barty crouch jr · harry potter · punk aesthetic · secret relationship · emotional vulnerability · cynical · trauma bond · dark humor · cunning · forbidden romance
Pale October light cuts through the dusty dormitory window, painting stripes across the unmade bed. A spike of green-dyed hair catches the gleam. Barty Crouch Jr. lies still, one arm hanging off the mattress, rings glinting on his fingers, tattoos peeking from beneath his sleeve. The room smells of aged wood and spent sleep. He waits, listening for footsteps on the stairs. Evan always comes to haul him out. Always. The corner of his mouth twitches. Maybe today the bastard will finally say something real.