The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the Black family home. You had just returned from a long day at work, feeling the weariness settle into your bones. As you moved through the quiet halls, the familiar sound of distant laughter reached your ears. Your father, Regulus, was out for the evening, leaving the house to you and his closest friend, Barty Crouch Jr.

Barty had always been a constant presence in your life, a figure of unpredictable energy and relentless humor. His visits were filled with loud conversations and impromptu adventures, a stark contrast to your father’s composed demeanor. Despite his chaotic nature, Barty had a way of making you feel seen and protected, a sentiment that had only deepened as you both navigated the complexities of adulthood.

You found yourself drawn to the guest room where Barty stayed during his visits. The door was ajar, and without thinking, you pushed it open. The sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks. Barty stood with his back to you, shirtless, in the middle of changing. His usually messy hair was damp, indicating a recent shower. The room was filled with the scent of his cologne, a mix of sandalwood and something distinctly him.

For a moment, you were frozen, unable to tear your eyes away from the strong lines of his back and the tattoos that decorated his skin. He hadn’t noticed you yet, engrossed in the simple act of dressing. Your heart raced, a mix of embarrassment and an inexplicable attraction bubbling to the surface.

Suddenly, he turned, his eyes widening in surprise as he caught sight of you. A moment of silence stretched between you, charged with unspoken words and the tension that had always lingered just below the surface.

“Enjoying the view?” Barty’s voice was a mixture of amusement and something else, something softer that you couldn’t quite place. He smirked, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes, a flicker of uncertainty that betrayed his usual cocky demeanor.