As a kid he was imprisoned. But in this story Barty Crouch Jr. was not kissed by a Dementor, but escaped before discovery.
I kneeled down between Lucius Malfoy's feet. Even though he regarded me with veiled distain, I was practically purring.
The stone floor of the bath lounge was temped with summer heat. Outside, a rain storm flickered and sang.
I caressed the supple warmth of Lucius' legs with my hands as I leaned between them. His colorless eyes fixated into mine with curious contempt edged with fear. For a moment he wouldn't touch me.
His breathe was cool over my face and my hair.
I began with how I met his former comrade; the one I who served our lord as honored footstool.
Lucius saw into me with his wizard's occlumency.
"After the raid at the Quidech World Cup, the cold moon was high. Barty sojourned thru the shattered camps; as if his own living room. We saw each other as I made way to the forest with my…" I faltered.
Gavin was only nine years old. That night I fled with my son, into the woods and met the Hogwarts children- I quickly continued.
"He was not the first, I admit." A squall of wind rushed against the bay window to my right. "I was tracking him. I know his tastes. His routes. All wizards avoid his reputation, so he keeps Muggle company. Bottom feeders mostly.
He had an East Anglican dialect punctuated with London's Cockney.
I sampled Barty, long enough to pick out his melody in city's rhythm."
"On a Sunday I tracked him to a rusticated rail road shipping yard on the West End. In this immense iron maze a spell battle would be drowned out by passing freights and concrete spaces. I found him there. It was the ideal place for wet work."
"Wet work." Lucius whispered back with a dreamy expression. I realized I was idly stroking his inner thigh.
"Yes. He wasn't alone… I whistled for him… Just being polite …for Barty… Like this." Like I did for Barty I did for my blond sultan. I merged magic and talent a twiddle-twill sound as sweet as a mocking bird with a secret.
"Up the alley." Twill- twiddle. I slid my hands up Lucius thighs.
"Across the rusty tracks." Twill-twill. I tickled the shapes of Lucius rolling abs with my fingertips.
"Right up to Barty's office," twiddle-dee-dee." My whistle sounded like a flourished cat-call. I saw goose bumps rise as I teased Lucius' pecks. I saw a pleading look peek through his Malfoy exterior.
I breathed in his expensive scent and continued.
"What do you want? He said. I said, 'To dance precious."
My mouth had found Lucius' right hand, and I'd become fascinated with the rough texture: the scent of parchment and ink. (He singed with Greyback's werewolves.) I pushed away that thought before Lucius could 'see' it.
"Go on," Lucius commanded with husky curiosity.
"I introduced myself -formally- to Barty. I said He sent me."
Here I hastened my story to get to the good part. "Crouch ordered his men to attack me. They were Muggle turf fighters. They were few. I cut through them with my … my wand." I nodded pointingly at my Falchion dagger on the vanity. "And one I crushed open with a concrete hammer." I recalled the wet crack sound that followed the whoosh and smack of the long handle through the air.
"I cursed them. No witnesses." I added that for Lucius' sake. The whole point of my confession was for him to know if I were loyal.
"Just as soon as I issued those curses, Barty's own hailed over me.
We passed the time this way. His curses were finale-direct, almost unimaginative… almost. For a while it was like Star wars meets Wimbledon."
Lucius frowned slightly. What he saw in me had his own interpretation. I realized I was pressing my nails into his thighs and eased up.
"I'd reconvert the energies he'd send me and throw it back. Back and forth. Like tennis, only dirty.
When rail ties and steel chains entered the mix, I knew it was getting interesting-finally."
Mesmerizing wizard kind is more interesting than on common mortals. It's more than interrupting a movie in a theatre. For young ones it's a memory that only they can tell who's belongs' to whom.
Proficient ones get the voyeuristic point of view: director on the set.
Dangerous ones like the Death Eaters get the bonus feature: the emotions of the host and their thoughts at the time. Smells. Sensations.
