Molly walked in on Oliver Wood carding his callused fingers through her middle son's hair. She opened her mouth but the deputy Minister for Sport shot her a fierce look pressing a finger from his free hand to his lips. Percy shifted in his sleep, hand clumsily finding purchase on Oliver's knee steadying his head in Oliver's lap. A fire was burning in the grate and cast shadows and light over their faces, giving colour to Percy's porcelain colouring, tinging his pale peaches and cream to a deeper pink, darkening his freckles, softening his cut glass cheekbones. The flickering blaze warmed Oliver's more rugged features, adding depth to the chestnut of his hair and making his dark eyes more golden and bright.

Oliver carefully, tenderly and methodically teased Percy's scalp with his fingertips. The lines of stress that adorned Percy's face, undoubtedly from Kingsley's declaration of retiring from office at the end of the spring were smoothed in sleep, banished from his face, making him look younger than his 30 years. Too tall for the family sofa Percy's odd-socked feet only rested on the armrest due to his habit of curling up when sleeping. Slender legs were still not jumping with the nervous energy they usually buzzed with at the Weasely household.

He had set their wands and Percy's glasses on the coffee table just in front of his outstretched legs, something that had taken far longer than the usual few seconds it would take normally due to the delicate execution of task of movement millimeter by millimeter so as not to wake Percy. A spring dug into the small of Oliver's back but he ignored it in favour of tucking a coppery curl of hair behind Percy's ear. Molly closed her mouth and quietly moved out of the room, leaving them alone.