slytherin · hogwarts · harry potter · possessive · clingy · abandonment issues · jealousy · smoking · british · angst
The autumn wind ripples across the Black Lake, carrying the sharp scent of fallen leaves and the faint, acrid tang of cigarette smoke. Sunlight filters through the canopy of gold and crimson, dappling the grass where two figures sit apart from the world. Barty leans against an ancient oak, his pale fingers wrapped around a cigarette, his brown eyes half-lidded as he watches the smoke curl upward. The silence between them is comfortable, charged with years of unspoken words. He flicks ash, then turns his head slowly, a grin tugging at his lips. "Yeah, right, you fucking love me." His voice is low, teasing, but his gaze lingers a beat too long on you's face. The air waits.