Written for Assignment #1 of the new term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Subject: Wandlore. Task 1: Write about a character who is canonically depicted as 'lacking' in something (such as Neville or Peter) to have a big, dramatic personality.
This is written for Amber (Cheeky Slytherin Lass) for the Gift Giving Extravaganza, month of January. The pairing I chose from her list is Oliver/Percy. Additional prompts used: Chocolate Frogs, surprise, hesitant, fluff, sunrise, breathless, "You called me darling.", crimson, calm, breakfast, "Leave me alone."
This story is based on Laura (Someone aka me)'s headcanon that Percy and Oliver are the only two Gryffindor boys in their year (due to which they end up becoming friends). Special thanks to Emily (CrimsonGoldQueen), Web (WritingBlock) and Amber herself for inspiring several of the scenes.
The Bookworm and the Quidditch Nut
Their first meeting was hardly memorable. The only reason he even remembered it was because Oliver used it as a means of introduction for the entirety of their first year.
-oOo-
September 1987
Percy Weasley stood at the door to his dorm room and looked around, mouth hanging open in mild shock. It was an unexpectedly small room, with only two beds and a window in the middle. Although the Sorting Ceremony had made it quite clear that there were only two Gryffindor boys that year, the unexpected turn of events following soon after—where he had ended up being sick from the boat journey and the rich food—had made him forget. He placed a hand on his stomach, still queasy as he eyed the bed on the right.
It had articles of clothing strewn across the crimson sheets, a large trunk lying open on the ground beside it. More shirts and cloaks and whatnot flew into the air and fell haphazardly on the bed as the only other occupant of the room continued to rummage in his trunk, not having noticed Percy yet.
He cleared his throat to announce his arrival, but the other boy was much too involved in muttering to himself as he tossed more of his belongings around the room. Frowning, Percy walked over and stood beside the chestnut-haired boy, waiting to be noticed. Impatient, he stomped his foot twice and crossed his arms, finally gaining his roommate's attention.
"Oh, hi there," the boy said, jumping to his feet with a ready grin. "Percy, right?" He held out a hand, and Percy only looked down at it in disdain. "I'm Oliver. We met at the Gryffindor table before you, ah…" he trailed off, scratching his head sheepishly. "How're you feeling now?"
"Peachy," Percy said, swallowing down the bile as he remembered the unfortunate incident. "Is it really just the two of us, then?"
Oliver shrugged and glanced at the other bed. "Don't reckon anybody else'll be joining us, from the looks of it."
"Wonderful." Percy sighed as he looked down at the mess around them. Well, at least it was better to have just one slob of a roommate than several, he supposed.
Just then, something bobbed from under one of Oliver's shirts, and with a shout, the boy leapt at his trunk, grabbing whatever it was with both hands.
He struggled to his feet and, with a triumphant grin, showed Percy the chocolate frog he had managed to catch. "Slippery little fellow," he said, biting off its head without a hint of hesitation, making Percy's stomach lurch. "Luckily he got into my trunk, so it wasn't a complete waste." He held the lifeless chocolate body out. "Want a bite?"
Percy gagged and, clamping a hand to his mouth, rushed out of the room and straight to the bathroom, Oliver's concerned voice echoing in his ears.
"What a wonderful start to my school life," he muttered to himself after emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.
After finding out all Oliver cared about was Quidditch, Percy had tried in vain not to befriend the other boy. Yet, a year had passed, and the beginning of their second year found Percy calming a nervous wreck of an Oliver at the Gryffindor Team tryouts.
-oOo-
October 1988
"Think I'll make it?" Oliver asked for the dozenth time as he waited for his turn.
"You won't know unless you try," Percy replied for the dozenth time as he watched the Gryffindor Keeper demonstrate a complicated looping maneuver to catch the Quaffle. "Show-off," he muttered, although impressed.
"Right," Oliver said, rubbing his hands together. "I better go down there; it'll be my turn soon."
"Yeah. Good luck." When Oliver didn't move, Percy looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Well?"
"What?"
Percy motioned to the Quidditch Pitch, where several other Gryffindors from various years were trying out for the team.
