3: Capscanon Andy fiction
Name: House Call
Characters: hp_capslock Barty Crouch Jr, Andrew (Andy) Weasley
Rating: T
Synopsis: Barty attempts to figure out what's going on with Andy.
WC: 1931
Barty loved Fred. He would never admit it, but he did love him. He loved the way he would purposely dress the same way to match him when they went out together, he loved how Fred was always ready for an adventure, and he especially loved him because Fred would never leave him. He was the best friend that he could have asked for.
However, Barty had had just about enough of Fred’s shirtless antics. He walked briskly into the Burrow, looking about for anyone to talk to. He glanced and his eyes fell on a boy, a boy of eighteen, sleeping soundly on the couch.
Andy Weasley.
Barty leaned up against the door jamb, watching him sleep. Barty replayed the moment he realized that Andy was his godson. Andy’s hand extended, his eyes filled with excitement and just that little hint of nervousness. A feeling washed over Barty in that instant, a feeling that he had never felt before. He felt this strange attachment, a want to make him happy, a want to impress him.
“I fell out of the sky, well, drove out, technically…”
Barty smiled and went over to sit closer to his godson. Yet, the closer he got, the more he realized something was wrong. Andy’s breathing was light, his chest barely moving at all.
“Andy?” he whispered, taking a few steps closer to the couch. He tried to control his thoughts. He struggled with pushing all of his worry to the back of his mind.
He’s fine, he’s fine. He’s just resting.
He watched Andy, standing over him, ready to protect his godson from whatever could possibly be happening.
Nothing’s wrong. He’s just sleeping. Stop.
“Andy?” he whispered again, putting his hand on Andy’s shoulder. His mind raced with what could possibly be wrong. Andy had been yawning all day and all evening. He had fallen asleep more than once on the porch this night. This did not seem like the normal behavior of a healthy eighteen year old boy, and Barty could not help but worry. He knew something was wrong. He fought with himself,
He’s fine. But he looks terrible. He’s only sleeping. But no one sleeps that soundly…
Barty’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard Andy mumble very softly, his head turning slightly, “I thought you said you would stay…” Andy’s face seemed to be expressionless, yet showed so much pain behind his mask of nothingness.
Something is wrong.
“A-Andy… wake up, Andy,” Barty nudged his shoulder lightly. He tried to hide his worry and whispered softly into Andy’s ear, “Andy?”
“Mum, you said. You promised.” Andy mumbled, his face contorting into a worried and upset expression. Barty looked at his godson’s face, wishing he knew what he was dreaming about, wanting to somehow enter his dream and chase away his monsters.
What could it be? He looks so helpless. Is he dreaming about Cecilia? What did she promise? Is he dreaming about something happening now or then? It’s just a nightmare, only a nightmare. Nothing more than a dream gone awry. Oh, but look at him! Wake him up, Barty. He’s being tortured - stop it this instant! Save him like you want to. Save him from whatever he’s being forced to witness. It’s your duty, Barty, he’s your responsibility right now. He needs his doctor.
Andy’s eyes slowly fluttered open, his body still stiff, his facial expression still upset.
“Oh,” he sat up slowly, reaching up to fix his hair, which was ruffled in every sort of direction imaginable. “Barty,” he smiled warmly. “What are you doing here?”
Barty shuffled uncomfortably to the other side of the couch to sit next to Andy. “Well, your father is shirtless,” he laughed. “I lov- I mean,” he started again. “I care about him a lot,” he smiled. “However, some things even I can’t see for long.”
Andy giggled sleepily, “What has been seen cannot be unseen!” Andy covered his eyes and yawned so hard his body shook. Barty laughed, trying to conceal his worry for Andy’s well-being. He watched Andy yawn over and over without even finishing the yawn he had started. His entire body shook furiously, as if the yawns were an accumulation of his entire body’s exhaustion. Barty watched Andy’s hands shake uncontrollably, wanting to take them in his hands and make them stop.
Stop thinking about it, Barty. He’s fine. He’s a healthy young man. He’s fine. Just keep it to yourself.
