AN: Prompts will be displayed at the bottom to avoid them potentially giving away things.

Of Books and Broomsticks

AlwaysPadfoot

There was not even a week left before the onslaught of N.E.W.T.s would begin. For Oliver, the weeks that covered his end-of-year examinations had always been pure torture. To him, the large chunks of small font in his textbooks blurred and swam when he tried to read them. Whilst that had always been normal, in the lead-up to the most important exams of his life, it was causing him so much stress that everyone steered clear of him.

It was making him sick. He couldn't understand why no one else seemed to struggle like he did; actually, for a long while, he had thought someone might be playing a prank on him. But no one was.

He was ready to start banging his head against the bookshelves in the library when he heard someone swear loudly from the row of books behind him. Considering he had believed he was alone since it was way after curfew, the sudden noise made him jump.

Oliver stood quietly and moved back, keeping to the shadows. He was intrigued as to who else was burning the midnight oil with him. Staying close to the bookshelves, Oliver tiptoed to the end of the towering columns of Charms books and peered around into the adjacent aisle. To his surprise, the person breaking curfew was none other than the Head Boy, Percy Weasley. Now, Oliver had been under the impression that Percy was on Prefect Duty; at least, that's what he'd told the other Gryffindor boys at dinner.

For a long moment, he watched the redhead scribbling away at his notes. Oliver hadn't seen Percy so stressed since their O.W.L. year. His face was drawn and pale, and underneath his eyes were dark circles that made him look like a vampire. His hair was sticking out in all directions, mainly because in the short time Oliver had been watching, Percy had ran his hands through it five times, clearly frustrated.

If Oliver thought he was making himself sick with stress, then Percy was pushing himself further than that. The other boys had been avoiding him too because, as they all knew too well, Percy got really irritable when it came to exams. So it seemed that, this year, they were in the same boat. It was funny how that saying mirrored the fact that the two boys had actually shared a boat at the beginning of their Hogwarts schooling, and now they were in the same position again.

It took Oliver a long while to decide whether to approach the Head Boy; after all, he was sure that Percy was going to bite his head off.

He stepped out of the shadow of the bookshelves. Percy didn't even notice he was there until Oliver had walked right up and sat down beside him at the table.

"Percy, you're going to kill yourself staying up this late."

The redhead ignored Oliver's statement and decided to warn him off instead. "It's after curfew."

"Hey, don't be a hypocrite, Perce," Oliver said pointedly. "I was working too until you swore, but seriously, you're making yourself sick. You need to stop, and get some sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"Okay, fine. When was the last time you left the castle?" Oliver asked.

"I don't know." Percy sighed, pushing an ink-stained hand through his hair yet again, before finally looking up at his housemate.

"I know I'm making myself sick, mate, but you're working harder than me."

Percy scoffed. "You're not stressed."

"Why in Merlin's name would I be in the library looking like shit if I wasn't?" Oliver retorted.

"But—"

Oliver cut him off. "I can't read; it takes me hours to read an assigned chapter for Charms. It's kind of difficult to revise when reading is so bloody hard."

They were both silent for a moment. Percy was studying the Quidditch Captain through dark blue eyes. His freckles were more prominent on his much paler face; Oliver hadn't been this close to him since Percy had been sleepwalking in second year. He'd woken up with Percy lying right beside him, having gotten into the wrong bed after a late night wander. It had been such a shock at the time that Oliver had pushed him automatically out onto the floor and woke the whole dorm up. He'd had to apologise multiple times to various disgruntled students, whilst Percy had managed to slink away unnoticed. The two boys had never been the best of friends — they were polar opposites — but they could rely on one another for decent conversation and help when it was needed.

"I'm sorry," Percy said meekly. "I had no idea that you found it that difficult."

Oliver shrugged; he'd never really mentioned how bad his reading was, just that he was a slow reader. Nobody, except Percy now, knew how much slower he meant.

"I know a spell that would help!" Percy spun suddenly in his chair and then stood up, scouring the bookcase behind them.

Oliver watched him with avid curiosity as he ran his calloused fingers along the books and muttered to himself, searching carefully. Eventually, he plucked a large, navy, leather-bound book from the shelf and dropped it on the table with a loud thud, as though no one could possibly hear them. Percy flicked through the pages so fast he gave himself a paper cut — he ignored it, merely sucking on his finger.

"Ah ha!"

He twisted the book to Oliver and pointed to a spell in the top left of the right-hand page.

"What's that?" Oliver squinted.

"It's a spell," Percy said excitedly. "It will read books aloud for you so that you can make notes by listening instead of struggling to read."

Oliver cocked his head curiously. The thought that there was an alternative changed everything. He'd spent so much time trying to get reading over and done with that he'd never considered that there might be another way to read. He looked at Percy in amazement. "Merlin, Perce. Thanks — I mean — it would have been so much easier to have this seven years ago, but I really appreciate it. Now, please, let me do you a favour and get you some fresh air."

