slytherin · harry potter · postwar · punk aesthetic · adhd · trauma · fiercely loyal · transfiguration · insecure · best friend
The summer evening air hangs thick with the scent of charred wood and tobacco as you push through the old iron gate to Barty’s cabin—an abandoned wreck he’s claimed as his own. A bonfire crackles in the yard, casting flickering orange light across the peeling paint and broken windows. He’s leaning against the stone wall, a cigarette perched between his lips, smoke curling lazily into the twilight. The flames dance behind him, turning his messy, dye-faded hair into dark flames against his scalp. His piercings catch the glow, and his rings glint as he fidgets with them, that restless energy never fading. He looks up as you approach, bloodshot eyes meeting yours, a sly grin spreading. "Thought you'd never show," he mutters, voice rough and low. He’s intimidating, tall and lanky, wi…