The Disturbingly Uneven Composition of Barty Crouch Jr.

Of course I did

Title: "Of Course I Did"
Rating: K+
Just a really short take on what may have happened after Barty confessed. (There may be many like it, but this one is mine.)
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Barty Crouch Jr felt control slowly slipping back to him. He rolled his tongue around the inside of his parched mouth; he knew what it felt like to finally have control again, to not be dictated in actions or speech. It was a dizzying sensation, and not a particularly pleasant one. But oh, was he ecstatic!

  His gaze fleeted around the cold room, finally settling on the elderly witch ordered to guard him. She stared at him with the upmost disdain. He had told her his life story not five minutes ago. Well, most of it. He smirked up at Mcgonagall, pleased he had evaded one of the most powerful -- but short lasting -- truth serums in the world. If only a little bit.

  You could have resisted it outright if you weren't so weak.

  Barty's face fell into a frown. He wiggled in his bonds until his head was propped up against the stone wall before looking at the Professor again. "I..." he started, but thought better of it. What are you thinking? You don't need to explain yourself.

  "Don't tell me -- you feel remorse for your actions?" Mcgonagall's gaze was cold and unmoved. This was extremely awkward.

  He coughed and opened his mouth again after a long pause, "Was I a good student?" he choked out hoarsely. He resolved that he wouldn't ask for anything, and definitely not water; their sympathy and "help" was unwanted.

This seemed to catch the witch by surprise, as she took several moments to answer. "You were the top of your class." A hint of disappointment...

He nodded, mostly to shake off the hair sticking to his brow. "Twelve O.W.L.s," he breathed, "you'd think it would be enough..."

Mcgonagall raised her brow, as if to ask what he meant. Barty obliged. "For my father, it should have been enough-" he fell into another coughing fit, involuntarily arching forward as far as his ropes would allow, then back against the wall with a painful thud.

"Are you..." alright? No, you filthy half-blood...

  Barty glared at her. "It's people like you," he started talking again with no hint of distaste, although his gaze didn't soften, "that make people like me. It doesn't happen often -- I admit -- but I was ignored all of my life. I did everything I could to earn their praise, and in the end I hated them all. My classmates, my father, and that wretched elf."

  He was referring to Winky, who had been removed from the room earlier. His shirt was still wet with her tears.

  "You wretched boy," Mcgonagall corrected, sounding as if she doubted her own statement. A small, manic smile took shape; he was clearly enjoying this.

  "Am I? Did I really deserve that treatment? A father who cared more for his job than his own son, and a mother, who was so weak that she went along with it!" You're the weak one, Barty, of course you deserved it.

  He laughed inwardly as insanity spread to the rest of his features. "The same who sent me to Azkaban, the same who disowned me... then stopped me from finding the Dark Lord, the one who did care! He saw my worth!" his shouting stopped, the last word had come out nothing short of a croak.

  "So you killed him." Mcgonagall finished his rant for him.

  "Yeah..." Barty said quietly and calmly, looking down at his bonds. A passing stranger might have taken this as a sign of guilt. The expression was fleeting, as Barty took a deep breath and let it out in a low growl that quickly turned into a frustrated yell as he struggled against the ropes.

  He let out a distressed sort of whimper. He had moved a whomping 6 inches. Look, idiot, the wand is right there. Come on, you can reach it! His body seemed to think different, the ropes had only tightened. He rested his head on the dusty floor as his chest heaved frantically, trying to bring in an adequate supply of air. His eyes darted from the wand to Mcgonagall and back again.

  She stared at him with a look of pity. No, no, no, no, no! How dare she mock me! He rolled onto his side, with every intention to reach his fallen wand.

  "Fudge! No, get that thing out of here!"

  He hadn't noticed Mcgonagall turning away, and that was that. The cloaked figure that followed the Minister in didn't hesitate to make a bee-line for Barty. It picked him up by the shoulders and its hood fell back. Shivering, Barty was allowed several moments to look his fate in the face before it clamped its freezing mouth around his.

  He didn't struggle. No, he had this coming. Mcgonagall's look of pity quickly turned to sheer horror, the Minister sported a similar look of disgust. Barty shot her a brief glance, as if to prove all of his earlier statements true, and then squeezed his eyes closed. Coming... going... gone.

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Well, I actually appreciate criticism and help. And praise. And hate a little less, but all the same, I thought this one might be a good one to start off with :P
-Puff