It took Oliver so long to convince him that he nearly gave up, but eventually, he had them all packed up and ready to go. As Oliver led him through passageways and corridors he knew weren't patrolled, it was Percy's turn for wonderment.

"How do you know all these passages?" he asked.

"Perce, come on." Oliver grinned. "Do you really think I became such a Quidditch professional by just practicing during the daylight hours?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "And how long have you been practicing being arrogant?"

Oliver punched him on the arm lightly. There was the sardonic sense of humour he had come to love coaxing out of the redhead since they were in first year. Percy rubbed the spot where he'd punched him and pulled a face.

"You don't know your own strength with those tree trunks you call arms," Percy muttered.

Oliver smiled at that. The two seventh years stepped out into the warmth of the summer night, the waning moon that hung low in the sky illuminating the grounds ahead of them. Percy took a deep breath and sighed thankfully. It was almost as though Oliver could visibly see him relaxing, the stress fading away as fresh air filled his lungs.

Although Percy tried to slip away sooner, Oliver convinced him to walk around the grounds with him so they both could stretch their legs. They talked on and off about life and about family pressure. Percy was struggling in particular to live up to the expectations set by his older brothers, whilst Oliver's parents were expecting him to get a proper job (instead of just playing Quidditch, which most people weren't good enough to play professionally).

With Oliver's feet on automatic, they ended up on the Quidditch Pitch.

"You want to fly?" he asked.

"I'm Head Boy; we already shouldn't be out here." Percy scowled.

Oliver grinned and summoned two brooms anyway, tossing one at Percy, who promptly fumbled and dropped it.

"Nice catch, Weasley."

"Shut up."

Oliver bent down to tie his shoelace and continued to talk. "So I'm going to assume, since I've not seen you at a match in years, that you haven't flown since we did flying lessons in first year. I mean, I'm pretty good at teaching people; I could —"

"Teach me?" Percy asked.

To Oliver, it sounded like Perce was raising an eyebrow, judging by his cockiness. He looked up from his shoe to see that Percy was no longer where he had been standing. Oliver frowned. "What the —?"

"Up here."

His head snapping up, Oliver spotted Percy hovering in the air above him, and his jaw dropped. "Woah, Perce, I didn't know you could fly."

"Please," he huffed, circling down to Oliver's height. "I live in a house full of Quidditch-obsessed morons. Of course, I know how to fly."

"You could have said," Oliver replied. "Besides, do you just fly like average or —"

Before he could even finish, Percy shot past him so fast that Oliver almost lost his balance. He swore under his breath, shocked, as Percy zigzagged down the pitch and took a sharp turn around the goalposts that put even Oliver himself to shame. He came barreling back down the pitch so fast the school broom shook from being pushed to exertion and pulled up sharply to stop just before he reached Oliver.

"Holy shit, Perce," Oliver said. "Why the hell didn't you try out for the team?"

Percy exhaled sharply. "Just because I'm really good at something doesn't mean I particularly enjoy it. I'm excellent at Potions; that doesn't mean that I don't loathe it, and that it doesn't give me headaches."

Oliver stared at him as he dismounted his broom. How could anyone hate something they were that good at? Percy brushed himself off and then had the audacity to suggest that they go inside. Oliver was not letting this go that easily.

"No, no, don't leave me hanging. Race with me, Weasley," Oliver pressed. "I can't go to bed knowing that you might be better than me."

"You think I'm better than you?" Percy smirked.

"Race with me," Oliver whined. "Race with me. Race with me. Race with me."

"Merlin, fine. Fine, fine, fine."

Oliver had to admit, racing and messing around until the sun came up hadn't been his intention at all, but time had just flown by. He thought, secretly, that Percy had actually enjoyed it. On top of that, he had discovered Percy was extremely competitive, something that was one of Oliver's most prominent traits. Maybe the two weren't so different after all.

They both collapsed in the grass as the sky exploded suddenly into colour. From dark blue to pink and orange, there wasn't a cloud in sight; in Oliver's opinion, it was the perfect morning for flying.

"Thanks, Oliver," Percy finally said after he'd caught his breath.

He frowned. "For what?"

"Helping me get out of my head," he replied, not looking at his brown-haired roommate.

Oliver rolled onto his stomach and inspected his friend in the rapidly growing light. His ears were tinged pink, which Oliver knew was the equivalent of blushing for anyone with Weasley genes. Why was he embarrassed about stressing over exams?

"You don't have to thank me," Oliver said, putting his hand on Percy's shoulder. "That's what — that's what —"

"Friends do?" Percy suggested, his face as straight as he could manage.

They both looked at Oliver's hand and then at each other. Suddenly, he felt hot. Words scrambled, then faded and his throat constricted, until he was sure he couldn't speak. Embarrassed, he moved his hand and pushed his hair back. What was happening here? Merlin, Oliver wished he could read minds so he could figure out what Percy was thinking. Even better, he wished he knew what was going on inside his own head.

