#Bartemius crouch jr x reader

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Hi! I saw that your requests were open and I wanted to ask for a Barty fic. Maybe reader having a similar conversation to the “like my father part 2” but with Barty. She is insecure about never dating anyone nor having even held hands romantically and thinks she will never be loved, not even noticing Barty’s love for her but Barty explodes and confesses.

AN: I saw both of your messages and thank you so much!! I'm sorry for the wait :(! I am so glad people love this Barty as much as I do. 💕

Love me, too

Barty Crouch Jr. x Fem! Reader

Wc: ~2.8k

Summary: Late nights with loose lipped Barty, a single conversation unraveled years of yearning.

CW: Suggestive, devoted!slightlyobsessive!Barty, both reader and Barty have some self loathing going on, non cannon complacent,

“Even Potter admitted it was too much.” Barty chuckled from where he was splayed out on your couch, head in your lap with a blissful look as you ran your fingers through his dark curls. “I don't think Evan should be drinking anymore muggle alcohol.”

“His poor pureblood body can't take it.” You sang to him, at least, that's what he heard as you gazed at him so sweetly. He had just gotten back from a late night excursion with Regulus and Evan, exploring more of what the muggle world had to offer.

“I resent that, I made it home, didn't I?” He hummed and you couldn't help but laugh at him, and he seemed to just relish in the sound.

Not that you ever noticed.

“Home? Barty, might I remind you, your flat is across the way?”

Barty’s grin widened as he shifted in your lap, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “What can I say?” He drawled, tilting his head back to look up at you. “Your couch is far superior to my bed. And let’s not even get started on your hospitality.”

“Hospitality?” You echoed with a laugh, playfully tugging at one of his curls. “Barty, you barged in here at Merlin-knows-what-hour, smelling like a distillery and complaining about Evan’s ‘pureblood constitution.’ How is that hospitality?”

He smirked, completely unbothered, and let out a satisfied hum as your fingers continued their gentle rhythm through his hair. “It’s the look in your eyes,” He teased, reaching up lazily to point a finger at you. “That soft little glare you always give me. You try so hard to act exasperated, but we both know you secretly love it.”

“Do I, now?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow as you gave his curls a particularly sharp tug. He winced- dramatically, of course- but his grin didn’t falter.

“Oh, absolutely,” He replied, his voice dipping into that smooth, confident tone he wielded like a weapon. “You’ve got a weak spot for me, darling. Admit it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, tugging upward despite your best efforts. “The only weak spot I have is for the idiot who nearly fell into my azalea bush trying to unlock my neighbor’s door.”

Barty gasped, clutching his chest like you’d mortally wounded him. “That was one time,” He protested, though the way his lips twitched gave him away. “And in my defense, all these flats look the same. It’s not my fault muggles lack imagination.”

“Right,” You said with mock seriousness. “Because it’s definitely the muggles’ fault you tried to pick a fight with a bush.”

He let out a low chuckle, his hand falling back onto your knee as he relaxed further against you. “You wound me, truly,” He murmured, though the blissful look on his face told a different story. “But you’re still here, still running your fingers through my hair like I’m your favorite stray.”

You shook your head, your laughter softening into something warmer as you gazed down at him. “That word is exactly right. A stray.” You teased and he gave a low sigh as you playfully pulled at the roots of his hair again.

Barty’s grin softened as he let out a low, contented sigh, tilting his head further into your touch. But his smirk quickly returned, laced with amusement as he glanced up at you. “Speaking of strays, did you know Pandora’s getting hitched? Evan’s still in denial about it, of course. Says it’s a phase.”

“Pandora’s getting married?” You asked, your fingers pausing in his hair as your brows knit together. “To Xenophilius?”

Barty hummed, tilting his head slightly into your touch, though he noticed your pause. “Yes, to none other than Xenophilius Lovegood,” he said with an exaggerated wave of his hand. “The eccentric inventor of all things absurd. Can’t you just picture it? The two of them, in some meadow, exchanging vows under a canopy made of... I don’t know, enchanted fungi?”

You snorted despite yourself. “That actually sounds about right for them,” You admitted, though your voice had a softer, contemplative tone now.

Barty’s grin faltered slightly as he caught the shift in your expression. “You alright there, darling?” He prodded, his green eyes narrowing as he studied your face. “Don’t tell me you’re about to spiral because Pandora’s beating us to the altar.”

“I’m not spiraling,” You muttered defensively, looking away from him. “I just... I don’t know. It’s weird, isn’t it? Everyone’s pairing off. Pandora’s getting married, Lily and James have Harry now, even Sirius seems to have a new date every other week. And here I am-”

“Perfectly ravishing and far too good for anyone who doesn’t grovel at your feet?” Barty supplied with a cheeky grin, though the warmth in his green eyes betrayed the sincerity under his playful tone.

You gave him a look, your lips twitching despite yourself. “You’re not helping.”

“Who says I’m trying to help?” He countered, though he shifted slightly to sit up, his hand resting on your knee now as he studied you more intently. “Alright, what’s really going on, darling? Spill.”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking away from his. “It’s nothing. I’m just... I guess I feel like I’m falling behind, you know? Everyone else seems to have their lives figured out, and I’m just... here.”

Barty’s smirk faded entirely, replaced by an expression you didn’t see often: genuine concern. “Falling behind?” He repeated, his voice softer now. “What are you on about? You’re you.”

“And what does that even mean?” You asked, your voice tinged with frustration. “Barty, I’m twenty-three, and I’ve never even been in a proper relationship. Everyone else is moving on, starting families, building lives, and I’m just... I don’t know. Stuck.”

“Stuck?” He echoed, his brows furrowing. “You? The woman who once dragged me into a Muggle club and convinced a room full of strangers I was an internationally famous wizard film star?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the memory, though it was short-lived. “That’s different, Barty. That was... fun. This feels bigger. Like I’m missing something.”

Barty tilted his head, his expression firm as he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re not missing anything, love,” He said firmly. “You’re exactly where you’re meant to be. And for what it’s worth, I think the world would be a lot less interesting if you weren’t exactly as you are.”

You looked at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. “You make it sound so easy,” You murmured.

“Because it is,” He said with a grin, though the softness in his eyes remained. “You’re comparing yourself to people whose lives are completely different from yours. Pandora and Xenophilius? They’re lovely, but they’re also... Pandora and Xenophilius. Lily and James? They’ve been attached at the hip since Hogwarts. None of that has anything to do with you.”

“And Sirius?” You challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Even he-”

“Sirius Black is a menace who flirts with anything that moves,” Barty interrupted, his grin turning wicked. “He couldn’t hold a proper relationship if it came with instructions and a leash. And you deserve more than that.”

“Do I?” You asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Barty’s expression softened even further, and he leaned closer, his hand still resting on your knee as he spoke. “Yes, you do,” He said firmly. “And one day, someone’s going to see that. They’re going to fall at your feet, completely and utterly unworthy of you. And you’re going to make them work for it- because that’s what you deserve. Not some half-hearted fling or rushed attempt to ‘catch up.’ Someone who sees you for exactly who you are and loves every piece of it.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away, feeling a warmth spread through you that wasn’t entirely unwelcome. “You’ve got a way with words, you know that?” You muttered.

Barty’s grin softened, but his eyes glinted with that signature mischief that always seemed to spark chaos wherever he went. His hand rested on your knee, and you felt the slight twitch of his fingers, like he was holding back something bigger. He opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, then sighed dramatically, dragging a hand through his dark curls as though the weight of his thoughts was just too much.

“You know,” He started, his tone suddenly more theatrical, “I’ve got to say, darling... the idea of someone being good enough for you? It’s laughable. Laughable. Like, truly the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. And mind you, I’ve spent an evening listening to Evan try to explain the muggle concept of a toaster.”

You blinked at him, a small laugh escaping despite your growing confusion. “Barty, what are you even-?”

“No, no, don’t interrupt,” He cut in, holding up a finger with mock seriousness, though his grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Because here’s the thing: you’re not just any girl, alright? You’re not even in the same realm as the rest of us. You’re- what’s the word I’m looking for? Ethereal? Divine? A literal goddess walking among mere mortals? Yes, all of that and more.”

“Barty-”

“No!” He flung his hands up dramatically, as though warding off any protests. “You let me finish this, or so help me, I’ll combust on the spot. Now, as I was saying- goddess. Goddess. And me? What am I, huh? A stray cat on your couch. A servant in your kingdom. A bloody footman sent to fetch your tea and hope you don’t smite me with your beauty.”

You were laughing now, fully laughing, but Barty only leaned closer, his expression so full of mock tragedy it was almost convincing. “But you know what I’d do, my queen? My liege? I’d find him for you. That’s what I’d do.”

“Find who?” You asked between giggles, thoroughly lost in his spiraling monologue.

“The man!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms out so dramatically he nearly toppled off the couch. “The man who’s actually worthy of you. Because he exists somewhere, right? He has to, in some perfect alternate dimension where the universe handcraft people for each other. And you know what I’d do when I find him? I’d die, darling. I’d perish in his presence just to bring him to your doorstep. Just so you’d have someone who’s worth it. Someone who’s everything you deserve.”

“Barty,” You said, trying and failing to contain your laughter. “You’re completely mad.”

“Mad?!” he gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. “No, love, I’m just devoted. Devoted to the idea that your happiness is paramount in this cruel, undeserving world. And if I can’t be the one to give it to you, then I’ll march into the depths of hell to find the one who can.”

His voice softened then, the chaos settling into something quieter, more vulnerable. “Because you deserve that, you know. You deserve to have someone who sees every bit of you, even the bits you try to hide, and still thinks you hung the bloody stars.”

Your laughter faded, replaced by a warmth spreading through your chest. “Barty,” you murmured, your voice softer now. “That’s... sweet, but also completely ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” He echoed, grinning again as he leaned back dramatically. “Of course it is. Because what’s more ridiculous than me thinking I’d ever stand a chance with you?”

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and his green eyes widened slightly, like he’d just realized what he’d said. His grin faltered, and he let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, well, there’s my secret out in the open. Didn’t really mean to let that slip, but here we are.”

You stared at him, your heart stuttering in your chest as his words hung in the air. “You’re serious,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied, forcing a grin but unable to meet your gaze. “Completely, utterly serious. Mad as a hatter, clearly, but serious nonetheless.”

“Barty,” You began, but he waved his hand as if to dismiss your impending response.

“Don’t feel bad for me, darling,” He said, his voice lighter now, though there was a tremor underneath it. “I’ve made peace with it, you know? Loving you is like worshiping the sun. You don’t do it for the reward; you do it because you can’t help yourself.”

He leaned forward, wrapping his arm around the back of the couch, behind you, as his eyes traced your lips. It wasn't typical, no, he wasn't looking for a kiss. He was just admiring that pretty look of your smile, even as it faded to a more conflicted look. He gave an expression, one so devastated, as if your frown physically hurt him.

You stared at him, your chest tight with emotions you couldn’t quite name. His grin returned, smaller this time, almost sad. “And if you don’t find him tomorrow, or next week, or even next year,” He added, his voice almost a whisper now, “that’s fine, too. Because I’ll still be here. Sitting on your couch like the world’s most loyal stray, hoping I get to see you happy, even if it’s from a distance.”

Your heart was racing as his words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. He had laid himself bare before you, his usual bravado stripped away to reveal something far more vulnerable and honest. And in that moment, you couldn’t ignore the pull any longer.

“Barty,” You said softly, your hand reaching out to rest against his cheek. His eyes widened slightly, searching your face for any sign of mockery or rejection. When he found none, his lips parted, but no words came.

You smiled faintly, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

His brow furrowed. “Well, that’s a promising start,” He muttered, though his voice lacked its usual sarcasm. There was an edge of uncertainty, like he didn’t dare believe what might be coming next.

“You’re an idiot,” You repeated, leaning closer, “because you think I wouldn’t want you.”

For a moment, he looked completely and utterly lost, like the meaning of your words had short-circuited his brain. “You- wait, what?”

You didn’t give him time to recover. With a soft smile, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, testing, but the second he realized what was happening, everything changed.

Barty surged forward, his hand slipping to the back of your neck to pull you closer as his lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless. His other arm wrapped around your waist, anchoring you to him like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

When you finally pulled back for air, he was staring at you like you’d just upended his entire world. His breath was heavy, his eyes dark and intense as they roamed your face. “Say it again,” He demanded, his voice rough. “Tell me this isn’t some cruel dream I’m going to wake up from.”

You laughed softly, your fingers threading through his curls. “I want you, Barty,” You whispered, your voice steady. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Something in him seemed to snap at those words. His lips were on yours again, hotter and more demanding this time, as if he was trying to make up for all the moments he’d thought this would never happen. His hands roamed over your back, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt to touch your skin. His fingers were rough, desperate, as if he needed to feel you, to know this was real.

“You have no idea,” He murmured against your lips, his voice a low growl. “No idea how long I’ve wanted this. How many nights I’ve stayed up thinking about you.”

“Then stop wasting time,” You teased, your own hands sliding up his chest and into his hair.

He let out a low, almost guttural laugh, his lips brushing against your jawline, your neck. “You’re gonna kill me, love.”

“Not yet,” You whined back, your voice breathless.

His response was a low growl as his lips found yours again, his kiss searing and possessive. His hands gripped your waist, lifting you onto his lap fully as he deepened the kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue.

“Merlin,” He murmured, his voice hoarse as he trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. “Tell me this is real. Tell me you’re mine.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your hands framing his face as you whispered, “I’m yours, Barty. Always.”

The intensity in his eyes burned brighter at your words, and whatever restraint he’d been clinging to crumbled entirely. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him as his lips claimed yours again, leaving no room for doubt.

This wasn’t the playful, cheeky Barty you were used to. This was something raw and unrestrained, something you’d never seen before. And it left you completely and utterly undone.

“Worth the wait.” He let out a sound- almost like a whimper- “Worth every bloody second.”

