The sun was shining bright above the Quidditch pitch. Shadows from the tall towering stands and the players above covered the green grass. Percy Weasley never really found himself interested in Quidditch much. The only reason he bothered to learn the rules was so he could tell if the team apposing Gryffindor was cheating, leaving him another reason to fuss or be outraged. Also because, well, winning the House Cup was extremely important as well. Especially this year; it was his last.

Soaring high, circling the three goal posts, Oliver Wood called out plays, names, and techniques that Percy didn't really understand. The Quidditch Captain was working his team as much as possible. It was his last year and he wanted to win the House Cup, but the Quidditch House Cup was most important. He thought their team was unbeatable, but extra practice and new plays couldn't hurt.

In the top-most row of the stands, Percy pushed up his glasses and focused on Oliver. He kicked the Quaffle (...it had to be the Quaffle, because it was the only ball you could score with, right...?) away from the goalpost with more elegance than should be possible for a boy playing a sport. He watched as Oliver swooped and twisted and turned in the air with such precision that Percy thought on several occasions he would fall off of his broom. But not once did he even slip.

Impressed, Percy sniffed and returned to his books.

Inside the 7th year boy's dormitory, Percy was sitting cross-legged on his bed, studying his Arithmacy book. Certainly, it wasn't necessary to take all the possible classes to get into the Ministry of Magic. Percy figured it would certainly help before it hurt.

Oliver Wood flopped down face-first onto his own bed. He sighed and groaned.

Often times, the two of them found that they were the only ones in the dormitory until late at night. Percy liked to study in peace and Oliver was usually tied from practice. They found each other's company familiar and surprisingly enjoyable.

"Problem?" Percy asked, simply. He didn't lift his eyes from the book.

"You're brothers..." came muffled from Oliver's face, which was pressed against the mattress.

"Oh," Percy said. He closed his book and set it aside. He studied Oliver's flat figure, still half in his Quidditch uniform, sweaty and dirty. Percy made a face. "Have you showered?"

"Too tired to stand," Oliver said.

"That's sort of disgusting," Percy said, pushing up his glasses.

Oliver lifted his head. "If I had enough energy, I would come over there and hold you down and get my sweat and dirt all over you."

Percy made a face again. "Glad you're tired then."

The Quidditch Captain rolled over onto his back and removed his shin guards, gloves and one of his shirts. Percy watched, without shame, as the second shirt lifted enough for him to catch a glimpse of Oliver's toned stomach. He was too tired to pull the shirt back down. Percy peeled his eyes away.

"I see you've stopped coming to watch us practice," Oliver said. He was shocked to see him there in the first place, really. He'd accepted the fact that Percy was socially awkward and didn't much care for Quidditch years ago.

"Yes, well, the school year has gotten back into schedule," Percy said, "lots of homework and studying to do."

"Hm," Oliver said simply.

"So what did my brothers do that has worn you out?" Percy asked.

"They think it's hilarious that I still can't tell them apart half the time. Had me chase them half-way across the locker room first thing. Asked to race me a dozen times, knowing that I can't turn down a broom race, pretended to fall off their brooms, as usual. Hit Bludgers at me about a thousand times and laughed about it like I'm not serious about these new plays!"

"Sounds like Fred and George," Percy said simply.

"If they weren't so bloody good I'd kick them off the team," Oliver said, crossing his arms.

"I've been watching at practice to see if the team is still as good as ever," Percy said. "I'd really like to win the House Cup this year."

"Me too," Oliver said.

"I just don't have the time to walk out to watch with all this homework."

"Why'd you take so many classes?" Oliver asked. "Are you sure you had to take them all?"

"I didn't take Care of Magical Creatures," Percy said.

Oliver chuckled.

"You need a shower, Oliver," Percy said. "It will make you feel loads better. I don't know why you left the locker room without getting in the showers."

"Your wretched brothers filled the locker room with some sort of smoke by accident. I could tell it was an honest mistake by the tone in their voices."

"I wouldn't bet on it being a mistake," Percy said.

Oliver shrugged. "Tomorrow's Saturday, I'll be able to sleep in and shower."

"It's going to start getting cold soon," Percy commented.