“Having trouble sleeping, Andy?” He could not help but ask. Barty found nightmares to be the worst sort of self-torture the human body could muster. Trapping one’s self in a situation with no escape and being forced to witness the scene with no sense of knowing whether or not it is real. Waking up was the worst part, however, in his opinion. Even though you are awake and you know it was nothing but a dream, which foul human memory will always be hinting at that moment, that scene. It is the worst sort of torture: slow and painful. It lingers with some for ages and sometimes never ends.
Andy laughed again, that same laugh Barty knew from his father, “No,” he yawned. “That’s the thing. No problem with my sleeping, other than I can’t stop.” He shook his face, trying to wake up a bit, “I mean, I’ve been tired before,” he yawned again. “But this is really getting,” - yawn - “ridiculous”. Barty shuffled closer to Andy on the couch, feeling a strange protective curiousity.
“Mind if I sit here with you?” he asked, inspecting Andy’s state. His body shook violently and his eyes were filled with a hint of cloudiness. Andy seemed to not acknowledge his state and smiled and laughed lightly,
“Well, you can sit here with me,” he rubbed his eyes. “but I don’t think I’m going to be much fun.” His eyes rolled ever-so slightly, his head tilted to one side. Barty noticed the boy was falling asleep again and tried to keep him awake, investigate his behavior, see if there was anything he could do.
“Maybe you should have a sleep in the TARDIS, Andy.” He watched Andy’s shoulders slump. Andy was slowly curling back into his state of hibernation. “Your dad once had trouble sleeping, took a nap in the TARDIS and,” he clapped his hands for dramatic effect and hoped to reawaken his godson. Andy jumped up a bit. “It helped him a great deal.”
Andy rubbed his face furiously, trying to stay awake, “Maybe that’d be a good idea, Barty.” He stopped rubbing his eyes and his face fell to the same blank expression it held while he slept. His eyes closed and fell forward slightly, his head resting on Barty’s shoulder. Barty lightly shrugged his shoulders, trying to wake him up again.
You’re missing something, Barty. Something terrible is happening.
“Andy, come on, I’ll help you up and you can go have a sleep in the TARDIS. Come on, now. Up you get.” Barty stood up and tried to pull Andy up off the couch. Andy woke up, his body falling back into the soft cushions.
“I can get up myself, Barty,” he tried to lift his body off the couch. “I’m not a child, you know. I’m an adult.” Attempt after sorry excuse for attempt and Barty had had just about enough. He extended his hand for support and dragged Andy into a standing position. He held him close, making sure that no part of Andy could possibly slip through his grasp. Andy held on weakly, leaning his head up against Barty’s chest. He had fallen asleep again.
He can’t control himself at all.
Barty hugged him even tighter and kissed the top of his head. He had not known Andrew Weasley that long at all;he didn’t count the days, but it was not enough for most people to get attached. He had not been there for the birth, he had not been there for any of Andy’s childhood; And yet, Barty could not help but love him. He looked down and saw that Andy was groggily waking up again.
“Barty, is this the TARDIS?” he asked sleepily. He was still in that place between conscious thought and slumber. Barty slung Andy over his shoulder.
“No, not yet, Andy. Do you want to go to the TARDIS now?” He kicked away the blanket that was lying on the floor, making sure that Andy’s way was clear. He looked at Andy’s face and was shocked to see his eyes brimming with tears.
“Y-Yes, please.” He hiccupped. The pair struggled to get to the TARDIS. Andy would stumble or trip, but Barty would catch him and help him steady himself.
Just get him inside. You can work it out from there. Don’t let him fall over. Keep him awake.
He leaned Andy’s body against his own as he fumbled with the key. He pushed the door open with his elbow and helped Andy get to the nearest comfortable surface. Barty dragged the semi-sleeping boy across the control room of the TARDIS. He pulled him into the nearest room and Andy fell on to the couch, burying his face in his hands. Barty stood in front of him, wondering what to say.
