You shuffle quietly down the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, hoping to grab a book you forgot in the library. Most students are long gone, the echo of your footsteps bouncing off the stone walls. But as you turn a corner, you stop dead.

There, in the middle of the library, is Percy Weasley. Alone. And… muttering under his breath.

Curious, you edge closer, trying to see what he’s doing. Your eyes widen when you notice the small parchment in front of him: it’s a complex spell—one you’d mentioned in passing earlier that week, something you’d struggled to master in class.

“Percy?” you whisper.

He freezes, wand mid-air, and looks up, startled. “Y-Y/N! I… uh… didn’t hear you come in.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Practicing… this spell? At this hour?”

His cheeks flush, and he scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Well… you said you were having trouble with it, and… I thought I could maybe… help? You know, later… or… in general.”

Your heart skips a beat. Percy Weasley—always so serious, so proud—has been staying late in the library just to practice a spell for you.

“Percy,” you say softly, stepping closer. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He looks down at the parchment, then back at you, and his voice is quiet but determined. “I know. But I wanted to. I… I figured if I got it right, it’d be easier for you. And… I like helping you. Even if it’s late. Or complicated. Or—”