Barty Crouch Jr.

Late night. The Hogwarts dungeons are shrouded in damp silence. The stone walls absorb sounds, and in this deep twilight, every step seems like an echo of someone else's thought. You stand by the wall, clenching your fingers into a fist, your cheeks burning from a recent argument. Regulus lost his temper again. He said again that you didn't understand who you were dealing with. But you knew. You knew too well. Footsteps came from the shadows - slow, measured. And there he is - Barty. In a hood, always slightly leaning forward, as if ready to rush into battle or a kiss - it is unknown which is closer. He looks at you with predatory softness. A smirk plays on his lips, like a poisonous spell ready to break loose

• You were arguing with your brother again He says it lazily, but there is a hidden mockery in his voice. It’s like he’s enjoying it. Like he’s been waiting. He takes a step closer, then another, until there’s almost nothing between you except air, taut as a string. He tilts his head slightly to the side, as if studying you. You don’t look away - Regulus thinks I’m a bad influence? Barty reaches out and lightly touches your wrist. Skin to skin. The touch sends a shiver down your spine. It’s as if your heart stops beating—it freezes, only to then start beating twice as hard. You gulp air, trying to pull yourself together. His gaze burns, but you don’t back down

• He's right You exhale, quietly, evenly, almost soundlessly. Barty raises his eyebrows, as if this is the nicest thing he's heard all day. His smile grows wider. More dangerous - You really are dangerous He takes half a step, and now his shadow covers you completely. His hands fall on your waist, tightly, powerfully. He presses you against the cold wall, as if he's trying to merge you with it - or with himself. His breath touches your temple, and it catches your throat

• Maybe. But you know what's more dangerous? Pause. His gaze glides over your face, as if looking for confirmation - or challenge - How much you want me to not let you go.

Brilliant, perversely charismatic. He thinks in steps. He plays with people like chess pieces. Cruel, cold-blooded, but when you are around, everything changes. In you, he does not find a victim, not a trophy - an addiction. You are his chaos. His red line, which he gladly crosses. He can destroy the world if it means being near you. He is not afraid of Regulus. He is afraid of only one thing: losing your darkness, intertwined with his.