[unconventional-lawnchair]

He's so... Barty coded it hurts

new obsession hello

[ervotica]

bartyyyy 33. hushed conversation in-between kisses in the hallway or something as reader tries to calm him down and stop him from murdering a fellow student for looking at her/saying something to her lols. maybe she fails and he still gets a little murdery

thanks for requesting my love! ✩ 600 words

You know Barty can rarely deny you anything.

Not when you coo in that honeyed voice, slipping an arm beneath his rumpled shirt to palm at his bare skin. Murmuring reassurances against his lips, smoothing out his jagged edges with sweetened promises.

You have Barty against the wall in the corridor as you nose at his cheek. You thread your fingers through the short hairs at his nape and scratch, your grin imprinting against the side of his face when he sags against you. The anger melts from his expression like softened butter.

He tips his head back against the wall and it thumps; to entice him closer, your lips push out into a pout you know he won't be able to resist kissing.

One kiss, two, three.

You pull back until your lips are just grazing his, and wedge your shoulder under his armpit, an arm slung lazily round his back. You start to murmur against his mouth.

"Ignore him, baby. You know I only want you."

McLaggen's been harassing you for a date for weeks. It's been harmless for the most part, but you know Barty, and you know he won't think twice before kicking the fucker's teeth out.

"That's not what I'm fucked off about, treasure," he says, smoothing a hand over the crown of your skull.

He gets you by the scruff of the neck, anchoring you back for another open mouthed kiss. You push closer and hum your appreciation. Your fingers splay wide at the dip of his spine, tickling until he squirms under your touch and drops his head to the crook of your shoulder.

You feel McLaggen's furious stare but pay it no mind, too busy doting on your lovely boyfriend to care who's watching. You don't so much as glance away until he knocks his elbow with yours as he breezes past with a faux arrogance you know is all for show.

"Fuck off, McLaggen," you spit, pushing further against Barty. You feel your boyfriend lunge outwards before you're pushing him back and putting yourself in front of him as a shield.

"Treasure, I love you more than life itself, but move," Barty hisses. You sigh.

"Please don't."

He smears a kiss over the top of your head in apology before you're being moved by means of those thick fingers round your waist, lifted until you're thrust against one poor, unsuspecting Regulus Black. You let out a terse breath, steadying yourself against Regulus' shoulder with a splayed hand.

"Sorry, darling," you mumble.

"You alright?"

You nod before your eyes snap to Barty once more. He has McLaggen by the collar, thick fingers squeezing his cheeks in an effort to force eye contact as he bellows down at the boy, loud enough to hurt your ears.

"You touch my girl again and I'll break your fucking jaw, you hear me? You so much as look at her and you're dead."

His eyes are wild and you know his pulse is thrumming something rotten now he's geared up for a fight.

"Barty!" you scold.

Regulus hooks an arm around your waist to keep you from darting off through the crowd that's formed. You harrumph in protest.

"Okay, you're done," you declare, dragging Regulus by the wrist through the crowd with you as McLaggen sags and collapses rather unceremoniously at Barty's feet.

Barty's features morph from triumphant to guilty in an instant. He simpers, eyes scrunching at the corners until his crows feet crinkle. You snort and turn to face him.

"You're lucky I love you."

His eyes blow wide and he looks utterly lovesick. Beautiful, albeit mildly pathetic.

His expression flares with a possessiveness you know all too well. He drags you up his chest for a searing kiss that makes your insides flip-flop. You're breathing hard when he pulls away, slick with spit and beaming like a madman.

"Come on, killer," you snort. "Let's go to your dorm."

[daystarpoet]

•ྀ༅ money power glory ೄ

barty crouch jr x gn!reader. modern!au. request. barty is so loaded with his daddy’s money that he lets you buy whatever you want cause he spoils you like that.

one thing about bartemius crouch jr, he had a vast fortune to his disposition, hence why he was dressed in extremely expensive clothes that still highlighted his personal unpolished style. form balenciaga trousers, to chunky off-white rings, that money was there, and it was going to be spent.

his father’s job as a lawyer was what allowed him to have this fortune to use in the first place. bartemius crouch sr wasn’t exactly all that aware of his son’s purchases, but neither did he seem to care.

but barty didn’t only buy things for himself, no. the trust fund money went also to fulfill barty’s partner’s desires. words of affirmation wasn’t barty’s cup of tea when it came to love-language, he would much rather hold your hand as you pinpointed everything in the mall you wanted to get. it felt a bit ridiculous, letting your boyfriend spent thousands of pounds on you as if they were mere pieces of paper. yet the man was always quick to reassure you had nothing to worry about.

barty’s only condition was that you’d make use of the wide arrange of your favourite perfumes, and pieces of jewellery you now had in your possession thanks to him. the sight of his partner wearing the clothes he had bought for them was rewarding enough, sparking a flicker of pride inside of him.

the mall was filled with indistinct conversation among individuals with backgrounds akin to that of barty. god forbid he was caught taking you shopping somewhere that wasn't filled with top-brand stores.

the onset of the holiday season engendered a particularly strong desire to procure gifts for one's loved ones, accompanied by particularly indulgent shopping offers. barty had taken the particularly kind initiative to accompany you in your christmas-related travesty.

“alright, anyone else missing?” barty mused, shooting a glance your way, one arm around your shoulder, and the other holding five different bags of presents you had selected. “i don't think so, no.” you reply, not paying too much mind to what you had said.

“wow, love, you injure me, deeply.” a taunting chuckle accompanied his mock-hurt statement. “and don't give met that confused expression, you know what i'm talking about.”

“enlighten me, please.” you tell barty, once again, him and his teasing. “you are yet to buy something for *me*. here i am, letting you use all of my daddy dearest's money, and i get nothing as gift… how hurtful.” he pouted, marking his words in complaint.

“as if i'd buy your gift right in front of you!” you reply, pushing his arm away from your shoulder. “your exasperating, did you know that?”

“so i've been told.” barty pulled you close one again, pecking the side of your head. “you better get me something or i will so stop spoiling you.” he didn't mean it, of course he didn't.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hey!! can i request a christmas fic of barty x reader with the prompt "ho ho holy shit you look good.", maybe they're getting ready to a christmas party and junior says this after seeing reader's outfit

also, i hope you're having a good day!!

barty crouch jr x reader where he likes your dress a bit too much

The apartment buzzed with the warm scent of pine and cinnamon, the glittering Christmas tree in the corner standing tall like a beacon of holiday spirit. Barty was standing in front of the mirror as he adjusted his tie.

You, however, were a whirlwind of Christmas excitement. The party was about to start, and you'd spent hours picking out the perfect outfit. Now, standing in front of the mirror, you fluffed out the skirt of your dark green dress trimmed with white faux fur. The puffed sleeves and velvet bow in your hair completed the look.

"Alright," you called out from the stairs of the girls dormitory, your voice brimming with anticipation. "I'm ready!"

Barty didn't even glance up at first. "Yeah, yeah," he said lazily, still adjusting his tie. "Bet you're all decked out in some—"

His words died mid-sentence as he finally lifted his head and looked at you through the mirror. His jaw dropped.

"Ho ho HOLY SHIT!" he exclaimed, leaping away from the mirror with the kind of energy usually reserved for winning Quidditch matches. He stalked toward you with a cocky grin, his eyes doing a quick once-over that sent warmth rushing to your cheeks.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your growing smile. "What? Too much?"

"Too much? Treasure, you're single-handedly putting every Christmas decoration in Hogwarts to shame," Barty said, spinning you around by your waist. "That dress, that bow, the sheer presence. I feel like I should be giving you gifts just for showing up."

You laughed, swatting at him lightly. "You're ridiculous."

"And you," he countered, leaning in conspiratorially, "are a literal Christmas miracle. Do you know how hard it is to make me speechless? This is history in the making."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. "Oh, please. You make yourself speechless every time you look in the mirror."

"True," Barty admitted with a dramatic sigh. "But tonight, you’ve outdone even me. I'm genuinely considering rewriting my Christmas wish list to just say: You in this outfit, forever."

Your laugh was bright, and Barty's eyes twinkled with pride. "You're impossible," you said, smoothing down the front of your dress. "Now, come on. We’re going to be late."

But Barty wasn’t done. He leaned against the doorframe, blocking your exit with a playful smirk. "Hold up. Before we go, there’s a serious matter we need to discuss."

"Oh?" you crossed your arms, tilting your head. "And what’s that?"

He pretended to think, tapping his chin. "Well, I’m worried about you, babe. If you walk into that party looking like this, I’m gonna have to spend the whole night fighting off admirers."

You snorted. "As if anyone could compete with your overconfidence."

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "The pressure on me is immense. But I’ll do it—for you."

You grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door, shaking your head. "You’re such a dork."

"Ah, but I’m your dork," Barty said, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked down the hall. "And tonight, I’ll make sure everyone knows it."

REQUESTED FROM : this post RELATED TO : this post

[rosieswriting]

Barty Crouch Jr x Hufflepuff!reader

Summary: After the birthday of your dear friend, Pandora Rosier, Barty doesn´t seem as bad as he did before

Note: I took one of the request of reader "tutoring" barty not knowing he doesn´t need it by @treefairy-28 thank youuuu. And english is not my first language so it probably has some mistakes! And i will do a part 2 to where things get really interesting

Words: 3,2K

You’d always hated Barty Crouch Junior. Everything about him grated on your nerves—the way he spoke too loudly in class, yet still managed to top every exam; the infuriating pet names he used for you; his smug belief that being a Slytherin somehow made him superior, especially to Hufflepuffs like you. His walk, his talk—everything about him seemed designed to annoy you. Luckily, you’d always managed to ignore him. Until now.

You’d recently been paired with Pandora Rosier for a Potions project, and to your surprise, you’d quickly grown close. How had you not been friends before? She was sweet, caring, and easy to talk to—similar to you in so many ways. When her birthday rolled around, she invited you to a small celebration at the Three Broomsticks with her twin, Evan, and a few of his friends. Including him. You’d thought long and hard about it, knowing you’d have to deal with Barty, but in the end, you decided to go. After all, it was for Pandora, and you could always try to ignore him.

The Three Broomsticks was packed, busier than you’d expected. It seemed half of Hogwarts was out celebrating. Just as you were scanning the room, you heard Pandora’s cheerful voice calling your name.

“Happy Birthday!” you said warmly, pulling her into a hug and handing her a small box containing a silver necklace.

Pandora’s eyes lit up as she opened it. “Oh, I love this! Thank you so much,” she beamed, hugging you again. “Come on, we’re over here.”

She led you through the crowded room toward a cozy corner table. And, of course, as you approached, you saw Evan Rosier, Regulus Black and Barty leaning back in his chair, already watching you with that familiar smirk.

“Hi” you mumbled a bit shyly to the slytherin as you sat next to Pandora, and to your luck, Barty was seated right in front of you. Regulus and Evan gave you a slight nod of acknowledgment and continue their conversation.

“Look who decided to join us” Barty teased raising his eyebrows “Dindt think you would show up, Treasure”

“Barty” Pandora said with a warning tone to his friend, trying to shut him up. But he only raised his hands in self innocence and exuse himself with a poor “just trying to start a conversation”

“I wouldn’t miss Dora´s birthday just because I have to deal with you, Junior” you said with a fake sweet smile to him.

“Deal with me? You wound me Badger” he said and you rolled your eyes at the nickname.

“If its any consolation, im actually impressed that your ego managed to fit through the door” is the last thing you say before turning to talk to Pandora and ignore him.

You and your blonde friend talk for some time, she telling you about how her birthday has been and all the presents she got. At some point you start to get thirsty.

“Im gonna ask for something to drink, ill be right back” you say kindly as you stand up from the chair.

“I’ll go with you” you hear Barty says as he stands up as well.

“Great” you whisper under your breath as you start to make your way to the bar, him following behind you.

You ordered a butterbeer, and Barty, naturally, ordered the same, positioning himself so close that his shoulder brushed against yours. The warm, subtle contact sent an unexpected flutter through you, though you tried to ignore it.

“I must admit,” he began, leaning down just enough to speak directly into your ear, “when Evan told us Dora would invite you, my expectations for tonight went up higher.”

“Good for you,” you muttered, turning to face him with an eye roll, only to find his face so close that you could feel his breath on your cheek. You quickly turned your gaze forward again, pretending to study the bottles lined up behind the bar. He chuckled, catching the slight blush that had crept up your cheeks “When Dora mentioned you were coming, I almost declined her invitation” you continued, doing your best to sound unfazed

 “If you say so. But, can I just say, you show up here looking like this, put me in my place with that sweet, sassy voice of yours… you’re killing me here.”

Despite yourself, you feel warmth creeping up your cheeks.  Thankfully, the bartender hands you both your drinks before you have to answer. You turn to make your way back to the table, but Barty steps in front of you, forcing you to stop short as he smirks down at you, close enough that you catch the faintest spark in his gaze.

“You know, I think you secretly like driving me a little mad,” he murmurs, amusement flickering in his eyes. “It’s cute, really—seeing you pretend to be so above it all.”

“Pretend?” you scoff, raising an eyebrow as you try to sidestep him. “Trust me, Junior, I’m not pretending anything.”

“Oh, really?” he asks, following you smoothly, keeping pace as you try to dodge around him. “Then explain why you look so flustered.”

“I’m not—” You stop, realizing he’s caught you, the faint blush on your cheeks betraying you. You try to shrug it off, holding your head high. “In your dreams, Junior”

He grins, leaning in close enough that his voice is a murmur just for you. “Oh, Treasure. In my dreams we are doing more than talking. Belive me”

You huffed, finally brushing past him and making your way back to the table. “Idiot,” you muttered, though you couldn’t ignore the faint thrill left in the air.

Sliding back into your seat next to Pandora, you tried to steady yourself as she happily dove back into conversation, thankfully distracting you from the lingering heat in your cheeks and Barty’s lingering gaze across the table.

