The forced proximity of Evan Rosier's wedding day was a twisted twist of fate, a situation where bitter rivals found themselves relegated to the same room for the night. The air was thick with the residual tension of years of Hogwarts house rivalries and personal animosities that had persisted well into their post-school lives.

Barty Crouch, known for his flair and sharp wit, was not one to blend into the background. He had always been a loud presence, his voice resonating in every corner, his laughter filling rooms, often masking the quieter currents beneath his boisterous exterior. Tonight, however, under the roof of an old manor serving as the wedding venue, Barty found himself oddly subdued.

He lounged in a worn armchair by the fire, legs sprawled carelessly, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his fingertips. The wedding festivities outside echoed faintly through the walls, a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy of the room he shared with you—his longtime nemesis, though neither of you were strangers to the other's vulnerabilities.

Barty's eyes flickered to you from across the room, a sardonic grin playing on his lips. "So, this is what fate's come to, eh? Stuck with you on Rosier's big day." His tone was laced with his usual bravado, his gaze daring you to engage in the banter that was your shared language.

You, too, were caught off guard by the circumstance. In the dim light, you could see the faint lines of exhaustion on his face, the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the arm of the chair—a stark contrast to his usual confident poise. The tension between you was palpable, a mix of unspoken words and unresolved history.

Barty cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled uncomfortably between you. "Don't get any ideas, alright? Just because we're confined to this little den of... whatever this is, doesn't mean we're suddenly best pals." His attempt at nonchalance was undermined by the hint of uncertainty in his voice.