Title: Waking From the Dream
Author: Iphigenia
Email: SharLee224@aol.com
Pairings: Oliver/Percy,
Spoilers: the first four books, "Roman Holiday" (my fic)
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Improv #2: sleep-soft- cuddle- courage (also my answer to the snow day challenge on POWSN)
Status: Complete
Sequel Info: Incomplete series (as yet unnamed)
Category: Action-Adventure/ Angst
Summary: Death Eater Oliver Wood leads a deadly attack on Hogwarts- and encounters a very special someone.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note: Functions as a prequel to "Roman Holiday." Not in the same universe as "Blame It on the Game." Thanks to my beta, Elske. Sorry about the copious amounts of headers, but it seems every list or archive wants more and more information. My solution is to throw every requested category at the top of my stories. Better more than less, I suppose.
Three people- two wizards and one witch- strolled rapidly across the melting Hogwarts snow. The witch, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, wore a grim expression as she saw the Ministry official off. With Albus Dumbledore's assassination at the start of the war, it had fallen upon her to continue Dumbledore's ambitious political agenda, as well as the operation of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Of the two wizards, Severus Snape was in more danger, yet he was strangely calm, as if he had made peace with himself. Despite the fact that his cover had been blown, he obstinately continued to teach potions and terrorize children at Hogwarts. Betraying no outer sign of nervousness, he seemed almost happy as he shook the Ministry official's hand and turned, with the Headmistress, to return inside the castle for supper.
The younger wizard, a tall man with bright red hair, sported distinctive burgundy robes with sparkling gold trim- instantly identifiable as Ministry robes- and a shiny silver courier's bracelet attached to an unassuming battered brown briefcase. This case, secured with the very latest in locking charm technology, held classified security briefing papers. Percy Weasley (at twenty-six, the youngest Deputy Director of Intelligence in sixty years) had just come from a routine intelligence briefing for the Hogwarts staff. The bracelet, naturally, was a routine security precaution. Leaving the Headmistress and Deputy Headmaster, he stopped at a large black monolith rising above the white snow. Carved in broad Gothic script at the base of the monument were three simple words: "For the Fallen." Although theoretically this referred to the casualties of the current war, it had also come to stand (underground, at least) for friends and family fallen from grace, the estimated one-third of the wizarding population who supported the Dark Lord. Shedding a single tear, Percy fell to his knees in the soft snow. From his robes, he produced a single red rose that was charmed with a brilliant golden glow; he caressed its soft petals briefly, then laid it at the base of the monument.
Half a kilometer to the west, a young Death Eater marksman watched this touching scene through the crosshairs of his scope. Slowly and deliberately, he aimed his magically enhanced sniper rifle at Percy, contemplating his next action. When he fired his rubber stun bullet (dipped in aerodynamic sleeping potion for greater accuracy and effect), his commando team would fly in- the sun to their backs- and bring terror to Hogwarts and the sleepy town of Hogsmeade. Although it was supposed to be only a minor attack, it would test for the first time since Dumbledore's death the integrity of Hogwarts' defenses and the Auror response time. If the risky hit-and-run was successful, he would be responsible for the deaths of dozens- possibly hundreds- of innocents, not to mention condemning his former potions professor to a slow and agonizing death. However, his position within the Death Eaters would be secure, and no one, not even the head of the Death Eater Intelligence- the famously suspicious Draco Malfoy- would question his cover. If the attack failed, he himself had an exit, but his young team of operatives, all fellow Hogwarts graduates under thirty years of age, would be condemned to capture, interrogation, torture, and death. While he had no specific emotional attachment to his team, Draco's brilliant training program ensured that team leaders would think twice before sending their operatives into the field (thus saving the Death Eaters valuable man power). He had selected them, trained them, and now was perhaps sending them to certain deaths. Steadying his aim, Oliver Wood, also aged twenty-six, prepared to shoot his childhood lover. "Stupefy."
The bullet ripped cleanly into his subject's left thigh. Percy's pale body crumpled gracefully to the ground, sprawling obscenely across the untouched snow. Silently and terrifyingly, a flock of Death Eaters emerged from the horizon, clad in black from head-to-toe, shadowy angels of death. Landing swiftly on the roof of the castle, they entered unnoticed.
Pulling his black ski mask over his face, Oliver- the Delta team leader- climbed out of his hide, leapt onto his combat broom, and sped to Percy's prone body, isolated from the rest of the battle. Taking out a small leather case of muggle lock picks out of his pack, Oliver quickly went to work on Percy's courier bracelet, which he knew to be charmed to resist all but the most powerful unlocking spells. Hearing a footstep behind him, Oliver twirled, his wand ready to fire.
"Oliver, it's me, Ginny," the curvy female figure said, taking a step back, her long red hair just barely peeking out from beneath her knit cap.
"Virginia," he said, purposely addressing her by her given name, which she despised. "What is Omega team doing here? They weren't assigned for this mission."
Ginny Weasley, aged twenty, shrugged casually, giving no sign of recognizing Percy. "Draco got a look at your mission profile and decided that it had a lot more potential. It's good experience, too. Unlike Delta team, half of Omega operatives have no field experience," she said, taking up a defensive position behind Oliver.
