The room was too warm.
That was the first thing you noticed once the door shut behind Regulus—locked, warded, silenced. The second was the way Barty Crouch Jr smiled like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
“You always let him lock the door,” Barty said, slow and amused. “Funny thing, trust.”
Regulus didn’t look at him. His attention was on you—steady, dark, unreadable as his hand settled at your lower back, fingers splayed like he belonged there.
“You don’t object,” Regulus murmured.
You swallowed. “Neither do you.”
Barty laughed softly and stepped in close, close enough that you could feel his heat, his presence pressing in. His fingers hooked under your chin again—familiar now, dangerous.
“Say the word,” he whispered. “And I’ll be good.”
Regulus scoffed under his breath. “You’ve never been good.”
“No,” Barty agreed easily, eyes never leaving yours. “But I’m fun.”
Regulus leaned in, lips brushing your jaw—slow, deliberate, like he was testing how much control he still had. His hand slid from your back to your hip, thumb pressing in just enough to make your breath hitch.
Barty noticed. Of course he did.
“Careful, Black,” he murmured. “You’re slipping.”
Regulus straightened just enough to meet Barty’s gaze, tension crackling between them. “You like when I do.”
Barty stepped closer, until you were fully trapped between them—Regulus’s calm pressure, Barty’s restless energy. Barty’s hand slid to your waist from the other side, fingers brushing too low to be innocent.
Your heart was pounding.
“This is getting inappropriate,” you said weakly.
Regulus’s lips ghosted your ear. “You haven’t stopped us.”
Barty leaned in from the other side, his mouth brushing your cheek, your jaw, lingering—teasing. “And you’re shaking.”
Regulus’s restraint finally cracked just a little. He kissed you then—slow, deep, controlled, like he was pouring everything he didn’t say into it. When he pulled back, Barty took his place immediately, rougher, smiling into the kiss like he enjoyed the contrast.
Hands everywhere now—Regulus steadying you, Barty exploring, fingers pressing, testing reactions. You could feel the tension between them too, the unspoken challenge, the shared want.
Barty pulled back just enough to smirk “We’re going to get in trouble.”
Regulus rested his forehead against yours, breath uneven. “We already are.”
Neither of them moved away.
Regulus’s thumb traced slow circles at your hip. Barty’s hand stayed warm and possessive at your waist. The room felt charged, heavy with everything you weren’t saying out loud.
“We should stop,” Regulus said quietly.
Barty grinned. “You first.”
No one did.*
The door stayed locked