Entry for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 5, Round 9 - Wigtown Wanderers vs Caerphilly Catapults
Position: Keeper
Prompt: Your task is to write a story about a known Quidditch player using the prompts associated with each piece of equipment.
Golden Snitch: Write about a witch or wizard displaying undying loyalty to someone.
Word Count: 2,922
Betas: AelysAlthea, DinoDina, RawMateriel
Entry for The Ultimate Doctor Who Challenge/Competition
Rose Tyler - Write about true love
Entry for The Musical Category Competition
Hamilton: John Laurens - Write about someone showing loyalty
Warning for homophobia and bullying.
They Won't Tear Us Apart
"I can barely remember when I last had so much fun," Percy breathed into Oliver's auburn hair while slinging his arms around his waist, pulling his boyfriend's back against his chest. Oliver pulled the blanket a little higher so it covered them both before scooting impossibly closer with a content smile. "It was a beautiful wedding."
"I still can't believe Katie married Flint, though," Oliver replied, and he barely managed to keep a trace of disapproval from his voice. Percy to roll his eyes – Oliver definitely would never get over his school rivalry with Flint. At least he'd been civil at the wedding, just as Flint had been, and so everything had gone smoothly. They'd dined well, consumed much wine, and Oliver had even managed to convince Percy to take a spin on the dance floor where they'd dared to share a short kiss. Overall it had been a great evening, and the euphoria of enjoying themselves so much was still flowing through their veins.
Percy pecked a light kiss on Oliver's neck, smiling. "She loves him, and he loves her. Also, he turned out to be a pretty decent man. You know Katie well enough to know she would never marry a guy who's an arsehole. And please don't bring up the old Hogwarts stories again."
Oliver frowned as he closed his mouth, his fingertips drawing patterns on Percy's forearm.
"I guess he's okay."
Figuring that this was as good as it could possibly get, Percy didn't comment on the issue any further and returned to cuddling with his boyfriend. They were both so busy, he in the Ministry, Oliver with Puddlemere now that he'd been promoted from the reserve team, and it didn't happen often that they both had a whole weekend off. Thus he was determined to not let his love escape from this bed for the rest of the precious hours they could spend together; burying his face in Oliver's neck and inhaling his scent, Percy closed his eyes and soaked up the feeling of closeness.
OoO
The rest of the weekend passed far too quickly for their liking, but Oliver still had a spring in his step when he walked across the grounds of the Puddlemere United facility, heading for the training pitch. He felt relaxed, rested, and ready to tackle another week of hard training in preparation for the games deciding which teams would enter the finals of the British and Irish Quidditch League. At first he didn't pay attention to the reporters lurking by the fence separating a public area from the training pitch – media attention always rose around this time – but when he noticed that they became somewhat excited when he came into their field of vision, he threw his teammates a confused glance.
They were already staring at him.
They weren't friendly stares; the emotions on their faces ranged from shocked confusion to open disgust, causing Oliver to wonder what the hell was wrong with them. He had a good relationship with everyone on the team, the long hours of training, the shared pain and the celebration or consolations after games bringing them together, but now some of those he'd considered closest were giving him the fiercest glares.
The reason for their distant behaviour and their stares that made him feel like an exhibit remained a mystery to him, and his confusion was added to when one of the Beaters of the reserve team approached him, his expression twisted as though he'd stepped on dogshit.
"We didn't know you are into riding broomsticks that much, Wood. Sick."
Oliver decided to walk past him, resisting the desire to ask him what had gotten into him, and joined Cynthia, whom he was closest with, where she was standing a little away from the group.
"What the heck is going on?"
She touched his forearm gently, an apologetic expression on her face as she looked up at him. "I'm so sorry, Oliver… I know you two wanted to keep it quiet, but… some reporter sneaked onto the Bell-Flint wedding and snapped pictures of Percy and you. They're on the Daily Prophet's front page, accompanied by a disgusting article from Rita Skeeter."
It took a moment for her words to sink in and for his mind to process the meaning, but that didn't lessen the force with which the realisation hit him.
His carefree time had come to an abrupt end.
OoO
Oliver had tried to ignore everything and everyone over the course of the day, but when he came home and saw the Evening Prophet lying on the kitchen table, he couldn't help but read it. Within moments, he realised he shouldn't have; the wording Rita Skeeter used and the way some random, famous wizards talked about the revelation made it obvious that deep within, the Wizarding society was still hugely conservative. He felt a little sick when Skeeter speculated about the nature of their relationship in the nastiest ways – obviously blind to the loving glances Percy and he shared in the pictures – and even questioned if Oliver would stay on the team long after his sexuality had become public.
