears continued to pour down his face. He placed a kiss between her breasts where her top dipped and he heard her gasp. Ignoring the reaction, he lifted her top, exposing her stomach but no more. He kissed across the flat plane until he reached the edge of her flimsy shorts. Tugging the waistband down to just above her pubic bone he kissed his way to one hip bone and over to the other. His tears were dripping onto her hot skin leaving a trail behind wherever his lips had been.

He knelt between her legs and planted a kiss in the center of her inner thigh, the back of her knee, across her shin, the inside of her ankle, the sole of her foot and the pads of each of her toes. He replaced her leg on the bed, trailing his palm along the outside of her leg before tracing the same path of kisses down her other leg. He kissed his way back up her torso the same way he'd come. As soon as the fallen tears had dried on her skin he replaced them with fresh ones.

He covered her with his body again, as if to protect her from some unseen storm. "My humanity left my body long ago," he mumbled as his eyelids grew heavy and his weeping slowed. "But it curled up inside of you," His breathing began to slow and his sobs turned to hiccups. "And now you've brought it back to me," He let his eyes close as tears slipped out and his breathing evened out.

Scarlett resituated herself beneath his weight until she was comfortable. Despite the tears that fell onto her shoulder and the sheets she was certain he was asleep. She knew he would never speak about what had happened to Dr. Birch, though he ought to. Not to mention how the morning would play out when he awoke on top of her. But he was quiet now and this certainly wasn't the first nightmare they'd weathered together. It was, however, the first to bring about such a passionate response.

Tomorrow would be interesting but that was tomorrow. Scarlett wrapped her arms around him, breathing in the scent that had become so familiar. She swore to herself, in that moment, that she would never utter the words 'kiss me, Barty' ever again.

A persistent knock on the door startled Barty and Scarlett awake. Barty quickly glanced at the clock, revealing that it was ten minutes past when he was supposed to be in session with the insufferable Dr. Birch.

"Shit!" He pushed away from Scarlett with such force and urgency that it bounced her off the mattress and dumped her onto the floor.

"Ow!"

"Shit!" He leaned over her from the edge of the bed, "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm on the floor, Barty!"

He reached down to help her up while yelling "Just a moment," towards the door.

Scarlett grabbed her clothes and rushed into the bathroom as Barty looked around wildly for a bathrobe before realizing that it was in the bathroom. With Scarlett. He rapped on the door, asking for the article so that he could let Dr. Birch in. The door opened a few inches and a fluffy white blur was thrust into his face before the door shut again. He wrapped himself up before turning to unlock the door and fling it wide.

There was Dr. Birch waiting reasonably patiently. He was certain he looked a mess by the expression on her face but couldn't be bothered with that now.

Despite his tardiness and ruffled appearance she greeted him with a "Good morning, Mr. Crouch," and stepped into the room.

"Well, it's definitely morning," He muttered, shutting the door.

"I assume we're running late this morning," She was eyeing the tangled sheets, askew pillows and the forgotten quilt, bunched up in corner.

"I thought that would be quite evident to such a keenly trained eye," He chided gesturing to his extremely casual attire.

The young woman wasn't given the opportunity to respond as they both turned toward the sound of Scarlett leaving the bathroom. Barty quickly snatched up some clothes and headed into the vacated privacy to get dressed.

He could hear the two women conversing in the main room as he hastily dressed. Yesterday had gone poorly with Dr. Birch and he didn't foresee today being a riotous good time either. Then there was the matter of the previous evening. He and Scarlett would obviously have to talk about it, though he didn't really want to. It had been a moment of sheer desperation and weakness on his part. And, to be honest, he was getting tired of 'talking' about everything. Scarlett had made plain the fact that she wasn't his therapist anymore so did he really have to share and analyze every aspect of his past and present behavior with her?

He'd finished dressing and had resolutely refused to look at his reflection. He knew he looked like hell; he didn't require confirmation. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped out. Both women turned to look at him and he gave them a shy smile in return.

