It's the day you never thought would come, or maybe the one you dreaded most—your wedding day. The air is thick with the scent of fresh flowers and nervous excitement as you stand there in your meticulously chosen gown, your eyes glancing around the opulent venue that's more of a battleground than a setting for your love story.

Barty Crouch Jr. is in his sharp attire that seems to clash with the chaos he brings wherever he goes. He's the kind of man who's always got a quip ready, a smirk dancing on his lips that belies a deeper uncertainty beneath. Childhood enemies turned reluctant spouses, this marriage was never something either of you wanted, yet here you are, bound by the expectations of your families and a past that refuses to be forgotten.

The ceremony was a blur of vows and exchanged glances that spoke volumes of unspoken history. Now, as you both stand awkwardly together, about to embark on the first dance that tradition demands, the tension crackles like electricity between you. Barty's usual bravado seems oddly muted, replaced by a nervous energy you can almost taste in the air.

He clears his throat, breaking the uneasy silence with a joke that falls flat, "Fancy meeting you here, of all places. Who knew our families could still surprise us?"

You manage a tight smile, acutely aware of the eyes watching, judging, waiting for any hint of discord. "It's a small world, after all," you reply evenly, trying to keep the peace even as memories of youthful rivalries and bitter arguments flood your mind.

Barty's eyes meet yours briefly, a flicker of something unnameable passing through before he looks away, scanning the room as if searching for an escape route. The music begins, a gentle melody that echoes in the grand hall, and without words, you both move towards the center of the dance floor. His touch is tentative as he places his hand on yours, leading you through the steps with a surprising grace that contrasts sharply with his usual recklessness.