Playing with Fire

Chapter 8 - Death Eaters Don't Have Hearts

Hermione had barely slept. Partly because she was afraid that Barty would return to her room to torture her again, and partly because she had not eaten anything since breakfast the other day. Winky had not come back to check on her either, maybe Barty didn't trust his elf anymore. She knew that Barty would still be furious about the fact that she had sabotaged his potion, but she couldn't stay in bed forever either. She would only make him angrier if she didn't show up for breakfast. So with the greatest reluctance, Hermione forced herself to put on some clean clothes and she went downstairs. Of course Barty was already there. Sitting on his chair, wearing his usual black outfit. And he was definitely not happy. He motioned for her to sit down, not saying a word. So Hermione thought it best to make amends with him. She could try at least.

"Mr. Crouch?" she said carefully, waiting for a response. When she didn't get any, she decided to continue. "I am sorry."

Barty looked up and she saw the dangerous glint returning in his eyes. Hermione thought he was still not going to speak, but after a few moments of silence, he opened his mouth.

"Do you really think sorry is enough?" he sneered.

Hermione swallowed nervously.

"I told you that I would punish you severely if I found you breaking one of my rules. You have broken two of those rules..."

Hermione picked up a piece of bread, just to have an excuse for not looking at him.

"But you will pay... Did you enjoy the Cruciatus Curse?"

Hermione still refused to look at him, she pretended to be interested in her piece of bread.

"Maybe I should do something worse than that..." Barty continued.

She took a cup of tea and wrapped her hands around it, trying to ignore the vicious threats the man on the other side of the table was making.

"I will go back to Diagon Alley today to pick up some new ingredients. I will make sure to make the shopkeeper of the apothecary feel how annoyed I really am," Barty said calmly, but Hermione knew that he was threatening her indirectly by threatening the poor shopkeeper's life.

"No," Hermione whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, no."

"What, no? You'll have to be more specific, little girl."

"You will not hurt Mr. Mulpepper just because I pissed you off! It is not his fault! Punish me if you must, but don't hurt others," Hermione said.

Barty's eyes hardened, and Hermione felt that she had challenged him again.

"You will not tell me what to do. Surely you don't think I won't hurt anyone just because a little Mudblood tells me not to?"

No, of course she didn't think that. He was a Death Eater, a murderer who had done his time in Azkaban already. The man had killed his own father. He had driven Frank and Alice Longbottom insane. He had probably murdered many innocent Muggles and Muggle-born. Of course he wouldn't mind killing or torturing some innocent wizard.

"He doesn't deserve it," Hermione muttered.

"Oh? He doesn't deserve it?" Barty now stood up and he walked over to where Hermione was sitting. When he had reached her chair, he squatted down in front of her. "And how did I deserve what you did to me then?"

"You are a murderer," Hermione spat, a little bit too confident. He was only inches away from her, and it was absolutely not comfortable.

"I was under the impression that I treated you pretty well. You have your own room, you were allowed to walk through the house. I never touched you..."