#bartylily microfic

Arriving at the front door of her flat, Lily pauses with the key in the lock and takes a deep breath, unsure what chaos she would be entering into. It was most likely a terrible idea to let Barty—irresponsible, reckless, borderline insane Barty—babysit her child. But she was called into work for an emergency, and as a healer, she just had to go in. Saving someone’s life is worth whatever is in store for her behind the other side of the door. 

She furrows her eyebrows when she enters a spotless living room and a quiet flat. Eerily quiet. Lily heads to the kitchen, grabbing some custard creams from the top shelf that she hid from the other two, not trusting them to not devour all of her favourite biscuits while she was gone, and snacks on a few before she goes to Harry’s room to see if they are there or if they went out. She smiles softly at the scene before her, her two boys both snoring and drooling next to each other, Barty’s gangly body hanging half of the toddler’s bed. They look so peaceful resting together, so calm and content. 

After the Rain

Thunder rumbled in the distance the moment Lily stepped outside the library, dark clouds stretching across the summer sky. She quickened her pace, hoping to reach the bus stop before the rain started. The ozone in the air tingled her nose in the best way possible, sky and earth intermingling in her lungs. She loved that feeling just before the storm—before the world fractured in a burst of lightning. It was like standing on the edge of a building, never leaning too far to one side or the other.

Lily had lived her whole life like this, on the verge of explosion. But she had everything perfectly under control.

Flood poured from the sky. Raindrops hit her skin as she ran to the nearest awning, pulling her jacket over her head. It was just her luck that she chose to take a tote bag today, her computer and books were going to get wet. Lily leaned against the wall of a closed cafe, watching the rainstorm unravel before her eyes.

The streets were deserted, as always in August in their town, everyone having gone on vacation. Except for—

“Fancy seeing you here, Evans.” Barty's voice was dripping with sarcasm, a smirk tugging at his lips. He ran his hand through his wet hair, strands of green-dyed hair escaping through his fingers.

Lily kinda wanted to kick him. 

“What are you doing here, Crouch? I thought you would be on the French Riviera this time of year,” Lily retorted, more out of habit than anything else.

She and Barty weren't exactly friends, rather their friends were friends (and some of them were dating depending on the week) and they had known each other since elementary school. They had some sort of unofficial academic competition and Lily hated his guts most of the time.

Lily had accompanied him to throw eggs at his father's company at the beginning of the year. Barty had brought her food every night during exam periods.

“I bailed,” Barty shrugged as he sat down next to her, pressing his shoulder against hers. “There's no place I'd rather be than here.” 

Lily's laugh caught in her throat, shivering as her wet denim jacket clung to her skin, drops of water running down the back of her neck. Her half-undone braid fell pathetically over her shoulder, and she'd caught a glimpse of her smudged eyeliner in the window earlier. 

She looked as tired as she felt, and school didn't start for another week.

“So, Lils,” Barty drawled, “what are you doing here? It's pretty dead this time of year.”

“I just wanted to be ready for the start of the year. I really need this full scholarship to go to college.” Lily replied. Two years ago, she would have rather died than admit this to Barty Crouch Jr, but if anyone could understand the crushing weight of expectations, it was him.

There was no pity, compassion, or disapproval in his eyes as he smiled at her, just understanding and amused fondness. “Looks like we'll be continuing our little date nights this year too.”

“Looks like it,” Lily said, realizing with a flutter how close Barty's face was to hers. He had a new piercing above his eyebrow. 

“I missed you this summer,” Barty said, his eyes lingering on her lips. 

Lifting her head, Lily straightened up to kiss Barty on the cheek before resting her head on his shoulder. She stared straight ahead, watching puddles form on the road, the occasional car driving through them and sending drops flying into the air, as she whispered. “Me too.”

The rain beat against the roof reassuringly and comfortingly as Barty put an arm around her shoulders. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sticking one between his lips. His lighter flickered before lighting, the end of his cigarette igniting and Barty inhaled, throwing his head back. The tattoo on his throat stretched over his Adam's apple, disappearing beneath his white t-shirt.

“How’s your sister?” Barty asked, smoke escaping from his lips. 

“How's your father?” Lily retorted, playing with the rings on Barty's fingers.

The laughter they shared was bitter. Barty offered her his cigarette and Lily blew the smoke in his face playfully. Barty pinched her ribs and Lily doubled over, a laugh ripping out of her. 

“You should laugh more often,” Barty breathed into her ear, his lips grazing her skin.

Lily sighed contentedly, leaning into Barty's chest, a blissful smile illuminating her face. She stole the cigarette from Barty's hand again, letting it burn between her lips.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Crouch,” Lily said light-heartedly. 

