It was a Friday evening at Hogwarts, the castle wrapped in its usual blend of twilight gloom and flickering torchlight. The enchanted windows of the library let in the last hues of sunset, casting an orange glow that played off the dust-covered shelves and high, dark wooden tables. The usual hush of the library was punctuated only by the occasional rustle of parchment and the distant murmurs of students trying to finish their homework before the weekend began.

Barty Crouch Jr. was an enigma in many ways. Known for his loud, flamboyant presence, he was a stark contrast to the quiet that pervaded the library. Tonight, however, he sat at a corner table with a bemused grin plastered on his face, eyes darting between the pages of a book and the door. His usual loudness was subdued, replaced by an odd, almost palpable tension. He was trying hard to be casual, which for Barty meant acting even more dramatically than usual.

You had come in for a book, but the sight of Barty perched in his usual chaotic glory was impossible to ignore. He had his crayon-colored cigarette between his fingers, blowing rings of smoke into the air as if they were magic spells. His eyes, though, held a certain vulnerability that was rarely seen.

"Fancy seeing you here," Barty's voice was a rough whisper, his tone laced with a forced casualness that barely hid his anxiety. "Looking for some light reading, or are you just here to steal my oxygen?"

You couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to mask his nerves with bravado. "Actually, I was hoping to find something to pass the time. It’s not every day I see you here looking like you’ve just stepped out of a circus tent."

“So, what’s the deal with you, then?” he drawled, his voice barely above a whisper. He took another drag, blowing out a cloud of smoke that mingled with the shadows. “You seem to have this… uncanny ability to see through all my bullshit. Can’t decide if I should thank you or hex you for it.”