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Barty Crouch Jr. sat hunched over a worn desk in the back of their classroom, tapping a chewed pen against his notebook. His eyes, however, weren’t on the board.
They were fixed—glued—to the boy sitting two rows ahead of him.
Regulus Black.
Perfect, pretty Regulus, lounging with careless grace, legs crossed, dark hair cascading over his shoulders in soft waves that looked like they belonged on a rockstar, not some posh poncey type forced into bottom set for "disciplinary reasons."
And Barty? He was transfixed.
Of course, he couldn’t say that. He wouldn’t.
Instead, when Evan Rosier—his best mate and the one person who knew exactly how screwed up his thoughts were—nudged him and smirked, Barty shrugged, muttering low under his breath:
"It's not like I fancy him. I just—he's got long hair. Like a girl. So it's fine."
Evan snorted. “Yeah, right, mate.”
Barty glared. “Shut up.”
But Evan didn’t need to say anything else because Regulus turned around at that exact moment , glancing over his shoulder with a sharp smirk, like he knew exactly what Barty had said.
His dark eyes glinted.
Later that Day...
Barty shouldn’t have lingered near the empty stairwell after class, but he did . He told himself it was to avoid Rosier’s teasing, but truthfully? He was hoping Regulus would walk by.
And of course, he did.
Regulus’ tie was loosened, blazer slung over his shoulder, the picture of casual defiance in a too-strict uniform.
Barty’s throat went dry.
Regulus stopped when he spotted Barty. Smirked. Leaned one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed, watching Barty with lazy amusement.
“So,” Regulus said, voice smooth and cool as ever, “I’m basically a girl, am I?”
Barty’s face went hot. “I didn’t say—”
“Oh no, you did .” Regulus’ smirk grew sharper. “You think calling me a girl makes it easier to imagine fucking me, is that it?”
Barty flinched. “I—”
Regulus took a step closer, predatory grace in every movement. “Say it.”
Barty’s mouth opened and closed, like a fish gasping for air. “I—That’s not—”
“ Say it, Barty.”
Barty swallowed hard. “I-I don’t fancy you.”
Regulus laughed, low and dark. “You do , though. You can’t stop looking at me.”
Barty stood frozen as Regulus prowled closer until their chests were nearly touching.
“You wanna see if I’m like a girl?” Regulus whispered, breath hot against Barty’s ear.
Barty whimpered.
“Pathetic,” Regulus breathed, shoving Barty back until he hit the wall with a thud.
And then, just like that, Regulus kissed him , sharp and biting and in control .
Barty moaned against his lips, weakly grabbing at Regulus' waist like he couldn’t help himself.
Cut to Later (Smut Section, Fade-to-Black Ending)
The empty classroom was quiet except for Barty’s desperate gasps and the sound of Regulus' mocking laughter.
“Oh, now you like having a boy on top of you,” Regulus whispered, leaning down, hands braced on either side of Barty’s head as he hovered above him on the desk.
Barty whined, hips shifting under Regulus’ weight.
“You wanna be a good boy for me?”
“Yes—yes, Reg, please,” Barty whimpered, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide.
Regulus smirked. “Thought you didn’t like boys, Barty.”
Barty flushed even darker. “I-I don’t—”
Regulus leaned in, voice dropping darkly. “Liar.”
The night was filled with Barty’s breathless begging and Regulus’ low, controlling voice.
And if Barty found himself always sitting closer to Regulus the next day, glaring at anyone else who so much as looked at him — well, that was his problem.