Scarlett got up from her seat on the end of the bed and approached him. She took his hand and squeezed reassuringly. "Play nice," she whispered. "I'll see you tonight" with that she carefully leaned in and left a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Tonight," He echoed as he turned and watched her leave.

Turning back, he realized he was left alone with the young doctor yet again. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad?

"You and Scarlett seem very close," She began.

Or maybe today would be equally as shitty as yesterday. He sighed and sat down. "We aren't discussing Scarlett," he warned.

"Today."

"Ever. You worry about _me_ fishing for information; ergo I'm not telling _you_ anything about your future self. It's off the table, period." He explained this with an air of finality that he hoped would deter her from a subject he wasn't even comfortable thinking about, much less talking about with a younger Scarlett; that was just too weird.

"Fair enough," She began making notes on her pad. "Are you feeling all right today?"

"Yes, why?"

"You look a little," She paused searching for the word, "off."

"You mean, 'why do I look like shit?'" He said trying to translate her alien language into his own.

"Essentially," She was writing again. Her pen made this awful sound as it moved across the paper, sending a shudder down his spine.

"I didn't sleep well," Was the only forthcoming explanation. He didn't really want to talk about this at all, let alone potentially twice in one day.

"Any particular reason?"

"I have nightmares," He mumbled.

This appeared to attract her interest. Her face almost seemed to brighten at the concept. "What occurs in these nightmares?"

"Are you fucking kidding?" He deadpanned.

"Pardon?" She seemed to be genuinely confused at his response.

"Now, why would you think I would tell you that?"

"As your therapist, I am the person you tell, Mr. Crouch."

"As your patient, I feel it necessary to point out that I don't_ have_ to tell you shit."

"Is there some reason that you are being antagonistic today?" Her brow creased.

"I'm not really. There are just some things I'm not willing to talk about with you."

"Because you feel I'm unqualified?"

"You _are_ unqualified. But no, that isn't the issue in this particular case."

She was becoming visibly frustrated, "Then why?"

"Because some things are private."

"Like Scarlett?"

"Like Scarlett." Finally they were getting somewhere.

"Then what would you prefer to talk about?"

"It's really better if you steer the conversation."

"I've been trying…"

"I know," He interrupted, "you start and I'll curb the overly private parts, okay?"

"That sounds reasonable," She looked back through her notes before continuing. "You grew up in Godric's Hollow?"

"Yes."

"How would you describe your childhood?"

He let a growl rumble in his chest. How did he word this? "Restrained?"

"You sound uncertain."

"I'm trying to put it delicately."

"Oh?" The obnoxious response was making an encore performance.

"My _father_ wasn't around much and my mother did what she could. I was an only child." He paused, "It's very lonely being the only person your age in a household full of adults, or, rather absent adults. It also means a lot is expected of you, especially being _Bartemius Crouch's_ only son. I learned at an early age to always sit up straight, have manners and the like-the same as every child I suspect. But I was chastised for silly things. Long before I stepped foot inside Hogwarts I knew to never fidget, 'um' wasn't a word, playing in creeks and generally getting dirty was prohibited, and even though no one ever explicitly told me not to, smiling wasn't considered couth either."

"I wasn't supposed to 'make believe'; my _father_ saw it as nonsense. But what else is a child supposed to do when there isn't ever anyone around to play with him, let alone talk to him? It's a wonder I spoke English at all with all the silence that formed my existence! I remember, when I finally went to school, sometimes I would just sit in the common room or around the castle and listen to people talk around me. No one had to talk _to me_; just being around people was overwhelming and wonderful."

She looked at her notes before addressing him, "You said 'I was an only child.' Are you not anymore?"

"I'm no longer a child, now am I?" He replied.

"True enough, but you gained no siblings, correct?"

"I gained very few things in my adult life. And siblings were very assuredly not one of them."

She jotted down more notes in rapid and, what he imagined to be, precise script.

"We have that in common," He said softly, causing her to look up.

"Pardon?" She'd snapped back to attention.

"She and I," He gestured between the two of them, "you and I."

