"Perce, you coming?"
Percy looked up from his Potions book to see Oliver Wood grinning at him, broomstick in hand. The twins were already clattering down the portrait hole, having an obscene amount of energy as usual. Percy raised his eyebrows at them. What on Earth would possess him to go watch his little brothers swing bats around while Oliver yelled at people? He had work to do. He showed up for games (he couldn't not, every one of his brothers had been on the team thus far), wasn't that enough? "Um, why would I?" he asked in confusion, "I'm studying."
His roommate, however, was looking at him like he was crazy. This was not an especially unfamiliar occurrence, but usually it accompanied somewhat understandable concerns, like what do you mean, you don't care who wins the League?, or How have you not heard about the new Cleansweep? or whatever. Things that Quidditch fans usually cared about. Percy had not thus far found any evidence which suggested that Quidditch fans wanted an audience for their practices, and he had no idea why they were having this conversation. Thankfully, Oliver enlightened him after a moment of them exchanging baffled looks. "I asked you if you'd play Seeker and you said sure," the captain said, starting to sound slightly disappointed.
Percy sighed. Technically, this was true. Charlie had left school two years early, chasing dragons, and Oliver had been scrambling to find a competent replacement ever since. Last year, after his most recent conscript had somehow managed to knock himself out with his own broomstick, Oliver had suggested that Percy, who after all was related to Charlie, try. The other Weasleys were all good flyers; Bill had played Keeper, in his time at the school. But, well. "Oliver, when I said 'sure,' I was being sarcastic," Percy explained patiently. "I have no actual desire to waste my time on your field when I have OWLs to study for."
"Oy!" yelled the twins from the portrait hole, looking dramatically scandalized by the suggestion that Quidditch was a waste of time. Fred said, "We don't want you anyway!", and George added, "Good riddance!" with an almost stylized pompous air. It was probably a mockery of Percy himself, who apparently was the only member of his family capable of a reasonable level of responsible seriousness, but frankly Percy was completely okay with mostly-affectionate mockery if it would get him out of Quidditch. So he just nodded agreeably.
"See?" he said reasonably, pointing his quill at Fred and George. "You've been outvoted." He went back to his work, assuming the argument was over. Nobody in their right mind would actually want him to play Quidditch, after all. The very idea was preposterous, and he was glad Fred and George agreed. It was nice to see his brothers demonstrating rudimentary sensibility for once.
Distracted again by his Arithmancy homework, which was trying to run away across the page, Percy was nearly halfway to the portrait hole before he realized he was being dragged.
He yelped and jumped out of the moving chair. Angelina and Alicia promptly grabbed him by the arms, and he stumbled in confusion, his motion arrested, and failed utterly to escape. "Wait, no, hang on - " he began, alarmed. Surely they weren't serious? That would be insane? Wait, Gryffindors were all insane, weren't they...
Angelina seized the book he was holding, folded up his work neatly to use it as a bookmark (well, at least that would keep the charts from uncharting while they were gone, Percy thought with a mental sigh), and tossed it to Ron. "Give this to your brother later," Angelina said brightly, completely ignoring Percy's whine of dismay at the cavalier throwing of books. "He'll want it back when we're done with him." Ron, nodding, set the book on the table next to the Exploding Snap cards, grinning. Like all little brothers, the little git was enjoying watching Percy's dramatic loss in this argument. So, evidently, were the twins, who were giggling from outside the portrait hole as they held it open.
Percy tried to object again, though he was starting to sense it wasn't going to do him any good. "This is ridiculous," he said, "I am terrible at Quidditch - "
"Come on, Perce!" said Oliver cheerfully, overriding his objections. He'd just returned from the dormitories, carrying Percy's broomstick, which Percy was fairly certain he had not actually touched since the summer after his second year. Percy tried to back away, and failed; instead Angelina and Alicia ducked under his arms and lifted him off his feet. Percy was firmly of the opinion that this could not possibly end well, but he apparently didn't have a say in the matter. The girls, snickering, carried him bodily from the room.
As the door shut, most of the common room heard Percy's fading yell:
"Dammit, Oliver!"
