Disclaimer: You think that if if I owned any of this I'd be writing fan fiction? No, people: Queen Joanne owns it all. And King Joss as well, I guess.

Summary: Sequel to 'November Rain'. Percy. Oliver. Andrew. Three lost young men trying to find meaning to their lives, while leaving the past behind. One apartment. Home, bittersweet home.

Home, bittersweet home

Part One: Multicolor Walls (Part One of Five)

Everyone that knew them agreed on one thing: there wasn't anything more strange than the three of them sharing a flat. And most of the people that knew them had seen things that were beyond strange, not to say supernatural.

But they were right: probably there wasn't in London a trio of roommates that had so little in common like they did. In fact, at first sight no one would have imagined what could connect Percy Weasley, Oliver Wood and Andrew Wells. And the truth was that nothing did... except for their job, their recently forged friendship and the desire to start a new life, getting rid of all the things that attached them to their pasts.

Which, as it could be imagined, had been a huge part of the reason they'd moved in together.

To the newcomer, their flat looked weird. Maybe because it was weird, even though it was the most common (and one of the cheapest) flats in London. Or like Andrew said, apartment, in that funny accent of his.

It had a kitchenette, a small bathroom, three minuscule bedrooms and the living room, which was the largest room. Nothing abnormal about it, not particularly original. Until you saw what the living room looked like.

The door was white, and so was that wall, but the same couldn't be said of the other three walls. One of them was red, the other one was yellow and the last one, green. But that was only the beggining of its oddness.

There wasn't a physical division in the room, but one could notice that the room had three different parts, or maybe four.

The first part was the one around the red wall. It was decorated with a poster of an old music band and some odd paintings with cubes, triangles and figures that made no sense at all in an explosion of bright colours. Under the paintings there were some shelves with dusty books, next to a wooden armchair, very classic, with cozy gray cushions. Everything on this side of the room looked second-handed (and probably was), except for a brand-new guitar that glimmered with the light of the Tiffany lamp set on the bookshelves.

These decorations clashed with the ones on the yellow wall, which was covered with pencil sketches and black-and-white photographs that, probably because of the light, seemed to be moving. Some of the photographs had a bit of colour in them: a forest-green flash in the eyes of a girl, a blood-red stain in ther form of a scarf, an endless turquoise sky, a golden glimmer clouring a bunch of daisies. And if someone looked at those photgraphs for a long time, then that person would have sworn that they moved. Which was an absolute non-sense, of course.

There was a black, iron-made coffe-table, which matched the black leather armchair next to it. What didn't match was the lava lamp on it, with all those psychedelic shades bursting inside, neither did the untidy pile of magazines, while the colourful pencils clashed a little bit with a black, old-fashioned camera.

Last but no less important was the green wall. This one was covered by tapestries with Indian drawings on them, as well as bookshelves with ancient-looking books and a small statue that looked like a small Buda, but with less arms. In this zone there were no armchairs or tables, but many kaleidoscopic cushions with more symbolic figures on them, such as elephants and some strange-looking runes.

The center of the room only had a white plastic table with four chairs. That was their neutral zone, and its colour was white, just like the door and the remaining wall. The table and the chairs were the only furniture that had come with the flat, maybe because they were so ugly that the former owner hadn't wanted them. They didn't care that much: the chairs were comfortable enough and, after the explosion of colours that the rest of the room had been turned into, they didn't mind a little bit of white.

The idea of moving in together had come up spontanously. The three of them had been working together for a while and, after seeing each other on a daily basis, became friends. Facing dangerous situations regularly had pulled them closer, but probably the main factors were their loneliness and the fact that they were the only ones of their age that worked there.

Sure, Faith was almost their age, as were many others of the former Sunnydale gang, but compared to them Percy, Oliver and Andrew felt extraordinary young. They were the less experienced ones, they were the naïvest and they were the ones who had yet seen very little of this dangerous world they had been thrown into, with vampires and monsters that came out from school books and fairy tales to haunt them. So no, they didn't feel they belonged with them.

Then there was Wesley, but even though the man was kind enough he wasn't the friendly type, and Giles was far too old, while Robin Wood acted too much like a teacher for them to feel comfortable around him. Hell, talking to him was like being at secondary school all over again. For a good number of reasons, none of them wanted to be reminded of their secondary school years anyway.

As for the girls, some of them were nice enough, but on the whole they were quite scary. Dozens and dozens of teenagers with superpowers and exploding hormones? Merlin save us, please. And many of them had developed crushes on Oliver, after he'd put off a little weight, while a couple of them stared too much at Percy and Andrew. Truly terryfing.

Hanging out after work had been a natural thing to do, as none of them had other friends. They went to pubs, drank a little too much, eyed the pretty girls and talked about anything but demons and Dark Arts. Well, Andrew did most of the talking as Percy and Oliver were more of the quiet type, but it didn't matter. After a while, Andrew's babbling became oddly comforting.

In those pubs they also played darts, at what Oliver had defeated them countless times, while Percy preferred pool and Andrew had tried to play poker... with disastrous consequences.

And they got to know each other, and to learn the reasons why the others had ended up where they were now. Which had been what truly bonded them after all.