Bite Me
Barty Crouch Jr. x femvampire!reader
Barty offers a simple solution to his girlfriend's bloodlust. (2.3k)
cw: blood, swearing, suggestive jokes
Pt. 2
Requests are open!
masterlist
Students poured into Central Hall after afternoon classes let out, eager to prepare for the Gryffindor vs Slytherin match the next morning. It was sure to be the most exciting game of the year. Barty and Regulus hadn't been able to shut up about it for the past week, squeezing in emergency practices and team meetings whenever they could. If Barty hadn't been so preoccupied with quidditch, you were sure your doting boyfriend would have noticed the light beginning to drain from your eyes.
"You look like shit, babe." Dorcas's arm weighed heavy on your tired shoulder, her well-kept brows drawing upwards in concern.
"Gee, you really know how to flatter a girl, Meadowes."
"I'm serious! Are you sure you're alright? I have an extra pepper-up potion from when I had mumblemumps last term. I think you should take it."
Her worry wasn't entirely unfounded, but it wasn't something a pepper-up potion could fix. You needed blood. And lots of it.
"I'll be fine. I was considering stopping by the infirmary before dinner anyway. Thanks though," you offered through a constricted throat.
You could hear the steady rhythm of Dorcas's pulse through her wool turtleneck. The smell of her sweet perfume and tart blood wafted over with every step she took. It was torture.
"Perfect, I'll walk you."
"Don't sweat it, Dorc. I'll manage," you laughed dryly. "Besides, your gifts are needed elsewhere. I'm sure Marlene needs to be talked off a ledge somewhere." Using your best friend's girlfriend's rampant quidditch anxiety against her was low, but you were desperate to get Dorcas as far away from you as possible.
"Shit, you're right. This fucking match is going to be the death of us all. You're positive you can make it there? I don't need Barty up my arse because of your poor judgment." Her tone was firm, but a playfulness was behind her bright eyes.
You waved her off, beelining for the Hospital Wing as quickly as your strained muscles would allow. The ache slowly creeping into your bones was just another telltale symptom of your ever-growing thirst.
When Madame Pomfrey saw your tired frame enter the infirmary, she rushed to your side, abandoning her post by a first-year with Black Cat flu.
"Oh goodness, deary! You should have come earlier this month. I was beginning to fret," The moment her motherly hands cupped your cheeks, the promise of relief only increased your bloodlust. "Any symptoms yet? It's been nearly five weeks!" she shrieked, leading you into her private office and closing the door behind her.
You let out a sigh, "Just a little thirsty."
That was a massive understatement.
Potion bottles tinkered around in the tall medicine cabinet as Madame Pomfrey rifled through its vast contents. You bit down on your lip to keep the thirst at bay. It was all-consuming.
The healer was right- you should have come to see her sooner, but your course load had been overwhelming and you'd mistaken the early symptoms for stress. You normally visited the infirmary once a month to feed on animal blood collected by Professor Kettleburn and would live off of bloodpops from Honeydukes between visits. It wasn't an ideal feeding schedule, but you'd make anything work if it meant you were allowed to attend Hogwarts. You'd never gone this long before and you were one mishap away from disaster.
A loud crash pulled you from your thoughts. Shattered glass and spilled potions were at Madame Pomfrey's feet. Before you could call out to stop her from attempting to pick up a broken vial, she nicked her hand on the sharp glass. Hot blood dripped onto the marble floor. You could feel your pupils dilating and your canines elongating- preparing for a kill. It wasn't a large cut, but five weeks was too long to go between feedings...
"I really do need to be more careful! No matter..." She turned back to the cabinet, unfazed by her bleeding hand. "It seems Professor Kettleburn may have made a mistake, deary. I'm sure he can get it sorted by Monday, though."
"What kind of mistake?" Your voice came out as a whimper as you tried to ignore the tempting sound of blood pumping through the prominent artery in the healer's inviting neck and the even more tempting smell of the sticky blood staining her hand.