"Right." Oliver remained standing beside Percy, wide-eyed and pale, his palms balled into fists and sweat dripping down his brow. If he were to be honest, Percy found Oliver's nervousness immensely amusing. He only ever got like that over anything Quidditch-related.
In the year they'd known each other, their roles had been already established. Percy was the bookworm and Oliver was the Quidditch nut. It was an unlikely friendship, but one that Percy somehow just couldn't escape. There wasn't an apter way to describe it, Percy thought as he nudged the other boy forwards.
"If I don't make it, bury me with my broom," Oliver said dramatically before making his way to the rest.
Percy rolled his eyes and walked away. Standing at the foot of the stands, he deliberated for a moment before deciding that staying until the tryouts were over would save him the pain of having to hear all about it from Oliver later on.
That turned out to be untrue, however, because Oliver, despite his unnecessary concerns, was a gifted player, and made the team. Which meant all he ever spoke about from the moment he awoke until he fell asleep (and even in his dreams) was the first ever game he would play as Keeper for the Gryffindor team. To the extent that Percy had begun walking around with magically enhanced cotton plugged in his ears to mute the other boy out.
Come the day of the match, after Oliver had made sure Percy was in the stands to watch his grand triumph, he had made it exactly two minutes into the game before taking a Bludger to the head and passing out.
A week later, when he finally awoke with a woeful moan to find Percy sitting and reading beside his hospital bed, he asked, "What happened?"
It was safe to say that re-telling the pitiful tale and watching Oliver writhe in extreme embarrassment and self-loathing made up for Percy's previous few weeks of torture.
In their third year, Percy decided that if he and Oliver were to continue being friends, then certain changes needed to be made. Namely: Percy would no longer turn a blind eye to Oliver stealing his notes and barely scraping through tests and assignments while focusing all of his time and energy on Quidditch. School was about studying, after all.
-oOo-
November 1989
"This isn't right. And this makes no sense." Percy glared at Oliver. "If you're going to waste my time anyway, at least put in some effort."
Oliver groaned and banged his forehead on the desk. After a moment, he placed his chin on it, slumping in his seat, and looked up at Percy with a pitiful expression. "This isn't working," he whined. "You said it yourself: an idiot can't grow a brain overnight."
"That's exactly why you've to study every day," Percy said, crossing his arms. "Now, redo this."
"Orrrrr," Oliver began, but Percy had already turned back to his essay.
"No, I am not going to let you copy my essay. I already offered to help; I suggest you don't push your luck any more than that."
When Oliver made a sound like an injured animal, Percy looked up to see him sticking his lower lip out and pouting childishly. Percy rolled his eyes. "If you're going to act cute, then do it with Penelope. That's not going to work on me."
"You're such a prat," Oliver grumbled, sitting up and pulling the textbook towards him. "It's gonna be your fault if we lose the next game."
Percy scoffed. "You say that like you've ever won any."
"Hey!" Oliver waved his quill at Percy. "Someday you're going to be glad you're friends with a world famous Quidditch player!"
Percy snorted but couldn't help smiling in amusement. "Before that, I'll be pretending I don't know you when you get held back a year for being a supreme idiot."
"You're all bark and no bite, Weasley," Oliver said, tutting. He grinned. "You say you hate being friends with me all the time, yet here you are, patiently helping me study."
Percy sniffed, dotting all his i's and crossing the t's with a flourish. "Well, I'm done. You can either spend all night moping around and doing nothing or actually put your mind to it and finish."
Oliver tried to snatch Percy's essay, but the latter grabbed it off the table in the nick of time, rolling it up with a superior smirk. "Just because I'm not the sporty type doesn't mean I'm less capable than you."
"Nobody ever thinks you're the less capable one of the both of us."
Percy laughed as he got to his feet and collected his stationery. He looked up to see Oliver smiling at him—rather fondly, if he may add. "What?" he demanded, cheeks heating up.
Oliver placed his head in the crook of his elbow, the silly smile still in place as he blinked sleepily. "You should laugh more, Weasley. You get this little dimple near your chin. It's cute."
