He's not expecting Oliver to be there. He walks through the doorway to the kitchen of the Burrow and freezes, hand on the knob. What is Oliver Wood, internationally acclaimed Quidditch player (and, perhaps more pertinently, Percy's childhood crush) doing in his parents' tiny, overstuffed kitchen on a Sunday afternoon?

Percy watches as Oliver looks up from his plate and doesn't miss the way the latter's eyes widen slightly.

"Um, Percy," he says. "I didn't—I mean, it's been what, four years?"

The rest of the Weasleys follow Oliver's eyes to the awkward figure at the door. "Five, I think," Percy says, and is saved from further conversation by Mrs. Weasley, who exclaims loudly and hurries to pull out a chair and set another plate for him. The rest of his family returns to their conversations as Percy's mother fusses over him.

"I didn't know you were coming, dear," she says as she loads Percy's plate up (as though he's not an adult, as though he can't do it himself), "we would've waited to eat."

"I wasn't planning to ," Percy says as he sits down. "I just finished a project earlier than I expected, and, well..." He doesn't say that he had nowhere else to go; the implication is clear enough as it is.

Percy concentrates on his food, which is, at least, delicious as usual. If he has his mouth stuffed throughout the whole meal, he won't be able to answer questions, especially those about the inevitable—

"I keep telling you, you need to find someone to settle down with," Mrs. Weasley says as she pours herself more juice a few minutes later. Percy sighs, then cringes as he remembers Oliver, who's bound to notice this thread of discussion if it continues much longer, as it is wont to do.

Percy wants to yell at his mother to leave him alone, but instead he finishes chewing his peas and shakes his head. "I'm fine, Mum, really," he says, hoping that she will take the hint. She doesn't, of course, because she's Molly Weasley and you don't raise seven kids by taking hints.

"Even Ginny's getting married soon," she tells Percy (as though he doesn't know, as though he hadn't felt a wave of relief so intense he'd had to sit down when he'd gotten the invitation, as though he hadn't spent an hour staring at the plus one written in embossed ink).

Percy shrugs. "I don't have time for a relationship," he says, and is uncomfortably aware of Oliver's eyes on him.

"Stuff and nonsense," Molly says. "Oliver here plays Quidditch for England, and he has time to date, doesn't he?"

Percy chokes. As far as he knows, none of his other siblings are gay, and Ginny is engaged to be married next month, but he could be wrong. For the first time, he considers the option that Oliver might not be here as a friend. "I hadn't realized you were here with a date," he says to Oliver, a very cold pit settling in his stomach.

Oliver tilts his head. "A date?"

"Are you not here with someone?" Percy asks. "Apologies, I assumed based on what Mum just said..."

"Ah, no, I'm not here with anyone. Mrs. Weasley—-"

"Molly," Mrs. Weasley interrupts. "Call me molly."

"Right, molly—"

"What Oliver's trying to say is he's supposedly got a boyfriend," George says, jumping in. "We all think he just made him up so ginny and I would stop setting him up with people."

"Oh."

"Disappointed, Perce?" George asks, grinning at him.

"Not at all. Merely surprised that he managed to do what I've never been able to and get you to stop nagging him." Percy is proud of himself for how calm his voice sounds.

"Well," Ginny says from across the table, "we haven't stopped meddling, exactly, we're just not setting him up with people anymore. We've been trying to figure out who it is. We know it's not a Quidditch player, and it's definitely a guy, and he's not too far from Oliver's age. I'm not sure if he went to Hogwarts, though, did you get that out of him yet?" The question is directed at George, who shakes his head.

"Awfully secretive, he is. makes you wonder if maybe there's something about this boyfriend of his he doesn't want the public to know."

Oliver looks distinctly uncomfortable, and Percy would be sympathetic if he wasn't so glad to be out of the spotlight. "Not the public," Oliver says, "just you lot."

"Oh?" George's eyebrows are climbing ever-higher, and he looks dangerously thoughtful.

"Well," Ginny asks, "is he at least good-looking? You know, tall and dark and handsome?"

"Er," Oliver says, blushing, and Percy is suddenly very interested in hearing what he has to say. "I mean, he's not exactly... classically handsome, but I like him well enough."

Ginny groans. "That's so vague! Is he ugly or something?"

Percy leans forward a bit. "Yes, is he?"

"No! And furthermore, let's go play Quidditch while it's still sunny out, and I can crush you all so badly you forget about my love life, which was none of your business to begin with."

Percy happens to be of the opinion that Oliver's love life is very much his business indeed, but the word "Quidditch" has the same effect on most Weasleys that waving a bone has on a dog. He sighs as most of his siblings file out and decides to stay inside with his father rather than watching the game.

They talk mostly politics: Percy is almost certain there's a promotion coming his way, and is eager to hear what Mr. Weasley has found out through the infamous Ministry grapevine.

The game doesn't last long; soon enough they hear loud shouting from outside, and a few minutes later the Quidditch players enter the house. Oliver's team has won, and the sight of him sweaty, windswept, and glowing does funny things to Percy's insides, which he chooses to ignore in favor of studiously not looking at him.

It's lucky, then, that the conversation has steered safely away from romance and onto Hermione's recent campaigns for House Elves and the like, which most of the Weasleys (Percy included) find daft. Since neither she nor Ron are present, however, Percy is forced to take the pro side, which he argues with surprising zeal.

And if he notices Oliver looking at him for just slightly too long as he drinks his tea? Percy puts these thoughts safely out of his mind, at least for the time being. He has other things occupying his brain at the moment, things far more important than whether or not Oliver Wood wants to snog him (he'll know the answer to that question soon enough).

"Right, then," Oliver says when it is half past seven and the pudding is all gone. "I think I'll get going. Quidditch practice tomorrow and all."

He rises, and Percy screws up his courage. Gryffindor, he reminds himself, I'm a Gryffindor.

"Oliver?" he asks, meeting his gaze for the first time all evening. "Could you pick up some eggs on the way home, we've run out."

Oliver freezes, then nods and smiles slightly. "Sure," he says, leaning over to kiss Percy— it's just a peck, but a definite hint of what's coming tonight. "See you soon."

Percy stubbornly watches his form as he makes his way into the living room and Disapparates before turning around to face the rest of his family, all of whom have similarly stunned looks on their faces. He hopes, vainly, that he's not bright red.

First to recover is Charlie (who is home for a few weeks to help with the wedding). "you've been dating Oliver wood for the past three years?" he asks, face torn between amazement and pride. "Damn, Percy, you should've told me it was him; I thought for years it was Draco Malfoy or something."

It is then that George lets out a horrified shriek. "You have a boyfriend? Since when— since when does Percy have a boyfriend?"

The resulting commotion is not quite loud enough to cover Ginny's demands for someone to tell her why she is, apparently, the only person on the face of this earth to not have known that her own brother is gay.

Percy leans back in his seat, just the tiniest bit. It could have gone better, he figures, but it also could have gone a whole lot worse.