She just stared at him. It wasn't that blankness he'd seen before, or judgment, or even confusion. He saw interest in her features; it was obvious she wanted to know more, to push him further but was afraid to anger him by asking. He smiled at her restraint.

"Scarlett had a lovely home life; she always talks about it with child-like reverence. Her parents…well, they weren't like mine. Sometimes I'm envious of such a delightful and loving childhood. I can't imagine what it would be like to grow up that way; being accepted and cherished. And it shows! Scarlett, for all her oddities, is very loving and kind. She can make grown men cry," He said conspiratorially with a chuckle, "but, just when you need it most, her gentleness can save your life."

"Despite her fairy tale, Scarlett knows what it feels like to be isolated. Perhaps that's what makes her so good at what she does: her empathy. She can make you feel like you're never alone. At the same time, you somehow know that she's been where you are. I'm sure it's invaluable in her profession."

"Have you ever considered that not all of her patients would speak in such a way about her? That it may just be you?" She asked, tilting her head.

It was an incredibly strange question to him. Why would he be the only one of Scarlett's patients to perceive her this way? "No."

She stared at him for what felt to be the most drawn out fifteen seconds of his life. The moments ticked away in his head in time with his heartbeat until she uncocked her head and resumed her wretched note taking. "You seem to have a strained relationship with your parents, particularly your father."

Despite its appearance as a statement, Barty was certain that it was a question or, at least, a prompt to discuss an issue that was obviously not settled for him and an exceptionally difficult topic to broach. "As I said, my mother did the best she could amidst the strains of her marriage to an ambitious man and the obligations that society placed on her due to her high status within it."

She nodded but said nothing, allowing him to continue.

"My mother loved me and I loved her despite the little I saw of her. In part because she didn't expect me to become a reincarnation of her the way my _father_ did." Unfortunately he was incapable of leaving the bitterness out of his voice when he mentioned his father. "My father was a Ministry man; had his eye on becoming Minister one day. That comes with a lot of bullshit, apparently. Bullshit you have to drag your entire fucking family through. I didn't want to be employed by the Ministry, necessarily, but, according to my _father,_ it was the only work worth doing. And even then only certain departments were worthwhile.

"He thought a lot of things about my future that never came to fruition. Perhaps they would've if he'd ever been around to instill, oh I don't know, _anything_ in me." Barty sighed, "I sound like a whiny child, don't I?"

"I'm not here to judge you, Mr. Crouch."

He stared at her, debating whether or not he sounded like a silly bitch. "Yeah, I do. You don't need to judge me; I'll do it for you. I'm complaining and I shouldn't talk about this anymore. Can we revisit this at a later point?" He was trying to be reasonable. Merlin knew he needed to talk about his father eventually but it was really difficult for him and he tended toward anger when discussing his parents, especially his father.

"May I ask one last question?"

Barty knew that she wanted to continue the discussion but she probably didn't want a repeat performance of yesterday's outburst. He'd allow her this last indulgence; she'd been so patient thus far. "Sure, why not?"

"Your parents, are they still in your life?"

His tongue immediately shot to the corner of his mouth like a frog flicking at a stray fly. "They're dead."

"That was a hasty response," It was pure statement with no question. "Any particular reason?"

"Oh, probably" he shrugged. "Isn't there a whole Freudian theory behind that? My mother didn't hug me enough so I want to sleep with her? My father didn't give me proper recognition so I want to stick my dick in his ear or something to that effect?" He said off-handedly, trying to keep things light despite the turn in the conversation.

"You don't think much of Freud?"

"I don't think much of pulling a lot of something from absolutely nothing." He replied with another shrug.

"Just to clarify," She was writing yet again, "that was multiple psychological theories mixed together."

Scribble, scribble, scribble. The sharp scratching of her pen made him want to shove the instrument through her eye socket.

"So, do you?" She interrupted his gruesome day dream.

Did he want to impale her with the fucking pen? Yes. "Do I what?" He needed clarification.

"Do you want to do those things to your parents, were they alive?"