That was the point where Oliver threw the newspaper into the flames cracking peacefully in the fireplace and decided to join Percy in bed. He just knew that Percy had read the article, as the methodic man always read the newspaper in an almost ritualistic way, and when he pulled him close, Oliver only whispered: "I'm sure it will be forgotten soon. It won't change anything about our life."
"I hope you're right, Ollie."
OoO
Unfortunately, their hope remained unfulfilled.
Over the next weeks, Oliver and Percy had the questionable honour of appearing in every issue of the Daily Prophet, the reporters combing through every detail of their lives with Rita Skeeter of course leading the way. Reporters harassed them, showing up at the Puddlemere United facility on a daily basis, lurking in front of their places and the Burrow, and some even dared to enter the Ministry on a quest to get a statement from Percy concerning his relationship with a man – something that was still used as a shocker in headlines. By now it was mostly ridiculous, but neither Oliver nor Percy could laugh about it.
They tried not to mention what the press was writing about them, as it was mostly bullshit, but they still felt stressed whenever they spotted people outside the building.
It seemed like the only part of their lives that stayed unaffected was their work. At the Ministry, nobody said anything against Percy as he was doing his job with continued excellence, and he managed to ignore the whispers behind his back when he left a room or the conversations died down when he entered one. For Oliver, it was a little more obvious that people were talking about him, as they didn't bother to lower their voices when he approached, but he managed to ignore it. He didn't care what their opinions were as they had no say in his life, and answering to their thinly-veiled homophobia was a waste of time and energy in his eyes. And so he did what he always had: concentrated on his work and trained hard to prove that he belonged on the team.
However, he was about to hit the low point in his professional life.
It was roughly three weeks after Percy's and his relationship had been made public; Puddlemere were scheduled to play the Tornadoes, and Oliver was feeling euphoric, positive that today they would gain enough points to make it to the finals. He chatted with Cynthia before they went out on the pitch, smiling with excitement, ready to give his everything…
But when the team marched into the stadium and their names were announced, he already noticed that the atmosphere was different; a few seconds later, the commentator said his name and he was hit by a wave of malicious screams. The words mostly weren't recognisable in the chaos of voices, but it was obvious that they were directed at Oliver; gazes were fixed upon him, staring him down, and some of the people in the lowest stands hurled their slurs the second he walked past.
It shook him deep inside; a cold hand seemed to close around his insides, and he felt overwhelmed by the situation. Never before had he experienced something like this, and Oliver could barely cope with the hostility. The Quidditch pitch had always been a place where he'd felt at home; he thought that he belonged there, but now it was as if he was being forced from his only port in the storm.
Nobody said anything, there was not a single attempt to make the spectators lower their voices or stop the obscenities.
Oliver didn't think he'd ever been so humiliated in his life; he had to grant that Flint had never degraded him to the point where he felt like he was something to be disgusted of.
OoO
Only the familiar feeling of Percy's warmth and his scent filling his nose with every breath he took could soothe Oliver many hours later. He could barely remember what had happened during the game, his body acting on autopilot, and only afterwards did he feel like he was able to shake off the daze he'd been caught in. Earlier, when he'd come home, he'd barely been capable of relaying to his boyfriend what had happened, but once they'd settled down under the warm covers, the words had tumbled from his mouth so fast that Percy had needed to stop him at times.
Now they were lying there in silence, both trying to process the events of the day. It felt like everything they'd built was starting to crumble, but it comforted Oliver that they were still able to feel safety in each other's arms.
"I would understand it if you exchanged me for a woman to satisfy their need for the image of the perfectly masculine Quidditch player, you know," Percy suddenly said quietly, and Oliver felt like he'd been punched in the gut.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Percy tensed at Oliver's sharp tone, and Oliver momentarily regretted that he'd snapped at him, but he really didn't feel like having his boyfriend make everything worse.
"I'm just saying that your career is important to you, and that being with me could potentially ruin it. I don't want you to lose the fruits of your hard work because of me."
For the second time that day, Oliver felt like he was trapped in a bad dream; Percy couldn't be serious. They were a team, had been since their earliest days at Hogwarts, and now Percy suddenly suggested breaking up because times got rough? Over the years they'd managed to overcome so many obstacles, and now he wanted to give up?
"You seriously want to surrender to them, just like that? Do you think I consider my career to be more important than our relationship?" Oliver asked, his heart racing in his chest, and he was glad that he was already lying down because he was starting to feel dizzy.
