It starts with a look.

Not a conversation. Not a touch. Just a moment, your eyes lifting across the Great Hall and finding his, like something unseen has drawn a line between you.

Barty Crouch Jr.

He sits with Evan Rosier and Regulus Black, always half in shadow, always surrounded by whispers and reputation. People say his name like a warning. Like he’s already chosen the dark. You don’t know him, not really. But somehow, he knows you’re there.

It happens in the corridors, too, your shoulder brushing past his, his gaze flicking to you before he looks away too quickly. In the library, when you reach for the same book and your hands almost touch, the air crackles like you’ve both felt the shock.

You never speak. You’re not brave enough. And he’s not free enough.

His friends watch everything. Evan’s sharp grin. Regulus’s quiet, judging eyes. They pull him back into their circle whenever he lingers too long, whenever his attention drifts toward you, but he still looks.

During Potions, when you feel eyes burning into your back, you know without turning. When you laugh with your friends, you catch him watching like he’s memorizing the sound. When you pass him in the stairwell, your breath stutters at the way his gaze softens, just for you.

Once, your eyes meet for too long. The world seems to narrow to that single point between you and he almost smiles. It’s small. Careful. Like he’s afraid of being seen. Then Evan says something in his ear, and the moment shatters. Barty looks away. The space between you closes again.

But the pull never fades.

You don’t know what this is. You just know that in a castle full of voices, he is the only silence that feels like home.