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