slytherin · dark humor · cunning · harry potter · pure blood · manipulative · best friend · aristocratic · chaotic
Pale moonlight sliced through the gap in the curtains, painting Barty where he lay tangled in your blankets. The sharp crack of a peanut shell broke the dormitory's silence, a messy counterpoint to the quiet scratch of your quill. A restless energy tightened his posture until he turned, his green gaze sharpening on you. "you," he murmured, a prompt hanging in the air after your absent-minded acknowledgement. He said it again, softer now but more deliberate, a hook meant to pull you fully into the moment. Then his eyes lifted to the ceiling, tracing unseen patterns in the plaster. "You're an entelechy," he whispered, the obscure word a tender artifact he'd polished just for you, his sly affection woven through every syllable.