standsonhigh | There's nothing here but what here's mine.

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psl: barty

There's nothing here but what here's mine.

This wasn't, exactly, how he had planned his return. He had expected to be on home turf, a place he understood and wanted to be. Surrounded by worshippers and already plotting. Not here with some strange man using the power he gave specifically to his followers to bring him back. The books of Saxon weren't meant to be public knowledge, they were his private notes, and yet this man decided to drag him into a world he didn't want to be in.

The Master always had a funny feeling that magic wasn't something he should of ever tried to toy with because as it stood, he didn't like where this was going. It defied the logic he knew.

Voldemort was a strange creature, a very unpleasant one at that. He looked sickly and his eyes were red like an albino. Still, he didn't say much on it, he'd looked worse himself and damages were just a sign of ambition and desire. It always took everything out of you, especially with humans.

The drums were raging in his head as he followed Voldemort into this meeting he'd decided to attend. He'd only been back a few days and already he seemed to of captured the imagination of this tiny little creature who was all but eager to introduce him.

An ancient ruler from another reality must of been interesting.

He didn't walk behind Voldemort, he kept in step, not willing to seem a lesser. Hey, the dark lord brought him here. If he was going to play with this merry band of psychopaths, he wanted to seem equal.

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Barty let out a surprised laugh at that, shaking his head with a smile and a shrug. "I always do." That much was true, at least. Dark magic had always been the one that fascinated him. The one that touched on the very essence of the user, that needed willpower and strength and that left its mark. Of course, it helped that his father wanted to outlaw it and end any and all affiliation.

"You don't sound as if you mind. Good. I like that in a man." He laughed again, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. "It's the true strength of magic."

"I've been torturing since before you great great great great granddaddy was born. And then some. It's hardly even an issue for me these days, as normal as making yourself some toast in the morning," the Master pointed out as he lay back on the bed once more, eagerly listening out for any signs of Crouch Sr. He couldn't wait to lay waste to that moron.

"Perhaps you could teach me a few of these banned spells of yours."

"Oh? I like to have a bit more drive with it. Unless you're passionate about toast, I suppose." Barty wasn't sure what to make of the Master claiming to be that old. He might be. But it wasn't the time to wrap his mind around that. He leaned back against the wall, one hand rather casually on the Master's leg as he talked.

"Do you know the three Unforgivable Curses? Cruciatus, that's the one I used. What I was imprisoned for." He turned to look at the door, a glint in his eyes already. "My father used one on me before. He won't go to jail for it, but he'll suffer. Imperius. That's the one."

Barty was quick and easy to get in with, funnily enough. Saving him was one thing but listening to him was another. Showing interest and giving him this kind of chance to take control and be his own man seemed to have him almost relaxed and pleased. They were sharing more personal space than he usually allowed but hey, he could blame it on that face. He didn't know why, he was just always so drawn to it.

"He used one on you? Well, I think it'd only be fair to use one back," the Master remarked, a dark glint in his eyes. He wanted to see this, to study it. He needed things like that at hand. "Can you show me how cruciatus works? When daddy arrives, anyway."

"He did. I was an unruly child, you see. Too bad no one would believe me if I accused him." Barty took note of that glint and, well, it excited him in turn. He nodded, of course he nodded, eager as he was, hand clasping his wand just a little bit tighter. "I will. I'll see him writhe and hear him scream. I'll make him beg for his death and then I'll just make him scream longer still before finally granting it."

He had dreamed about this moment, way too often. The thought was exciting, almost arousing. His hatred was the strongest he'd ever felt. "And then he'll be gone."

He could feel Barty tremble next to him and the Master had to laugh. It was obvious that his father was the big source of his mental trauma, he was entirely unhinged because of the controlling brute and it was delightful. The things humans did to their kids, it was quite the sight to behold, he had met so few humans who were as damaged as Barty.

And letting him loose, it could only end well. "The longer he screams, the happier you'll be. Trust me, there's nothing better than that sensation of actually winning. Of knowing they can't come back."

"You've done it?" He almost asked further, if he had done it to the enemy with his face, but in the end he didn't, just watched the Master's face and smiled. Oh, he was ready. He was so ready.

Barty rolled to the side suddenly, halfway on top of the Master as he kissed him again, just as forcefully, his fingers sliding into the man's hair this time. He couldn't remember ever feeling so giddy. This was intoxicating. As quickly as he had started it, Barty broke the kiss, got up. He held a hand out for the Master.

"Come on. I have to tell the house elf to stay out of the way."

Barty was such an amusing little creature, he had a level of playful immaturity that didn't take away from his intelligence and that dopey grin reminded him so much of the Doctor. Maybe it was wrong of him to compare those two endlessly in his head but the similarities were entirely uncanny.

