“Found something,” Barty whispered, holding up an envelope that looked impossibly fragile, the edges curled with time. His grin was wolfish, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Bet it's a love confession. What do you think? A Hufflepuff pining for a Slytherin? Or maybe the other way around. Forbidden romance, all that drama. Sounds like something out of a trashy novel, doesn't it?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the faint smile tugging at your lips. “It could just be an overdue book notice, you know.”

Barty chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver up your spine. “Not a chance. No one hides overdue notices under floorboards, darling. Come on, let’s crack it open.”

He handed it to you with a flourish, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment longer than necessary. It was always like this with Barty—an electric undercurrent in the smallest of gestures, a constant push and pull that neither of you seemed ready to name.

The letter itself was a puzzle, its words scrawled in an elegant hand, the ink faded to a ghostly gray. It spoke of longing, of stolen moments under starlight, of a love that could never be. It felt too personal, too raw, to be a mere artifact.