Percy was sure his face was the colour of his hair. "Shut up and finish your work," he said, walking around the table and smacking Oliver on his head for good measure.
The other boy laughed but did as he was told. "G'night, Weasley!"
"It's gonna be good, alright, now that I'm done with the likes of you," Percy called over his shoulder.
Oliver's laughter followed him all the way up to their room, and Percy only realised he had been smiling the whole time when he was lying in bed and his cheeks hurt.
After a year of Percy constantly pestering him to study, Oliver saw his grades improve and decided that he liked it better that way. Although things got hectic with Quidditch practice, he still made it a point to try his best, and Percy couldn't help but appreciate him for it.
-oOo-
December 1990
Percy trudged into the Gryffindor common room well past midnight, exemption letter clutched in his hand. He had offered to help Madam Pince organise the books in the restricted section of the library simply because he was curious to sneak a peek, but it had taken far longer than he had expected.
He made a beeline for the dormitory, eyes half-closed, when there was a grunt from behind him. Surprised, he looked over his shoulder to see a familiar chestnut-haired lad at the table by the fireplace, slumped over scattered parchment, a quill hanging loosely from his fingers. Percy walked over to a snoring Oliver, bending down to see what he had been doing.
Several essays and astronomy charts were spread beneath him, with Quidditch diagrams and plans for the following year lying in-between. Oliver muttered in his sleep, rubbing his eye, and Percy felt a tug of pity.
Looking around, he found a throw blanket on the sofa and brought it over, draping it over Oliver's shoulders. He moved what parchment he could and placed the quill atop them. He looked down at Oliver for a moment longer, noting the rather heavy bags under his eyes, feeling sorry for his exhausted friend.
Despite what he said about Oliver being an empty-headed, Quidditch-obsessed idiot, Percy knew how hard Oliver worked better than anyone else. There were nights when Percy would be awoken to the sound of Oliver trudging into their room late at night and collapsing on his bed without even changing out of his Quidditch robes.
Spotting a piece of parchment fallen by Oliver's feet, Percy squatted down, leaning forward to reach it. Just as he picked it up, Oliver stirred and opened his eyes, and Percy looked up, only to realise how close their faces were. He jerked back in surprise, and Oliver caught him before he fell over. Blinking languidly, a sleepy smile spreading across his face, Oliver reached up to ruffle Percy's hair with his free hand.
"Hello, darling. Late night?"
Face flushing, Percy slapped Oliver's hand away and stood, placing the parchment on the table. "If you're awake, then get your arse in bed. It's hardly good for you to fall asleep like that. You'll be all sore in the morning."
"Yes, Mother," Oliver said, rising to his feet. He caught the blanket as it slid off his shoulders and looked at Percy with questioning eyes.
Percy coughed, looking away in embarrassment. "I just didn't want you falling sick and whining to me about it."
Oliver grinned and threw an arm around Percy's shoulder, mussing his hair. "By Gryffindor, you get cuter everyday, don't you, Weasley?"
"Shaddap," Percy muttered, pushing him away and making his way up to their dorm room. Oliver followed behind him, humming a happy tune that further embarrassed Percy.
"Stop that," he hissed, his own voice echoing in the quiet stairwell. "Everyone's asleep."
"You're making more noise than I was," Oliver said, his voice low, and Percy found his heart racing for some weird reason.
"Whatever," he muttered, taking the last set of stairs by two. Upon reaching their room, they changed in silence, Oliver flopping down on his bed with a tired sigh.
"Can't wait to go home for the holidays," he muttered. "Gonna sleep all day, everyday."
"Don't forget to eat or you'll fall ill."
"Yes, darling."
"Stop calling me that!"
"Calling you what?"
"You called me darling!"
Oliver chuckled. "Go to sleep, Weasley."
Percy muttered under his breath as he turned to blow the lamp out. Moonlight filtered in through the sole window and lit up Oliver's sleeping face, and Percy found himself staring without realising it. He hadn't really paid attention, but Oliver's features were getting more rugged and sharp, as compared to the smooth-faced boy he used to be. He was also half a head taller than Percy already, and the latter couldn't help but wonder how time had passed so quickly.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by dark eyes meeting his. Oliver's smile was lopsided as he said, "Having fun watching me sleep?"