As the night wore on, you and the slytherins stepped out of the warm, bustling atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks into the chilly night air. The sharp bite of winter nipped at your skin, making you shiver as you wrapped your arms around yourself in a futile attempt to keep warm. You hadn’t brought a jacket and now you were regretting it.

Pandora was chatting animatedly with Evan and Regulus, blissfully unaware of your growing discomfort. Barty walked alongside you, his familiar smirk already playing on his lips. You knew he was about to make a comment, and you braced yourself.

Without warning, Barty slipped off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders, pulling it tightly around you before you had the chance to protest. “Here, wear this,” he said, his voice low and smooth, ignoring your startled expression. “You look like you’re about to freeze to death.”

You blinked at him, flustered. “You don´t have to-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Please, like I’d let you suffer while I stand here all warm and toasty.” He chuckled. “You show up looking all stunning, and I won’t let you ruin it by turning into an icicle.”

Your cheeks flushed at the unexpected gesture, the warmth of his jacket enveloping you like a shield. You tried to regain your composure, shivering slightly as you adjusted the jacket to fit more snugly. “Thanks, but I don’t need your charity, Junior.” You weren´t willing to give up that easily.

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it? Charity?” he teased, falling into step beside you again, his grin infuriatingly charming. “I thought it was more of a gentlemanly move, if you will.”

“Gentlemanly? You?” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “You must be joking.”

“Why so skeptical? I can be quite the gentleman when the mood strikes me,” he said, leaning in closer again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, I can’t have my favorite Hufflepuff catching a cold now, can I?”

You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks at his words, and you tried to deflect, “You’re just doing this to annoy me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” he replied, a cheeky glint in his eyes. “But I also happen to enjoy the view when you’re flustered. You should see your face right now. It’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” You repeated incredulously, fighting the urge to smile. “You really think you’re charming, don’t you?”

He leaned back slightly, feigning deep thought. “Well, I wouldn’t say charming. More like irresistible.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile as you shot him a glare. “Keep dreaming, Junior.”

“Trust me, I will,” he shot back with that devil-may-care grin.

Pandora turned to you both, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh my gosh, you two are so cute! You’re practically flirting!” she gushed, completely unaware of your desire to bury your face in your hands.

“Flirting?” you exclaimed, turning to Barty in disbelief. “This isn’t flirting; it’s sheer torture!”

Barty chuckled, his gaze locked on yours, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Torture? Maybe I’ll have to keep it up then. Can’t have you getting too comfortable, can we?”

As you walked back to Hogwarts, you could feel the weight of his jacket around your shoulders, and though you’d never admit it, the warmth was more than just physical. Despite the banter and the bickering, you couldn’t shake the flutter in your stomach. Barty Crouch Junior might drive you mad, but maybe—just maybe—there was something nice about having him around after all.

You arrive to Hogwarts and everyone makes their way to their common room, the boys to Slytherin´s, Pandora to Ravenclaw´s and you to Hufflepuff´s. You get into your dorm quietly, because even if it was a Friday night, your roomates were sleeping.

As you began to undress, you suddenly realized you still had Barty’s jacket draped over your shoulders. Great, you thought with an eye roll. Now I have to see him again. You sighed, folding it neatly and placing it in your wardrobe alongside your other clothes.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash off your makeup and change into your pajamas, you settled into bed. The comfort of your blankets enveloped you, but no matter how hard you tried to shake it off, the memory of Barty's teasing grin lingered in your mind.

You hated that the last thought before sleep was that goddamn smirk of his—so infuriating yet somehow captivating. With a frustrated huff, you turned over, determined to banish thoughts of him, but the image of his charming arrogance persisted, a playful reminder of the night’s events.

You woke up the next day, the soft sunlight filtering through the windows of your dormitory. The quiet of the weekend morning was a welcome contrast to the usual hustle and bustle of school life. You moved through your routine slowly, knowing you had no classes to rush to today. After freshing up, you dressed casually and made your way to the Great Hall for breakfast. You decided to take Barty´s jacket with you, so you could return it as soon as possible.

And thanks to Merlin, when you enter the Great Hall you immediately spotted him at the Slytherin table with his friends. You wave at your own friends and make them a signal to wait for you as you approached the green table, your friends staring at you like you had gone crazy.

“Junior” you call out softly from behind him.

Barty´s head whipped around, his grin widening when he saw you “Treasure!” his voice was full of amusement as he looked you up and down “Miss me alredy?”

You rolled your eyes and extended his jacket over him “Im here to return this, and to say thank you again” even if he was insufferable, you were always polite.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased by your words, as he took the jacket from you “You know, I was hoping you would keep it for longer. You did look amazing in it. Not that I didn’t like you in your top, of course”

You felt the heat increasing in your cheeks at his words but try to hide it with a scoff, your hands instinctively moving to fold your arms across your chest. “Whatever” you muttered, stepping back and already starting to turn away “Goodbye”

Some days later you were sitting with your friends in the courtyard, laughing as you discussed the latest mishap in Potions class, when you noticed a familiar figure making his way toward you. Barty Crouch Jr, in all his swagger, had that unmistakable smirk as he approached your small circle, his eyes already fixed on you.

"Treasure," he greeted smoothly, nodding to your friends before focusing entirely on you. "Got a minute?"

You raised an eyebrow, a bit taken aback that he’d be seeking you out in broad daylight, in front of witnesses no less. “Depends. What do you want, Junior?”

He chuckled, unfazed by your tone. "Pandora said you’re somewhat of an expert in Magical Creatures. Thought maybe you could help a struggling Slytherin with a few... basics.”

Your friends exchanged glances, one of them biting back a smile as they elbowed each other. You tried to ignore it, focusing on Barty. “Struggling?” you echoed, skeptical. “You’re one of the top students. Why do you need my help?”

He shrugged, managing to look both innocent and mischievous. “Call it an off week. I could use some extra guidance.”

One of your friends couldn’t resist chiming in, “Are you sure you don’t just want to copy her notes, Barty?”

“Oh, I’d love to copy,” he said, giving you a pointed look, “but I think I’d learn more if we… studied together. Say, this afternoon?”

“Fine,” you said, ignoring the snickers from your friends. “The library at six?”

“Or my room?” he suggested, not missing a beat. “Much quieter. Comfier too.”

You rolled your eyes, even as your friends burst into laughter. “Nice try. The library will do just fine.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning disappointment. “Heartbreaking, really. I was hoping for a more… private lesson.”

“Guess you’ll just have to settle for learning in public,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “See you at six, Junior.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, his smirk widening.

With that, he turned and sauntered off, leaving your friends barely containing their laughter.

“Oh, Merlin,” one of them said as soon as he was out of earshot, “did Barty Crouch Jr. just ask you for a tutoring session?”

You sighed, trying not to show the flutter of nerves in your stomach. “Apparently. And he’d better actually need help with Magical Creatures.”

But even as you turned back to your conversation, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this “study session” was going to be anything but ordinary.

That evening, you made your way to the library with a stack of notes on magical creatures and a determination to focus—no matter how distracting your “student” might try to be. When you arrived, you saw Barty lounging at a back table, idly flipping through a book that looked suspiciously unrelated to magical creatures.

“Good, you’re here,” he said with a grin as you sat down. “I was starting to think you’d stand me up.”

You rolled your eyes as you sat in front of him “Almost did” you mumble under your breath as you opened your book and notes. The library was quiet as you huddled over a hefty tome on magical creatures, quills and parchment spread across the table between you. It seemed like he was genuinely focused—or at least, he pretended to be.

“Alright, Junior” you said, pointing to a section in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, “why don’t you tell me everything you know about hippogriffs?”

He gave you a thoughtful look, scratching his chin as if deep in concentration. “Hmm… majestic creatures, proud, can be very dangerous if approached incorrectly… does that sound right?”

You tilted your head, eyeing him suspiciously. “So you do know about them, after all. That’s a decent start.”

“Well, I have the basics,” he said with a little grin, “but I wouldn’t call myself an expert. That’s where you come in, Treasure.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, nudging the book closer to him. “Alright, fine. Hippogriffs are proud, but there’s more to them than that. They’re highly sensitive and require respect—bowing to them before approaching is essential.”

He nodded, trying to keep a straight face, though you could tell he was amused. “Bowing. Got it. Sort of like dealing with you, isn’t it? Respect, admiration…”

You huffed, fighting the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “Keep it up, and I’ll leave you to fend for yourself next time we have a test.”

“Anything but that,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn’t fade. “You’re far too charming when you’re lecturing me on magical creatures.”

You ignored him and went over a few more creatures, each time finding him surprisingly attentive. He asked questions—good ones, actually—and seemed engaged in a way you hadn’t expected. You started to think maybe he genuinely did want to learn more about the subject.

As the library began to empty, you glanced at the time. “We should probably get some dinner before the house-elves clear the tables,” you said, gathering your notes.

You started to walk to the Great Hall, still in conversation about the finer points of bowtruckles, when something slipped out from under his arm and fluttered to the ground. You instinctively bent down to pick it up, and your eyes widened as you caught sight of the parchment. It was an essay titled “The Lifecycle of Thestrals” with “A” scrawled at the top in red ink. The neat handwriting and the perfectly structured points left no doubt: Barty had known exactly what he was doing in Care of Magical Creatures all along.

You blinked, looking from the essay to Barty, who wore a guilty-but-unbothered grin.

“What’s this?” you asked, eyebrows raised. “You didn’t need my help at all, did you?”

“Guilty as charged,” he replied, his smirk widening.

You scoffed, folding your arms. “Unbelievable. So you wasted my time?”

He leaned in, voice dropping to a low murmur. “Come on, can you really blame me?” His eyes held that familiar glint. “When Pandora mentioned you were the go-to expert on magical creatures, I knew I couldn’t miss the chance. I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend a few hours with someone as pretty as you, Treasure?”

Heat crept up your cheeks, and you looked away, trying not to let him see how flustered you felt. “You are unbelievable,” you muttered, but your voice came out softer than you intended.

“Unbelievably charming? I’ll take it,” he said, grinning as you approached the Great Hall. “I had a great time, by the way. Maybe next time, we can have a... more private study session.”

He threw you a wink before sauntering off toward the Slytherin table, leaving you standing there, cheeks flushed, speechless, and—if you were being honest with yourself—a bit confused. Because somehow, despite his insufferable arrogance, the idea of spending more time with him didn’t sound half as annoying as you’d expected.

[luizd3ad]

NFWMB | Barty Crouch Jr x Reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Barty Crouch Jr x GN! reader

WC: 180

CW: angry Barty, Talks of Bullying, Barty being protective, so slight angst, no use of Y/N

Authors Note: Just a little blurb for an idea I got while listening to hozier. I've just been having Barty brain rot lately.

Summary: Someone made you cry and Barty isn’t having it.

⊱ ─────── ஓ๑∗๑ஓ ────── ⊰

“Who did it?”

You look up at a furious looking Barty Crouch jr, with your tear stained face you shake your head lightly.

“Leave it alone Barty.. Please” You say letting out a sigh and looking down at your hands.

“Angel. I’m only going to ask one more time before I burn this whole bloody school down.”

Barty says crouching down in front of you to make you look him in the eyes.

“Who did this? Who made my angel cry?”

Barty says tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear and looking more serious than you think you’ve ever seen him be before, it was actually quite unnerving if you're being honest.

“Mulciber and Avery.. They were calling me names and just being cruel..”

Barty nods his head slowly and stands up and kisses the top of your head.

“I'll be back, angel.”

“Barty please don't do anything, just leave it be.”

“Can’t.” 

Barty says walking to the door of your dorm and he looks at you one more time before leaving, saying.

“Nothing Fucks with my baby.”

⊱ ────── ஓ๑∗๑ஓ ─────── ⊰

[sixtsposts]

Killer Queen - Barty Crouch Jr

TW: female!reader, lustful and yearning boyfriend!Barty, slight Wolfstar, mention of Dorlene

"You're searching for what?" Ask again Dorcas with a skeptic expression. You were shopping with her and Pandora at Hogsmeade in search of your costumes.

"A crown," you repeat again with a chuckle, "Does that sound so weird?"

"From you, a little bit," Dora smiled at you softly but a hint of amusement is visible in her eyes. You roll your eyes.

"It's an idea from Barty," you explain as you turn in an alley, "He wants to match our costumes for the party," you smile as you talk about your boyfriend.

"Oh and how the two lover-birds will be dress tonight then?" Dorcas asked with a smirk and teaseful tone of voice.

You glance at her with a mischievous glint, "That's a surprise," you tell her with a mysterious tone and a little smile.

"Well I can't wait to see that!" Says Pandora with an excited expression. You can't help but smile at her genuine joy.

"What will you be dressed as tonight Dora?" You ask her curiously as you enter a store full of Halloween costume.

"A fairy!" She says with a big smile and a joyfull tone, "Xeno said he agreed to be a fairy too," she adds with a dreamy expression.

"Oh that's cute," you say with a genuine look in your eyes. You walk into the little store, searching for your crown.

"Yeah, it maches your vibe. To both of you," Dorcas continue with honesty.

"I wish I was a fairy sometimes," Pandore mumble with daydreaming expression which makes both of Dorcas and you chuckle.

"What do you need for your costume Dora?" You ask her as you put a hand on her shoulder to catch her attention.

The blond girl turn to you with doe-eyes, "I just have to find wings," she says like she just reminded of what she was doing here. That makes you chuckle softly as you turn to Dorcas.

"What do you search?" You ask curiously but the girl smirks at you.

"Oh I'm just here to give my opinion, I already have all I need," she says proud of her. Dorcas is always to most organized, meanwhile you always need to go shop few hours before the party.

"Not surprising," you raise your eyebrows at her with an amused smile, "How will you be dressed then?" You narrow your eyes.

"A mermaid," she reply with a satisfied smile.