"Every year."

"Is that good or bad for Quidditch?"

"I probably won't be quite as sweaty when it cools off."

Percy half-smiled.

Oliver was used to Percy jumping from subject to subject. It was sort of something he did without meaning to. His mind worked quite quickly and Oliver was one of the only people he talked causally with.

"Percy, will you come here and see if I look sunburnt to you?" Oliver asked.

"You're not going to drag me down and get your sweat and dirt all over me, are you?" Percy asked, wearily.

"Not tonight," Oliver said, "I'm too weak."

Percy snorted and rose from his spot on the bed and stepped towards the bed next to his. Oliver was still sort of gross with sweat and his hair was messy. His golden-brown eyes were tired. His cheeks were bright pink and his nose was even brighter. From the wrist up, his arms had a tinge of pink to them as well.

"Quite a bit on your face," Percy said. "Arms too. I have just the thing." Percy left Oliver's bed-side and went over to his trunk. He rummaged to the left side where odds and ends were kept. Out he pulled a small container full of a greenish blue liquid. "This will clear it right up." He sat back next to Oliver and took the top off. He took some of the solution onto his fingertips and gently ran it over Oliver's cheeks.

"I thought I was too dirty," Oliver teased.

Percy rolled his eyes and continued.

Oliver sat still and closed his eyes as Percy applied the soothing solution onto his face and arms. It was lovely. "Where'd you get this stuff?"

"It's something my mother whipped up, actually," Percy said. "Most of my family has fair skin. We're always getting burnt. She insists on us keeping it. You can have it, if you want. You're outside much more often than I am."

"Thanks," Oliver said. He opened his eyes and Percy was still sitting there. He smiled.

Percy returned the smile and placed the container on Oliver's bedside table. "Better? It's already fading."

"Yeah," Oliver said. He put his hand on Percy's arm. "Thanks."

Percy blushed the color of Oliver's sunburn. "Don't touch me, you're disgusting."

"It's supposed to keep raining," Percy said, "you know, all week."

"We can practice still," Oliver said.

"Thought you had the best team ever and you didn't need practice," Percy said.

"Well, we do," Oliver said. "I might've been a little over-enthusiastic when I said that."

"And a little drunk."

"And a little drunk," Oliver agreed, grinning. "All your brothers' little jokes and pranks sort of get forgiven when they provide massive amounts of Butterbeer."

"It's ridiculous," Percy said. "Using a replication charm in order to get that much more drunk…"

"Lighten up," Oliver said pulling his shirt over his head.

Percy had stopped questioning why he liked to look at Oliver with his clothes off and just did it. He was toned and tanned and beautiful. "I'm Head Boy, you know," Percy said, "I have authority to—"

"Oh, shut up," Oliver said.

Percy turned bright red. "You really should respect your superiors."

Oliver snorted. "You?"

Percy narrowed his eyes. "Yes me."

"Sorry, Perce," Oliver said, pulling a different shirt over his head, "last time I checked, I didn't vote you as Minister so—"

"All in good time," Percy said. "You know, in your drunken antics, you were extremely…erm, cuddly. It was slightly embarrassing."

"Cuddly? With you?" Oliver asked.

"Yes," Percy said, "Our proximity was never less than a foot. And you wouldn't stop touching me."

"What can I say," Oliver laughed, "I like your company."

Percy cracked a smile. "Lucky for you, I like yours as well. Otherwise, you'd be packing you bags, because I'd have you expelled."

"That's what I thought," Oliver said, pulling his scarlet Quidditch robes on. He leaned over Percy's seat at his desk and kissed him on the cheek.

The door to the dorm burst open, catching both of them off guard. A slightly shocked looking Ackley paused at the doorway. "Whut are you two doing?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. Behind him, Norman wasn't any less wide-eyed.

"Kissing goodbye before I go to Quidditch practice," Oliver said. "Don't worry, you both get a kiss too."

Before he could stop him, Oliver kissed Ackley much too close to the mouth for Ackley's approval. "Get outta 'ere you sick bastard," Ackley called wiping his moth with so much force, his cheek turned red.

"You want a kiss too, Norman?" Oliver teased.

