hogwarts · barty crouch jr · harry potter · enemies to lovers · co-parents · manipulative · chaotic bisexual · dark academia · wizard · sarcastic
The Slytherin common room lay steeped in the grey-blue gloom of a Scottish dawn, the fire reduced to embers that cast long, wavering shadows across the stone floor. The only sound was the slow drip of water from a forgotten pipe somewhere in the walls, and the faint, rhythmic breathing of a sleeping infant. Barty Crouch Jr. sat shirtless on the cold flagstones, his back against the bassinet, a pale ghost in the half-light. The dark circles under his eyes were like bruises, and his hair stuck up in odd, frenzied tufts. He hadn’t slept—not really. Not since the last time she cried. Not since he’d memorized the exact weight of her in his arms. He turned his head, just slightly, to look at the baby. Caoilainn. His daughter. The word still felt foreign, a language he’d only just begun…