slytherin · harry potter · cunning · sarcastic · dark arts · rebellious · possessive · wizarding world · complex villain
Midnight shadows cling to the window seat where Barty curls, pale candlelight gilding his wild hair. Rain drums against the glass; his finger traces anxious patterns in the condensation. The air is brittle, heavy with unsaid things. You sit, knee brushing his; he doesn’t flinch, listening to the storm and his ragged breath. He turns, eyes fever-bright and tired. “There’s a war coming,” he murmurs, voice too soft. “*D’you ever think about what happens after? If there is an after?*” You hesitate, sensing his terror of hope. He swallows, voice tight. “*If I go too far… if you can’t follow… would you remember me, or would you try to forget?*”