Dangerous only begins to describe us.
"We maneuvered through the rail yard, using anything for damage. I was going to unwand him."
I was thinking of a song a motor racer sang. 'You live and your burn.' A monster ballad with a valiant tune. It would be my ode to Barty.
Now add a soundtrack for my voyeur of one.
There isn't anything on two legs quicker than I am. But, "He's not a bad scrapper. Close quarter brawls are his specialty…Oh I do love to play…" I heard myself gush.
"He hit like a hammer!" I felt a heat wave blush through me again. "The Dementors didn't take everything- he cried with his fists!"
I paused to moan kisses on Lucius bare rolling chest; adding one false bite around his left peck. He grunted.
Barty's black eyes flared with ferial amusement. Black eyes like the sleeping earth. I remembered his scent: cologne on perspiration on leather jacket- god!
"Then we fucked."
Rain. It was raining hard again against the bay window. The last echo of my words clicked off the marble bath lounge walls.
Lucius dropped his head still looking at me. This was the first time I read the look of 'huh?' catch him off guard.
"Can't recall the detail." I looked away to think. Lucius took hold of my upper arms.
"Fist it was kill or be killed, then his hand was up my skirt." I mocked Lucius with a pout. "I don't know how long it'd been since he had a woman because Barty racked me like a starving man."
Enough said, I thought. I couldn't banish the sound of Barty's heavy breath and the scrape up n' down of my back against the asphalt. Or his insult. "Nice Death Eater tits-showed them to Valdemort?"
We argued and screwed.
Lucius was breathing with jealous frustration. This time I wouldn't let him wait. As I groped at his genitalia, I tasted with wet kisses on his chest. Earl Grey with sage.
I forgot the important detail.
"More." Lucius commanded me in a growl.
I continued to massage him over his trousers. "When Barty's madness was ejected, he released me." Barty was laughing. It was a bashful, thankful, laugh.
"I reminded Barty why I'd come. He understood me. No words were wasted. I gave him my wand. Barty plunged it into his stomach." I sighed girlishly. His blood spilled noisily over his jeans.
Lucius saw us on our knees facing each other. Barty slumping over my wand, collapsing face down on to my chest.
"He penetrated me, I penetrated him."
I watched the sun set orange in the marmalade sky. I love summer time.
I smelled the blood fragrance in his hair and I drove 'myself' deeper into Barty.
"He was mine. Valdemort executed him."
I used mostly my teeth to open Lucius velvet trousers.
"You used legilimancy." Lucius issued, trying to sound accusing.
"A warrior's death."
No underwear. 'Dirty Death Eater stud.' He was circumcised. Two toned. Curved up like a smitar. Narrowed at the tip with python's spear-shaped head. His Earl Grey and sage cologne was stronger here, but not omitting the flavor of his personal signature.
This is my favorite part of the job. I gagged and massaged to a creaky rhythm in the chase lounge.
Then I searched into his mirrored eyes. I found a vision of myself bent over in blue jeans a Quidech match.
A musical whimper escaped him. Lucius came through my fist. Drops of him ejected on my red dress.
"I put the crow's tail feather in Barty's hand. The soul carrier now drags him to Blessed Oblivion."
I teased his anguish by kissing his inner folds for more. Then I finished Lucius. He was sensitive, jumpy, trembling. He was revving again in heavier grunts.
I gagged on his head and tasted spicy bleach.
"Ohhh…" He groaned accepting. "My lark…" just a pitch higher. "Ha!..." that's it… "Davalen." who's your momma. He erupted again. From his scream, I could tell it was sweeter the second time around.
Before Lucius recovered, "Meet me in the stables in fifteen minutes." I was giving orders now. "Bring the new riding crops and lots of fur."
Lucius lent against the black marble behind him. Dazed. Venerablely male.
"The show room stable with binders." I pressed him.
"You won't hurt me will you?" He cooed with a boyish grin
"Trust me, precious… It's my job."