Andy, I’ll help you. Let me help you.
I’m worried, Andy. But I promise to help you.
Andy, there are rooms upstairs. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.
“Barty,” Andy croaked quietly. Barty’s thought process stopped in its tracks. Andy’s face was streamed with fresh tears, his eyes still clouded, but conveying extreme terror and confusion. He bent down to meet at eye-level with Andy.
“I feel like someone’s punched me repeatedly over and over in the chest. Everything hurts and,” Andy shook with every sob that escaped his body. “And I’m scared.”
I’m scared too.
Barty took Andy in his arms and held him. He held the back of his head, hoping that if he held him tighter, his body would stop shaking.
“Don’t worry, Andy,” he tried to sound braver than he felt. “I’m brilliant, I will help find out what’s wrong.” He laughed quietly. He waited for Andy’s laugh - instead he heard more crying and uneven breathing.
“But,” he sniffed. “Brilliance doesn’t always prevail. Sometimes brilliance doesn’t work. Barty, my chest feels like it’s caving in. My head doesn’t feel clear, it hasn’t felt clear all day.” He lifted his arm to wipe away a tear and let it fall back to his side. “What’s wrong with me?” he hiccupped. “Barty, please don’t lie to me.”
What could it be? Barty, think, think, think! You know this. You have to know this.
“You’re probably just over-excited,” Barty started. “So much happening lately, I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised that this whole time-shift is taking a toll on your body.”
Time-shift.
Barty’s insides twisted around. He felt as though he was going to be sick. He put his hands on Andy’s shoulders and looked his godson in the eye,
“I will find something. I have an entire library and nine lifetimes of knowledge.” He smiled reassuringly, he hoped that Andy would calm down before he fell asleep again. “I will find something.”
However, his mind could not help but wander.
Stop that. Stop thinking the worst. He’s fine. Nothing is going to happen. You’re going to fix this. You always fix this sort of thing. He’s going to be okay. He’s going to get over this. It’s up to you now, Barty. Save him. Save him from the nightmare he is forced to live.
Characters: hp_capslock Barty Crouch Jr, Andrew (Andy) Weasley
Rating: T
Synopsis: Barty attempts to figure out what's going on with Andy.
WC: 1931
Barty loved Fred. He would never admit it, but he did love him. He loved the way he would purposely dress the same way to match him when they went out together, he loved how Fred was always ready for an adventure, and he especially loved him because Fred would never leave him. He was the best friend that he could have asked for.
However, Barty had had just about enough of Fred’s shirtless antics. He walked briskly into the Burrow, looking about for anyone to talk to. He glanced and his eyes fell on a boy, a boy of eighteen, sleeping soundly on the couch.
Andy Weasley.
Barty leaned up against the door jamb, watching him sleep. Barty replayed the moment he realized that Andy was his godson. Andy’s hand extended, his eyes filled with excitement and just that little hint of nervousness. A feeling washed over Barty in that instant, a feeling that he had never felt before. He felt this strange attachment, a want to make him happy, a want to impress him.
“I fell out of the sky, well, drove out, technically…”
Barty smiled and went over to sit closer to his godson. Yet, the closer he got, the more he realized something was wrong. Andy’s breathing was light, his chest barely moving at all.
“Andy?” he whispered, taking a few steps closer to the couch. He tried to control his thoughts. He struggled with pushing all of his worry to the back of his mind.
He’s fine, he’s fine. He’s just resting.
He watched Andy, standing over him, ready to protect his godson from whatever could possibly be happening.
Nothing’s wrong. He’s just sleeping. Stop.
“Andy?” he whispered again, putting his hand on Andy’s shoulder. His mind raced with what could possibly be wrong. Andy had been yawning all day and all evening. He had fallen asleep more than once on the porch this night. This did not seem like the normal behavior of a healthy eighteen year old boy, and Barty could not help but worry. He knew something was wrong. He fought with himself,
He’s fine. But he looks terrible. He’s only sleeping. But no one sleeps that soundly…
Barty’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard Andy mumble very softly, his head turning slightly, “I thought you said you would stay…” Andy’s face seemed to be expressionless, yet showed so much pain behind his mask of nothingness.
