And even though every day felt like eternity, Oliver tried to do just that. He waited. George's words had given him some comfort, some tiny bit of hope. Did Percy really miss him? Was there a bit of affection for him, somewhere deep inside of Percy's heart under all the anger and hatred he showed?
Oliver hoped so. That was all he now had. Hope.
He went to see his teammates not long after George's visit. Tried to explain away his long absences from the team. He joined them back for practise sessions. He was now back to being a reserve keeper, but he didn't mind. It was only fair, after all. He worked hard to get back into condition, and concentrated fully on his game.
He stopped drinking and started to eat regularly again. After the trainings, he began to feel properly hungry for the first time in months.
He didn't shave his beard, though. It had grown quite a lot during the time he was locked up in his apartment, and he decided it didn't look too bad, either, when he took some care of it.
While Oliver was getting his life back together, however, the wizarding world was falling into darkness. Voldemort was at the height of his power, and he was taking over everything. Oliver tried to keep up with the news in the Quibbler, but they didn't tell him much. He was scared. He feared for Percy, who was surely working right there, right for the dark wizard, with no prospect of escaping in fear of being murdered.
He wished he could be there for Percy. He wished he could save him somehow. Protect him. Hide him. But there was nothing he could do. It would be too dangerous. And at any rate, Percy didn't want to see him.
It was early spring when Oliver found himself walking home from Quidditch practise one day completely exhausted but pleased with how the training had gone. He was offered the keeper's position on the team again, and he was very pleased his hard work had paid off. He was nearly in a happy mood when he spotted it. Percy was on the other side of the street, but he didn't seem to have noticed Oliver. Oliver thought of going over to say hello, but then he noticed that Percy wasn't alone. He was walking hand in hand with a dark haired man, who, Oliver decided, looked rather unpleasant. He retreated into a nearby shop then, not wanting to be spotted by either Percy or the man, and watched them from the shop's window.
The man whispered something into Percy's ear, the Percy laughed. It made Oliver's stomach turn. Who was this person Percy was with? Did that mean Percy had moved on? Did it mean he didn't love Oliver anymore? Not even a little bit? Oliver still kept his hopes up, thinking that Percy would forgive him one day. But it didn't look like it now.
Oliver watched in disgust as the dark man spat onto the pavement and then leaned in to kiss Percy. His Percy! And Percy kissed him him back, he didn't push him away or anything. What was going on? Why was Percy with such a person? He hated it when people spat in public. Oliver knew that. He knew everything about Percy. They had grown up together, had they not? They were meant for each other.
So what was Percy doing now kissing the strange man?
Oliver never made it home. Instead, he went into a local bar and got himself a drink, and then another, trying to forget what he had just witnessed. But a vision of Percy kissing that man kept intruding into his thoughts.
He felt betrayed. He knew he had little right to feel this way - it was more than a year now since he and Percy had broken up. And he did cheat on him, too. But still. He kept hoping it was only temporary. That they would make up eventually. However, Percy didn't seem to think this.
Oliver downed another drink. Was George wrong when he told him that Percy missed him? Was he lying to get him out of bed?
It was a couple of hours later when he finally left the bar. He had made his decision. He had to talk to Percy. Tell him he still loved him. Tell him he wanted him back.
When he apparated onto a hill near the Burrow, he was pleased to see the smoke rising from the small house's chimney. He thought maybe the Weasley had gone into hiding, left the Burrow and his somewhere protected by the Fidelius charm. It would only be sensible, the situation in the country being what it was. And it would have meant that Percy was safe, too, even though he wouldn't have been able to talk to him.
He walked across the front garden and knocked on the door.
It was Mrs. Weasley who answered.
"Hello, Oliver," she said coldly. He backed a pace under the look she was giving him. Of course she hated him. He should have expected this. He had broken her son's heart. But still, it was a shock to see the icy look in the eyes that once looked at him so fondly.
"Mrs. Weasley, is Percy home? I need to talk to him."