Percy scoffed and turned his back to the other lad, pressing cool hands to his burning cheeks. Oliver hadn't given up just yet, though.
"Did'ja like the view?"
"Go to sleep, Wood," Percy snapped.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Percy swore under his breath, hearing Oliver chuckle. After a long silence, where Percy had almost fallen asleep, he heard Oliver say, "Thanks for the blanket, Percy." When there was no reply, he tried again. "Percy?" He shifted, the sound of the sheets rustling taking up the silence. After a moment: "Sleep tight, darling."
"I will kill you in the morning, Wood!"
Oliver's soft laughter was the last thing Percy remembered before he fell asleep.
Percy saw a lot of firsts in his fifth year. The Boy Who Lived, his first girlfriend, and Oliver Wood being one of the best Quidditch Captains Gryffindor ever had. It was safe to say that it was a year that saw several things come to fruition, and Percy realised that some things were more special than others.
-oOo-
January 1991
"Morning," Percy said as he slid onto the bench beside Oliver at the Gryffindor table for breakfast.
"Guess who joined the team!" Oliver yelled, his excitement palpable. "Harry Potter!" he exclaimed, without waiting for Percy's reply.
Percy frowned. "What? But he's only—"
"A first year, I know! But McGonagall saw him catch this ball thing of this kid's and said he'd be the perfect Seeker so he's getting special permission to join early!" Oliver let his head fall back, looking overwhelmed. "Finally a chance at winning the House Cup!"
"Always so dramatic," Fred said as the twins came to sit across from them. "Pass the Percy, Pumpkin Pie."
Percy rolled his eyes as he pushed the platter of pie forward, ignoring his sniggering brothers. He focused on his breakfast as Oliver began to excitedly discuss his plans for team practices that year, with Fred and George pitching in terrible suggestions or sassy comments every now and then. Oliver, being the oblivious and naive fool that he was, took everything they said into consideration nevertheless, answering their jokes seriously.
As they were going back, Oliver said, "Man, you're really the only Weasley that's not great at Quidditch, huh?" When Percy shot him a glare, he said, "I mean, the team was ploughed after Charlie left—and now that Potter's back, we may still stand a chance—but the twins are fantastic Beaters—I mean, I even overheard the Ravenclaw Chasers saying they were envious of their effortless teamwork—and I'm excited to see how the youngest one will turn out. What's his name? Ronald?"
"Ron, yeah," Percy answered unenthusiastically. It wasn't the first time he was getting flak for being the only Weasley with no inclination towards Quidditch, but it still got to him when Oliver said it—even if he didn't mean anything by it. "I've always been the black sheep of the family anyway," he said, bitter. "But at least I made Prefect. Those idiots don't stand a chance."
Oliver slung an arm around his shoulder and said with a grin, "Hey, five out of six Weasleys are good at Quidditch. Doesn't that make you special for being different?"
Percy smiled despite himself. "Seven."
"What?"
"I have a younger sister as well. She starts school next year and is pretty good at Quidditch herself."
"Oh, brilliant!" Oliver exclaimed. "Say, why don't I teach you how to play, eh? Then I can have a team full of Weasleys! Isn't that bloody fantastic?"
Percy scoffed and shrugged Oliver's arm off, quickening his pace. Oliver jogged to catch up, reclaiming his arm's position around Percy's shoulders without a single care in the world. "C'mon, I'm serious. We can start slow—"
"I have a Prefects' meeting to go to," Percy interrupted cooly. "Don't forget you haven't finished Snape's Potions' essay yet."
Percy walked off, teeth gritted so tight they hurt. He knew Oliver well enough to know that he was genuinely excited about anything Quidditch related and hadn't meant to injure Percy's pride, but for once he wished the oblivious arse would think before speaking.
He jerked back suddenly as his arm was yanked and stumbled into someone. Looking up, he saw Oliver peering down at him with a sheepish expression. Percy pushed away, his ears heating up, and dusted his robes. "What?"
"Sorry," Oliver said, grimacing. "I said too much again, didn't I?"
