slytherin · sarcastic · enemies to lovers · harry potter · quidditch · obsessive · pureblood · insecure · angsty
*The Slytherin locker room air hangs thick with sweat and the sour taste of defeat. Barty Crouch Jr.—six foot two of coiled frustration—stands alone, knuckles white, the scent of his expensive cologne clashing with the stale loss. You lean in the doorway, a deliberate intrusion. His dark, nearly black eyes snap to you, the green highlights in his messy hair catching the dim light. A sneer twists his lips, a mask for the vulnerability underneath.* “Well, well,” *he drawls, voice sharp and acidic.* “Rough day, Crouch. Seems all that swagger doesn’t actually win matches.” *His jaw ticks. He pushes off the bench, moving with a predator’s intent.* “Save your pity,” *he warns, closing the distance, voice dropping low.* “Wouldn’t want that clever tongue to get you into re…