What he did know, however, was that things were going to change.

The following morning at breakfast, things were noticeably different for the seventh year Gryffindor boys.

Both Oliver Wood and Percy Weasley were in better moods than either of them had been for nearly three weeks. But also, neither of them had been in the dorm at all last night.

Oliver whistled as he helped himself to sausages and toast, flicking through the sport section of the Daily Prophet with a smile on his face. People actually dared to say hello without fear they would get the middle finger.

After they headed back up to the castle, Percy had decided it would be best to have a short nap and then an extremely long shower, so Oliver had come to breakfast alone. Everything last night had happened so fast that he replayed it over and over again in his head. Even though they had only shared a kiss, it felt like so much more. He was thinking about what this morning might bring when he was distracted by Percy entering the Great Hall. In comparison to the state that Oliver had found him in last night, Percy looked so much healthier. He looked as though he'd gained some more colour back into his face. The flush highlighted his cheekbones and the blue of his eyes.

Oliver raised a hand in greeting and Percy walked down the aisle, sitting opposite him. His leg touched Oliver's under the table.

"Did you sleep well?" Oliver asked.

"Better than any night for the last few weeks and I only got two hours," Percy replied.

The redhead helped himself to porridge and cut banana onto the top, followed by a drizzle of honey. Oliver smiled broadly for what felt like the twentieth time in only a few hours as he watched him.

Percy noticed, and his ears turned pink again. "What? Don't look at me like that."

Oliver laughed. "Why not?"

"Because —"

"Are you embarrassed because I'm smiling at you?"

"No," Percy defended himself, but he quickly looked away.

Oliver teased him some more whilst they ate breakfast. He found it cute the way Percy's ears changed colour, and the way he came back at Oliver with quick jibes that left him unable to reply fast enough. People came and went, but all they saw was two Gryffindors who were always arguing about something. They didn't hear flirting; they didn't feel when Oliver's heart skipped a beat or see when he smiled so hard he had to look down at the paper.

When the bell rang out in intervals to signal that lessons were due to start in ten minutes, the hall descended into a cacophony of shifting benches and loud chatter. Oliver, who had never memorised his class timetable, pulled out a small, tattered version from his shirt pocket to check it.

He had Defence Against the Dark Arts first — a lesson he shared with Percy.

Oliver looked up to see that Percy had already slung his bag over his shoulder and was waiting patiently for him. He brushed a crumb off his robes, straightened his Head Boy badge and then cleared his throat. "I know being on time for class would ruin your bad boy reputation, but would you like to accompany me?"

"Wow, Perce," Oliver replied, swinging his legs over to the other side of the bench, "you're such a gentleman; I never knew."

There it was: another blush.

They left together, making their way up to the third floor corridor where their class with Professor Lupin was about to begin. Oliver slowed the pace so they trailed behind the group; he wanted to ask Percy something. He wanted to make sure last night actually happened and they weren't just going to forget about it.

"Hey, so, Perce, I have a question."

"Oh?" Percy stopped and looked back at Oliver curiously, if not a little concerned as well. "What's wrong?"

"I was wondering, you know, if you wanted to take a break this weekend before exams and stuff," Oliver said. "Maybe we could go on a date."

Percy observed him for a long moment, unblinking. Oliver could feel himself getting hot as he waited in anticipation for him to answer his question. What if he says no? What if he doesn't want to go at all?

"You want to go on a date with me?" Percy seemed surprised.

"Well, yeah." Oliver looked around nervously. "I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't want to go on a date."

"I'd like to go on a date, but..." Percy trailed off.

"But?" Oliver prompted.

He didn't want there to be a but.

"I would prefer if we didn't tell anyone — not now anyway. I want to get my head round everything, and with exams," Percy said, "it's too much pressure."

Oliver nodded. That, he understood; after all, he could only imagine what his dad would think should he find out that he was dating another guy. He didn't like to think about it; he was sure even his mum would be disappointed.

"So we can go on a date, then?" Oliver asked, after deliberately pushing away all the intruding thoughts in his head.

Percy nodded bashfully. "Yes, we can go on a date."

Oliver beamed and pulled Percy into a hug on what was now an empty stairwell. He held him tight for a moment and breathed in deeply. The sound of the bell signalling the beginning of lessons made them both jump.

The redhead nudged Oliver hard. "I've never been late to a class before! You're a bad influence, Mr Wood."

Oliver felt himself blush at the name, a comeback stuck in his throat, as Percy Weasley grinned smugly.

He turned, calling over his shoulder. "Come on, Ollie. We are late."

Oliver beamed; he didn't need telling twice.

Competition: QLFC Round Eight / Crayola Color Challenge

Prompt: Percy is actually an amazing flyer. / Blush

Word Count: 3000 (Not including Titles and ANs.)