He chuckled to himself. Apparently she thought it was a strange response because she looked up from her notes. "No, I don't." Her face held a prompting for further information but none was forthcoming.

"May I ask what happened to them, your parents?"

There was only supposed to be one more question. If only she knew that what seemed like a benign inquiry was actually something reminiscent of an Edgar Allen Poe story.

"You can ask but I'm not so sure you want the truth."

"I think you'll find that I do."

He couldn't help the small, malicious grin that briefly slipped across his features. "My mother died after smuggling me out of Azkaban by taking my place using polyjuice potion and an invisibility cloak." He paused a moment. allowing his words to settle into her brain. He was relishing the startled expression on her face. So he casually dropped in, "And I killed my father."

Her surprise turned to horror. Taking her momentary lapse of movement and, he assumed, proper thought to slide forward in his chair, nearly invading her personal space. Barty looked up at her through his dark lashes. "So, _Dr._ Birch," he smirked and watched her fight a chill running down her spine, "how does the truth feel?"

She swallowed, betraying her anxiety. "Were you in Azkaban for killing your father?"

"No," He said still gazing up at her, a grin slowly spread on his face like the Cheshire Cat's visage. He let the pause draw before, "I'm a convicted Death Eater."

Her lips trembled before she blurted out, "You're lying!"

A single eyebrow rose in challenge. Slowly, he peeled back his left sleeve, to unveil the ugly mark he knew slumbered beneath. "Funny, it doesn't taste a lie. How does your truth taste?" His tone was cautious and dangerous, yet somehow conversational. "Like bile?"

Her eyes were fixed on his forearm and she was frozen to her chair.

"Still want to talk about my nightmares, Dr. Birch?"

Her mouth opened to answer but her jaw worked wordlessly. She was shaking uncontrollably now.

"I told you before, Dr. Birch. I _can _hurt you. I just _won't_. But please stop treating me as though I'm a harmless little puppy that desperately wants to be a big dog when, in fact, big or little matters not; I'm already rabid." She wrenched her eyes away from the mark to stare at his face. "I'm aware of what I once was and now so are you. However, you are faced with a fork in the road, Doctor. Either you can help me sort through my emotional mess or you can't."

Several silent minutes passed before a barely audible, "I need to think about it," issued from her.

She quickly gathered her things and, with a final terrified look back to make sure he hadn't moved from his seat, she left.

"That could have gone better," He said to the room. With a shrug he set about tidying their woebegone room.

When Scarlett walked through the door hours later, she found Barty lounging on the bed and several dozen paper cranes strewn across the top of the dresser and desk.

"Are we out of paper?"

"No, but we _are_ low on Psalms."

"How'd it go with 'Beta' today?"

"What?"

"Dr. Birch," She supplied.

Without looking at her, he said casually, "Told her I was a Death Eater; she didn't believe me; showed her my mark. We'll see if she comes back tomorrow." He was beyond caring if the woman came back or not. He'd done his part. He'd been honest with her, pleasant even. So now it was on her whether she could cope with her fear and see the sessions through.

Scarlett's whole body visibly fell and she let out a frustrated sigh. "You can't do that, Barty!"

"Why? It never bothered _you_."

"I'm different!" She insisted.

"We can call it that."

"I'm serious, damn it! You can't do things like that! You can't do the same things with her that you do with me." She paused, "that sounds wrong but you know what I'm getting at! I told you to play nice, Asshole! What did you think that meant?"

"I did!" He insisted as he sat up. She was really mad about this and he had, in fact, tried to be decent today. It wasn't a complete success but it had not been nearly as dreadful as yesterday. "I really did, Scarlett!"

"Then _what_ _happened_?"

"She asked what happened to my parents! What was I supposed to say? 'Don't worry about it'!"

An angry gurgle began in her throat as a response.

"What? What should I have said instead, huh?"

"You could have been vague!"

"Have you ever had a conversation with that woman?" He realized the futility of the question but persisted. "Trying to obfuscate _anything_ from her is impossible! She thought an offhand question about your middle name was some kind of malevolent ploy for, Merlin's sake! _You_ even _told_ me to be forthright with her!"

