Being Percy Weasley’s younger sister came with a long list of warnings: don’t bother me during study hours, don’t touch my prefect badge, don’t track mud into the common room, and the classic—stay out of my dorm unless it’s important.

Lucky for you, something very important lived there.

Oliver Wood.

Gryffindor’s golden boy. The Quidditch Captain with shoulders broad enough to block the sun, hair that always looked like he’d run straight from practice, and the kind of smile that could make your knees go weak if you weren’t careful.

You’d been “visiting Percy” a lot lately.

And Percy, being Percy, never noticed.

Today, though… today was planned.

You reached the Gryffindor boys’ dorm and pushed the door open without knocking, calling out casually, “Percy? You in here?”

Total lie. You watched him leave for Potions ten minutes ago.

But Oliver… was right where you expected him: sitting on his bed, broom across his lap, wiping mud off the handle. His eyes lifted the second he heard your voice.

“Percy’s not here,” he said with that low Scottish accent, eyebrows raising.