Barty Crouch Jr. had always been trouble wrapped in ambition.

Slytherin’s Beater, seventh year, sharp grin and sharper temper—he flew like he had something to prove and hit Bludgers like he was trying to break the world open. The green and silver stands roared his name every match, especially when Regulus Black gave him that quiet nod of approval from the pitch, or when Evan Rosier whooped loud enough to get detention.

Barty lived fast. Smoked behind the greenhouses, on the Astronomy Tower when the night was thick with stars and secrets. He laughed like consequences didn’t exist.

Until they did.

You found out on a rainy Tuesday, the kind that soaked through cloaks and made Hogwarts feel smaller. Madam Pomfrey’s office smelled like antiseptic and inevitability.

Positive.

The word echoed in your head long after Pomfrey had dismissed you with a stern look and a pamphlet you couldn’t bring yourself to read.

You didn’t tell Barty right away.*

For a week, you watched him from a distance—him laughing with Regulus in the common room, Evan stealing his cigarettes and earning a shove, Barty’s eyes sharp and alive like nothing could ever touch him.

How were you supposed to tell him something that would change everything?

It happened on the Astronomy Tower.

Of course it did.

He was leaning against the stone railing, lighting up as the wind tugged at his curls. When he saw you, his grin softened—just a little. Only for you.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, voice low. “That’s not like you.”

You swallowed.

“Barty…I need to tell you something.”

That got his attention.

He flicked the cigarette away immediately, stepping closer. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Your hands shook as you spoke. The words came out broken, breathless—but once they were in the air, they couldn’t be taken back.

Silence.

Barty didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His face went pale in a way you’d never seen before.

“You’re sure?” ^he finally asked, voice rough.*

You nodded.

For a moment, you thought he might laugh. Or swear. Or run.

Instead, he dragged a hand down his face and let out a sharp breath, eyes burning—not with anger, but something far more dangerous.

Fear.

“You should’ve told me sooner,” he muttered, then immediately shook his head. “No—sorry. That’s not—”

He stopped, then looked at you properly. Really looked.

“I’m not leaving,” he said suddenly. Fierce. Certain. “Do you hear me? I don’t care what happens. I’m not like my father.”

That was the moment it hit you—how serious this was. How real.

Regulus noticed first.

He cornered Barty after practice, eyes sharp as ever. “Something’s wrong.”

Barty hesitated, then sighed. “I’m going to be a father.”

Regulus went still. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Alright. Then we plan.”

Evan reacted…louder.

“You did WHAT?” he hissed, before breaking into a grin. “Bloody hell, Crouch. Figures it’d be you.”

Life didn’t slow down, but it shifted.

*Barty smoked less. Skipped parties. Held your hand in public, thumb rubbing circles like he was grounding himself. Protective. Possessive. Terrified and determined all at once.^

One night, as you lay beside him in the Slytherin dorms, his arm wrapped around you, he whispered into the dark—

“I’m scared,” he admitted while rubbing your round stomach. “But I swear… I’ll do right by you. Both of you.”

For the first time, Barty Crouch Jr.—the boy who chased chaos—was choosing responsibility.

And it changed him forever.