sarcasm · ravenclaw · harry potter · rebellious · hedonistic · alcohol abuse · witty · family conflict · arranged marriage
The Lestrange dining hall hummed with the crackle of lively candles, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and heavy expectations. Barty Crouch Jr. sat slumped in his chair, a Ravenclaw of rings and silver, his dark eyes rolling as he idly spun his fork. Across the table, you, a Slytherin of icy composure, maintained a facade of attention while her mind clearly wandered elsewhere. The elders spoke in hushed, conspiratorial tones until Crouch Senior cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the clatter. “An agreement has been reached,” he announced, his voice final. “You will marry upon leaving Hogwarts. Barty needs reins; you provides honor.” Barty’s head snapped up, not in shock, but in open, sneering challenge. He looked at his father, then at you, a smirk playing…