Arithmancy, Percy decided, was the most boring class known to wizardkind. Correction, he rolled his eyes, Arithmancy taught by Professor Kettleburn was the most boring class known to wizardkind. Really, the man shouldn't even be teaching. Not Care of Magical Creatures, and certainly not so delicate a subject as Arithmancy.

Oliver, from the other side of the room, threw a piece of parchment at him. Percy started as it fell into his lap from where it had hit his forehead.

"…Weasley?" Kettleburn was looking at him expectantly and pointing to the board.

"Yes, Professor?" Percy cleared his throat as Kettleburn raised his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, could you please repeat that? I didn't hear you."

"It'll do you better, Weasley, to pay attention." He sighed. "But, I suppose, it is far too much to expect from the ruffians of your generation."

Oliver snickered. Percy glared at him. Despite the comment, Kettleburn repeated the question, which Percy then answered perfectly before returning back to his seat. When Kettleburn turned around, he threw the parchment back at Oliver, hitting him on the ear.

Poor Kettleburn, he thought, forced to deal with this madness.

But Vector's wife was in St. Mungo's, and he was the only on-site teacher, not having a class during the period, and was made to teach the sixth year Arithmancy class. Flint and Higgins were charming their parchment, skillfully folded into figures, to have a gladiator-like battle, while a few Ravenclaw girls were openly discussing Merlin's theories about dragons and his writings about King Arthur. Oliver was, by now, pelting him with parchment, which Kettleburn, after forgetting his glasses, didn't see. Percy was, of course, deflecting the missiles with a subtle charm.

He checked his watch—Muggle, like most gifts from his father, but incredibly efficient—and inwardly groaned. Double Arithmancy, and then double History of Magic, and only twenty minutes had passed from the beginning of class. With a final look around, Percy made up his mind. This class was going nowhere, and he'd already finished his homework and learned everything he'd have to know for Vector's return. He raised his hand.

"Weasley?" Kettleburn finally said.

"Professor Kettleburn?" he replied, book bag already packed and slung over his shoulder. "I don't feel so well."

"Oh, well," he waved a hand, "I suppose you'd better visit Madam Pomfrey, then. Have an escort if you feel the need."

"Thank you, Professor."

Oliver was right at his heels.

"Poor Percy," Oliver teased, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Feeling peaky?"

"Shut up." Percy grinned. "I could have left you there."

"And I am thankful you didn't." Oliver slid his hand down to Percy's waist, hugging him against his side.

Percy was taller than him, and thinner. Oliver had no idea how he kept warm in the winter, but seven years of trying to fatten up his best friend had taught him one thing—if Percy's body didn't want to do something, it wouldn't. Even as he contemplated Percy's shoulders being too high for him to comfortably drape his arm over, Percy managed to trip over his own feet, dragging Oliver to the floor on top of him.

"Thanks for that," Oliver gasped into his face, breathless.

"Anytime." Percy nudged Oliver to get off.

Oliver heaved himself off the floor, finding the knuckles of one hand red and bleeding from the impact, before dusting himself off and reaching a hand down to help Percy. Once heaved his friend into a standing position, Oliver picked up his book bag, and, knuckles still smarting, put his arm around Percy's waist once more.

"I'll probably trip again," Percy warned as they began walking.

"I'll catch you," Oliver promised, momentarily tightening his grip to prove the point.

Percy nodded. They roamed the halls, feet leading their brains and common sense, before coming to the closed doors of the Great Hall. They exited the castle and entered the grounds, uncut grass sitting over their shoes. The morning sun cheerfully shone above them and in the distance, at the very edge of the forest, they could see Hagrid teaching a care of Magical Creatures class.

"How much time to we have?" Oliver asked when they reached the lake.

"Rest of the day," Percy answered, then looked at Oliver, who hand removed his arm. "I have the notes for History, so that should be alright. What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" Oliver rolled his eyes when Percy shrugged, and explained slowly, "I'm sitting."

"Oh."

Oliver patted the ground next to him. "Come on."

Percy sat, bottom still sore from his earlier collision with the ground. Oliver brought his arm around him again, and Percy leaned into his side. A breeze from the lake ruffled their hair, Percy's orange locks flying into his face. Oliver brushed them away with his free hand.

"How warm is it, d'you think?" he asked suddenly. "In the lake?"

"How warm is—in the lake, Oliver?" Percy gaped. "Now's not the time for swimming!"