"He doesn't want to see you," she rebuffed him.
"Please," Oliver begged her. "Please Mrs. Weasley. I have to talk to him. Please." His voice was hoarse.
She looked him up and down, frowning slightly. "Oh, Oliver," she sighed, her cold expression warming up a tiny bit. "What have you boys done to each other?"
She shook her head. It was a rhetorical question, and Oliver didn't reply. He knew she didn't expect him to tell her.
"I messed up," he said instead and looked pleadingly at her. I messed up real bad, Mrs. Weasley."
"I'll call him," she said at last and vanished behind closed doors.
Oliver waited. His heart was beating rather fast, and his mouth had gone dry. He was nervous.
"What do you want, Wood?" Percy Weasley appeared in the doorway. He didn't look too pleased to see who it was.
"Fuck, you smell like a liquor store."
"Perce. It's good to see you."
Percy didn't say anything. Close up, Oliver noticed he looked much thinner than the last time he saw him and had dark shadows under his eyes. It terrified him.
"I miss you. I want you back. Please come home."
"I am home."
"I meant-"
"I know what you meant. I am home here now."
"Come back, Percy. You belong there. With me. I need you. I know you need me too."
Percy scoffed. "I don't need you. Go away, Oliver. I told you, it is over."
"I tried to give you time, you know. I hoped that maybe you've forgiven me." Oliver mumbled.
"Forgiven you? How could I ever forgive you something like that? Jesus, Wood. If you'd just picked up a random guy at a bar. But no, you had to go the whole way and do my younger brother!"
"I am sorry! What else can I say? Do you think I haven't regretted it a thousand times more than you did? I never knew this would happen. I didn't know it was so damn hard to be alone."
"You took me for granted, in other words."
"I suppose I did, yes." Oliver hung his head. Percy scoffed. "Please don't give up on us, Perce. We are so good together. Let me fix this."
"There's nothing to fix. It's already dead. Let it go. Move on."
"I can't. I cannot watch you with someone else, it's killing me. We belong together."
"You are drunk, Oliver. Go home and sleep this off. You don't even want me back, all this will be gone tomorrow when you wake up." Percy made to close the door, but Oliver held it steady. He was drinking, it was true, but he was still a lot stronger than starved figure of Percy Weasley.
"Get off before I hex you, Wood," Percy hissed, but Oliver ignored him.
"Grow up, Oliver! Learn to live with what happened, live with the scars, just like I have to. You deserve every single regret you have and you know it! I don't even want to have this fight right now, I'm sick and tired. I don't want you back, okay? Leave me alone."
His last words hit Oliver like a bullet. He slackened his grip and Percy managed to shut the door in his face.
Snippets of what Percy had said were racing through his head. That was it, then. It was over. All his hopes he had built up in him over the months, gone. Percy didn't want him. He'd never forgive him.
Could he live without Percy? Over the years they were together, he'd never once imagined them breaking up. They were simply meant to be. Everyone else had said it, too.
You took me for granted, Percy's voice sounded inside of his head. And he supposed he really did. He had been such a fool! How come a person only realised what he had once he lost it?
Oliver looked up and saw Ginny's face pressed against an upper story window, watching him. He looked away and walked to the nearby hill, from where he could disapparate.
He headed straight back into the bar. And he drank.
He thought, then, about how Percy had looked. Ill. Unlike himself. Oliver couldn't even begin to imagine how it must be, working at the ministry at this time. He must be so scared. So alone. Except for the dark haired stranger, of course. And what did that mean, anyway? Was Percy seeing him now? It definitely looked like it. It that why he rebuffed Oliver like this? Was he perhaps in love with the man? Did he really move on so easily?
It's been more than a year, a nagging voice inside his head said. That's more than enough time. But then again, Percy certainly didn't look like a person in love. He just looked… worn down. Stressed. Worried. Definitely not happy. And a man is supposed to be happy when he is in love, shouldn't he?
But then, he was in love with Percy and he indisputably wasn't happy.