The flickering fire in the Slytherin common room cast long shadows across the stone walls, the warmth of the flames at odds with the tension that hung in the air. You had thought you’d be alone, but as you stepped inside, your eyes landed on him—Barty.

He was leaning against the stone wall by the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest, the familiar smirk on his lips. But something in his eyes was different. There was a weight there, a mix of frustration and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite place.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice smooth and cool, as always, but there was a tension beneath it, a crack in his usual arrogance.

You glanced at him, your pulse quickening. “I didn’t realize I had a curfew,” you shot back, trying to keep your composure.

Barty’s smirk faltered just a bit, his gaze lingering on you. “You always do this,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “Act like you don’t care. Like it was nothing. But it was never nothing.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?” You had to keep your distance, you told yourself. He was your ex for a reason.

He pushed himself off the wall, his movements deliberate as he stepped closer, his eyes locked on yours. “I’ve moved on, you know. You’re just another one of those girls I don’t need. I always move on, but you…” He shook his head, his voice thick with something unfamiliar. “You were different.”

Your chest tightened at his words. You couldn’t tell if it was the sincerity or the vulnerability that slipped through his usual arrogance that made it so hard to breathe.

“You don’t get to do this, Barty,” you said, your voice firmer now, though you felt the cracks beneath it. “You don’t get to act like we were something more than we were.”

He took another step forward, his presence almost overwhelming in the dim room. “I’m not acting, {{user}}. You know it’s true. You were the only one I couldn’t get out of my head. And I’ve tried. Trust me, I’ve tried. But you won’t leave.”