Oliver's eyes fluttered open as he heard the soft crunch of shoes on frozen grass.

"What you doing out here – trying to catch your death?"

"Sorry, Mum," he teased as he sat up. Oliver was indeed cold, but admitting it went against his pride. "Did you finish our homework yet?"

Percy huffed, plopping down next to Oliver. "I told you I'm not writing your Potions essay."

"But you did my Care of Magical Creatures, right?"

Instead of responding, Percy gazed up at the stars through the Quidditch hoop above them. "Why do you sit out here anyway?"

Oliver chuckled and replied, "You said it yourself last week. I may as well have been born on the pitch."

As he ran his hand over the stiff grass, Oliver marveled at their frozen points, the spears ready and waiting for a tiny army to use them. "I hate this time of year."

Some of his friends would have questioned such a statement, but Percy already knew why. Oliver loved fall for Quidditch and winter for snow; this in-between left him stranded without either.

"There will be more Quidditch next year, with a longer season even. Have you figured out where yet?"

Oliver shrugged, shaking from his hand the tiny ice particles which had slipped up from the grass. "The Cannons have the best offer, but I'd have to be mad to join a team like that."

"You never know," Percy replied. "A team like that certainly can't get worse. What about the Arrow's offer?"

Oliver snorted. "I told you already! They could give me the best rookie deal in Quidditch history, but I'm not dealing with that arse of a captain." He leaned back until his skin made contact with the frozen ground.

Chuckling softly, Percy joined him, staring up at the sky with visions of Oliver in orange or blue racing above them.

Breaking the silence, Oliver asked, "Hey Perce, you still interested in the Department of Mysteries?"

As he turned on his side, Percy replied, "I don't think so. It would be amazing work, but it's all so secretive. I couldn't tell anyone, not even you or Penelope."

"A reasonable point." Oliver smiled and added, "Law Enforcement Office it is."

Percy had long since become used to seeing his old friends infrequently. Even Oliver had faded to the background as their busy schedules collided. Oliver traveled around and moved up to Puddlemere United's starting Keeper in less than two seasons. The Ministry kept Percy working, and a social life seemed like nothing more than a distraction to keep him from also reaching success.

Only occasionally could he and Oliver manage to meet, but their conversations tended to be as easygoing as they always had been.

"I talked to Bill the other day."

Percy set down his cup of tea, brows touching through his deep frown. "Nice to see you too," he eventually replied. This would be no ordinary lunch get-together. Oliver glowered as he sat down. "You should be telling that to your mum."

After a brief window of frozen sock, Percy bristled. His ears burned red as he snapped, "You've no right to bring up my mother. She's got nothing to do with today."

"Exactly," Oliver responded, his voice filled with the same steel edge as Percy's. "Your mother – and the rest of your family – has nothing to do with today or any part of your life, thanks to you. Is it worth looking good in your boss's eye if it means your family forgetting what you look like?"

"Nice of them to make you the messenger," he said coldly. "Are they also sending you to Romania? Charlie's rarely home either."

Oliver barked out a joyless laugh. "Yeah, Bill predicted you'd bring him into it. No, he doesn't visit much, but he writes them. When was the last time you floo'd or sent an owl or even popped by your dad's office?"

Percy stood, his chair scraping the floor like a ghoul's moan. He stepped away from the table, not caring that half a cup of tea remained.

"I'm sorry, Perce." He did look it, but he also had his face set against back down. "I just wish you would pick a different side."

"I haven't picked one," Percy argued, "but too much fraternizing with my family would make it look like I have."

"And there's the side." Oliver shook his head, pity across his face. "What happened to the Percy I knew, the one who could balance anything and everything at once?" He paused, as though gauging whether to continue. "I hear you and Penelope broke up."

"Get out."

Oliver held up his hands as he tilted back in his chair. "Fine, you're touchy about it, I understand. Just think about what I said. You won't forget it."

And he didn't. When Scrimgeour asked for volunteers to get him a chat with Harry Potter, Percy sprang at the chance. It may have been awkward, but he got to see exactly how his family was doing.

As he stepped around the rubble, Percy sighed in relief. It was over; it was all over.

After all this paranoia for two wars' worth of time, it seemed strange to think that He Who Must Not Be Named was finally gone for good. After all this time and all the fighting, life could sort itself out.

Yet Percy was alone. Sure, his family was back inside to welcome his return to sanity. Sure, he had already promised George to help in anyway possibly, including the store's books because Fred had been the math-minded of the two. He had his family again, and that meant everything to him.

However, meaning everything and feeling like everything were two different dragons. He still had missing pieces from his life.

"Perce."

He whipped around, heart in his throat as he caught sight of his once best friend. "Oliver…" There was much more he needed to say; Percy knew that, but he could not seem to make his words work. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Oliver replied, stepping closer so they stood face to face.

Biting his lip, Percy debated how to respond. "I've been a jerk," he admitted.

Oliver laughed, a hearty chuckle that broke through the somber atmosphere of the caste. "That's an understatement if I ever heard one."

But he pulled Percy into a hug before the redhead had a chance to protest.

"I missed you," Oliver said, his voice hushed against Percy's shoulder.

"I missed you too."

When they finally parted, Percy stepped back, rubbing his head as he said, "Hey, Oliver, I need a favor."

He chuckled. "That lasted long. What do you need?"

"My parents want me to come home for the night, and you know my mum will never agree to let me stay in my flat after all that's happened. Would you happen to have a spare bed?"

Oliver chortled again. "I'm a Quidditch player; mighty proud I am that I am able to have a spare bed for my friends. It'll be just like rooming at Hogwarts."

Percy shuddered, gazing up at the ruined castle above them. "Well, Hogwarts in our day."

"Don't talk like that," Oliver snapped. At Percy's questioning face, he clarified, "You make us sound old already."