With an amused smile, he decided to humour the boy and take his hand, using it to haul himself up. Hey, if he could play along with Lucy then he could assume some unhinged human.

"House elf? You have one of those? Oh, how novel!"

"Not really, they've been with my family for generations. Winky's the only one now." Barty shrugged as he headed for the door. "She isn't supposed to listen to my orders any longer, of course, but she's always liked me and she's loyal to a fault, like all house elves."

He stepped out onto the hallway, calling out for the house elf and not surprised when she appeared immediately. "Master Barty!" She actually did sound happy to see him. "Winky has missed you. Your mother, your dear mother, she has too. She wanted to go see you at the horrible place, but Master Crouch..." Her little face darkened and she bit her lip very harshly. "Are you out of that place now? Winky never believed it. You're so good, so kind."

"Yes, I'm an unsung hero." It was only slightly embarrassing. "Will you listen to my orders?"

She hesitated, but only for a moment before nodding. "Of course, Master Barty."

"Then stay in the kitchen until I tell you to come out. No matter what happens before then."

"They sound rather useful. I toyed with the idea of getting one myself. Mostly because I really hate laundry," he loved creatures that adored him for no other reason than him being their Master. A mild power-trip to keep his head in the clouds during the quieter moments. On first sight, he couldn't help but notice that Barty's little elf sort of looked like a kind of alien he'd known once. And purged the universe of. They were much more aggressive and deadly, anyway, no big loss.

"Master Barty, that's adorable," the Maser commented, grinning towards the elf. She seemed very unsure of him but that was probably natural, most people found him unnerving. The Master didn't exactly scream good company, despite his charm he always had a darker edge to it. Perhaps it's because the smile he wore never quite reached his eyes.

Well, she'd best hide and stay there. If she became a problem, he had no issues killing her.

"Maybe one day you can have your very own army of these elves. Conquer magic land with them."

"If you don't listen to my order, Winky, I'm going to give you clothes."

"No! Please, no. I will listen. Don't send away your Winky, Master Barty. I'll be in the kitchen like you said." But still, after that speech, she glanced at the Master, definitely not sure of it. "Shall I go now?"

"Yes. Just lave us alone, it's fine." Barty shrugged dismissively and turned to the Master. "Sounds particularly useless, a whole army of that."

The Master just stared, unsure what to make of that. Why did she not want clothes? Clothes were much better than that stupid pillow case she was wearing. What an awful thing to have on, she looked more of a slave in that than any other costume she could be given. Very slowly, he turned to Barty.

And once again, it was obvious how little he got the magic world. "Clothes are bad here? For elves, I assume, anyway. That was a little bit of an odd reaction."

He really needed to pay more attention to the little details of this world. Like house elves. He didn't even know they couldn't have clothes without leaving!

"I'm not sure how it came about, but giving a house elf clothes means freeing them. Since serving is what they see as their purpose in life, there is nothing more terrible than being denied that." Barty shrugged and met the Master's eyes, smirking after a moment. "It's messed up." At least he was aware of that. But then, with Winky being one of the few beings to genuinely care for him, he had naturally grown just a bit sympathetic to her race and their history.

"Your whole universe is messed up if you ask me. Human justice has always been laughable but this place? A little torture and you get locked away. And not just like normal prison, some sort of nightmare prison with soul sucking monsters that essentially torture you," the Master pointed out, unable not to snort in amusement at the idea of such idiocy. This place has such flimsy laws and flawed concepts of justice, "So basically they teach people not to torture by torturing them. I do so love the pitfalls of humans."

"Not just a little torture. Azkaban for life is punishment for crimes I'd consider a lot more minor." Barty shrugged. "You're right. This eeds a do-over." It was strange to talk like this to this man, who used words like 'your universe' and meant them in ways Barty couldn't entirely grasp, but he was trying to. It was... It actually felt good. To realize how little any of this mattered in the grand scheme of things, no matter how much he'd suffered for it.

"How do they feel for you? The Dementors."

"Perhaps one day someone will destroy it and leave it in ruins," the Master remarked, considering it himself when he conquered this pathetic excuse for a reality. He didn't like it, it bred the sort of false morality he loathed more than anything. It reminded him of when the Doctor tried to get the high ground over him. It just didn't work when they were both monsters.

"Dementors? I've felt worse feelings and I've suffered more than they could ever think to try," the Master admitted, knowing that his insanity and centuries of torture perhaps gave him a level of resistance to them. Fear and death were more exciting that a worry. "But don't get me wrong, they aren't exactly a picnic to be around."

"If only," Barty said, but there was a teasing smile. He didn't really believe it, couldn't really grasp it, but wish for it, and just for a moment imagine himself looking down at nothing, finally free of what he'd always considered himself above... Well, it was a pleasant enough thought.