"It's the perfect time for swimming," Oliver replied confidently and got up from the grass, immediately taking off his robes and tie.

"What are you doing?" Percy asked in strangled tones as Oliver unbuttoned his shirt. "Someone will see! Are you… are you taking your trousers off?"

"Of course." Oliver's shoes joined his book bag. "You can't expect me to go swimming in my robes!"

"Oliver!" Percy was almost red with incredulity—just as red as the house colors on Oliver's pants—and Oliver was almost knee-deep in the lake.

"Oh, don't just sit there… the water's warm!"

"You're"—Percy didn't know why he took off his robe, but sighed—"insane."

"And you're joining me." Oliver smiled triumphantly. "What does that say about you?"

"That immorality is contagious."

Percy touched the water with his big toe. Oliver laughed as he recoiled. Warm, he thought bitterly. It wasn't warm. In Oliver's defense, it wasn't cold, either, but it certainly was not ideal swimming temperature.

"It's not that cold," Oliver said, seeing Percy's exaggerated shiver. "You're a beanpole."

Laughing, he ducked down into the water so only his head was visible, and slowly made his way to where Percy was standing.

Warily, Percy eyed him. "What are you doing? You better not—"

The rest of Percy's words were drowned out as he was pulled forward, Oliver having grabbed his legs, sending them crashing together into the water. They emerged sputtering, Oliver guiltily looking at him. Percy shook the water out of his hair, slowly took his glasses off and wiped them off as best he could, and glared at Oliver the way he usually glared at his brothers.

Oliver shrunk with shame, and the glare gave way to something else. Percy shook his head, almost fondly. "I had my clothes off, you idiot. I would have gotten in anyway."

"So?" Oliver still looked ridiculously guilty.

"So… there was no need to do that."

"I'm sorry." Oliver stubbornly stuck out his lower lip. "But if you're not mad, what's keeping us?"

With broad strokes, he began to move away, and Percy followed at a more sedate pace, not having the Keeper's Quidditch muscles, but not falling far behind.

It was mid-spring. The water wasn't cold, but one couldn't call it warm, so after about fifteen minutes, Percy and even Oliver lost the feeling of enjoyment. Percy started shivering before he did, his pale skin quickly covering itself in gooseflesh in an attempt to conserve warmth.

"I suppose," Oliver said soon after Percy's teeth started chattering, "It is a bit nippy."

"Nippy?" Percy stared at him. "You're almost blue!"

"No, I'm not!" Oliver huffed. "You're the one that looks like an ice cube. So… do you want to get out?"

"Yes," Percy bit out with a glare, already on his way back to the shore.

"Are you mad at me?" Oliver yelled at his retreating form.

"No!" Percy shouted back, smiling to himself. Oliver really was adorable, with his endless worry and silly thoughts.

"Okay!" Loudly splashing, Oliver swam after him.

They were shivering when they stepped out of the water, Percy more so than Oliver, and used a quick drying spell before putting on their clothes and robes. Percy straightened up from where he was tying his shoes.

"As much fun as that was," he said wryly, "that was also pointless."

He ran a hand through his damp hair and Oliver laughed. "That was the point, Perce: fun."

"At least it wasn't skinny-dipping." He glared as Oliver's face lit up. "Don't even think about it."

A pout. "Why not?"

"Because I doubt you want to see me naked." Percy sat down in a sunny spot on the ground, lifting his face to bask in the light. He felt an awkward silence next to him and looked up curiously at a still-standing Oliver. "What?"

"Huh?" Oliver seemed to shake himself back to reality and sat down next to him.

"You want to see me naked?" Percy teased, his eyes shining. Again, he received no answer and saw that Oliver was staring at him. "Oliver?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"What?"

"Right." Percy shook his head, laughing.

"I wasn't joking." Oliver's confident face fell, although Percy could tell he tried to stay in control. "If… er, if you weren't."

"Are you joking?" Percy's eyes were wide behind his glasses. "'Cause, I—heh—I wasn't."

"Neither was I." Oliver licked his lips. "So where does that leave us?"

"I don't know." He laughed to himself, then smiled widely. "But probably not right at the naked part?"

Oliver smiled back. "No?"

"I have standards."

"Really?" Oliver nodded solemnly as Percy confirmed his statement. "And what are they?"

Percy leaned into his shoulder as Oliver put his hand around his waist just like he usually did; there was something more special about it this time, though. His smile widened. "We'll just have to go on a date and find out."

Thanks for reading! :)