Percy sighed. "Don't worry about it. It happens when you function on the spinal cord level." He began to walk away but Oliver grabbed his arm again. "Stop doing that! Do you know how strong your grip is?"
"Sorry, sorry." He let go, holding his hands out. "But you gotta stop too, mate."
"Stop what exactly?" Percy snapped, his temper rearing its ugly head.
"That thing you always do," Oliver said, waving a hand. "Saying mocking things when you're angry or embarrassed."
"I don't—" Percy cut himself off with a sigh and shook his head. "Yeah, fine, whatever. Can I go now?"
Oliver looked like he wanted to say something else but shrugged and nodded. Percy turned and began walking away when Oliver called out to him again.
"Weasley!"
He stopped and looked over his shoulder, simply because he felt badly about snapping at the other lad. Oliver grinned, placing his hands on his hips and reminding Percy how wide his shoulders were. "Happy New Year again!"
Percy chuckled despite himself. It was only Oliver that could deflate his anger in an instant with his charming, even if sometimes obnoxious, personality. Inhaling, he made his way to the library, fiddling with his Prefect badge the whole way. Maybe Oliver was right. Maybe it was OK to be different.
It was in his sixth year that Percy realised the truth in the words, "You don't know what you have until it's gone." He learnt that trust was not something to be taken for granted and that certain mistakes hurt differently for different people.
-oOo-
February 1992
He watched Oliver process what he had just told him, his expressions changing from shock to disbelief to annoyance to sadness to resignation. Oliver looked away, his jaw set, and nodded. "Well, that's that, I suppose."
Percy shifted, realising how still he had been sitting in his nervousness. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," he said because he felt it was necessary.
Oliver shook his head. "No, no. It's my fault for not seeing it. A couple people even told me that the two of you were together, but I didn't believe them. Told them you would've told me if it were true. Guess I was wrong." He rose from his bed and put on his Quidditch robes.
Percy stood as well, worried. "Where're you going? It's past curfew."
"Mind turning a blind eye this once?" Oliver asked, and his smile was so sad that Percy didn't have the heart to tell him no. Oliver walked to the door, and just before stepping out, said, "Penelope Clearwater, huh? She must be something, if you decided to give up your no-nonsense principle to date her."
Percy deliberated for a moment, and had it been anyone else, he would've simply let it go and gone about his business as usual, but since it was Oliver, his body moved before he could think about it. He jerked open the door and took the stairs two at a time, reaching Oliver just before he stepped through the portrait hole.
"Wait," he gasped, breathless, and grabbed a hold of Oliver's arm for good measure.
Oliver looked down at him, his expression cold. "What? Is there something else I should know? Did you also date a whole bunch of people without me knowing over the years?"
Startled by Oliver's anger, Percy shook his head, swallowing. "I'm sorry. I didn't—I didn't think it would last this long. I wasn't even sure; I just said yes in the spur of the moment and didn't know how to break it off, and then I started thinking maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing, and you've been so busy with practice and everything and I just—"
"Enough with the excuses already," Oliver said harshly, shaking Percy's hand off his arm. "Maybe I have been busy, and maybe it is my fault for not paying more attention, but, Percy, we've been best friends for six years. The least you could've done was tell me about it yourself instead of letting me make a fool of myself when others did simply because I trusted you and didn't expect you to betray that trust."
Percy wasn't entirely sure why Oliver was reacting in such an extreme way, considering he was a generally mild-tempered fellow, and wasn't sure how to react. It wasn't like he had stolen a world-breaking discovery and published it under his own name; he had simply not told Oliver about the girl he had been seeing. He knew he was in the wrong, but was it really such a big deal?
Oliver scoffed, as though reading his mind. "You think I'm overreacting, don't you?"
Percy grimaced. "Maybe a little."
The Gryffindor Captain sighed. "See, Percy, there are very few things I hold to great importance in this world. And as a Quidditch player, they're all the more important to me." When Percy looked on, lost, Oliver said, "Trust and loyalty. We don't hide things. We don't betray the trust of friends and teammates. And we especially don't let them make a fool out of themselves due to either of those things."