Her voice became a distant mumbling as your enhanced sense of smell fought to take over your thoughts completely. There's no blood.
You faintly heard her calling your name as you stumbled out of her office and into the main area of the hospital wing, covering your nose to the best of your ability. Hot tears threatened to spill onto your hollow cheeks. This can't be happening, you thought. You burst into the hallway with a life or death mission: get to the emergency bloodpop stash you kept hidden in your trunk. In the frenzy, a hard chest collided with you.
"Sugar? What's happened?" Barty's arms circled your middle before you could push past the sweaty group of Slytherin boys returning from the quidditch pitch. You used his steady strength to your advantage, leaning into him fully as he tucked you carefully under the arm not carrying his broom. He didn't need to ask for confirmation before he began herding you to the dungeons, already aware of where you were headed in such a hurry.
"You're scaring me, love." A line creased between his brows- worry etched into his pretty face.
"Dormitory...now," you whispered, trying to remain discreet in the busy corridor.
"Working on it, Sugar." At the pained sound of your voice, Barty picked up the pace significantly- hoisting you up and practically carrying you down the castle's stairs. His broom doubled as a walking stick as he bore your full weight.
When the common room revealed itself, you used the last bit of your energy to break free from Barty's grasp and took the stairs leading to the girl's dormitory two at a time. Your weakened muscles screamed at the over-exertion, but you didn't have time to spare. Everyone within the castle walls would be in grave danger if your thirst wasn't satiated this instant. The smell of the one remaining bloodpop in the bottom of your trunk was the only thing you let yourself focus on. It wouldn't be enough to hold you over for longer than a few hours, but that was a problem for later.
Barty bounded up the stairs behind you after a brief moment of shock, not caring about how unhinged he must look chasing a visibly ill girl in his soiled quidditch uniform, muddy broom in hand. His goggles were hastily pushed up, mussing his sandy hair in all directions but the one it was meant to lay in. No one in the common room seemed to care much, seeing as it wasn't abnormal to witness Barty in such a state- especially not when it came to matters involving you.
He found you hunched over, head between your bent knees, sitting against the foot of your bed. There was a discarded bloodpop wrapper at your feet and your belongings were strewn about the room as though you'd thrown them in a fit of rage.
"Hey, Sugar," Barty started, trying his best to be gentle so as to not spook you. He carefully closed and locked the door behind him before joining you on the floor.
"Go away, Barty. You don't need to see me like this."
"Like what, dollface? I always want to see you."
"Not now you don't." Your voice was no more than a whimper. Barty felt a painful tug in his chest at the sound. "It's dangerous for you to be here when I'm this thirsty," you sniffled, trying to feel satisfied after devouring the candied blood in seconds. The beating of his heart only made you more parched.
"Oh, come off it. You know you're not getting rid of me that easy. Danger is my middle name."
He smiled softly at the tiny scoff you let out- proud of himself for breaking your resolve so quickly.
"No, seriously. Barty 'Danger' Crouch Jr. that's what they call me. Come on, Sugar. I skive off class, I beat lads up while flying on brooms-"
"Barty 'Danger' Crouch Jr.?" You interrupted, unable to fully suppress your smile.
"-I shout in the library," he whispered against the shell of your ear, successfully earning a giggle. "So what if my super fit, crazy smart, incredibly lovely girlfriend has a slightly unconventional diet? I'm pretty sure I can handle it, Sugar." His hand cupped the side of your cheek. You gazed into his lovesick eyes and melted into him. You sighed.
"Unconventional is not what I'd call it. I drink blood, Barty. And everyone's going to find out if I don't get more by tonight."
No one at school other than a handful of professors and Barty knew of your condition. Dumbledore thought it best to keep things under wraps, lest concerned parents were to find out and cause trouble. Telling Barty was the scariest thing you'd ever done, but it was necessary if you were going to have a somewhat normal relationship with him. Thankfully, he seemed relatively unphased by the whole 'undead girlfriend' thing.
