Metamorphmagus || Percy Weasley

"So, you don't know what you look like?" he asked her, his eyes widening in surprise.

"I have a vague idea," she told him casually, like it was nothing but a mere question people asked her all the time. "Phoebe's good with a quill, you know? She shows me what I look like sometimes."

He was silent for moment, taking in what she said. But before it could turn uncomfortable, he huffed in disbelief. "I don't think anyone could quill down what you look like."

"And why's that?"

"Because you're too perfect." Then realizing what he had just said, he blushed slightly. "I mean of course, I'm aware nobody's per-"

She grinned, causing him to turn even redder now, almost enough to rival his hair. "I think you're kinda perfect too, Percy Weasley."