"You keep saying that, but I'm not entirely sure I know what you mean," Percy replied, hesitant. "Who made a fool out of you?"
"Every single person that knew you and Penelope were together, besides me." Oliver stepped closer, his voice dropping a decibel. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to walk around telling people they're wrong when they were right the entire time and realise you know lesser about your supposed best friend than you thought? It's not a great feeling, let me tell you."
Percy shook his head, the words best friend ringing in his ears. "I know, and I really am sorry. I did want to tell you; I just—didn't find the right time. And the longer I put it off, the harder it became."
Oliver scoffed, turning away. "That's that, then, isn't it?"
"What?"
"What do you expect me to say?" he asked, ruffling his hair. "Obviously you think I'm overreacting, and maybe I am, so just… leave me alone to wrap my head around it, I guess."
"I'm really sorry," Percy said, feeling worse and worse every minute. "I mean it. I had no intention of hurting you."
Oliver snorted, then offered him a small smile. "Yeah, I know. You're not capable of that. And I'm sorry for yelling as well." He sighed. "Look, just—let me be, OK?"
Percy nodded because that was the only thing he could do. Oliver cast him one final look before turning away, and Percy finally let his gaze drop to the ground, his fists clenched and a lump in the back of his throat. He hadn't felt this miserable in a long time.
He had thought Oliver had left, but suddenly a small box was shoved forward, and he looked up, surprised. "Wha—"
Oliver nodded at the box, not looking at Percy. "For you." Percy took it, unsure of its contents. "Mum's homemade chocolates that you like." Oliver inhaled deeply and exhaled, looking exhausted. Scratching his head, he muttered, "Happy Valentine's Day, I guess. Give it to Penelope if you don't want it."
So saying, he was gone, leaving Percy feeling like he may have just lost the only friend he had ever had.
It took Percy a year of watching from the sidelines to realise what an amazing friend he had lost.
March 1993
It took Percy an entire year to realise the value of his and Oliver's relationship. It had never occurred to him that Oliver was laidback and sloppy only with Percy. To everyone else, Oliver was the sincere and hardworking Gryffindor Captain that put his heart and soul into Quidditch. Even if he spoke without thinking or didn't realise his pep talks only bored his team more than motivated them, they all liked and respected him nonetheless. He was driven and focused, and when he put his mind to something, he always succeeded.
Percy found his gaze following Oliver's broad shoulders and wide back more often than not, realising he had never seen that simply because he had always been walking beside him.
Penelope and he broke it off in their final year because they wanted to focus all of their time and energy on their N.E. . Oliver spent most of his time on Quidditch, and Percy barely ever saw him, except in classes or while he was asleep. Ever since Oliver had stopped hanging out with Percy, the latter had realised how many friends Oliver had. Percy couldn't help but feel grateful that Oliver had spent so much time with him over the years when he could've picked anyone else.
He was also very popular among the girls but was far too oblivious of his own popularity due to Quidditch being the only thing that was on his mind. Thanks to that, Gryffindor finally won the House Cup, and Oliver's long-standing dream had been fulfilled. Rumours were even flying that he had already been scouted by several national teams.
As the year end neared, Percy was left feeling more and more agitated and dissatisfied. He knew he would clear the N.E. . He knew he would be able to join the Ministry like he intended. He was under no illusion of his capabilities.
The only loose end that was left was Oliver.
And so, the one time Percy walked into their dorm room to find Oliver changing into his Quidditch robes, he took the opportunity.
"Hi," he said, nervous.
Oliver looked at him, the surprise clear on his face. "Hi," he replied with a small smile. He nodded at the books in Percy's arms. "Coming from the library?"
Percy put the books away and rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants. "Yeah. Off to practice?"
"Yeah."
They stood in awkward silence for a moment before Oliver walked to the door saying, "Well, I better go. Don't wanna keep the team waiting."
"Wait." Percy grabbed his arm, and Oliver paused.
"What?"
Percy swallowed, unsure of what to say. "That, er, I, uh…" Oliver raised his eyebrows, and Percy blurted, "Penelope and I broke up."