"You haven't fed at all this month?" Worry was written all over his face. That was one of your favorite things about Barty- his face never lied. He always wore his emotions plainly for all to see.
"Just bloodpops. I went to see Madame Pomfrey today, but I guess Professor Kettleburn got his dates mixed up or something so there wasn't any blood. She said he could get some by Monday, but..."
Silence fell over you. Barty was lost in thought.
"I'll get kicked out of Hogwarts if I lose control. I almost did lose control just now. I...I don't know what to do. I'm still so thirsty-"
"Bite me," he offered with a nonchalant shrug.
"What?"
"Bite me, Sugar. I've got plenty of blood to go around. You need it."
"No. Absolutely not."
"Why not? You need fresh blood, I'm offering it straight from the source."
"That's not the point," you snapped.
"What is the point then? I'm not seeing the problem."
"The problem," you started, pointing a finger into his hard chest, "is that I've never done that before, Barty. We have no idea what the effects of drinking human blood may have on me. What if I can't stop?" Tears welled in your eyes and streamed down your pale cheeks. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself."
Barty tsked, wiping his thumbs across your cheeks. "Oh, my sweet girl." He placed a placating kiss on the top of your head, pulling you into his chest. Normally, you'd recoil at his sweaty state, but the saccharine scent of his blood masked any odor. You could hear the rush of blood flowing into every vein, rhythmically circulating through each valve, ventricle, and atrium of his heart. It was as though every part of his being was taunting you- daring you- to have a taste. Maybe you could stop after just a small sample. The skin of his neck would be so easily punctured...if he was offering maybe...
You blinked the thoughts away, pulling your head back. This was just the thirst talking. You weren't in your right mind.
"Sugar, I promise you I wouldn't offer if I didn't have absolute trust that it would be okay." He lowered his head to look directly into your teary eyes. "I want you to do this. I want to help you."
You paused, considering him. And because Barty's face never lied, you could tell he meant every bit of what he was saying. He trusted you. And you trusted Barty.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, it'll be hot." He shrugged off his jersey, exposing his sculpted torso. "Eat your heart out," he winked, leaning back to rest against the foot of the bed.
You hesitantly started toward him, straddling his hips, careful in your movements. You felt your canines sharpen in preparation.
"Tell me if it hurts or if it's too much," you demanded, trying your best to sound stern through your cracking voice.
"I'll be fine, Sugar. I like it rough." He was joking, but the glint of mischief in his eyes hinted at his excitement.
You leaned in, mouth slightly parted. His collarbone made an excellent resting place for your chin as your trembling lips pressed against the warm skin of his neck. Barty tilted his head, allowing you full access to the side of his throat. He could sense your nerves, so he ran his fingers through your hair, encouraging you with each stroke.
"Go on," he whispered. "Bite me."
And you did.
Barty's blood was unlike anything you'd ever tasted. It was sweet and metallic and tangy and delicious. Most animal blood had a bitter quality to it that you'd grown used to, but this was divine. Your teeth punctured just below his jugular to get as much blood as possible without damaging any major veins. The moment the hot liquid passed through your lips, it was as though you'd discovered a drug made just for you.
After a few gulps, you forced yourself to detach from Barty's neck. He hissed at the retreat of your teeth. Two small puncture wounds steadily bled onto his chest, blood pooling in the hollow of his collarbone. Without thinking, you lunged forward and licked the sweet substance from his skin, running your tongue along the holes you left behind. Barty stared at you in awe, holding your face in his large hand as though you were the most precious thing in his world.
"That was..." he started, breathless, "so hot." He leaned in, kissing you fervently. Barty was a man starved. The sight of you wild-eyed and satisfied, mouth dripping with his blood was a thing of beauty. He knew then he'd do anything to become your own, personal blood supply.
First one-shot of 2025! Let me know what you think! I wrote this pretty quickly, so I hope there aren't any mistakes. ❤️