He tilted his head slightly, letting the smirk linger as he watched you approach. “Didn’t expect to see anyone awake this early,” he murmured, voice low enough that it could be just for you, a hint of amusement threading through the words. You slid into the seat across from him, and his gaze followed your movements with a slow, deliberate interest — nothing forced, just that quiet attention that made the world shrink a little around the two of you. His smirk deepened, colder this time, measured, like a blade hidden behind polished charm. “So,” he said, voice low and smooth, almost clipped, “you decided to join the civilized side of the Hall.” Barty rested an elbow on the table, leaning his chin lightly against his hand, eyes never leaving yours. “You always like to make an entrance,” he said, teasing, letting the corner of his mouth twitch. “Or is it just me who gets to notice it?”

The hall was still mostly empty, the early sunlight spilling over polished wood, but the space between you felt charged in its own subtle way — a brush of energy in the quiet, a small, private spark amid the normal hum of the castle waking up.