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TITLE: Shooting Star
AUTHOR: Relala
BETA: lady of scarlet
FANDOM STATUS: Fanon
Oliver blunders upon the third Weasley one night on the Quidditch pitch long hours past curfew and, hidden within the bleachers, watches in amusement as the young man tries unsuccessfully to mount a rampaging broomstick. Percy Weasley, it would seem, had not inherited the marvellous talent of being one with his broomstick like all his brothers. A pity, really. Oliver had been dreaming of recruiting the whole group of redheads who were left in the school in hopes of winning the cup for the first time.
"Hey there, Percy!" Oliver calls out, jogging up to Percy's side. "Do you need any help?"
The Weasley teen blushes as scarlet as his Gryffindor robes and stares in horrification, sweat matting his orange tinged hair to his forehead as his glasses slip down his nose. Here, under the bright moonlight where Oliver can study the other boy freely, he can see every individual freckle which has spread across the boy's cheeks like a scattering of stars. He can see the bright glow of those chestnut eyes; they are clear eyes, full of an innocence born of shyness.
"I said, do you need any help?"
"Y-y-y-yes," Percy stammers, wrestling his own tongue to get the words out from the back of his dry throat. "I c-c-came out here to see if I was any good at Quidditch, but apparently I cannot even mount a broom...let alone fly one. Guess I should have played with the twins when they offered."
"That's alright," Oliver laughs. "Everyone I know didn't get it right their first time. No one really expects you to. It's all about practise, you see. Here, I'll show you how to get on."
Oliver steps forwards, placing his chest along the line of Percy's back and grabs his hands, entwining their fingers and placing them upon the golden handle. When Oliver squeezes gently (just making sure that Percy's grip is firm enough, of course) he swears he can feel an extra heartbeat thud within his chest, pounding through the flesh and bone of the other boy's chest so strongly that it can be felt in his own blood.
"Hold on tight, these Shooting Starsmight not look like much, but for a beginner they can be pretty hard to control."
"A Shooting Star? You know, Oliver, Muggles make wishes when they see a falling star and believe that whatever they ask for comes true. My Dad told me that once, when I was a child. I guess I'm about to test that suspicion."
"Shall I make a wish?" Oliver enquires.
"I'm above such nonsense," Percy states, closing his eyes and wishing that he'll never be able to ride a broomstick, if only so that he'll never have to let go of Oliver's hands.
Oliver wishes the same thing.
THE END
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