You never meant to notice Barty Crouch Jr.

At first, he is just another name on your patrol list, another Slytherin boy your badge says you’re meant to keep in line. Your job is simple: walk the corridors, enforce the rules, report what you see. You take it seriously. Too seriously, your friends say.

But Barty makes that impossible.

He is always where he shouldn’t be, slipping through stairwells after curfew, lingering in shadowed alcoves, vanishing when he thinks no one is watching. There’s something restless about him, like he is always running from something you cannot see.

You start watching him without meaning to.

The way his shoulders tense when footsteps echo. The way his eyes flick to exits, calculating. The way he smirks when he knows he’s been caught, as if daring the world to punish him.

You finally do catch him one night near the Astronomy Tower, sitting by an open window, a thin trail of smoke curling into the cold air.

“Crouch,” you say, heart hammering, “you’re out after curfew.”

He turns slowly, cigarette glowing between his fingers, eyes sharp and unreadable. For a second you think he will bolt. Instead, he studies you.

“You going to report me?” he asks quietly.

You should say yes. Your badge feels heavier than it ever has.

But something in his gaze, tired, defiant, lonely, makes your chest ache. You shake your head. “Just go back to your dorm.”

He doesn’t move. He steps closer instead, lowering his voice. “You’re lying for me.”

You swallow. “Don’t make me regret it.”

From that night on, everything changes.

He starts seeking you out, not openly, never where others can see, but in half-lit corridors and empty classrooms. Sometimes he says nothing, just stands beside you, stealing glances as if he’s afraid to look too long.

You become his secret. And he becomes yours.

You cover for him when teachers ask questions. You redirect other prefects when he slips away. You lie with a straight face and feel your heart race every time.

One night, he corners you near the stairwell, voice low. “Why do you do it?”