"Wow, that'll for sure catch a certain rocker girl attention," you smirk as you turn, fakely searching a crown in the middle of t-shirts. You love teasing Dorcas about Marlene, she always get rilled up and flustered.

And that time doesn't differ as you receive in the face a single boot. "Hey," you reply with a fake annoyance, "You know, one day you'll have to admit your more than obvious crush," at your words she throw you the second boot as you giggle.

As the night fall, the Halloween party began in the Griffindor's common room. Obviously because it has been host by no others than the Marauders, and you can't blame them.

Everyone is dancing and bouncing at the wizard music rhythm as the room is poorly lighted by red, blue, yellow and green flashs. The common room is crowed and the floor is covered in a dim fog, probably by Sirius.

When you enter the room, your eyes immediately search for your boyfriend that appears at your side in less than two seconds, his hand coming in the small of your back in a possessive manner.

"Hi my princess," he murmurs in your ear and you can't help but grin widely at the sound of his voice.

"Hey..." you turn your face toward his and get on your tip-toes to leave a kiss on his lips. But before you can't pull away he deepens the kiss, putting his hands on your hips and pulling you against him.

"I missed you," you mumble against his lips and his hums. He takes your chin in his hand and lift your face before leaving a soft kiss on your nose.

"Miss you at every second, princess," he reply with a side grin but a tender tone. You can't help but melt, you're so weak for this man.

"Okay, lover birds, enough of this or go find a room," you hear a familiar voice in your back.

"Mind your buisness Black," Barty roll his eyes but let go your chin anyway, putting his hand around your waist instead to keep you by his side.

You turn to look at Sirius, dressed up as a pirate. You're quite sure that Remus is dressed as his treasure, and that thought make you internaly laugh.

"What are you two dress as, huh? I thought you'd come with matching costume," Sirius say with a confuse expression. You look down at your costume, a bustier dark green dress that gives royal vibe. Then you glance at Barty and his blood strained clothes.

"We're matching," you frown and look up at Sirius who looks even more confuse now. This make Barty smiles, snaking his arm around your waist to pull you even closer from him. He lean his face down until his lips brush against your ear.

"D'you think he'll guess before the end of the night?" He whispers with an amused tone which makes you laugh in front of a, now, very confuse Sirius.

Though Remus don't wait any longer to joint the three of you, the golden of his costume giving you all you needed to know about your previous suspicions. The boy with the scars look up and Barty up and down with an analytic look before smiling widely.

"Oh Killer Queen, very smart," he acknowledge with an approving nod, passing his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders.

"Wh- How did you guess that so fast?" Sirius ask in disbelief. As Remus surf his shoulders with a giggle Sirius grabbed his face, "By Merlin, you're so smart, I love you," he told him before kissing him deeply. That makes you giggle and Barty lead you further in the party with a roll of his eyes.

There you notice Dorcas leaned against a wall of the red and gold common room, she's staring at Marlene who's at the opposite side of the room.

You approach her, Barty still glued to your side. As she sees you coming, Dorcas glance at you and Barty with a smirk, "Walk him like a dog I see," she says with a scoff.

Barty glare at her, "Well at least I'm not acting like a creep, staring at my crush all night from afar," he replied with a mean grin on his lips. You roll your eyes and decide to change the topic when you see Dorcas ready to jump at Barty's neck.

You look down at her, admiring her mermaid costume. She truely looked stunning tonight, wearing a bustier with a tight blue siren dress. Her make-up too is incredible, she was ravishing. "Dorcas you're beautiful," you tell her genuinly, "Oh Merlin, Marlene is gonna faint the second she sees you," you add with an amused smile. It's a little revenge for Barty that can't help but scoff in your back.

"Okay I'm leaving now," she says sternly with a roll of her eyes. Though you can see the nervousness in her eyes and you chuckle. You turn your eyes on your boyfriend.

"You're stunning too my darling, the most beautiful person here at my not so humble opinion," he smirks and wet his lips with his tongue like he wanted to devour you. Then you look up at him with an almost bashful expression when he leans closer to whisper in your ear, "And I love this crown on your head, you deserve a crown on your head, my queen." His lustful smile gives you chills and you mentally shake yourself.

"Thanks..." you say as you feel your cheeks turning warm. You look down at his outfit, taking in his white shirt stain in fake blood and his fake knife in his hands.

"Didn't know you were so sexy covered in blood though," you smile mischievously, biting your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Yeah?" He asks as his smirk widen, "You like the blood? Do you like the knife too?" He adds as he put the plastic blade under your chin to make you look up at him.

You hum a yes, your smile clearly teaseful, "I could get use to it, yeah..."

"Oh and they wonder why I love you," he sighs in a yearning manner, his eyes desperatly lustful. His words makes you blush and you can't help but smile almost shyly at his attention. He puts both his hands on your cheeks and lean in to kiss you deeply again.

[here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can]

*does The Tongue ThingTM*

sfsffssppsssfss

[heaven4lostgirls]

Can I request barty crouch jr x reader set in hogwarts where he's starting to lean more and more towards the dark lord and is getting closer to the kids of the current death eaters and they say he can't really be serious about the cause seeing as his girlfriend is a mudblood/half blood/blood traitor idk you pick? And so barty breaks up with you to prove that he's serious about following the dark lord. Lots of angst pls that is if you want to write this no pressure just thought I'd ask and see xx 💔

a/n: ty for the request i had loads of fun writing this!!

what about us?

barty crouch jr x reader

tags: angst, sad ending, breakup, character death

barty crouch junior, he was your everything. the air you breathed in on a summer morning and a warm sip of hot chocolate on a winters day. he made you the happiest you had ever been however you failed to figure out where you had gone wrong.

you and barty had never fought before and you didn’t seem to be having any troubles, of course the looming war was hanging over everyone’s head but barty and you had always assured each other that you would keep the other safe.

so why all of a sudden had he decided you weren’t worth the trouble? why did your blood status all of a sudden matter? he had never seen you as less than when you had first started dating but now it was like you were looking at a stranger.

this isn’t you barty.

his eyes were cold and distant but you could see somewhere underneath the swimming pools of chocolate there was a hint of pain.

why. why are you doing this.

you could feel the exact moment your heart fell to the pit of your stomach.

“barty..? what do you mean? i thought we were okay-“

he cuts you off suddenly and you can almost hear your heart break as the next words leave his mouth

“you’re a muggleborn y/n, you know the dark lord will not accept you, it’s just like lucius said-“

“lucius? since when did you start listening to that prick?!”

“SINCE HE WANTS ME TO GET THE MARK”

his voice his loud and cold. yours is soft and shaky

“w-what? we talked about this, i thought you didn’t want to fight? barty this isn’t you, please just listen to me-“

“stop y/n. your a mudblood. whatever we had? it’s over”

your heart breaks a little more, never once had barty ever used that word against you.

“this isn’t the barty i fell in love with, you’re a stranger to me.”

his ears start to ring, he didn’t want to do this, he can’t let you walk out of his life knowing that you hate him.

god, lucius really had brainwashed him. you’re right, this isn’t him but he doesn’t know what to do.

his eyes well up with tears and he can see through his blurry vision that your eyes soften as he shows an ounce of emotion.

“i’m sorry-“

“don’t. i don’t want to see you again bartemius.”

you walk away faster than his hand trying to grasp you can. he tries to follow but something stops him.

merlin, he fucked up.

on the 23rd of july 1978 you had walked out of barty’s life.

on the 6th of august 1979 you were killed by death eaters in your home alongside your entire family.

when barty heard the news he had broken down. his heart was torn out of his chest. he never meant for this to happen. he just wanted to keep you safe.

he had missed you ever minute of every day since you had left, he had written countless letters that he kept under his bed to send to you asking for forgiveness

now you would never get to read them.

the ring he had sworn he would give to you once the war was over would lay untouched.

his life ended the minute your families name hit the papers, and his heart turned cold the moment his only good left him forever

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Cat and Mouse

Dark!Dad!Barty Crouch Jr. x Mom!Reader

Wc: ~4k

Summary: The reader can never truly get away Barty, no matter how hard she tries. He'll always find his family.

CW: Dark!Possessive!Barty, AFAB!Reader, reader has a young daughter, themes of control and manipulation, being stalked, break in, a brief moment where the reader thinks her daughter is in danger

AN: Heavily inspired by this fic, 1000% recommend

Your daughter's giggles were always your favorite sound, especially so early in the morning. You could swear by it, it was better than any alarm clock.

Today was no exception. As you crawled out of your bed and got to your feet. You couldn't help but smile, wrapping yourself up in your silk robe and slipping on your slippers, following after the lovely sound to your daughters room. You put your hand on the doorknob and leaned down to bring your ear closer, smiling brighter as you heard her giggles persist.

“Is that funny?” You heard a deep voice coo. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Suddenly, the bright sun of the morning chasing away all the dangers of the night felt like a fool’s tale. The shining walls and work you'd done to get here meant nothing. The summer heat that chased away the night chill did nothing to warm you as the feelings of dread overtook you.

You opened the door, trying to school your expression. Your eyes locked on your daughter who turned and smiled wide at you. “Momma! Momma, Daddy's home!”

She always looked so happy. Whenever he would come back, whenever he would find you, your daughter would look at you with those big delighted eyes. The same ones she shared with the man in front of her. You couldn't help but notice a bit of a breeze crawl up your back, not from the stare of the monster before you, but as you turned to discover, your hall window was open..

You don't know what was more terrifying, the fact he was able to get past your wards or the fact he was able to do it without waking you.

“Yeah, princess. Daddy's home.” Barty gushed to his little girl, finally getting you to turn and face him. His eyes were already locked on yours. His eyes said it all, he was challenging you, to say anything, to deny him, to push him over the edge. You had grown familiar with Barty’s looks.

In Hogwarts, he would use them to keep your quiet, remind you not to let people see you get too close to him, to keep you obedient and complacent in the web he meticulously crafted just for you. The web he still had you trapped in all these years later- you struggled, that's all you could do.

Because what could a muggleborn witch like you do to protect yourself from falling in love with a Crouch? To fall victim to his endless worship of you, just to turn around and scorn your blood in front of the people he craved to impress. It was for your protection, he guaranteed, that Voldemort would make an exception of you. That he knew your soul was destined for him and he would make it clear to everyone else that it was true.

“Darling, I'm just going to speak to mommy for a moment, alright?”

Your daughter pouted, holding up her tea cup and he laughed, waving his wand to show her the same thing you assumed he must have been showing her to make her giggle. His bloody magic. The magic you begged him not to expose her to. It wasn't safe, not for you. Certainly not for your daughter, a stain on his family tree.

When he finished he gave her a kiss to her temple, and ruffled her hair. Standing up and walking across the room to you. Quickly, you turned and grabbed your wand from your pocket. Muttering a quick spell on the window as you passed, on your way to the kitchen.

It was the same routine, everytime he found you. Fix whatever damages had been caused, close the blinds, he would dismiss your daughter so you two could talk. You knew Barty could never bring himself to hurt you, in no world would he let any harm come to you or his little girl, but that didn't mean you didn't fear his anger.

You learned what testing his limits could mean. When the war began and you found out you were pregnant, Barty was ecstatic. He bought a home in the Hogwarts highlands, he used you as his get away. He would fight in a war against who you were and come home to dote on you like you were some god. It worked, at first, you were so blinded by love you didn't stop to think about what he was doing.

It was the friends you had closed out that brought you back to reality. Sirius showed up when he knew Barty would be gone, begging you to see reason. He promised you he and Remus would be there when you came to your senses. It took a few days but eventually you packed a bag. When Barty came home you begged him to leave with you, to either join your friend's side of the war or leave it completely with you.

But Barty, he had a way about him. A way that made you foggy minded and willing to forget yourself for hours. When you woke up in his bed, alone again the next morning, you knew it was time.

You'd spent months on end trying to keep away from him. But no matter where you went, he always found you.

Your daughter's giggles echoed in your mind as you moved through the motions, trying to calm down. The warmth of the morning now felt suffocating, as if the very air had turned against you. Barty’s presence had that effect- stealing the light, replacing it with a cold dread that settled deep in your bones.

In the kitchen, you set your wand down on the counter, your hand shaking slightly. You didn’t bother with tea or the pretense of normalcy. There was no use in trying to act like this was just another visit. He always saw through that.

The sound of his footsteps was deliberate, slow and measured as he entered the kitchen behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was watching you, that smug sense of control radiating from him like a dark cloud.

“You’re getting better at hiding,” Barty said casually, leaning against the doorframe as if he belonged there, as if he hadn’t just broken into your home and stolen another morning of peace. “I almost didn’t find you this time.”

You tightened your grip on the counter but didn’t respond. Any words you said now would only fan the flames.

“Still,” He continued, his voice calm but with an edge that made your skin crawl, “you should know better by now. There’s no point in running. Not from me.”

“What do you want, Crouch?” You snapped, your voice sharp but low, desperate to keep your daughter blissfully unaware in her room. Your jaw tightened as your heart raced, every muscle in your body screaming at you to act, to escape, but you knew better.

“Ouch,” Barty murmured, the word drawn out like a mockery of your tone. He gave a low, familiar chuckle that made your skin crawl. “No ‘hello’? No ‘it’s good to see you’? Have I fallen so far in your affections, my love?”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you in a smooth stride. Your body stiffened as his hand slid over your arm, slow and deliberate, the other curling around your waist. Even as you resisted, he pulled you firmly back into his chest.

You felt his breath against your neck, warm and slow, the press of his nose grazing your skin as he inhaled deeply. “Still wearing that perfume I like,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as though you were lovers reunited instead of prey cornered by a predator.

“Let go of me,” You hissed, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He didn’t. Instead, he hummed softly, almost contentedly, as if he had all the time in the world. “You know,” He began, his voice silkier now, “I always miss this when you’re gone. The way you fit so perfectly here-” his hand pressed against your waist, possessive, “-like you were made for me.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch his cold, calculating eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?” You shot back, forcing as much venom into your words as you could muster. “That this is love? That what you’ve done to me- to us- is anything but a twisted game now?”