"Be forthright? Sure! Scare the ever loving holy fuck out of her? No! I never said anything to that effect, Barty! Jesus fucking Christ!" She was exasperated.

Now _he_ was mad. "I was honest! I was reasonably pleasant! I was even willing to give her _some_ information which, I would like to mention at this junction, was twice as much as I wanted to give her! Why am I in trouble for this? If she can't cope with hearing the truth, that's not my fucking fault! She's my therapist, Scarlett, I'm supposed to be able to say whatever I want!"

"Not at the cost of losing her as your therapist!" She couldn't believe he'd just dumped all of that information on her at once. She'd had to do quite a bit of smooth talking to get her to take his case in the first place, and he'd gone and probably scared her off. "You did this on purpose!" She accused.

"What? Are you serious?" First, he was in trouble for following orders. Now, he was being accused of treachery. This evening wasn't going well at all. Admittedly, it wasn't on the coattails of a first-class previous night. Which they still had to talk about. His day with Dr. Birch was looking better and better by the minute in comparison. Though she wasn't totally wrong about him deliberately baiting Dr. Birch, he still wasn't keen on being punished for it. Truth or not.

"I'm deadly serious, Barty! I think you're intentionally sabotaging your sessions with Dr. Birch so that you won't have to do them! So that maybe I'll do double duty and pick them back up because I'm safe to you! Because if it doesn't work out with her then you're right, since you weren't included in the decision of using her at all. You're just trying to get back at me!"

He was seething. "How could you even think that this is about me 'being right'? And how dare you trivialize my taking offense at being treated like a child with you as the adult. _You._ All-knowing, ever-capable, _whackadoodle you_, knows what's best for me. Not me, but _you! _ Not to mention 'safe'! How the hell are you safe? The woman that has been driving me completely out of my mind with lust every night with her barely-covered body wrapped around mine and her incessant moaning and grinding to meet the day! You are completely mental, have totally disregarded what little control I have over my life, and leave me hard and practically begging at every turn. Did I bait her today? Yes, yes I fucking did, Scarlett. And if she comes back tomorrow I'll trust her just a little bit more. I'd like to say that I'm sorry for my behavior today but I'm not. She's _my _therapist and I'll say whatever _I_ fucking want to her. I'll push her as far as I want! Merlin knows you push me as far as your whimsy desires all the fucking time! This is none of your business. You've always said as much about our sessions together; that it was no one's business but ours. So how dare you question what I say in my sessions now? You have no right to ask in the first place. And you certainly have no right to judge! This isn't your comeuppance for being a bitch concerning my mental healthcare; this is me trying to work through my shit, like you told me to do. So you can take your accusations and your theories and shove them up your perfectly round ass!"

She was totally speechless for a long time. "You asshole! Fine, say whatever the hell you want to her, assuming she comes back and don't tell me. I don't want to fucking hear it! And excuse the shit out of me for enjoying the only bright part of this crazy fucking world! But, you know what, if you'd man up and take some initiative, maybe you wouldn't be left so desperate and unsatisfied. What do you want, huh? An engraved invitation to party in pussy world?"

"Of course," He scoffed, "now it's free and easy! Forty-eight hours ago you were as coy as a schoolgirl! 'I didn't mean to tease you, Barty. I'll stop if you want me to.' I haven't had sex in fifteen years, Scarlett! If Minerva McGonagall showed up naked on my doorstep I'd fuck the shit out of her. So, no, I don't want you to stop. I want you to climb up on my cock and scream my name until you black out!"

"Fine," She challenged. "Kiss me, Barty."

He stepped back as though he'd been physically struck. His eyes widened as scenes of last night's nightmare flickered in his brain. "I can't do this. I can't fucking do this right now." His mind was reeling and he was still fuming as he snatched up a pillow and an extra blanket. He sailed past Scarlett, storming over to the chair and falling into it.

"What are you doing now?"