"I wouldn't dare," Barty grinned lazily, tucking a strand of Lily's hair behind her ear. He flicked her dangling earring with his fingertip. “New earrings?” 

bartylily microfic — first msgical war, MCD, angst, past situationship, barty's pov — word count: 352

It was meant to be just a situationship. They were together for fun, stealing moments between obligatory study hours in the dark corners of the library. It was naughty comments met with witty retorts, sharp and careless conversations about inappropriate subjects, the heady haze of a shared joint, heated kisses, and a quick fuck on a Thursday night. There were a few too-short dates, filled with sparse words and even fewer clothes, stolen away in dusty broom closets. And, at some point, as naturally and effortlessly as the seasons change, they existed only on the periphery of each other's lives, their connection reduced to a handful of mischievous glances exchanged in the corridors. They had parted without bitterness, without promises, without any acknowledgment of what might have been.

But if it was so fleeting, so inconsequential, why, so many years later, did Lily Evans’ name in the morning obituary strike him like a curse?

Barty Crouch Jr. stared at the black ink spelling her name, the words blurring as guilt and regret tightened in his chest. His breakfast turned to ash on his tongue, and the weight of unspoken truths threatened to choke him. He would never rewrite the way they had drifted apart; they had never belonged to each other. They had been smart enough not to mistake their games for destiny but foolish enough to believe their actions wouldn’t ripple through each other’s lives.

What they had was a spark—brief and hot—but even the smallest spark could set a forest aflame.

She had fought for hope, for justice, for everything he had let slip through his fingers. And he, in his arrogance, had chosen a path that stood against everything she believed in. The Dark Mark on his left arm felt like a cruel mockery—a constant reminder of the choices he made and the lives he had destroyed.

The world she had fought for still stood, but her absence rendered it hollow. And Barty Crouch Jr., standing amid the ashes of his own ruin, realized too late that even the most fleeting connections could leave scars deeper than any war.

bartylily microfic — fluff, slightly nsfw, Lily’s pov — word count: 552

Lily, who was impeccably shelving the last of her books and minding her own business, didn’t expect at all the sharp smack that landed squarely on her ass.

She instantly whipped around, dropping the books that were still floating halfway to their spots and slapped the offender before her brain could catch up. 

"Ouch."

Lily’s eyes widened in recognition. Barty was standing inches from her, rubbing his cheek—and looking thoroughly amused.

“Barty!” she hissed, green eyes flashing and heart still racing. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“That was kind of hot,” Barty said, smirking as he dropped his hand to his side. “The slap, I mean. I might be into that. Want to try grabbing my face next? I promise to behave… or not.”

Lily rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. Barty Crouch Jr. always lived up to his reputation as an unhinged little menace—an extremely fun and good-looking one.

“Unfortunately,” she said, voice low and teasing as she leaned in close, “I can’t say the same.” 

Her fingers brushed over his cheek, slow and deliberate, and he leaned into the touch instantly. 

His hazel eyes locked onto hers. His hands slid to her waist, firm and possessive, pulling her flush against him until there was nothing between them but heat.

Lily let her arms drape around his neck, fingers playing lazily with the shaved undercut behind his ear.

Yeah, a very fun, good-looking menace that also smells ridiculously good.

“Are you sure?” Barty’s voice dropped. His hands trailed down the back of her skirt before confidently grabbing her ass. “I think you’re lying, bonita. I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be honest.”

Lily smirked. “I meant the slapping without prior consent…”

“Mmm,” he hummed, resting his forehead against hers. “But we’ve talked about that.”

“Well, yeah, but a few seconds ago I thought you were just some random creep.”

Barty wrinkled his nose at that, clearly offended by the idea. Lily giggled and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“Next time, try saying hi first before going for my ass.”

“Gotcha.”

This time, Barty was the one to kiss her—slow and greedy—his hands still on her, slowly slipping beneath her skirt like he had every intention of getting familiar with every bit of her.

“Oh, Merlin!” a high-pitched voice squeaked from nearby.

They broke apart—barely—both annoyed by the interruption. A younger student stood frozen, wide-eyed in horror.

“I’m… I’m so, so, so sorry!”

“Out,” Barty growled.

The kid bolted.

Lily turned back to him, breathing a little harder than before. “Speaking of consent…” She traced her finger along his jaw. “Do you really think you’d be into the slapping thing?”

Barty’s smile was instant—wide and full of trouble. “Oh, mami, I haven’t even been a bad boy yet. Why are you already thinking about punishing me?”

Lily grinned. “I wouldn’t be so sure you haven’t done anything. One of my butt cheeks is still stinging.”

She gave him one last kiss before stepping back, smoothing her skirt, and flicking her wand to send the fallen books back to their shelves.