Barty’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your waist just enough to remind you of his strength. The smile on his lips faded, replaced by something darker, something far more dangerous.

“Careful,” He warned, his voice dropping to a whisper, a quiet menace laced in his tone. “You’re upset. I’ll forgive it this time, but don’t mistake my patience for weakness. I’ve come too far, sacrificed too much, to lose you now.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay still. Reacting would only make things worse. He thrived on control, on watching you squirm under the weight of his presence. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction- not now.

“What do you want?” You asked again, your voice calmer this time, though the ice in your tone was unmistakable.

He tilted his head, a flash of amusement returning to his features. “You. Her. Us. Isn’t that obvious by now?”

“There is no us, Barty,” You said through clenched teeth, daring to step out of his grasp. This time, he let you, though his gaze never left you, sharp and predatory.

“You keep saying that,” He mused, leaning casually against the counter as if he belonged there. Watching as you stayed a foot or so away. As if he was unsatisfied with the distance, he reached forward and pulled you back to him.. “And yet, here we are. You, me, and our perfect little girl.” His smile returned, sinister and self-assured. “I hate fighting with you. You know what?” He mumbled, pressing lazy kisses up from your neck to your cheek. With all your fight you couldn't bring yourself to attempt to push him away again.

Because despite everything, he was still the man you loved more then life sometimes. The only person you'd ever care more for now- was the very person tying you to him.

It was the same game every time. Barty would find you, tearing through the fragile walls of peace you’d built, leaving only fragments of the life you’d tried to carve out without him. He’d remind you of who he was- not just with his suffocating eyes or possessive touches, but with the way he’d command your space, your air, your very existence. He loved you the way a bonfire devours kindling, bright and all-consuming, but he swore you were the creatures he warmed by his flames.

In truth, Barty was a forest fire. Unrelenting, destructive, impossible to escape. He touched every tree but left none standing. He created a cage of danger, an inescapable labyrinth of fear and passion that kept you tethered to him. And you- trapped between wanting to run and wanting to stay- played right into his hands every time.

The moment you found a new place to call home, he would be there, clawing his way back into your life as if he had every right to. He’d paw at you like a man starved, eyes ravenous, hands desperate to feel every inch of you again. He’d spoil your daughter rotten, making her laugh and smile in ways that made you both grateful and bitter all at once. And then, when he’d gotten what he wanted, he’d leave.

Every time. He’d leave.

To fight a war against the very thing he swore to love.

And yet, it wasn’t the war that broke you. It was the time in between- the stolen mornings, the whispered promises, the moments where you allowed yourself to believe he could change.

Because between the fights, between the harsh hands and the soft touches, you would melt. You would dissolve into the girl you once were, blinded by the love you still harbored for the boy he used to be. The boy who worshipped you with a ferocity that made you feel invincible. The boy who told you he would destroy anyone who dared to harm you, even as he slowly became the very thing you feared.

And somehow, in the fleeting moments of quiet, you still loved him.

The realization burned like a curse, hotter and sharper than any spell. Because even now, as you stood in the kitchen with his shadow still lingering in on the counter you clung to- as he continued to trial his lazy kisses across your skin, your heart betrayed you. It clung to the memory of his laugh, his touch, the way he’d hold you like you were his whole world.

Your heart ached with a contradiction you couldn’t reconcile, the tangled knot of love and fear twisting tighter with every lazy kiss Barty trailed along your neck. His lips were soft, familiar, stirring a warmth you hated yourself for feeling. Even as your mind screamed at you to pull away, to fight, to remind him that he had no place here, your body betrayed you, frozen under the weight of his presence.

He whispered something, too low for you to hear, his breath brushing against your ear. It didn’t matter what he said; the words were always the same. Sweet nothings designed to make you forget the darkness he carried, the danger he brought into your life.

Your hands gripped the counter tighter, your knuckles white as you tried to ground yourself. But his voice, his touch, the intoxicating familiarity of him- it was suffocating.

“I miss this,” Barty murmured, his tone deceptively gentle as his hand slid from your waist to rest against your hip. “I miss you.”

You closed your eyes, willing the tears threatening to spill to stay where they were. He didn’t deserve them. Not anymore.

“You don’t get to say that,” You whispered, your voice trembling despite your efforts to keep it steady. “You don’t get to miss me, Barty. Not after everything you’ve done.”

He paused for a moment, his lips hovering just above your skin. “Everything I’ve done,” he repeated slowly, as if the words themselves amused him. “Everything I’ve done has been for you. For us. For that perfect little girl you gave me- thank you.” He breathed, low and condescending, even as you felt his lips curl into that familiar sweet smile. “Thank you for her.”

“Fuck you.” You hissed, tears finally slipping past your eyes. “You don't get to thank me. How dare you-”

"Momma? Daddy?"

The small voice cut through the tension like a spell, making both of you freeze. Your daughter stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed owl, her eyes wide with curiosity and a touch of worry.

Barty turned first, his entire demeanor softening in an instant. The dangerous glint in his eyes disappeared, replaced by warmth and affection so convincing it made your stomach churn.

"Hey, princess," he cooed, crouching to her level. "What are you doing out here? Didn't I tell you to keep practicing your tea party skills?"

Ophelia tilted her head, looking between the two of you. "You were shouting," she said simply, her tiny voice laced with innocence. "Are you and Mommy mad?"

Your throat tightened, and you struggled to find the words, but Barty was faster.

"Of course not, darling," he said, his tone dripping with sweetness as he reached out to her. She took his hand without hesitation, allowing him to pull her closer. "Mommy and I were just talking about grown-up things. Boring, silly stuff, nothing to worry about."

You wanted to scream. To contradict him.

You hated it. How well he treated her, how much of a father he could be. You knew it had to be some form of healing for him, wanting to give his daughter the father he never had. But it didn’t make it any easier for you to watch. It didn’t make it easier to stomach how easily he could shift from the storm that haunted your nights to the warm, doting father who seemed so perfect in her eyes.

"Mommy?" Ophelia’s voice pulled you back to the present, her wide, curious eyes locked on yours. She had Barty’s eyes, that same piercing gaze that could see straight through you. It was both beautiful and heart breaking, knowing what those eyes had seen before they became hers.

You forced yourself to smile, though it felt as fragile as glass- quickly brushing away your tears in hopes she didn't see them. "No, sweetheart," You cooed, your voice soft but tight. "Mommy and Daddy aren’t mad. Daddy’s just being… silly, as usual."

She giggled, the sound like bells in the tense air. Barty gave her a conspiratorial wink, as if the two of them shared some secret that didn’t include you. It made your skin crawl but your heart throb all the same. This wasn't fair.

"See, angel? Everythings alright.” Barty scooped her up effortlessly, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. His expression softened further, the love in his eyes so genuine it made your heart ache. “Mommy just worries too much sometimes,” He teased with a gentle laugh, brushing a stray curl out of Ophelia’s face. “But you don’t need to worry, do you? Daddy’s here to take care of everything.”

Ophelia rested her head against his shoulder, her small fingers clutching his collar. “Promise?” She asked softly, her innocent trust making your chest tighten.

“I promise,” He replied, his voice warm and soothing. His eyes flicked back to you, the unspoken challenge still lingering beneath his tenderness. “Daddy always keeps his promises, doesn’t he?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned away, busying yourself with the kettle on the counter. Anything to avoid the sight of them together, to ignore the knot of guilt and helplessness that twisted tighter in your chest with every word.

“Daddy,” Ophelia murmured, her voice muffled as she nuzzled into his neck. “Will you stay this time?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers trembling as you gripped the edge of the counter. You dared to glance over your shoulder, catching the way Barty’s expression softened further. For a fleeting moment, there was no malice in his eyes- only love, raw and unfiltered.

“For as long as I can, my little star,” He said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She beamed at him, her giggles filling the room again as he twirled her around, the tension momentarily forgotten. But as you watched, the weight of reality settled heavily on your shoulders. This was the game he always played- pulling you in, wrapping you in the warmth of a family you desperately wanted to protect, only to remind you of how fragile it all was.

“Ophelia,” You called, your voice gentle and thick. “Are you hungry, baby?”

Ophelia perked up at the sound of your voice, turning her head just enough to look at you over Barty’s shoulder. “Yes, Mommy!” She chirped, her stuffed owl clutched tightly in one hand. “Can we have pancakes? The ones with the happy faces?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you stepped toward the pantry. “Of course, sweetheart. Go wash your hands first, okay? And don’t forget to set up your tea party things for later.”

She wriggled out of Barty’s arms with the unbridled energy only a child could have, her little feet padding across the floor as she darted out of the kitchen. Her laughter echoed down the hall, leaving a momentary warmth in its wake that quickly dissipated as you felt Barty’s gaze settle on you again.

You didn’t look at him. Instead, you busied yourself with gathering the ingredients for pancakes, focusing on the mundane task like it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

��She’s growing up so fast,” Barty murmured, his tone soft but pointed. “Every time I see her, she’s more like you. Stubborn, sharp, and so full of life.”

You bristled at his words but didn’t respond, your hands steady as you set a mixing bowl on the counter.

“But she has my eyes,” He continued, stepping closer, his voice lowering to that dangerous, familiar drawl. “Doesn’t she?”

You slammed the whisk down a little harder than intended, finally turning to face him. “What do you want, Barty?” you demanded a final time, your voice low and sharp. “You’ve played the loving father card. You’ve made your presence known. What’s next? What do you think this is going to accomplish?”

He tilted his head, studying you with that infuriating smirk that never quite reached his eyes. “Accomplish?” he echoed, as though the very word amused him. “Oh, love, this isn’t about accomplishing anything. This is about being where I belong. With my family.”

“This isn’t your family,” You shot back, the venom in your voice unmistakable. “You don’t get to waltz in and pretend you belong here, not after everything you’ve done.”

His expression darkened, the playful edge to his smirk hardening into something colder. Then, slowly, he smiled. That same boyish charming smile you always thought to be true. He stepped behind you, running his palms down your arms with a low sigh. “I really do hate fighting you, star.”

His hands slid down your arms, his touch deceptively gentle, but his grip firm enough to remind you of the power he held. You froze as Barty leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"I hate it," he murmured, his voice soft, yet laced with something darker. "I hate how stubborn you are, how you make me work so hard to remind you of what we have."

You gritted your teeth, refusing to look at him, to meet those piercing eyes that could always see straight through you. “What we had,” you corrected coldly, though your voice trembled.

He chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You can say that as much as you want,” he said, his fingers trailing down your sides to your waist, holding you in place. “But we both know it’s not true. We still have it. You feel it every time I’m near, don’t you? Just like I do.”

“Let go of me,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of his presence. You hated how weak you sounded, how easily he unraveled you.

But Barty didn’t let go. Instead, he turned you to face him, his hands settling on your hips as his stormy eyes bore into yours. "You’ve given me the best gift, love,” he said, his tone softening as his gaze flicked toward the hallway where Ophelia had disappeared. “Her. You. You’re my everything. Both of you. And you know that.”

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill as his words pierced through your defenses. “You don’t get to say that,” you choked out. “You don’t get to act like you’re some devoted father when you’re-” Your voice cracked, and you bit down hard on your lip, desperate to hold yourself together. “You’re the reason I had to run. The reason she’s in danger.”

“In danger?” Barty repeated, his voice sharp now, his hands tightening on your hips. “You think I’d ever let anything happen to either of you? Do you really believe I’d let anyone touch my family?”

“You’ve already put us in danger,” you shot back, your anger flaring despite the tears threatening to fall. “Your choices, your loyalty to him- you’ve made us targets, Barty. Don’t pretend you haven’t.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he leaned in closer. “Everything I’ve done has been for you,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “For us. I took that mark to protect you. I fought for a place in his world so he wouldn’t touch you or her. Do you know what I’ve sacrificed to keep you safe?”

“You don’t get to use that as an excuse,” you hissed, tears streaming freely now. “You don’t get to justify everything you’ve done by pretending it was for me. You made your choices, Barty. You chose him over me. Over us.”

His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears even as his grip felt possessive, inescapable. “I chose you,” he insisted, his voice trembling with a rare vulnerability. “Every single time, I chose you. And I’d do it again, star. I’d do anything for you.”

“Then let me go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Let me live my life. Let me protect her.”

“I can’t do that,” He said, shaking his head as his forehead pressed against yours. “You’re mine. Both of you. And I won’t let you take her- or yourself- away from me again.”

The weight of his words settled heavily in the space between you, suffocating and undeniable. You hated how your heart ached at the raw desperation in his voice, how a part of you wanted to believe him, to give in like you always did.

“You always do this,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You make me forget how much I hate you.”

He smiled faintly, his lips brushing against your temple in a touch so tender it made your chest ache. “That’s because you don’t hate me, love. You never have. And you never will.”

You wanted to scream, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch as your tears soaked into his shirt. “This isn’t fair,” you choked out, your voice muffled against him.

“No,” he agreed, his arms wrapping around you as if to shield you from the very chaos he’d brought into your life. “But I’ll make it right, star. I’ll prove to you that this is where you’re meant to be. Where we’re meant to be.”

And as much as you wanted to fight, as much as you wanted to push him away and reclaim the life you’d fought so hard to build, a part of you- the part that had always belonged to him- knew he was right.

Because no matter how far you ran, no matter how hard you fought, Barty Crouch Jr. would always find his way back to you.

And you would always let him in.

