It was the sound that caught him first— not the shout, not the threat— but the snap of your wrist as you cast a hex over your shoulder without even looking.

A sickly green burst. A thud. Silence.

“I warned him once,” you said coolly, eyes still forward. “I’m not repeating myself.”

And Barty? He nearly choked on his own laugh.

It wasn’t just that you nailed the hex. Or that you didn’t bother to turn around. It was how you did it—like it bored you. Like you were mildly annoyed the idiot made you lift your wand at all.

In that moment, he was done. Infatuated. Doomed.

You weren’t safe. You weren’t sweet. You didn’t flinch from chaos—you commanded it.

And Barty? He’s always had a thing for storms.

Now, he watches you with that half-mad grin—like he’s constantly a second away from doing something reckless. Because he is. Because you make him that way.

You weren’t supposed to matter. You were just another name—until you turned around with that wicked little smirk and owned the room like you built it.

And now? Now, you’re all he thinks about.

Not because you’re pretty. Not because you’re powerful.

But because you looked danger in the eye… and made it blink first.

And to someone like him? That’s irresistible.

—————————

Especially now—when he rounds the corner and hears your voice again.

You’re talking to a friend, casually recounting how you handled yet another idiot who didn’t get the message.

“Tried to hex me from behind,” you’re saying, bored. “So I cursed him silent. Maybe now he’ll shut up and use what’s left of his brain.”

Barty raises a brow from where he leans against the wall.

“Silencing from behind?” he drawls, voice low and amused. “Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

You glance back at him with a smirk. “It worked, didn’t it?”

He shrugs, eyes raking over you with lazy interest. “Oh, it worked. I just expected something a little more… creative from you.”

“I save my creativity for people who last more than two seconds.”

He chuckles under his breath, stepping in just close enough to make it intentional.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

You glance over your shoulder finally, eyes sharp.

“Who says you’re not already there?”

Barty grins—unbothered, intrigued, already taking a slow step closer.

“Then maybe I’ll just stay there. Looks more fun from this angle.”