He gritted his teeth, frustrated again by Draco's tactical genius. Oliver had intentionally undermanned the attack in order to minimize damage to Hogwarts. The staff would be even less prepared for an attack of this scale. He tried vainly to concentrate on picking the intricate, triple tumbler lock (it did help, however, that Harry Potter had shown him how to do it). Still, Ginny's unwelcome presence grated on his nerves. Harry had mentioned the possibility of turning her, but Oliver was certain that Ginny truly did believe in the cause, disillusioned with the poverty of her childhood. She had, in fact, done extraordinarily well, rising quickly through the rigorous training to become the youngest and most ruthless team leader ever. Oliver suppressed a shudder as he felt her cold, calculating eyes watching his every move. "And how, pray, are the teams performing?" he asked, not daring to look up.
She consulted a piece of charmed parchment that doubled as the on-site operations board. "Both teams are progressing ahead of schedule. It seems your hypothesis was correct. Hogwarts is sadly vulnerable to attack. For far too many years has the school been reliant upon Dumbledore's powers alone. They've been caught sleeping, and now they will pay for their fallacy. Perhaps we should simply blow the place?" she suggested, her icy voice devoid of emotion.
He bit his lip as the pick slipped in the frigid cold and tore through his glove into his finger. Blood dripped onto Percy's limp wrist. "No," he said, shaking his head. "There may be supporters in there still, as well as many irreplaceable artifacts. Permission denied. Do try to be a bit quieter. I'm trying to work." Ginny bit her lip, angry at her abrupt dismissal, but obeyed.
Oliver sighed, turning his attentions back to the complicated lock. Finally, he had the relative peace and quiet he needed to work, albeit punctuated by occasional screams. Given the nature of the mission, one simply couldn't avoid those. With a grunt of triumph, he sprung the lock and stashed the case in his pack. Turning back towards Percy's stunned form, he placed a piece of parchment in Percy's pocket, then after a quick glance at Ginny to ensure that she was not looking, he planted a tender kiss on Percy's soft, cold lips.
Unfortunately, Ginny had terrible sense of timing and chose that moment to check back on Oliver's progress. "Ugh," she spat, looking at him disdainfully. "As if the twins weren't disgusting enough. Honestly, I don't know why Draco lets you hold such a high position. Stop cuddling my brother, you queer!" Ginny, of course, was rampantly heterosexual.
He turned slowly so as to not admit his guilt. "Oh, so you do remember your family, then? And you recognize your older brother as well? I thought you renounced them," he smirked, turning the tables on her. He wasn't concerned by her implicit threat to tell Draco- Draco already knew. In fact, Draco was gay as well. Ostracism by the operatives was unlikely as well, as many of them already knew. No one would fault him for stealing a kiss from a sexy guy like Percy, especially when said guy had been his lover at Hogwarts. Everyone made mistakes. No one had to know that Percy was not one of them.
Ginny (or at least the part of her face he could see) grew red, clearly furious that she had been tricked into acknowledging Percy. "In any event, the objective has been accomplished," she said, again consulting the parchment. "Professor- I mean Severus- Snape has been apprehended after a fierce struggle, and all Aurors have been neutralized. The professors are putting up the expected resistance, though. Shall we proceed?"
Oliver shook his head, his callused fingers absently stroking Percy's soft hair. So it was done. More innocent lives on his conscience. "No, Ginny," he said, looking towards the peaceful-looking castle. "Return to base. The objective was met. We are unequipped for a long, drawn-out battle."
No one would question his logic. As on-site commander, it was up to him to assess the situation. Despite the fact that the Auror response team seemed to be sleeping on the job, it was perfectly reasonable to opt for strategic retreat. Draco himself advocated safety over unnecessary bloodshed. It was perfectly sound logic, but, as a Death Eater, it was not the thing to do.
"Are you sure?" she asked, preparing to activate the Dark Mark. He nodded, ignoring her questioning glance. Enough damage had been done today. Glaring, she complied, sending a quick, sharp pain to the team's Marks. "See you at the base, then," she said, mounting her broom. And she was gone.
Oliver regarded Percy's sleeping form once more, focusing on the blood freezing rapidly onto Percy's wrist. The spilt blood, of course, broke tradecraft. Even the inefficient and overworked Ministry forensics department would be able to link him to the scene. Frowning, he whispered a cleaning spell over the body. It simply wouldn't do to have him identified, at least outright, as a Death Eater operative. There might be repercussions. Still, he felt Percy had to know. Thinking quickly, Oliver performed the leg-locker curse, then grabbed his broom sadly. "Enervate," he murmured, aiming his wand at the sleeping man. "Courage, Percy. I love you."
Percy Weasley awoke to a soft, fleeting, hesitant kiss. Opening his eyes, he thought he saw Oliver Wood wave and fly away, smiling, another mysterious night wraith departing with the sun. Fumbling blindly for a few seconds, Percy found both his glasses and his wand in his inner robe pocket- along with a mysterious piece of parchment. Curious, he struggled to open the parchment. "Courage," he read, squinting to make out the familiar loopy handwriting. He looked up in astonishment. So it hadn't been a dream. It had really been him. Oliver Wood. Belatedly, he tried to stand and run in the direction of the vanishing figures; thanks to the curse, he fell flat on his face. It was too late. He knew he could not catch them. He could only watch helplessly as the sun dipped below the horizon and the world slept.