"You're gross," Norman said, shoving Oliver.

In all honesty, Oliver hated leaving Percy alone with them. They, like most people, didn't understand or appreciate Percy. They antagonized him, much like his siblings. But he figured Percy, being Head Boy and all, could fend for himself.

With all the Dementors floating around the school, Percy thought trouble would be at an all-time low. No, certain prefects didn't think a killer on the loose was a serious matter at all. In fact, they thought snogging in the corridor in the middle of the night was a brilliant idea. After Percy finished telling them off himself, he sent Patricia Hodge, the Ravenclaw, and Jonathan Burke, the Slytherin, to their Head of House.

"At least find a private place," Percy was muttering to himself. "The middle of the corridor, my goodness, what fools."

Feeling rather sour and not very tired after finding out such a silly thing, Percy stormed his way up to Gryffindor Tower. Maybe he was a tad bit bitter that Penelope Clearwater had broken it off with him earlier this year because he was "a right arse" and "no fun".

"Fortuna Major," Percy said.

The Fat Lady did not look very pleased to be woken. She swung the portrait hole open with a scathing look on her face.

Percy rolled his eyes and climbed through. "I don't fancy being awake at this hour either," he muttered.

A tuft of brown hair was visible over the side of one of the couches. That was it. Percy was ready to tell them off too. What were they doing up at this hour? He marched over and opened his mouth to begin, but when he realized who it was, he shut his mouth.

A very deeply asleep Oliver was half hanging off the side of the couch. Percy smiled a little at the sight. He looked rather peaceful for once, rather than ranting on or being restless. He leaned down and put a hand on Oliver's cheek, "Only you could break me out of a rampage."

Oliver blinked his eyes opened. "Perce..?"

"I didn't mean to wake you," Percy said, pulling his hand away quickly.

" 't's okay," Oliver mumbled. " 'm I still in the common room?"

"Yes," Percy said. "I've only just come back from a rather stupid call. Some prefects think they have the privilege to be up and about at all hours of the night, snogging where ever they please."

Oliver chuckled. He stretched and rubbed his eyes. "Join me."

"I really should be off to bed," Percy started.

Oliver grabbed Percy's wrist and pulled him onto the couch next to him. Percy was sitting extremely close to Oliver. Not that it bothered him. He rather liked it, actually. Oliver was warm and smelled nice.

"Can you believe I fell asleep studying?" Oliver asked.

"Entirely unbelievable," Percy said with a hint of joke in his words.

The following morning, Oliver and Percy were woken by laughs and whispers.

"Look at how adorable," the voice of Angelina Johnson said.

"Oh, Ollie," Alicia Spinnet said in a teasing voice.

"Well, if that makes them happy," Fred or was if George?

"Maybe Percy will lighten up."

"Doubt it."

"Give him a break," Katie Bell said.

"Never," they said at the same time.

Quickly, Percy detangled himself from Oliver's hands, which were securely around his midsection. Oliver was laughing himself, looking down and trying to hide the fact that he was blushing. Percy, not finding the situation funny at all, narrowed his eyes at the on-lookers and stood up.

"I told ya it was somethin' funny goin' on din't I!" Ackley said towards Norman.

"There's nothing funny going on anywhere!" Percy exclaimed.

"Yeah, not usually if you can help it," Fred added, unhelpfully.

"This is your fault," Percy hissed toward Oliver.

"What?" Oliver said, rising from the sofa too.

"Alright, this is going to be awkward enough without all you nosy prats listening in," George said.

"Why don't you all go back to your morning oats," Fred added.

The small crowd of mostly Quidditch players and 7th years cleared fairly easily.

"I…I don't know," Percy said.

Oliver lifted an eyebrow. "It's no big deal if you just quit acting like it is," Oliver said. "We were just sleeping, after all. And quite comfortably, I might add."

"I just don't want people to stop taking me seriously," Percy said.

"I know…" Oliver said.

A conversation similar to this had risen once, because of a slightly similar situation. Percy and Oliver didn't even realize it had happened, but everyone else certainly did. Once while walking back from Herbology last year, their hands had clasped. It felt so natural, until everyone started talking about it.

"Let's just move on with our day," Percy said.