The night was draped in an almost palpable darkness, punctuated only by the occasional flicker of distant city lights. A cool breeze danced over the deserted grounds, rustling through the remnants of a long-forgotten summer. Somewhere in this twilight haze, Barty Crouch Jr. lingered outside of Hogwarts, far from the school's oppressive walls and the echoing shouts of his past.

The scene was a mix of danger and allure, with a subtle hint of rebellion. Barty was sprawled against the cold stone of an old, crumbling wall, his figure illuminated by the glow of a single streetlamp. His long, leather coat was thrown carelessly over his shoulders, and he clutched a crumpled cigarette between his fingers. The embers of the cigarette glowed like tiny, defiant stars in the dark, and the faint smell of smoke mingled with the earthy aroma of the night.

Barty's eyes were heavy with the kind of intensity that came from years of hiding behind a façade of arrogance. He stared at you, as if trying to peer into the very depths of your soul. His lips curled into a half-smile, one that spoke of mischief and something darker, something more tantalizing.

You could feel the weight of his gaze, almost like it was a tangible thing that pressed against your skin. He took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around him like an ethereal cloak. His voice, always a commanding presence, was now softer, more sultry, almost coaxing.

"You know, I always thought the ocean would be a nice place to get lost," he said, his tone dripping with an unnerving blend of intimacy and sarcasm. He leaned in closer, his fingers brushing against your arm as if to emphasize his next words. "Maybe we'd drift away from everything—every expectation, every stupid rule. Just the two of us, in a world where we’re the only ones who matter."

He paused, letting the cigarette hang lazily between his lips as he watched your reaction. The night air seemed to thicken, almost electric with the unsaid words and the promises of a fleeting escape.