He nodded. "Yeah, I heard. She was apparently quite distraught about it."
Percy grimaced. "I'll never understand why, since she brought it up herself."
"Maybe it wasn't what she had expected," Oliver said quietly, fiddling with his arm brace.
"I'm sure it wasn't."
Oliver looked up at that and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Yeah. Er. Sorry about that." He jerked his thumb towards the door. "Look, uh, can we talk later? I've really gotta go."
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry."
Percy stepped back, and with an awkward wave, Oliver left the room, the door swinging shut behind him. Percy stared at the closed door for a long time, wanting to run after Oliver, but his feet were rooted the spot. He felt like the last bit of energy and willpower he had left had left him, and he flopped down on the bed, his mouth dry and a lump in his throat. He sighed.
Well, I tried, he thought in an attempt to comfort himself. When that didn't help, he curled up under his covers and let his exhaustion lull him into unconsciousness.
When he awoke, it was to incessant shaking and someone calling out his name. "What?" he asked, bleary-eyed, his vision focusing on a worried Oliver.
"You alright, mate?"
"'M fine. What's going on?"
"No, just… I saw you in bed and was worried." Oliver shook his head. "If you're fine then it's OK. Have you eaten yet?"
"No," Percy said, his stomach gurgling. "What time is it?"
"Half ten. I was just going to grab something from the kitchens myself. Wanna tag along?"
"Sure."
They walked in silence, the empty corridors and the quiet night making it harder to speak, and before he knew it, they were already in the kitchen. Percy settled down on a stool by the door as Oliver went about talking to the House-elves. One came over and handed him a steaming bowl of soup, and he took it gratefully.
"Ah, I'm gonna miss this," Oliver said, dragging a stool over to him. "Nothing beats eating food straight out of the oven." Percy hummed in agreement as he scarfed down a cream puff. "You have a—" Oliver reached over to rub his thumb against the corner of Percy's mouth and licked the cream from it.
Percy's chest tightened, his ears growing hot, the sense of familiarity overwhelming him. He looked down at the bowl in his lap, clearing his throat.
After they were done, Oliver thanked the House-elves, as did Percy, and they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. In the dark, Percy lost his footing, and Oliver steadied him.
"Whoa, there. You alright?"
"Yeah. Sorry."
"You've been apologising a lot, of late."
"Sor—" Percy caught himself and made a face. "Sorry."
Oliver chuckled. "Don't worry about it."
After a moment, Percy paused, and Oliver looked back at him. The moon behind him gave his silhouette an unearthly glow, and Percy felt so at peace that he wanted to close his eyes and fall asleep right there.
"Percy?" Oliver called, and Percy stepped forward.
"I really am sorry. About everything. It was all so… pointless."
Oliver scratched his ear. "Yeah. Me too. I wish I'd spoken to you sooner. I guess… the timing was bad."
Percy smiled. "Yeah." After a moment, he said, "Is your offer to teach me how to play Quidditch still available?"
Oliver broke into a huge grin. "Isn't it too late to be considering a change in your career path?"
"Well, it's worth a shot, right?"
"What is?"
Percy stepped closer. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and Oliver's face was fuzzy in the dark. He leant forward unintentionally, wanting to make out the expression on the other's face, and he saw Oliver's eyes widen.
"Sorry," Percy said, moving back in the slightest. "I can't see very well."
"Oh," Oliver breathed, and Percy could feel his hot breath on his cheek. Oliver suddenly brought his face closer, a smile on his face. "Can you see me now?"
Percy clenched his fist in order to suppress the urge to reach up and caress Oliver's cheek. "Yeah," he whispered.
"Good."
Percy looked into Oliver's eyes, wondering if they'd always been so dark, and suddenly Oliver leant forward and brushed his lips against Percy's. It was only for a split second, but Percy was left with a feeling of loss when the other moved away.
"We better go back quickly. We'll be in trouble if Filch finds us."
"It's fine," Percy said, walking beside Oliver and feeling like he had regained his rightful place. "I can just tell him I'm on patrol."
"That's true."
They lapsed into comfortable silence, and when Oliver's hand brushed against Percy's, he smiled.
All was well.