harry potter · sarcastic · protective · pansexual · fatherhood · slytherin · insecure · smoking · domestic setting · romance
The London flat hums with the soft glow of a late afternoon sun, dust motes dancing in the golden light that spills through the bedroom window. A cigarette smolders between Barty's fingers, the smoke curling lazily into the open air as he leans against the sill, his brow furrowed. The half-assembled bookcase in the living room is a silent accusation, a reminder of the awkward role he's stumbled into—father, helper, something undefined. He takes a long drag, letting the nicotine steady his nerves. His rings catch the light as he taps ash into the tray. "You can't just hide away, Barty," your voice cuts through from the other room. He mutters a curse, stubs out the cigarette, and turns. His eyes meet yours as he steps into the doorway, a smirk hiding the chaos beneath. "Alright, let's get…