The library was quiet—almost too quiet. You were deep into a thick textbook on advanced defensive magic, half your notes already color-coded, when the chair beside you creaked.

—“Is this seat taken?”

You didn’t need to look up. You knew the voice. Seamus Finnigan. Again.

—“I mean, technically, yes,” you said, still reading.

—“Well, that’s tragic,” he sighed, plopping down anyway. He rested his chin on his hand and stared at you. “You’ve been studying for hours. It’s a crime, really. You should be arrested for excessive brilliance.”

You blinked at him.

—“Seamus.”

—“Yes, love?”

—“I’m trying to focus.”

—“And I’m trying to get your attention,” he said shamelessly, reaching for your quill. “Maybe if I rearranged all your notes by subject and usefulness to me, you’d finally talk to me for more than five seconds.”

You snatched the quill back.

—“Touch anything and I hex you.”

He grinned.

—“Now that’s the spirit. Merlin, you’re intimidating when you’re in study mode. Honestly, it’s kind of hot.”

Madam Pince hissed something about “library etiquette” from the other side of the shelves.

Seamus leaned closer, voice low.

—“Alright, alright—I’ll behave. On one condition.”

He reached into his pocket and held out a tiny chocolate frog box, clearly charmed with a note that said ‘Study break? I’ll bring the chaos, you bring the brains.’