"I was just wondering if they affected you at all. Your mind..." He trailed off, then shrugged. "I'm not getting into it again, don't worry." He would, one day, he knew that. He wanted to, because it seemed as if he shouldn't and because the Master didn't want him to. "But your mind is different."

A Time Lord mind was such a complicated thing. So many ideas, thoughts, feelings and desires bouncing around at once. It was almost overwhelming to an ordinary person, they were capable of multitasking and filtering. He had blocks all over his mind so even if someone got in, they'd only see what he made possible to see on the surface. But then most that got into his head tried desperately to get out moments later.

The drums repelled people, they were wrong on so many levels and so painful that no one sane would want them. Luckily, the Master lacked any measure of sanity. "Of course it is, I'm not like you. I'm not human."

Just in case Barty didn't know for sure, he confirmed it, grinning playfully. "Why do you think your lord is so interested in me? Why he brought me here? I'm a whole new league, Barty."

"I know," Barty said, and he believed it at that moment. Even though the man in front of him looked like nothing special, he believed it. Maybe because he wanted to or maybe because of what he had felt when he was in his mind. Maybe because of what his Lord had said or maybe because the Master was paying special attention to him, only him, had freed him, was giving him the chance to kill his father...

If the Master was a whole new league, that elevated him as well, didn't it? Either way, he smiled, and then smiled brighter still when he heard his father come home. "Let's go, darling."

When the door opened, the Master could barely suppress his smile as he watched Barty light up. This was going to be a great way to spend an evening. Standing aside on the hallway, he gestured for Barty to take the lead and go play. For tonight, he was going to play second fiddle. He wanted to see what Barty could do when he was allowed to take control.

"Hello?" Crouch Sr called out, probably able to hear them talking. "Who's there?"

Barty wasn't looking at the Master anymore. He was clutching the wand he'd stolen from the stranger and he held it as he headed down the hallway, turned around the corner.

It wasn't really a duel that ensued. Barty was younger, faster and better trained, ultimately maybe even a more skilled wizard than his father, who had been focusing on other talents for years. But Barty didn't kill him when he had the chance, he just stunned him and then he let him levitate, only to slam his unconscious body against the wall, the ceiling and the ground.

He woke him, eventually, then repeated that process, leaving the old man's body broken, bruised and bleeding and himself in a very, very good mood. He laughed when his father lost consciousness yet again, eyes bright and shining when he turned to look at the Master with the most excited smile. "The most messed up thing is how randy this is getting me."

The Master had taken a seat during this whole thing, casually browsing the library while Crouch Sr was thrown around the room. The Master didn't seem that invested in it all because it wasn't his father nor his battle. It was nice, though, like a good piece of background music. Soothing and just what he wanted on an evening off.

When Barty addressed him, he raised an eyebrow and playfully grin back, remembering all the times he fucked Lucy near Jack's dead corpse. Or their passionate night after the destruction of Japan.

It was just something that came hand in hand with torture. Or it was for people like them anyway. "Barty, if you're not aroused by torture then you're doing it wrong."

Barty accepted that as reality with a nod of his head, eyeing his father's body for a moment before deciding that he'd be out for a while yet. Having reached that assessment, he wandered over to Master and sat down on his lap, straddling him, as if the man had invited him to, as if he had every right. He ran his fingers along his tie and looked at the book the other was holding, not really interested in it. Not really interested in anything but making the most of this moment.

"This enemy of yours. The one I look like. Did you fuck him?" Yes, he was trying to be deliberately crude.

The Master could hardly stifle his amused laugh, trying to remind himself that this was entirely expected and probably not as funny as he found it. Barty was not like the Doctor, it was hilariously awful how wrong this whole thing was really. He was younger, darker and very unhinged but he wore that face. Very jarring, especially since Barty was a bit like him in his younger days. Only he'd had Theta to ground him and keep his head on straight.

The book was discarded in favour of giving his little psychopath some attention, playfully tweaking the man's collar. "No, ours was more of a mental and platonic love affair. We came close, once, as boys. But he was always such a buzzkill. Too afraid to get stuck in."

Unlike a certain someone now sitting on his lap.

Barty wouldn't have minded the laugh, he'd have been hard pressed to mind much of anything right now. Playing with the Master's hair, carding his fingers through it and enjoying the sensation, enjoying the contrast of the gentleness to the way he was treating the beaten body just a few feet away.

"Sounds awfully tedious. And he looks like me, yes? Guess I'm lucky there." He tried to catch his eyes, although he didn't try to read his mind, not this time. Enough for one day and already he had too much to focus on. "I want you, I believe. Though right now, I might want anyone."

There's nothing here but what here's mine.

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