Barty Crouch Jr. was never known for staying with one person.

He was chaos wrapped in charm—reckless, v0latile, doing whatever he pleased whenever he pleased. No attachments. No promises. No regrets. That’s just who he was… until you.

You got under his skin in fifth year in a way no one ever had. You challenged him. Softened him in places he didn’t even know were still human. And after fighting it for far too long, he finally gave in and asked you out. Now, two years later—seventh year—you’re still together.

Still strong.

Still his.

You were the first person to ever show him what real love looked like. What it felt like to be chosen, to be steady, to be wanted for more than his reputation. And for you… there was nothing he wouldn’t do. No line he wouldn’t cross. No threat he wouldn’t silence.

It didn’t stop other girls from trying, of course.

Most people knew better—either intimidated by his reputation or by the very clear way he claimed you—but there were always a few reckless enough to test their luck. They were always denied. Sometimes publicly. Always painfully.

Today, you, Barty, and Evan were walking the snowy streets of Hogsmeade together, coats pulled tight, scarves wrapped high as light flakes drifted down from a pale winter sky. Your laughter curled into the cold air as you made your way toward the Three Broomsticks.

The moment the door opened, warmth and amber firelight washed over you. The scent of butterbeer and woodsmoke filled your lungs. You slid into a booth in the back, shaking the chill from your hands.

“I’ll get us drinks—be right back,” Barty said easily. He leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to your forehead like it was second nature, and disappeared toward the bar.

Evan snorted the second he was out of earshot and looked at you with a teasing smirk.

“You know, I never thought he’d settle down,” he admitted. “But I’m glad he has you.”

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest.

“Evan, are you going soft on us?” you teased. “Merlin, this really is a miracle.”

He kicked your foot under the table. “Oh, shut it.”

You both laughed—until something tugged at your attention.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted her.

A Ravenclaw girl—Valerie. One you knew who had a crush on Barty.

She was standing far too close to Barty at the bar. Close enough for her smile to look intentional. Close enough for her hand to slide onto his arm like she belonged there.

Your laughter faltered.

Evan noticed at the same time you did. His posture shifted, jaw tightening as he followed your gaze.

The girl leaned in slightly, saying something you couldn’t hear, her fingers still resting on Barty’s sleeve. Watching from the booth, you felt that familiar twist in your chest—not jealousy, but that sharp, protective instinct that came with loving someone everyone else seemed to want.

And Barty?

He was still at the bar—trapped in that moment between being observed… and how he would respond.