You, Percy Weasley, and Oliver Wood had been an inseparable trio since your very first year at Hogwarts. Somehow you ended up in all the same study sessions, meals, and Quidditch stands together. Percy provided logic and fierce loyalty, Oliver brought passion and adrenaline, and you… you tied them together with warmth neither of them would ever admit they needed.

But there was one thing nobody ever said out loud.

Percy was smitten with you. Completely. Utterly. Painfully.

And Oliver knew it.

The problem? Oliver wanted you too.

He’d wanted you for years, but the moment he realized Percy fancied you, he buried it. Locked it. Threw away the key. Oliver Wood would rather die on his broom than hurt his best friend. So he smiled, he teased you, he sat next to you at every meal — all while pretending he didn’t watch you a little too closely, or blush when you cheered for Gryffindor, or freeze every time you touched his arm and laughed.

No one knew. Not even Percy.

And not you.

Except… somewhere along the way, your feelings changed too.

You’d always liked Oliver — it was impossible not to. He was warm, dedicated, fiercely protective and unintentionally charming. Being around him constantly, studying with him, sitting with him at Quidditch practice, getting dragged to the pitch when he needed “moral support”… it did something to you.

You started wanting him.

Not Percy. Not anyone else.

Oliver.

But you never said anything because you didn’t want to make things awkward between the three of you. And Oliver never said anything because he refused to betray Percy. And Percy said too much without saying anything at all.

So everything stayed unspoken.

Until one cold evening in the library.

You were curled up at your usual table, books everywhere, parchment scattered around you. Percy was finishing an essay beside you, muttering under his breath. Oliver burst through the doors a few minutes later, hair windswept from practice, cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” he said dramatically. “I thought you’d both abandoned me.”

“You’re an hour late,” Percy sniffed.

Oliver grinned. “Quidditch emergency. Needed a hero to fix it.”

“You were fixing your broomstick shaft, weren’t you?” you teased.

“...No comment.” Oliver dropped into the seat across from you, smiling crookedly. “Missed me?”

“Not really,” you teased back, though you absolutely had.

His eyes flickered — soft, quick, almost vulnerable — before he hid it with a laugh.