The Prefect and The Player.
Set during Prisoner Of Azkaban.
Ship: Perciver (Oliver Wood and Percy Weasley).
Percy Weasley, now Head Boy, is in his seventh year and is constantly stressing about school work, exams and his responsibilities as Head Boy, and Oliver Wood, the Quidditch Captain, who, although trying to keep up with schoolwork, is more concerned about winning the Quidditch Cup at last than anything else. During a cold December night they finally share a secret kiss.
A/N, why in the name of Merlin's saggy left butt cheek do I keep setting Harry Potter fanfiction at Christmas?
Like the majority of seventh years, Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood were staying at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays. Although their NEWT exams were still several months away, they had more than enough homework and revision to keep them up long into each and every night. In addition to classwork Percy had his duties as Head Boy and Oliver was Quidditch Captain and still obsessed with trying to win the Quidditch cup before he graduated. As well as a supposed mass murderer on the loose and dementors guarding the entrances and exits of the grounds, tensions were particularly high. Percy and Oliver were not the most obvious two to be friends, but they were pretty close and tended to help each other whenever and wherever needed. Sometimes all they needed was each other's presence to feel calmer and happier.
It was only a few days before Christmas day and close to one in the morning. Oliver and Percy had taken over two of the armchairs near the fire in the common room and had textbooks, pieces of parchment, quills and ink covering several nearby tables. They were trying to get as much work done as possible before Christmas day so they'd be able to take a day or two off.
"What did we have to do for McGonagall again?" Percy asked, pushing his glasses up his nose and dropping his just completed Charms essay on the nearest table.
"Read and summarise chapters 6 to 9 of the textbook." Oliver replied, scribbling down some notes for it himself. "Plus an essay on Conjuring Spells. Two rolls of parchment. Percy, did you forget?"
"It's written down in my planner, I swear and I've barely slept in two days. Merlin's pants. We're not going to make it to the other side of Christmas." Percy asked.
He reached over to try and grab his battered, second-hand copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration but slipped and knocked the pile of textbooks it was in off of the table and ended up face first on the carpet. Oliver got out of his armchair, knelt down and helped Percy to his knees.
"Thank you, Oliver." Percy said, very aware of how close the two of them were and that Oliver's hand was still holding his arm, making sure he was steady. The blood started pulsing faster through Percy's veins. He could swear he could hear his heartbeat inside his throat, and did it just get ten times warmer? Percy leaned in and closed the few inch gap, kissing Oliver for the first time. Percy pulled away and started breathlessly gasping an apology. But before the words were finished leaving his mouth, Oliver's lips were against his, their arms wrapped around each other, pulling him in deeper and deeper until both had to take a pause for breath.