Sometimes when he leaves the defence against the dark arts he can feel eyes on him, curious eyes that watch his every move from the moment he entered the doors at the beginning of the lesson until the end. Harry feels eyes and he knows who's watching him. Its different from when the people in his class watch, different to the stares in the hallways.
He knows who stands behind the stare and he flushes just lightly as he leaved the classroom, a smile tugs at his lips but he fights it back in the crowd of students scrambling to leave.
But Harry sometimes lingers for a moment when packing away his books and parchment, he always wants to look up, to meet the eyes that watch him. He wants to watch the watcher but even after all these months he doesn't look up.
When he pauses the eyes of the watcher look upon him expectantly, Barty watches him expectantly, wearing a face that is not his own and living a life stolen from someone else.
Harry turns away but he wonders, what if?
What it I looked up?
What would happen if I agreed?
Harry always wonders.
He never looks up.
Barty watches on.
(“Run away with me love, c'mon it'd be easy, just you and me, please don't make me beg-")