[hadesrise]

𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.

summary ➳ you unexpectedly defend barty from your friends.

pairings ➳ bartemius “barty” crouch jr. x hufflepuff!male reader

warnings ➳ sfw content, foul language, sunshine and sunshine protector trope, discrimination, asshole friends, friends to lovers, badassery lol, people are a lot prejudiced in this

author’s note ➳ i headcanon him as ravenclaw, sorry. also i think hufflepuffs are scary as fuck when they’re mad. I DO NOT HATE LILY OR JAMES AND SIRIUS. please don't misunderstand that 🥲

Unpleasant whispers filled the Great Hall particularly from Gryffindor’s table as everyone watched the little-to-no-good trio take a seat on the Hufflepuff’s table and settle themselves there uncaring of the whispers, Barty sitting down right beside you while Evan and Regulus sat on the opposite side. Despite noticing the unpleasant looks being thrown at your company, you smiled at Barty after seeing how comfortable and relaxed he seemed.

“Hey, B.” You softly greeted, eyes twinkling in admiration and cheerfulness. “Nice to see you guys too, Evan and Regulus.” Greeting politely, Evan and Regulus each sent you a small smile before falling into a calm conversation with one another, which made you wonder why they’re here in the first place, but you figured it’s because Barty’s here.

“Well, (Y/n). How’s your potions class?” Barty questioned, starting off with casual conversation while beginning to eat.

The Marauders watched as you respond to Barty with a kind smile on your face and not an ounce of hatred nor distaste for being surrounded by the three most infamous persons in Hogwarts, aside from Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, and Bellatrix Black. The softness of your expression didn’t even change. No one understands how a golden boy like you could hang out with people like... them, considering you’re the most kindest, softest, brightest person Hogwarts has ever had. You’re easily approachable and has the heart of gold that is almost impossible to be tainted, treating everyone equally while plastering on that pleasant smile of yours.

You’re practically a walking safe space for everyone. Reliable, trustworthy, loyal, patient, generous, kind, humorous, ambitious, all of them combined is what you are — a perfect person.

Or at least, that’s how others perceive you. Though, it’s not their fault for seeing you like that, you figured.

The way you’ve presented yourself in public is probably why they think of you as this perfect and divine person that is always good and never evil. You’re kind of flattered by them, but it also makes you feel as if expectations are squeezing down your throat hard.

“How the fuck does he tolerate him?” Sirius Black exclaimed in genuine confusion, referring to you engaging in conversations with a guy who clearly meant bad news.

“Language,” Remus Lupin, without looking up from his book, scolded gently. “I’m sure it’s because (Y/n) has more patience than you. He also doesn’t seem to care what other people say about him.”

“But it’s not good for him to be hanging out with him, don’t you think?” Lily Evans worriedly spoke from beside Remus as Marlene Mckinnon, who sat by her side, nodded in agreement. They knew how nice you are, so seeing you carelessly talk to Barty without hesitation makes them worried, especially when Barty’s practically apart of the Slytherins that are far from pleasant from how much time he spends with them instead of his own house. They knew him, and he definitely cannot be called a good person.

“Uhm... We don’t know for sure.” Peter shrugs, “I mean, it’s really not for us to decide who he should hang out with.”

“Peter’s right,” Remus immediately agreed, “There’s not much we can do if he’s hanging out with them. It’s not our business, and even though (Y/n)’s kind, I don’t think he would appreciate anyone butting their heads into his business. After all, he has his own thoughts.”

Even then, Lily was worried while Sirius did not understand. They returned their attention to you and Barty after hearing your laughter erupt in the Great Hall amongst murmurs and talkings of other students, seeing you playfully punching Barty’s arm and him having an overly amused and proud look on his face for making you laugh. You seem to be fairly enjoying yourself in Remus’ and Peter’s perspective, but of course, those who have a childish disdain towards Slytherin and their associates would rather be blind to it than face the reality.

You’re clearly happy with having Barty as a friend and certainly doesn’t mind who he hangs out with; endlessly friendly and nice to his two best friends, even greeting them with a warm smile. As a matter of fact, it made you seem more matured than anyone else, how you never discriminate, judge, accuse and hate anyone based on their house, rumors, or impressions. You see everyone for who they are, not what people think of them as.

Resting his elbow on the table and chin on his palm, Barty simply admire you as you talk about your day while putting some meals on his plate, making sure none of the meals contained his least favorite food. “Defense against the Dark Arts is such an entertaining lesson, B. It certainly levels up my defensive spells. I’ve been practicing them where no one will get harmed and proudly, I’ve improved a lot.” You told with utter excitement as you finished putting meals on his plate, moving to put some on your plate next. “I could show you later if you want? And perhaps, you can give me feedbacks on what I should work on.”

Barty was almost too busy admiring you, though he was quick to respond. “That’s a brilliant idea, (Y/n). Maybe we could even duel once you’ve mastered it."

You winced, “Can you not go hard on me? I’m still not confident with my duelling, you know.”

“Oh well, confidence is the key!” Barty says with excitement, genuinely wanting to duel with you. “You should try being full of yourself and think, “I can fucking do this” ‘cause it works. That’s how I got pass that bloody awful Divination class.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, as if it was the worst ever experience of his life.

A giggle erupted from your throat, which made Barty’s lips twitch up to form a smile. It may be unexpected to others, but to you, Barty always smiled and you witnessed every single one of those moments.

“Professor McGonagall will hex you if she hears that,” You joked while still laughing, leaning on him.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder to keep you on his side, grinning. “That’s just an if, you know.” Wiggling his brows, you giggled at his silliness and also wrapped an arm around his waist naturally, gaining a few raised brows and looks from other houses.

Evan and Regulus merely smiled at your interaction before scowling and exchanging eye contact, people’s reactions catching their attention despite being mild. It’s absolutely unpleasant, how they look at you and Barty as if you’re doing something criminal. They look at you with such disapproval that couldn’t help but cause Evan and Regulus to furrow their brows and narrow their eyes — it’s almost unbelievable how everyone loves you when you’re with your own house, Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw, but when you hang out with Slytherin or anyone close to them, you’re suddenly unlikable. As if you were the Public’s property, like you’re supposed to do what they tell you to do. It feels almost as if they want to control who you hang out with.

It’s more than unpleasant, the two Slytherin thought. It’s awful, how everyone seemingly wants you to act the way they expect you to.

Do you even realize the way those people who you consider friends look at you whenever you hang out with Barty? Have you ever looked around to see their eyes screaming disappointment? What would you think once you notice?

Barty seemed to be putting all his trust in you, nearly taking his heart out for you to carry it around; they don’t want their best friend to lose someone who’s literally the safe place and comfort zone. They were worried about Barty, but also worried for you.

Unfortunatelly, worrying made them miss the way you piercingly stared at someone who looked at Barty with disgust when he wasn’t looking, before plastering on an angelic smile to your best friend as soon as the bastard flinched and looked away.

I hope no one attempts to cut my patience off today, you thought with a smile while listening to him talk enthusiastically about the fun time he messed with Lucius’ potion so bad that it exploded on Snape, not knowing you’ll be in for a surprise later on.

“What are you up to later?” Evan questioned as the three of them strolled through the hallway and ignored the obnoxious pranksters with red and gold tie, trying to find a place where peace actually exists and no judgmental look from anyone.

“Studying with (Y/n).” Barty grins, holding up a pile of books. There seems to be little unnoticeable bounces in his steps as excitement bubbles within him.

Regulus gives him a weird look, “Are you pretending to be stupid so you could study with him?”

“What’s the matter with it? It’s not like he’ll know.”

“You are literally a Ravenclaw.”

“Don’t stereotype me, Reg. It’s getting old, you’re old.”

“You’re making it seem as if he’s that stupid enough not to know you’re just pretending.”

An offended gasp was heard.

“No, I am not!”

Evan chuckled at their playful banter.

Despite Regulus seemingly making fun of Barty’s tactics to spend more time with you, Evan knew he was internally happy for their best friend. The heavy expectations from his father has been taking a toll on Barty a lot, which caused some inner doubts to appear that almost always led to mental breakdowns that lasted longer than an hour. He never had been comfortable with anyone besides them and Pandora, and they were truly happy when you accepted Barty warmly without caring about the rumors or how people viewed him. It feels quite relieving to see Barty radiate happiness now.

However, the three of them comes to a halt in the hallway when a voice filled with dislike erupts from the courtyard, asking a particular question to a person no other than you.

“How can you even hang out with people like them?”

Barty, Evan, and Regulus glanced at one another before walking silently closer and peeking at the courtyard, seeing you sat on the cemented bench while playing Wizard’s Chess with Marlene, surrounded by your friends who were mostly Gryffindors. There’s only one Ravenclaw, the same house as Barty, yet he’s the one who questioned it.

You got distracted to his question as you tilt your head, “What are you talking about?”

The trio quickly ducks when the Marauders come running out of other hallways to the courtyard with loud laughters, definitely disturbing other students, and join you by the bench. Quickly noticing the strange silence, Remus tilted his head. “Why is everyone so quiet?”

“Because Leo asked how (Y/n) can even hang out with people like them.” Marlene explains shortly with emphasis, which let everyone know exactly who they were talking about.

The werewolf sighs, covering his face and shaking his head. “We’re talking about this again?”

Barty wondered how much had he and his friends been the subject of your conversation, guts twisting negatively.

“I still don’t know who you’re referring to,” You chimed in with visible confusion, now forgetting about the chess. Silence fills all of them, the Marauders and Lily glancing at each other as Marlene also can’t help but forget the chess, while your other Gryffindor friends look at you as if it’s strange that you don’t know what they’re talking about.

The Ravenclaw — Leo gives you a look, “Are you dense? I’m talking about Barty Crouch Jr. and his little goons.” He rolled his eyes.

You frowned, “They have a name, you know. Regulus Black and Evan Rosier.”

Barty recognized the discomfort and disapproval in your tone, how you seemingly understood quickly that Leo intends to talk ill about them. He didn’t miss the way your shoulders tensed and body language displaying a defensive gesture, which rarely ever happens. You’re always accepting and welcoming of other people with that big smile plastered on your face; when your body language changes, that just means someone had overstepped your boundaries. No one else seem to realize it.

One of the Gryffindors, Beth, rolls her eyes and gives you a disgusted look. “I don’t know how you can be nice to those Death Eater freaks. Slytherins are literally evil, look at their ancestors!”

“Yeah, they also pick on almost everyone.” Karen agreed, crossing her arms. “I mean, can’t you see how much bad influence they are? Barty’s supposed to be hanging out with members from his own house yet here he is, and look how he turned out.”

“I bet his father’s really disappointed and disgusted." Leo snickered, earning laughter from the two Gryffindor girls.

Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas pulsed their lips into a thin line as Remus and Peter frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the insults and comments that crosses the line, while James and Sirius fell silent since even though they had personal dislike for Slytherin, they wouldn’t go as far as your friends were going. Regulus is also Sirius’ brother, and he doesn’t like hearing anyone talk about his little brother like that.

When Sirius opened his mouth to defend his brother, the words end up being stuck in his throat after witnessing how your warm look morphed into an emotionless and expressionless face that made his blood run cold.

“You guys are fucking pathetic,” You snarled with a low and cold yet loud tone that had made the entire courtyard fall into utter silence as everyone — including others who were just around — look at you with wide shocked eyes. Your friends visibly flinched at the piercing harsh glare you were shooting them, calm storms of rage swarming in your eyes that usually displayed warmness and light. They could easily see the way your jaw was clenching, which was definitely a sign that they dug their own graves for strong lightning to strike them until they’re nothing but bones and flesh.

Barty also stops in track, finding himself surprisingly intimidated and a bit afraid. Regulus completely went still as Evan slapped a hand over his mouth in shock. It’s already surprising that a Hufflepuff cursed at someone, but to see you, someone who’s always smiling and accepting and kind and unbelievably patient, someone who’s the Golden Boy and practically a gift from divine beings who seemed as if you don’t even know how to get mad, so enraged? It is beyond jawdropping.

“What—” Karen speaks, but you interrupt.

“Have you ever realized how annoying you all sound when you mind my business rather than your own?” You tilted your head, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “It sounds like pathetic cunts who pretend they’re righteous when all they’ve ever been are prejudiced hypocrites who judge others solely on the houses they’re in. You’re much more horrible than the Death Eater freaks you talk about.”

“What the bloody hell is your problem!?” Beth shrieked.

“You and your goons, duh.” You retorted while shooting her a look, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Mistreating Slytherins for what their ancestors did is completely childish and immature, especially when it was out of their control. If their ancestors joined the Death Eaters, then the one to be blamed is not them but the ancestors themselves.” You shifted your cold gaze to Leo and Karen, “Yes, I’ve seen the three of them pick on others and told Bartemius to stop, which he did. James and Sirius pick on Snape and other Slytherins a lot, so why haven’t you barked about that yet? Is this that thing where it’s alright when you or other Gryffindors do it, but it’s suddenly evil and horrible when it comes to Slytherin?”

Karen swallows thickly, trying to hold her head high. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Really?” Your mocking tone implied you believed nothing as you stand up from the bench, leaning closer to her. She avoided eye contact, fearful. “What the fuck did you mean then?” The slow tone made you even more intimidating.

“Why are you mad at us?” Leo asked, intimidated. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

You shot him a side-eye, raising your brows. “Think with your brain, Ravenclaw. Why am I mad exactly and are you certain you haven’t done anything wrong?” You plastered on a fake smile, “Honestly, I’m not actually mad, Leo. I’m enraged. My blood’s boiling within my body. I’m certain you know what enraged means as you’re a clever Ravenclaw, don’t you?”

He bit his lip and looked down in shame.

Barty’s mouth fell agape; what the fuck, he didn’t know you can be so sarcastic like this.

Sighing deeply, you stared at him from head to toe and tilted your head, the corner of your lips twisted up. “Bartemius is clearly wiser and smarter, though.” You shrugged, “At least he knows not to befriend a loser like you.”

Lily steps closer to stop you, “(Y/n)... I think that’s enough.”

“Not precisely, Evans. And don’t think I don’t know about how you think of Bartemius as well.” You look at her, unimpressed.

“We were just worried about you...” She whispered.