Something is wrong.
“A-Andy… wake up, Andy,” Barty nudged his shoulder lightly. He tried to hide his worry and whispered softly into Andy’s ear, “Andy?”
“Mum, you said. You promised.” Andy mumbled, his face contorting into a worried and upset expression. Barty looked at his godson’s face, wishing he knew what he was dreaming about, wanting to somehow enter his dream and chase away his monsters.
What could it be? He looks so helpless. Is he dreaming about Cecilia? What did she promise? Is he dreaming about something happening now or then? It’s just a nightmare, only a nightmare. Nothing more than a dream gone awry. Oh, but look at him! Wake him up, Barty. He’s being tortured - stop it this instant! Save him like you want to. Save him from whatever he’s being forced to witness. It’s your duty, Barty, he’s your responsibility right now. He needs his doctor.
Andy’s eyes slowly fluttered open, his body still stiff, his facial expression still upset.
“Oh,” he sat up slowly, reaching up to fix his hair, which was ruffled in every sort of direction imaginable. “Barty,” he smiled warmly. “What are you doing here?”
Barty shuffled uncomfortably to the other side of the couch to sit next to Andy. “Well, your father is shirtless,” he laughed. “I lov- I mean,” he started again. “I care about him a lot,” he smiled. “However, some things even I can’t see for long.”
Andy giggled sleepily, “What has been seen cannot be unseen!” Andy covered his eyes and yawned so hard his body shook. Barty laughed, trying to conceal his worry for Andy’s well-being. He watched Andy yawn over and over without even finishing the yawn he had started. His entire body shook furiously, as if the yawns were an accumulation of his entire body’s exhaustion. Barty watched Andy’s hands shake uncontrollably, wanting to take them in his hands and make them stop.
Stop thinking about it, Barty. He’s fine. He’s a healthy young man. He’s fine. Just keep it to yourself.
“Having trouble sleeping, Andy?” He could not help but ask. Barty found nightmares to be the worst sort of self-torture the human body could muster. Trapping one’s self in a situation with no escape and being forced to witness the scene with no sense of knowing whether or not it is real. Waking up was the worst part, however, in his opinion. Even though you are awake and you know it was nothing but a dream, which foul human memory will always be hinting at that moment, that scene. It is the worst sort of torture: slow and painful. It lingers with some for ages and sometimes never ends.
Andy laughed again, that same laugh Barty knew from his father, “No,” he yawned. “That’s the thing. No problem with my sleeping, other than I can’t stop.” He shook his face, trying to wake up a bit, “I mean, I’ve been tired before,” he yawned again. “But this is really getting,” - yawn - “ridiculous”. Barty shuffled closer to Andy on the couch, feeling a strange protective curiousity.
“Mind if I sit here with you?” he asked, inspecting Andy’s state. His body shook violently and his eyes were filled with a hint of cloudiness. Andy seemed to not acknowledge his state and smiled and laughed lightly,
“Well, you can sit here with me,” he rubbed his eyes. “but I don’t think I’m going to be much fun.” His eyes rolled ever-so slightly, his head tilted to one side. Barty noticed the boy was falling asleep again and tried to keep him awake, investigate his behavior, see if there was anything he could do.
“Maybe you should have a sleep in the TARDIS, Andy.” He watched Andy’s shoulders slump. Andy was slowly curling back into his state of hibernation. “Your dad once had trouble sleeping, took a nap in the TARDIS and,” he clapped his hands for dramatic effect and hoped to reawaken his godson. Andy jumped up a bit. “It helped him a great deal.”
Andy rubbed his face furiously, trying to stay awake, “Maybe that’d be a good idea, Barty.” He stopped rubbing his eyes and his face fell to the same blank expression it held while he slept. His eyes closed and fell forward slightly, his head resting on Barty’s shoulder. Barty lightly shrugged his shoulders, trying to wake him up again.