"Going to sleep. To hell with this bullshit." He said, covering himself with the blanket.

"Fuck you too," Was all she said as she kicked off her shoes, hit the lights and dropped into bed, still fully clothed.

Barty was three things: hungry-as they had never gotten around to dinner; cold-he'd become used to her covering him and therefore sharing body heat with him; and uncomfortable-fuck this chair. He was also pissed. Really, really pissed. In the back of his mind he was also shaken. She'd asked him to kiss her. It had been his chance. He might never get the invitation again and he couldn't do it because he was a broken man.

It didn't matter what world he was in, reality or otherwise, he would always be broken. With that thought swirling in his head he fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

When he finally roused the next morning it was to voices. He neither opened his eyes immediately nor moved; he just listened.

"I'm sorry that Barty just dropped all that shit on you yesterday, Doctor. And I apologize for not warning you of his past ahead of time but now I think you can understand why I didn't." He realized that Dr. Birch must have returned. He was actually glad about that. He _did_ want to get better and he couldn't afford to tip toe around his past with people anymore.

"I do understand your reasons better now but Mr. Crouch didn't do anything wrong."

Wait, what? Was the obnoxious Dr. Birch defending him? Not only had he scared the shit out of her two days in a row but two days in a row she'd returned. Yesterday he'd proven that he really was as dangerous as he'd previously advertised and still she'd come back today. Sure she had no idea what she was doing but he had to admire her bottle.

"Pardon?" That's right, you heard her, Scarlett!

"Doctor, in what way could Mr. Crouch have gently explained his past? I didn't believe him initially, which forced him to give me proof of his honesty. He was right; either I can do this or I can't. I believe I can, and so do you, otherwise you wouldn't have requested my help." There was a long pause in which Barty wondered what was transpiring nonverbally. Merlin, he'd love to see the look on Scarlett's face at that moment. "Now, would you like to wake Mr. Crouch?"

"No. But I'd like to suffocate him." Scarlett replied.

So she was still angry too. Good.

"He's all yours, Doctor." Moments later he heard the door shut.

"We're fighting." He supplied from his place in the chair. Lifting his head he reexamined her. She was the same person as yesterday but he had a new appreciation for her. "You came back."

"Yes, I did." She fidgeted a moment with her bag.

"I'm not going to talk about it." He'd yet to move.

"Pardon?" She mimicked Scarlett's earlier sentiment.

"Scarlett and I, our fight, I'm not going to talk about it, so don't ask."

"You made it resolutely apparent yesterday that we would not be discussing your relationship with Scarlett. I'm prepared to accept and appreciate such an edict." She sat down on the bed and pulled out her pad of paper in preparation for their session.

"Dr. Birch, there's something else you need to know."

"Yes?" She arched an eyebrow at his sudden offer of information.

"You struck a chord yesterday." He sighed deeply and flipped the cover off himself. "Yes, I'm a convicted Death Eater. Yes, I'm potentially dangerous. And yes, I've done horrific things in my lifetime." He paused to gauge her reaction. She seemed receptive so he continued slowly, so as to accentuate the sincerity of his next statements. "I regret everything that I have done; if I could take back every moment in my personal reign of terror on this earth I would. Some I would retract twice."

He let his words sink in for a beat. "That said, the only thing that I do not regret is killing my father. I know it may seem awful to you but it's also the truth. I don't want to talk about him today. However, I know that I will need to go there someday soon. It won't be a pretty conversation and for that I apologize in advance. I know that my relationship with him will be very revealing to you, I just can't do it today."

She nodded, pen poised. "But soon?"

"Yes, soon. I'm sure he's the key to many of my emotional doors but I'm just not ready to turn it yet."

She nodded again. "Then where would you like to begin today, Mr. Crouch?"

"Let's work backwards from just before I met Scarlett, that sound okay?"

"Of course, Mr. Crouch. Please, begin."

* * *

Please R&R. Reviews inspire me to write more! Hope you enjoyed this installment!


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Harry Potter, Drama, Romance