"I only said that I would understand it," Percy shot back with obvious hurt in his voice, and Oliver's stomach dropped when he felt him pulling his arms back, withdrawing from him and turning around. His warmth faded and Oliver gulped hard, his fingers curling into the covers as if they could ground him and make him feel less like his world was about to fall apart.
OoO
"Oliver, all we're trying to say is that you should think about how much this little… liaison is affecting your career. All the bad publicity – it's reflecting on the team as well. The sales are going down, people are starting to be negative towards Puddlemere. Think about it; is this little experiment really worth it?"
The words of the manager of Puddlemere United were still ringing in Oliver's ears when he stepped out of the Floo and made a beeline for the little cabinet where he stored some wine and liquor. Normally, he wasn't the kind of person to drink without a reason, but today he felt the need for something strong. Who knew, maybe it would help to take the feeling of helplessness away for some time? If there was something he hated, then it was the feeling that he wasn't in control of his life. The nasty articles that were still being written about Percy and him, the reporters that were following him everywhere in the hopes of getting a picture or story they could use for their purpose, the cold indifference his teammates showed him… but the worst was that Percy was upset with him, too. They barely spoke with each other, and Percy even slept at his own apartment sometimes, something he hadn't done for months.
Oliver felt guilty for having snapped at Percy, as he hated to argue with him, but he felt a touch of betrayal inside of him at the thought that Percy could imagine Oliver ending their relationship to save his career. No matter how shitty he felt about this situation, he hadn't thought about leaving Percy once – he was his best friend, the person he didn't want to live without, and he hoped that Percy realised that. Yet he knew, deep inside, that they were at breaking point, where every action could decide about the fate of their relationship, and it scared him.
He didn't want to think about ending their relationship, as being with Percy made his life feel so complete and as perfect as life could possibly be. But he had to acknowledge that, in the current situation, it was a possibility, even if he wasn't convinced that a breakup would make things easier for either of them, though Percy seemed to believe that.
Oliver downed a big gulp of the expensive scotch his father had given him for Christmas just as the Floo went off; turning around, he saw Percy brushing ash off his cloak, a sour expression on his face. "Seriously, now I'm being hounded about our sexuality and our relationship too. I could barely leave my office without being confronted with questions of a most private nature! How dare they think I would volunteer information about our life! This is ridiculous!"
Percy snatched the glass from Oliver's hand, anger gleaming in his brown eyes, and downed the rest of the glass, grimacing at the taste and the burning sensation as the alcohol went down his throat. "It's as if we became fair game just because we're two men. It's degrading to walk through the Ministry and be stared at."
His words were the last drop for Oliver – all the frustration that had been building inside of him since the day their picture first appeared in the newspaper became too much and broke out of him.
"If it's so bad for you, maybe we should just stop!"
Percy froze, staring at him for a second before crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively. "You're the one offering to break up, maybe you want to!"
"Well, remember how you were the one talking about it first?" Oliver shot back, his words accompanied by a glare, and Percy returned it, causing them to end up standing in the middle of the living room, staring at each other in silence.
It took some time until they spoke again, and it was Percy who had the courage to voice the question they both feared most. "Do you really want to break this up?"
"No," Oliver replied without hesitation, eyes fixed on Percy. "Do you?"
"Of course not. I love you, you big oaf."
They stood at a distance for another minute, shifting from one foot onto the other, then Oliver strode over to Percy, pulling him against his chest; his heart jumped in joy when Percy melted into his embrace. "Let them throw me off the team, ruin my career, gossip about how we make love, I don't care. Nothing in this whole damn world could make me leave you! I'll always choose you, Percy, because I love you more than anything in this world. Always, do you hear me?"
OoO
"Do you really love me more than Quidditch?" Percy asked quietly, humour laced into his tone as he looked at Oliver. They were cuddled close, legs tangled and fingers intertwined as they lay in bed, their foreheads touching as they exchanged light, lazy kisses from time to time.
Oliver chuckled softly while lifting Percy's hand to his lips, brushing his knuckles; it was wonderful how light they both felt by now, their worst worries taken from them. An owl carrying carrying an open letter to the Daily Prophet right at the moment would tell everyone about the serious nature of their relationship and that his sexuality didn't make Oliver a worse Quidditch player. But in the end, neither of them really cared what the public would do with the letter, if they would leave them alone or continue to be scandalised. The only thing that was important to them now was the knowledge that whatever would happen, none of it would tear them apart, even though the obstacles had thoroughly tested their loyalty.
"Do you really need to ask?"