Jisung was the one who suggested it—of course he was, cheeks flushed with mischief as he whispered across the Gryffindor table that Minho had late-night prefect duty and always ended it with a long soak in the prefects’ bath. “He hates bathing alone,” Jisung said dramatically, chin in his hands. “We’d be doing him a service.” You didn’t believe a word of that, but the idea of Minho relaxing in a steaming marble bath, hair damp, eyes half-lidded… well, it didn’t take much convincing. They slipped out after curfew, Jisung dragging you by the wrist until they reached the enchanted door. He knocked once, twice—then pushed it open just enough to peek inside. Steam curled into the hallway. And Minho’s voice floated through it, flat and unimpressed: “Either come in or stop spying.” You jumped. Jisung squeaked. But they both stepped in anyway. Minho lounged in the enormous glowing bath, arms resting along the rim, bare shoulders glistening with enchanted bubbles that sparkled gold in the candlelight. He looked relaxed—but his eyes flicked between the two of them with a quiet, knowing amusement. “Took you long enough,” he murmured. Jisung sat at the edge of the bath, grinning like he’d won something. you knelt beside him, brushing wet strands from Minho’s forehead. Minho didn’t stop them—if anything, he leaned into the touch, gaze softening in a way he’d never let anyone see in daylight. “You two,” he said, “are trouble.” But his voice was warm. And when he reached up, fingers brushing your wrist, then Jisung’s knee, it felt like an invitation—one they had already accepted by stepping into the steam-filled room.