Playing with Fire

Chapter 20

A part of her wanted to laugh at the crying Barty. She wanted to tell him that he was a pathetic Death Eater, that he wasn't supposed to cry. She wanted to taunt him by telling him what the others would say if they would see him like this. She wanted to embarrass him now that he showed his more vulnerable side. He couldn't threaten her with her parents anyway since they were gone. But the other side of Hermione was too curious to do this. She also wanted to know why he was crying, maybe she could use it against him later. She had always learned from her parents that you should help and comfort people who are sad and lonely and that you should never embarrass them or make them feel bad about themselves. But this was not a normal case, this concerned a Death Eater.

"What's wrong?" she asked him as softly as she could without sounding too dismissively. Because really, she couldn't care any less about how he felt. Maybe she would have in a different situation, but he had hurt her. And others. Maybe she would have cared if he wasn't a murderer.

"Like you care," Barty replied harshly, as if he could read her mind. "Just sit down and don't speak to me."

"I do care," Hermione lied. "I want to know what's wrong with you."

Barty was silent for a moment before he finally turned to look her in the eyes.

"How was it?" he asked. "How did the Imperius Curse feel? Tell me."

"It was... liberating. But also very- claustrophobic. Like someone had me imprisoned and I couldn't move."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Did you like it?" he asked.

"No. Of course I didn't like it. It isn't an illegal curse for nothing. And the fact that I hated you already isn't really helping either," Hermione snapped.

"Hm," Barty said absentmindedly without elaborating any further.

"So? Why didn't you continue your Imperius Curse on me since you're ultimate goal is hurting me very badly? Are you just that weak? Are you so pathetic that you can't even use an Unforgivable Curse on me?" Hermione sneered, not holding back any longer.

Barty stood up and started pacing the room, his fists clenched.

"Do not presume to know me, girl," he growled. "You have seen with your own eyes that I am quite capable of performing the Cruciatus Curse and the Killing Curse."

It took Hermione a second, but then she remembered a conversation she had with him earlier. This was about his own past, about his own childhood.

"This is about your father, isn't it?" She asked.

There. She had him. He stopped pacing to glare down on Hermione who was still sitting on the floor.

"How dare you speak about him?" He said a little bit too calmly.

"He should have let your rot away in Azkaban," Hermione hissed. "Now the poor man is dead just because of his need to protect his own son."

Barty's eyes narrowed dangerously when he sat down on the bed again.

"My father..." he spoke with the same calm, though the animosity was clearly there in his voice. "... was a terrible person. He sent me to Azkaban when I was only nineteen years old. It broke my mother's heart. She became ill out of sadness. But my father couldn't care. He never listened to her. He only listened when it was too late."

Hermione waited for Barty to continue when he stopped talking for a moment, but she was certain that he was going to tell her his whole story this time. At least he didn't torture her now.