“What’s there to be worried of?” You snapped. “You are all treating Bartemius as if he and his friends are cold-blooded murderers. You see someone hanging out with people in green and silver tie and your first thought is they’re horrible. The reason they become evil and horrible is because of people like you. Because you can’t and refuse to believe there’s good in them, because you would rather believe they can be anything but good than actually see who they are. You can’t handle being non-judgmental.”

Remus and Peter couldn’t help but smile at the truth in your words. The others still can’t react to your unusual change.

You sneered at your former friends, “And I hope you know you’re fucking pathetic and disgusting.” Utter disdain filled your expression, “Find someone else to cling onto. I’d rather be with Bartemius than you cunts.” Barty smiles happily at that as he subconsciously slips out of the shadow and into the courtyard. Regulus and Evan follows, standing a couple of steps behind. The Marauders noticed them immediately, eyes widening.

Ignoring the tears blimming in the Gryffindors’ eyes, you turn around only to face them back again, stepping closer with a death glare. “By the way, Leo. You ever insult Bartemius like that again with that filthy mouth of yours and I’ll fucking hex you.” You threatened before stepping back and waving goodbye with a seemingly friendly smile.

Everyone watch you turn around and jump slightly after bumping into Barty, who instantly beamed with happiness and joy radiating off of him, another thing that flabbergasted everyone.

“Oh Merlin! Hey, B!” You greet with the welcoming look now back on your expression, smiling warmly. “How long have you been standing there? And Regulus and Evan too.”

“Since the beginning, although we were hiding before you defended us.” Barty chuckled, his friends smiling behind him. He was trying to seem casual, but everyone noticed how he failed to hide the smile that’s been threatening to spread fully across his face.

“Don’t mind them, B. They’re just bitter ‘cause you rejected Leo three months ago.” You giggle, feeling better and calm now that Barty’s around, shoulders relaxed and body language displaying peaceful comfortable gesture.

Barty felt his heart swell at the realization that you truly trusted him and would never change your treatment of him no matter what anyone says, finally having the confirmation that he, in fact, do like you. Who wouldn’t when you’re this amazing? He was already feeling it, but to actually realize it was the right thing to happen? He can’t fucking contain it.

He can’t help but to shake his head with the biggest smile anyone has ever seen him have, “Bloody hell, (Y/n). I really do like you a lot.”

You froze at that.

Barty widened his eyes, about to take back, when you pulled him by his nape with one hand and kissed him gently. Evan whistled as Regulus let out a chuckle and high fived each other. Barely able to kiss you back, disappointment appears in his face after you pulled away too soon.

A smirk spreads across your lips, “You’ll get more later. You’re a good boy, after all.” You lightly tugged the hair on his nape before walking away and winking at Regulus and Evan.

“What— Wait— (Y/n), come on!” Barty stutters at the praise, flustered, as he immediately rushes off to follow you. His friends both turn around to follow him with their eyes, amusement written on their faces.

Regulus smirks, “Walk him like a dog.”

Evan instantly bursts into laughter. Well, at least he now has someone who will defend him in his name.

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴅᴇsʀɪsᴇ. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

[flintnsocks]

barty with a hufflepuff bestie but they fall in love please im begging I NEEEEED barty so bad

tell me, how’d you get so heavenly?

barty crouch jr. x hufflepuff!reader

in which barty’s plans for his future start clashing with what he feels for you.

a/n: ahhh!! my first request <33 i think i went little overboard with the creative freedom here, hope you like it anyway :( tysm, and i’m so sorry for the delay, i’ve been procrastinating. wrote this while listening to the nbhd as you can tell from the title. this is SHORT, but i’m willing to do a part two!! ^_^

you wouldn’t approve.

merlin, of course you wouldn’t! why would you, an angel sent on earth, wanting justice and equal chances for everyone, approve of the blood purity bullshit?

he didn’t himself, at first, he deemed joining the cause as ridiculous as you would.

but bartemius crouch junior needed closure. approval. something his father never seemed to give him, no matter how many times he’d prove himself as way more than bloody enough. he needed direction, something worth fighting for.

why was it so hard to see that it could’ve been you all along, that it was?

he’d drop the death eaters the second you asked. he wouldn’t get that mark if you just looked at him with any disapproval. and you would, if he’d told you. you were best friends! telling each other everything and anything, no matter how embarrassing or trivial. …so why was this so hard to say? because he knew what you’d say, how disappointed you’d be. how you’d frown at him, hiding the sheer disgust you felt.

he found himself caring for you more day by day, the possible hurt of your disappointment growing in strength just like the group he’d joined. it was getting dangerous, even at hogwarts; students harassing others, fights breaking out in the corridors. he saw your frowns, he’d stopped you from stepping in and hurting yourself too many times already.

but he saw the looks you gave him too. he noticed all the lingering touches when you studied together, how you’d scoot closer to him when he managed to coax you into going stargazing with him at the astronomy tower. and he loved all of it. he loved your praise, your affections, your approval. he’d do anything for it, but he didn’t have to. it was like he could just exist, and you’d be happy nonetheless.

so what was he supposed to do? break your heart, tell you tell that he’s a monster, spreading beliefs that you so clearly disapproved of? or act like the mark on his wrist was never there and confess his love to you, letting you live your life in a lie? you weren’t stupid, you’d catch on eventually. too quickly, for sure.

he’d delay it. he’d hold you in his arms, pull you away when someone dared to suggest that he was an death eater, he’d make up excuses. …but his desire to just be with you, without guilt, or lying, was too strong. he’d kiss your lips when no one was around, acting like the perfect best friend the next day, constantly at war with himself.

it would never last like this.

[partlystiles]

Hey uhh. Can you make a part 2 of Barty and reader talking about their dads but this time they meet in the future and hoe reader died? I sort of need some angst

PT 1

barty crouch jr x fem!reader

summary: a run-in with a relative of someone from his past makes Barty's head turn.

Warnings: swearing, use of alcohol, mentions of death.

sorry it's been a while!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My dearest Barty,

Enclosed in this letter is an Occamy feather for you! You better like it because I nearly died getting it for you, I had to resort to the mating dance and screeching loudly so it wouldn't attack. They are very aggressive and protective over their eggs, just like I knew but I can't believe I managed to tame one.

Of course I didn't manage to get an egg, but I have a drawing of it in my case that I will bring back to you and tell you all about.

India is so much fun! I've learned Bollywood dancing, visited a lot of the temples, trekked in the Himalayans to get to the Occamy of course. I even came during Diwali and everything is so beautiful!

I wish you were here with me. You'd love the dancing, even if you think you wouldn't, I know it. I'll be home soon, happily back with you. Little Elijah or Eleanor, whichever one it is, has been kicking for their daddy. Misses you almost as much as I do.

I know you had your doubts about me going to India whilst five months pregnant but I've run into no trouble whatsoever, just a little kick here and there but you were there for the first one. It should be about 4 more days until I'm back and I'm so excited!

I'm hoping that everything is okay back home. I know there's been more recent disappearances, even Regulus Black. Poor boy. He was so nice to me, I can't imagine how his brother is feeling. As long as you're safe then I'm happy, very happy.

Four months until our baby comes into the world!

Boat is boarding soon, so I'll go post this letter now. I love you so much! See you soon.

Y/N x

Bartemius Crouch read the letter over and over again. And then again. Until he felt numb inside, numb all over until somebody had to physically force him out of his chair, let alone out of his house. His heart was shattered, crawling back together to try and attach itself again, but it didn't work. Everything just crumpled again, crumpled like the letter in Barty's hand that was stained with blood, tears and sweat.

Multiple times it had been fished out of the garbage, multiple times he had tried to smooth all of the wrinkles back out of the paper so he could read it one more time. Multiple times he had been on the verge of incinerating every inky last word...but he never did. Because he could never ever get rid of her, the thought of her, the knowledge of her. Her and his baby who was never ever birthed.

Little Elijah or Eleanor never met their daddy and their daddy never got to look into the eyes of his child and softly rock them from side to side whilst singing them to sleep. It was a loss greater than anything, but nothing will ever be greater than the loss of his wife. His sun, his moon, his eclipse. Without her, his nights were darkened, his days were lost and Bartemius Crouch Junior withered away in his grand house, wishing his love was still in his arms.

However, a knock at the door interrupted his nightmare of a daydream. A grunt escaped his lips at the sound of it, his hand's grip on his glass of alcohol tightening at the rim as his other hand wiped at his spiked stubble around his chin in an uninterested gleam.

"Go away." Barty raised his voice a little, stumbling up from his dishevelled armchair and letting the rest of the letter from his wife's travel that sat on his lap fall to the wooden floor below him. "No one's home."

As he tried to stumble away again, tipping the last of the alcohol down his throat, he heard his door open anyway. Despite the obvious want of not having someone with him at that current time, he could hear footsteps behind him, entering the grand room with an air of purpose and especially an air of arrogance.

"I said GO AWAY." Barty swivelled around, chucking his glass at the doorway that the person was stood in. They didn't flinch at all, but the glass smashed above the archway and the shattered pieces fell down to the floor. "Fucking...fuckin bitch. Fuckin leave."

"Mr. Crouch, please." The man in the doorway removed his hat from his head, holding it in front of him as he watched the broken man trip around his drawing room, walking to his fireplace. "I'm here to talk about my daughter. I believe you knew her. Her name was Y/N."

At once, Barty paused in his place beside the fireplace, his hand grappled on the mantelpiece as his eyes narrowed into fierce slits at the mention of the name. The man grunted drunkenly again, shaking his head as his hands slapped against the mantelpiece multiple times before he decided to hit his head instead.

"Don't..." He drawled, his voice like gravel scraping against his vocal chords before he looked at the man in the doorway. The man had a shadow cast over his face but the firelight highlighting his nose told Barty that he was a spitting image of his dear Y/N. "Don't act like you fuckin' cared about...about her. I know what you did."

"I-I didn't do anything. My girl ran away when she was 17...I've been trying to find her for years. They led me here."

"Well, you're about a year too late, old man." Barty chuckled darkly, pushing himself away from the fireplace to swipe his bottle of alcohol off of his coffee table, pouring a hefty bit into a new glass. "She's dead."

"I was afraid of that." The man sighed, shaking his head and Barty downed about half of his drink before squinting and facing the man again. This time with more suspicion as he began to wring his hat in his hands. "She always was reckless. Running off, wanting to explore the world when I had a perfectly good job lined up for her at the ministry."

"Maybe she didn't want to be a fucking brainless clone." Barty spat, placing his glass down on the table before running his hands through his growing hair and over his face disappointedly. "And why the hell did it take you five fucking years to go looking for her? Ask anyone, it would've led you to me. You wanna fucking know why?"

"I don't-"

"I was the one who convinced her to run away." He whispered comically, pointing to himself with a crazed laugh as his lover's father straightened up a little at the amusement Barty was taking. "Right after I put a ring on her finger, we ran all the way to fucking Glasglow and got married in a stable. How's that for your precious little girl?"

"You drove my daughter away from me!" The man walked towards Barty, who picked up his glass and downed the rest of the alcohol before turning until he was chest to chest with the man. "She could've had a great life. A great job with a great salary and a great husband with a son and a daughter. You took that from her?"

"You drove her away from you yourself!" Barty stumbled more, but poked a finger onto the man's chest anyway, eyeing his own wand on the table just metres away. "It was her dream to travel the world and that's exactly what I...what I let her do, what I encouraged her to do. She was fucking happy, fuckin' joyful. With me. With my child inside of her. But of course you and your fucking ministry can't leave a man alone for two seconds-"

"You see, she was coming home from India, 5 months pregnant with my baby- and she- and she, she was on the same boat as another Death Eater. I didn't even know the guy that well. You ministry Aurors showed up, and she was caught in the crossfire. She died. My baby died. My whole life was ripped away from me because of YOU. YOU AND YOUR FUCKING- YOU'RE FUCKING..."

"Spit it out, son." The ministry worker said, stepping back from the boy as Barty reached into his pocket and yanked out her goodbye letter, crumpling it again in his hand before he looked back at the man, quivering with rage.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE. GO." He shoved his hands out, hitting the man away from him, but the elder one didn't even budge as Barty's weak drunken form pushed and pushed at the body. "GET OUT. SHE WOULDN'T WANT YOU HERE. LEAVE. Fuckin-"

Bartemius reached his hand out, bending down in his pause from slapping his late wife's father to walk over to the coffee table where his wand sat. He picked up his wand, pointing it at the man in front of him who now did stumble backwards at the sight of the crazed man threatening him with his wand. Although it seemed as though Barty couldn't get a clear shot.

"Avada Kedavra." A blinding flash of light and a thud reverberated around the room as Barty was left alone, stumbling again though he didn't bother to pour himself another drink, he just grabbed the bottle and let it slide down his throat. "Fuckin' bitch, freakin' fucker...

... I want my baby."

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Ohhh can I request prompt number 11- wondering if there might be a way to spend the holidays together "accidentally" and number 15- "YOU want to spend the holidays with ME??""Now that you say it, it really does sound weird." with Barty crouch jr please? You can choose either or both whatever you want ◡̈ thank you in advance<3

barty crouch jr x reader where you both spend the holidays together

The Slytherin common room buzzed faintly with the warmth of the enchanted fireplace, but to you, it felt more like a tomb. The empty couches and eerie quiet of the holidays always did that. You lay sprawled on Regulus Black's bed—his perfectly made bed, which you were mildly ruining with your presence—and shot a glare toward his open trunk, half-packed with the precision only someone as uptight as Regulus could manage.

"That’s my bed you’re defiling," a voice drawled.

You bolted upright, realizing with horror that Reg wasn’t the one who spoke. You’d accidentally sprawled onto Barty Crouch Jr.’s bed. The realization made you leap off it like it burned.

"Ugh," you groaned, brushing yourself off as if the act alone could cleanse you. "Do you even wash those sheets? Actually, don’t answer that—I don’t want to know."

