The delightful Weasley clan, Oliver wood, the staff and faculty of Hogwarts and Hogwarts itself are not mine.
Fear
Year Two: Training Oliver
Oliver's second year at Hogwarts can be defined by four things that rather suddenly made their way into his life.
1. The book
It started with a book. It was sitting innocently on his bedside table and thus was the first thing he saw when he woke up. He couldn't remember leaving it there and it didn't look like any book that he knew (certainly the spines on his school books weren't so creased and cracked that he couldn't read the title). It didn't really matter though where he had picked it up from or left it at or any such thing because he didn't want to read right now. His head hurt something fierce.
He thought for a moment about turning over, but it seemed too much of a hassle for the soreness in his body, and so he was left staring at the book and thinking through all the things it could possibly be. And so it was through the haze in his mind that he decided that he might as well open up the front cover and see what the thing was.
It took him a minute of speculated effort before he realized that his arm wasn't going anywhere. Another minute and he figured out that that wasn't his bedside table. Around the same time as this he also realized that this wasn't his bed.
He groaned as he let his head drop back onto the pillow. Where was he?
"Mr. Wood," came a cheerful voice off to his left somewhere. "How are you feeling?"
He had a rather fantastic fail of trying to get a look at his greeter, but his efforts did bring the feet scurrying closer and he was met with the sight of Madame Pomfrey standing over him. The hospital wing. What was he doing in the hospital wing? "What-" he began before attempting to bury his head back into the pillow as well as he could.
"Careful now. Nasty head bump there." Her arms fitted themselves underneath him for support as she helped him into a carefully propped sitting position. "Let's check you out." She went through a series of little tests, things like following her finger with his eyes, before helping him take a drink of water.
"What happened?" he rasped out.
"You were hit with a bludger," came that cheerful voice. "Try another drink."
Oh, Merlin. He had been done in by a bludger? It was the first match of the season! He didn't even remember going to the game or getting ready for it or what he would've eaten for breakfast that morning. He was never going to live this down. He was going to be known as Bludger Boy for the next six years. He tried to right himself and received a tut for his struggles.
"Careful," she admonished. "You hit the ground hard. Sleep some more and I'll send a note to your professor. Mr. Weasely has visited every day. He'll be happy to know you've regained consciousness."
"How," he tried again, "long?"
"A week," she said cheerfully, fluffing his pillow as she helped him to lay back down (gave him no choice, but he couldn't say he really fought that hard to stay upright). "Get some rest. You'll be out of here soon enough." Patient attended to, she left once she was assured that he would call for her if he needed anything.
The last thing he saw before sleep claimed him again was the book on his bedside table. He still didn't know what it was.
2. The tea cup
And so Oliver was happily encased back in his own bed when he woke up and found yet another thing unaccounted for on his bedside table. His real bedside table. It was a little tea cup. It even had its own tea cozy and the steam rose up in an invitation he was a little hesitant to take. It was sitting next to the worn book he had inadvertently found himself stuck with (and maybe read a little of because what else could he do when all his actions were limited to what he could do in the infirmary).
He had seen his roommate briefly when Charlie had helped him back to his own room. Percy had been studying something at his desk and hadn't said anything more than a hello to his brother who had frowned at him. He had fallen asleep shortly after, although Charlie had warned him that it had been hell keeping his teammates away so that he could recover and to expect a full retinue as escort to breakfast the next day.
He blinked his eyes open several times and after a few minutes felt himself more capable of getting up. His movements brought the attention of Percy, who was sitting at his desk almost like he had never left it. Percy whirled around in his chair and stared balefully at him, making no move to speak or get up.
"What?" he grumbled as he finally managed to sit up on his own.
Percy frowned and fidgeted a little. "I trust you are okay?"
Oliver glared at him. His roommate was not the first person he wanted to deal with upon waking up with a massive headache. "Fine," he said shortly and moved to attempt a stand next.
That got Percy up and over to his side. "You shouldn't be up yet. Professor McGonagall has excused you from classes for another week and your orders are to rest," he stressed. He stopped just short from touching Oliver.
"I'm not going to spend another week in bed," Oliver growled out, head pounding more intensely. "If you're not going to help me up, then go away."
Percy's eyes narrowed and he ambled back to his desk, sending little furtive glances over at Oliver as he did so. "You fell off your broom at the match," he said matter-of-fact, sitting back down and taking up his baleful stare again.
"I was hit by a bludger," Oliver informed him as he brought his feet to the ground.
"And then you fell off your broom," Percy helped him along.
Oliver could feel his fingers clench hard into his bedsheets as he fought to reign in his temper. He hadn't even known he had a temper until after he had met Percy. But the boy was a pain in the ass on the worst of days and outright rude on the best, and today was looking to be the worst day yet and not something he needed while recovering.
A knock on the door saved him and he called out quickly for the unknown to come in before he did something stupid, like try to punch that expression off his roommate's face.
"Hey," Trevor, one of the team's chasers, said cheerfully as he poked his head in. He stopped at the door though, the tense atmosphere of the room like a barrier he could not cross. "Uh, breakfast?" he asked Oliver.
"Help me up," Oliver ground out, glaring at Percy's back, who had swiveled around in his chair again to busily move his parchment around.
