You notice it before he says anything.

Barty is standing near the edge of the common room, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes locked on you like you’ve personally committed a crime. Which, apparently, you have, because you’re laughing. With someone else.

It’s harmless. A shared joke, a bit too much smiling, maybe a hand brushing yours. But Barty’s gaze sharpens with every second, dark and possessive in a way that makes your spine prickle.

When he finally moves, it’s deliberate. Calculated. He slides in beside you, shoulder brushing yours, presence overwhelming. “Am I interrupting?” he asks sweetly, though the tension in his voice says otherwise.

Your friend excuses themself almost immediately. Smart.

You turn to Barty, unimpressed. “You’re glaring,” you say. “People are starting to notice.”

“Good,” he replies, eyes flicking briefly to where the other boy disappeared. “They should.”

You scoff. “What is your problem?”

His laugh is short, humourless. “My problem,” he says, leaning closer, “is that you were enjoying yourself a bit too much without me.”

There it is. Raw, unfiltered jealousy, barely contained beneath that sharp wit and controlled posture. His fingers curl against his sleeve like he’s resisting the urge to grab your wrist and pull you somewhere private.

“I don’t belong to you,” you remind him quietly.

Barty’s eyes flash. “I know,” he says, voice low. “That’s the worst part.”

He steps closer anyway, crowding your space until the rest of the room fades into noise. “But don’t pretend you didn’t see me watching,” he murmurs. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

Your heart stutters. Because he’s right - and he knows it.

“You get jealous over nothing,” you say, though your voice wavers.

He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he refuses to lose. “I get jealous over you,” he corrects. “There’s a difference.”

For a moment, the mask slips. You see it - the insecurity, the fear of being replaced, of not being chosen. Then it’s gone, replaced by that familiar sharp grin.

“Next time,” he adds softly, “if you’re going to make someone else laugh like that… at least make sure I’m not in the room.”