Barty smirked. “Why, jealous of the ‘type of girls’ who—”

“Stop right there!” you barked, cutting him off. “I don’t need a list.”

Regulus, seated on the edge of his own bed, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Merlin’s sake, do you two ever take a break from this?"

You folded your arms. "Reg, I think it’s fair to say that I wouldn’t need to if he didn’t exist."

"And yet, here I am," Barty said cheerfully, settling on the arm of the couch like he owned the place.

"Existing loudly, obnoxiously, and in the worst possible way," you shot back.

Regulus groaned. "You know, sometimes I feel like I’m babysitting. Why do you hate each other so much?"

“Umm, I don’t know, Reg,” you replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe because he’s the most arrogant, annoying, insufferable, self-centered, overconfident, ridiculous—"

"Impressive vocabulary," Regulus deadpanned. "That’s seven insults in one breath. You’re rivaling Evans’ rants about Potter."

"Thank you," you said sweetly, before returning your glare to Barty.

He, for his part, looked far too amused. “I’m flattered, really. That much attention? I must be doing something right.”

Regulus ignored him. “Well, you’re going to have to tolerate him.”

“Pass,” you said immediately.

"Unfortunately, not an option," Reg continued. "You have two choices. Either come home with me for the holidays—awkward, tense dinners with Mother and Father included—"

"Barf," you interrupted.

"—or stay here at Hogwarts with Barty."

Your jaw dropped. "That’s not a choice! That’s Sophie’s Choice!"

Barty tilted his head. “Which one am I in this scenario? The kid that gets—”

"Don’t," you warned, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Regulus smirked faintly. "Well, what’s it going to be?"

You groaned. "Weirdly, staying with Crouch sounds like the better option. How did my life come to this?"

The Slytherin common room was hauntingly empty when the holidays began. The eerie quiet made you itch, and the firewhiskey you’d filched from the kitchens wasn’t doing enough to drown the loneliness. You sat in front of the fireplace, swishing the amber liquid in your glass as though it could conjure some company.

The door creaked open behind you. You didn’t bother turning around, but the low hum of voices made your stomach twist.

“…yeah, just up here,” Barty’s voice carried, warm and smooth in a way that made your teeth clench.

Moments later, he entered your line of sight—his arm slung around a girl whose name you vaguely recalled as Jessica. Or Miranda. Whatever. The two of them were all over each other, and you immediately looked back at the fire.

Barty’s voice broke through the air. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You took a long sip of whiskey. “Please, don’t let me stop you.”

The girl—still clinging to him—smirked, and you resolutely ignored her as she worked on unbuttoning his shirt. Barty, however, seemed distracted, his eyes flickering to you.

"How about we pick this up later?" he said suddenly.

The girl blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Very,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. She huffed, gathering her things, and stormed out.

Barty let out a long breath, plopped down beside you, and started buttoning his shirt. "Well, that’s not going to happen again."

You side-eyed him. “Shame. She seemed charming.”

“Jealous?” he asked, smirking.

You rolled your eyes and offered him the bottle of firewhiskey. "So, you know how I’m like—"

"Absolutely embarrassingly in love with me? Yes, I’m familiar. Go on."

"Can you take anything seriously?"

“Yes, I do. I take you very seriously.”

"Anyway," you continued pointedly, “you know how I’m, like, alone for the holidays?”

He tilted his head. "What are you talking about? I’m right here."

"You want to spend the holidays with me?"

"Now that you say it, it really does sound weird."

You groaned and leaned back against the couch, nursing the bottle of firewhiskey as if it held the answers to your problems.

“Careful,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Wouldn’t want you getting emotional on me.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered. “If I cry, it’ll be because I’m stuck here with you.”

Barty clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me, sweetheart. Truly. I’m a delight.”

“You’re a menace,” you corrected.

“Semantics.” He plucked the bottle from your hands and took a swig, ignoring your glare. “Besides, you’re the one who decided I was the lesser evil compared to awkward Black family dinners. Makes you wonder about your priorities.”

“I regret everything,” you deadpanned.

He grinned, leaning back to rest his head on the arm of the couch. The firelight danced across his features, softening the usual sharpness of his expression. For a moment, you hated how easy it was for him to look so... comfortable.

"Do you ever stop being smug?" you asked.

"Not when I’m winning."

"Winning what, exactly?"

He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "This. Us. Our rivalry. Whatever you call this disaster of a relationship."

"Relationship?!" you choked, nearly spilling your drink.

"Rivalry is a kind of relationship," he pointed out, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Merlin, just hex me now.”

"Tempting," he mused, stealing another sip from the bottle.

You reached over to snatch it back, and in the scuffle, his hand brushed yours. For a fleeting moment, your eyes met, and something in his expression shifted—so subtle, you almost missed it. But then he smirked, and the moment was gone.

“So,” he said, settling back. “What’s your plan? Drink yourself into oblivion until the new year?”

“Bold of you to assume I have a plan,” you muttered.

“Tragic, really,” he replied. “No wonder you need me.”

“I don’t need you,” you shot back.

“Sure you don’t,” he said easily, standing up and stretching. “Come on.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Get up.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m bored, and I’m not spending the rest of the night watching you sulk. We’re going for a walk.”

“A walk?” you repeated incredulously. “It’s freezing outside!”

“Good thing you have that fiery personality to keep you warm,” he said with a grin, already heading toward the common room door.

You didn’t know why you followed him. Maybe it was the firewhiskey, or maybe it was the sheer absurdity of the situation, but somehow, you found yourself trudging through the snowy grounds of Hogwarts, your breath puffing in the cold air.

“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever made me do,” you grumbled, shoving your hands into your pockets.

“Oh, please,” Barty said, walking a few paces ahead. “If this is the dumbest thing, then clearly I haven’t been trying hard enough.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. He turned back to glance at you, catching the fleeting moment of amusement before you could mask it.

“See? You’re having fun,” he said smugly.

“Barely,” you replied.

The owlery loomed ahead, its spires dusted with snow. Barty pushed open the creaking door, letting you step inside first. The warmth of the building, faint though it was, was a welcome reprieve from the cold.

As he wandered to a nearby perch, you pulled a letter from your pocket—the one you’d been avoiding since it arrived. Your parents had written to let you know they were home early from their trip and could come to pick you up if you wanted.

You scanned the letter, your eyes flickering over the words, before glancing at Barty. He stood by a window, his breath fogging the glass as he rubbed his hands together for warmth.

Without thinking too much about it, you pulled out a quill and parchment and began to write your reply.

Dear Mum and Dad, Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. Love, Me

You folded the letter carefully, sealing it before tying it to the leg of a nearby owl. The bird hooted softly, spreading its wings as it soared off into the night.

Brushing your hands together, you turned and made your way to where Barty was perched by the window. His breath fogged the glass as he stared out into the snow-covered grounds, looking strangely peaceful for someone who thrived on chaos.

“Enjoying the view?” you asked, hopping up to sit beside him on the ledge.

“Would be better if you weren’t ruining it,” he replied without missing a beat, glancing at you with a smirk.

“Oh, how tragic for you,” you said, nudging his shoulder lightly. “Should I leave you alone with your deep thoughts?”

“And deprive you of my company? I’m not that cruel,” he quipped, nudging you back.

You rolled your eyes, bumping him again, harder this time. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he said, smirking as he nudged you right back. “Sitting with me. Bantering with me. Some might call it quality time.”

“Some might call it punishment,” you shot back, unable to suppress the grin tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before leaning back against the wall. The firelight from the sconces glinted off his features, making him look almost softer than usual.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “for someone who claims to hate me, you spend an awful lot of time in my presence.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, your tone light but your shoulder brushing his again.

“Too late,” he replied, smirking as he met your gaze.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, surprisingly. Instead, it felt… comfortable, even as the cold from outside seeped through the stone walls.

The walk back inside was quiet at first, snowflakes clinging to your robes as you made your way through the dimly lit corridors. The silence didn’t last long, though—because, well, Barty.

As you approached the main hall, he slowed, eyes catching on a towering Christmas tree tucked into a corner, adorned with only the faintest glimmer of lights.

“So, you know how-,” Barty began, his tone casual, almost too casual.

You smirked, cutting him off. “You’re obviously in love with me?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Touché,” he said, not missing a beat. “But as I was saying—before I was so rudely interrupted—we don’t have to wallow in misery here. We could, I don’t know, decorate the Christmas tree in our common room.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you think we’re supposed to do that? There aren’t decorations just lying around.”

He gave you a sly grin, the kind that always spelled trouble. “I’ve got my ways,” he said with a wink.

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “That sounds suspiciously ominous, but fine. Lead the way.”

As he guided you through the castle, you couldn’t help but pester him. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Salazar, you ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Barty groaned, though his tone held amusement.

“Excuse me if I don’t blindly follow someone whose life motto is basically chaos and poor decisions,” you shot back, earning a snicker from him.

Eventually, he led you to the seventh floor, stopping abruptly in front of a blank stretch of wall. You blinked, glancing around nervously. “Uh, Crouch, I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”

He smirked, completely unfazed. “You worry too much, treasure.”

Your cheeks heated at the nickname, and you shot him a look. “Treasure? That’s new.”

He waved you off, nonchalant, though his smirk deepened. “You’ll get used to it.”

“All right, fine, but if Filch shows up, I’m hexing you first,” you muttered, though you couldn’t stop the small smile forming as you followed him.

As he paced in front of the wall, you crossed your arms. “Crouch, hate to break it to you, but a wall isn’t going to help us celebrate Christmas.”

He paused, turning to you with mock seriousness. “I feel two things right now. One, you’re severely underestimating my brilliance. And two, if I can call you treasure, you can at least call me Barty.”

“Oh, sod off,” you said, laughing.

“Charming,” he replied, grinning.

Before you could retort, the once-blank wall began to shift, stones rippling like water before solidifying into an ornate door. Your jaw dropped as Barty casually pushed it open.

“Ladies first,” he said, gesturing with exaggerated chivalry.

You rolled your eyes, stepping past him. “Such a gentleman.”

“Only for you,” he quipped, his grin widening.

Inside, your breath caught. The room was filled with everything you could possibly need to decorate a Christmas tree: boxes of shimmering ornaments, strings of enchanted fairy lights, and even rolls of tinsel that sparkled like stardust.

“Is that—” you stammered, pointing at a pile of candy canes stacked next to a miniature sleigh.

Barty draped an arm over your shoulders, looking smug. “This is the Room of Requirement, treasure. Think of something you really need, and it appears—within reason. Found it when Evan and I were pranking Snape.”

You shook your head in amazement, eyes wide as you took it all in. “Merlin, I love magic.”

Barty watched you, his smirk softening into something almost fond. “Yeah, it’s got its moments.”

You turned to him, excitement practically buzzing off you. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s turn that boring tree into something worthy of our genius.”

He grinned, grabbing a box of ornaments. “Now you’re talking.”

You and Barty dove into the decorations like kids in a candy shop. He threw a strand of tinsel over his shoulder, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Would you look at that?” he said, holding up a glittery bauble. “This one’s almost as sparkly as you.”

You snorted, grabbing it from his hand. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Crouch.”

“Please, I’m just getting started.” He waggled his brows before draping a garish red-and-gold ribbon around the tree in one dramatic flourish.

“Subtlety really isn’t your strong suit, is it?” you said, hanging ornaments with a bit more care.

“Subtlety is boring,” he replied, holding up a pair of elf-shaped ornaments and making them ‘kiss.’ “Now this is art.”

Rolling your eyes, you flicked a sprig of tinsel at him. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back with a grin.

As the tree began to come together, you both stood back to admire your work—or, at least, your chaos. The tree was a glorious mess of mismatched ornaments, glowing lights, and way too much tinsel.

“Alright,” Barty said, clapping his hands together. “Time for the grand finale: the star.” He held it up, the light reflecting off its gilded surface.

“Go on, then,” you said, crossing your arms.

He scoffed. “You think I’m tall enough for this?”

“Why are you holding it, then?”

He gave you a mischievous look. “Because you’re going to sit on my shoulders, obviously.”

“Oh no, absolutely not,” you started, but Barty had already crouched down in front of you.

“Come on, treasure. Unless you want a very lopsided star?” He glanced back at you, his grin infuriatingly charming.

You groaned. “Fine. But if you drop me—”

“I won’t,” he said confidently. “Unless you insult my decorating skills again.”

With a roll of your eyes, you carefully climbed onto his shoulders. He stood up, holding your legs steady as you wobbled slightly.

“Stop moving!” you yelped.

“Relax, you’re doing great,” he said, his voice laced with laughter. “Just don’t kick me in the head.”

With a muttered curse, you reached up, placing the star delicately on the top branch. “There. Done.”

Barty gave a little celebratory bounce. “Perfect. You can come down now.”

You let out a relieved laugh as you slid off his shoulders, landing back on solid ground.

“See? Told you I wouldn’t drop you.”

You smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

As you both stood there, admiring your handiwork, something peculiar happened. A small pop echoed above you, and when you glanced up, there it was—mistletoe, hanging innocently from thin air.

You turned to Barty, narrowing your eyes. “Really?”

He blinked, all wide-eyed innocence. “What? That’s definitely not my doing.” He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Could it be the castle itself, trying to tell us something?”

“Oh, cut the theatrics,” you said, though you couldn’t help but laugh.

He leaned in slightly, his grin softening. “Well, we wouldn’t want to anger the castle, would we?”

You gave him a long, suspicious look. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you’re still standing here,” he murmured, his voice lower now, more serious.

With a small smile, you stood on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He responded immediately, his hands coming up to gently cup your face.

When you pulled back, his grin was back, brighter than ever. “So, does this mean you’ll let me call you treasure more often?”

You shoved him lightly, laughing. “Don’t push it.”

“Too late,” he said, his laughter echoing through the room as he pulled you back in for another kiss.

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