"Uh, yeah, okay," Trevor said and entered. Oliver managed to ignore Percy for the rest of the day, the task made easier by the fact that Percy himself did not make another attempt at conversation.
3. The notes
Oliver woke up his second day back from his trip to the hospital wing with yet another tea cup sitting on his bedside table beside the book he could have sworn he had fallen asleep reading. It was actually pretty good, though not what he was used to reading on the rare occasion he looked into something that was not Quidditch related.
But it looked quite cozy sitting next to the tea and Oliver thought to hell with it, tea sounded nice right about then. It wasn't until after he had finished the tea and the next chapter, dressed for the day, and sat on his bed waiting for the escort to breakfast that he noticed the rather daunting stack of papers on his desk. Merlin, was that his homework?
He groaned and stood, making his way to the desk to sift through it all. He paused, fingers tracing the neatly lined words that made up a list of what to expect below. Was that Percy's handwriting? It had to be. No one else he knew of wrote in perfect little lines and tiny squibbles and dotted i's.
He rifled through the pages underneath the list, and sure enough the list was a table of contents for the near novel length mass that was now haphazardly stacked. Transfiguration was on top with Percy's carefully written notes underneath, followed by charms and so on and so forth. Oliver was somewhat impressed despite himself. His books were lined up on his desk in the order that his homework was in.
Had Percy been bored or something?
The door opened and Oliver looked up as Percy slunk to his desk, head resolutely turned away from him. He opened his mouth and closed it again, and then tried again. "I, um, uh, thank you?"
"You're welcome," Percy replied, sounding as if he had tasted something bad. And then he pulled out a book and promptly hid behind it.
4. The roommate
"I could help you catch up," Percy informed him succinctly as he strolled in two days after Oliver had been allowed to attend classes again.
"What was that?" Oliver asked, turning in his chair from where he was stressing over Percy's notes. How could the professors go through this much stuff in two weeks?
Percy paused and then barreled forward courageously again. "I could help you study. You need to keep your grades up," he offered again.
Oliver was silent for a long minute while Percy balanced his weight precariously as he shifted from foot to foot. A blush slowly crept its way down from Percy's cheeks and into his neck and he averted his gaze from Oliver's perusal.
"I'm trying to help," Percy finally ground out. Oliver blinked in shock.
"I- uh, that would," he paused. "That would be great," he finally offered in submission.
That settled, Oliver was soon overrun with explanations and even more detailed notes and more help than he ever wanted. Within weeks though he was more than caught up to his classes, and was doing so well that Professor McGonagall had pulled him off to the side to give him a well done, which had made Percy puff up with pride when he heard. Oliver could've sworn Percy was happier than he was over Oliver's new grades.
But within another week, the two roommates were at odds yet again.
"Those things are hazards waiting to happen," Percy yelled, throwing his pen down onto the pages of his notes. "You're just going to bust your head open again."
"You don't quit flying just because you fall once," Oliver retorted, crossing his arms in a direct portrayal of Percy's temper tantrum on the other side of the room. "I've got the go ahead from Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall and, might I add, your brother."
"Charlie's taken one too many falls to the head to know what's best for him," Percy returned back.
"Your brother is one of the best fliers I've ever seen."
"Of course he is, and have you seen his exam scores from last year?" Percy huffed. Oliver hadn't realized until this moment that the phrase turning your nose up at something was to be taken literally.
"There's more to life than just studying."
"Said like someone who has no thought to the future," Percy responded.
"You are so," Oliver tried. "Pompous," he finally got out.
"Excuse me," Percy roared, whirling around in his chair and bursting out of it, so red he looked like he might break a blood vessel or three.
Oliver just grabbed his shoes and stormed out, pushing past Percy and into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. He took several deep breaths and then finally felt steady enough to make his way down into the common room.
A few hours later, after flying around the Quidditch pitch under the watchful eye of Charlie (and it wasn't Charlie's fault at all that that red hair reminded him every time he saw it of why he was so pissed off), eating dinner (which Percy never showed up to), and a conversation with Charlie in which he complained a lot about his roommate (which Charlie just laughed at with a "He's just worried."), Oliver finally found himself standing outside the door to his shared room with the greatest prat Hogwarts had ever seen.
He felt almost like an intruder as he slowly opened the door and peered inside. It was dark, but he could see Percy's back, tense under the light from the hallway, and knew he wasn't asleep yet. He straightened up and walked inside, leaving his shoes by the door.
It wasn't until after he had gotten ready for bed and laid down that he decided to broach the unapproachable boy. "I'll be careful," he said to the darkness, remembering Charlie's words from earlier. Percy made no reply. "I'm still struggling a little in potions," he offered. He heard the twitch of the sheets from across the room as Percy turned a little in his direction.
"And charms," Percy finally responded.
Oliver laughed a little in relief. "And charms."
"Take another bludger to the head like that and you'll be stupid," Percy said.
Oliver gave a real laugh this time. "Well, I have the best tutor in Hogwarts for that," he said grinning. Percy didn't respond to that, but he could hear the warmth in his voice as he bid Oliver goodnight.
And so it was Oliver's second year that only one thing really, accompanied by several smaller things (like a penchant for tea in the morning and good exam scores) made its way into Oliver's life.