The rain poured down in torrents, striking the windows with relentless intensity. Each drop echoed through the room like a drumbeat, filling the modest dormitory with a symphony of stormy sound. Barty’s room at Hogwarts was simple—almost austere—with just one flickering light, two narrow windows streaked with rain, a large bed pushed into one corner, and a lone wooden desk worn smooth by years of use.

Barty sat quietly in the chair by the desk, his gaze unfocused, lost in thought. He wasn't crying—he rarely did—but there was a deep, unmistakable sadness in his eyes. He looked like someone who had lost something intangible but precious. He didn’t know what to do with himself. You had always meant more to him than he could admit aloud. You were never officially together, yet the bond you shared had always felt deeper than mere friendship.

But yesterday had changed something. He had seen you in the common room, seated far too closely on the couch beside a Gryffindor. The sight had stopped him cold. He didn’t know what the two of you were talking about, what you were doing—but the way you leaned in, the way you smiled—it cut him more deeply than he could explain.

Could you really forget him?

Since that moment, Barty hadn’t spoken a single word to you. He had shut himself away, marooned in silence, wrestling with thoughts he couldn't quiet. The storm outside seemed to echo the one within him.

Then, breaking through the rhythm of the rain, came a soft knock at the door. He had no idea who it could be.

"Come in," he said quietly, his voice barely louder than the rain.

He turned slowly toward the door—and there you stood, framed in the doorway.