You’re missing something, Barty. Something terrible is happening.
“Andy, come on, I’ll help you up and you can go have a sleep in the TARDIS. Come on, now. Up you get.” Barty stood up and tried to pull Andy up off the couch. Andy woke up, his body falling back into the soft cushions.
“I can get up myself, Barty,” he tried to lift his body off the couch. “I’m not a child, you know. I’m an adult.” Attempt after sorry excuse for attempt and Barty had had just about enough. He extended his hand for support and dragged Andy into a standing position. He held him close, making sure that no part of Andy could possibly slip through his grasp. Andy held on weakly, leaning his head up against Barty’s chest. He had fallen asleep again.
He can’t control himself at all.
Barty hugged him even tighter and kissed the top of his head. He had not known Andrew Weasley that long at all;he didn’t count the days, but it was not enough for most people to get attached. He had not been there for the birth, he had not been there for any of Andy’s childhood; And yet, Barty could not help but love him. He looked down and saw that Andy was groggily waking up again.
“Barty, is this the TARDIS?” he asked sleepily. He was still in that place between conscious thought and slumber. Barty slung Andy over his shoulder.
“No, not yet, Andy. Do you want to go to the TARDIS now?” He kicked away the blanket that was lying on the floor, making sure that Andy’s way was clear. He looked at Andy’s face and was shocked to see his eyes brimming with tears.
“Y-Yes, please.” He hiccupped. The pair struggled to get to the TARDIS. Andy would stumble or trip, but Barty would catch him and help him steady himself.
Just get him inside. You can work it out from there. Don’t let him fall over. Keep him awake.
He leaned Andy’s body against his own as he fumbled with the key. He pushed the door open with his elbow and helped Andy get to the nearest comfortable surface. Barty dragged the semi-sleeping boy across the control room of the TARDIS. He pulled him into the nearest room and Andy fell on to the couch, burying his face in his hands. Barty stood in front of him, wondering what to say.
Andy, I’ll help you. Let me help you.
I’m worried, Andy. But I promise to help you.
Andy, there are rooms upstairs. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.
“Barty,” Andy croaked quietly. Barty’s thought process stopped in its tracks. Andy’s face was streamed with fresh tears, his eyes still clouded, but conveying extreme terror and confusion. He bent down to meet at eye-level with Andy.
“I feel like someone’s punched me repeatedly over and over in the chest. Everything hurts and,” Andy shook with every sob that escaped his body. “And I’m scared.”
I’m scared too.
Barty took Andy in his arms and held him. He held the back of his head, hoping that if he held him tighter, his body would stop shaking.
“Don’t worry, Andy,” he tried to sound braver than he felt. “I’m brilliant, I will help find out what’s wrong.” He laughed quietly. He waited for Andy’s laugh - instead he heard more crying and uneven breathing.
“But,” he sniffed. “Brilliance doesn’t always prevail. Sometimes brilliance doesn’t work. Barty, my chest feels like it’s caving in. My head doesn’t feel clear, it hasn’t felt clear all day.” He lifted his arm to wipe away a tear and let it fall back to his side. “What’s wrong with me?” he hiccupped. “Barty, please don’t lie to me.”
What could it be? Barty, think, think, think! You know this. You have to know this.
“You’re probably just over-excited,” Barty started. “So much happening lately, I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised that this whole time-shift is taking a toll on your body.”
Time-shift.
Barty’s insides twisted around. He felt as though he was going to be sick. He put his hands on Andy’s shoulders and looked his godson in the eye,
“I will find something. I have an entire library and nine lifetimes of knowledge.” He smiled reassuringly, he hoped that Andy would calm down before he fell asleep again. “I will find something.”
However, his mind could not help but wander.
Stop that. Stop thinking the worst. He’s fine. Nothing is going to happen. You’re going to fix this. You always fix this sort of thing. He’s going to be okay. He’s going to get over this. It’s up to you now, Barty. Save him. Save him from the nightmare he is forced to live.