Author's Note: Well… Chapter Three. This is a bit of a landmark chapter –
I am not writing it to avoid revision! No… I don't have to revise till
tomorrow. Yay!!! ( But now we're on the really interesting subjects… Do we
really exist? How do we know if our friends are mutants or zombies??
Scintillating stuff. Oh well, I'll crack on with that tomorrow.
Erm… Thankyou very much to those who have reviewed already.
Cheers for offering to read it Kim, especially during Indiana Jones. Blame MSN though, I couldn't get through to you to give you the second draft, so you'll just have to read it here along with the rest of us. (
For AS WHS B.
Disclaimer : These characters don't belong to me. Please don't sue. Unless you want my overdraft and a future of student loan repayments, that is.
Part Three.
"I'm bored," Oliver threw his quill down onto the table, and flicked a glance towards Percy, who was making very studious-looking notes from a huge ageing textbook.
"Shut up." Percy turned the page and stifled a grin.
"Percy… I'm really bored,"
"I'm not surprised you're bored," Percy shot his room-mate a sidelong glance, "You have been working for all of… twenty three minutes." Shrugging, he turned to glance out of the window, but not before throwing a surreptitious grin in Oliver's direction; "I can understand why that might be difficult for someone like you…"
Feigning outrage, Oliver threw his cushion across the room, where it bounced off Percy's head and landed on the floor, "What do you mean by that, huh??"
Percy leant over and picked the cushion up, smirking at the almost- obligatory image of a broomstick and a golden snitch as he moved over to make room for it on the chair, "Great, that should make working a bit more comfortable."
"Percy…." Oliver warned, making a move towards the other boy,
"Well, it is well documented that you can only concentrate when you've a broomstick between your legs…"
Oliver sank back onto his chair, and laughed. "That is so not true! I can concentrate on loads of things… Hang on… what are you doing?" Percy was advancing towards him, broomstick in hand.
"Stand up,"
"What…?"
"Stand up, or else!"
"Well, don't let it be said that I can ever resist a man with a broomstick," Oliver grinned, and obeyed.
*
"Where are we going?" Oliver was pulling on a blue stripy jumper as he followed Percy down the stone staircase, trying to keep an eye on the narrow spiral steps as he mistook an armhole for the neck. "Bloody hell," he muttered, "Since when did jumpers become so complicated?"
"Blimey, Olly, you do find life quite difficult, don't you?" Percy teased; ducking away from a right hook swung loosely in his direction. He chuckled as he slipped through the doors into the grounds with Oliver following behind, tugging his jumper down as he did so.
"You never answered my question," Oliver grumbled, jogging the couple of steps it took him to catch his roommate up.
"I'm taking a hard-earned break from Potions, and you're going to get rid of some that pent-up energy you're currently emitting."
Oliver raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.
"Oliver, we're carrying a broomstick and heading towards the Quidditch pitch – it's hardly rocket science, is it?"
This time Percy wasn't quick enough to dodge Oliver's elbow.
"Oi," he spluttered, coming to a dead standstill in front of Ron, Harry and Hermione, looking particularly guilty and holding a plastic bag.
"What are you messing around at?" Ron asked, surreptitiously sliding his mucky hands into his pockets. Hermione pulled her robes closer around her, looking quizzically up at the head boy. "Shouldn't you be working?"
"We are working, Ron." Percy unconsciously pulled himself up taller, and looked down at his younger brother. "What are you three doing out here? Haven't you got revision to be getting on with?"
"We're taking a break, Percy," Harry glared defiantly up at the older boy, "Is there something wrong with that?" He and Ron still hadn't forgiven Percy for confiscating a pack of Muggle playing cards Harry had managed to procure the previous week. Fred and George were planning to do some kind of spell on them and Harry and Ron had been in for a share of the profits. Percy had come across them in the hallway discussing the financial arrangements; at which point he'd taken one look at the cards and slipped them into his pocket with an exasperated 'What would Mum say," and a shake of his head.
"Run along back inside," Percy indicated the great doors with a flick of his red hair, "And don't let me catch you wasting time out here again."
"They never told us why they were out here," Ron muttered sullenly, as they turned around, "I like the way it is one rule for them and another for us… what are you pushing me for?" Hermione was shushing him with repeated jabs to his side. Percy hadn't moved, a slow blush creeping up his neck
"I told you, Ron, we're working," he turned around so his younger brother wasn't witness to any more of his embarrassment, wishing he could hide the broomstick. "Go back inside."
"I didn't think you could take NEWTS in flying…" Ron muttered.
"Shush!" Hermione poked him with the plastic bag.
Percy blushed crimson, and gripped the broomstick harder.
*
"Why didn't you just tell them the truth?" Oliver had to run to keep up with Percy, a feat in itself considering their comparable sizes. Percy had always been the skinny, tall one, whereas Oliver was well built and muscular. Hours on the Quidditch pitch versus hours in the library; it wasn't that hard to ascertain which one should have been catching up with the other. Percy, however, was striding away like nobody's business.
"What?" Percy marched on, gripping the broomstick hard.
"Why didn't you just tell them you were having a break?"
"I don't take breaks."
Oliver raised an eyebrow, "Funny, that," he drawled, grabbing Percy's arm and dragging him to a standstill, "You're doing a pretty good impression of somebody taking a break…"
"This isn't a break," Percy muttered defensively, not looking at the other boy, "This is a calculated attempt to calm you down so I can get some peace and quiet to get some work done…"
"Liar." He elbowed Percy and made a grab for the broomstick.
Percy shook his head and tutted, "We're not on the pitch yet, and it's against the rules to fly out here."
"Whose rules…?" Oliver grinned, making another attempt at snatching the broom, "You're not suggesting we stick to the rules are you?"
"Yes," Percy was holding on tightly to the broom, "I am head boy, and it wouldn't be seemly for me to be seen to be breaking rules." His voice had taken on the steely edge that had been evident when he was talking to Harry and Ron.
Oliver shrugged, not in the mood to stay on the ground for any longer than was strictly necessary. He found the broomstick as integral a part of his life as others found breathing, or eating, and he longed to be in the air. "Race you to the pitch then, head boy…"
With a long sigh and a gentle prayer that no one was watching, Percy set off after his roommate, his long legs clearing the distance between them easily.
*
The flying had been good, Oliver realised, smoothing down his mussed-up hair as they got back to their room. A real release of energy. Percy had been right as well, he felt less like climbing the walls and more like making some headway through his notes from Professor McGonigal's lessons.
Percy hadn't said much. He was embarrassed by the encounter with Ron and the others, and he slipped back into his chair not much better off for his time outside. Why did he always feel so confused?
"Are you comfortable there?"
"Wha…?" Percy came back to reality with a bump, and made a grab for Oliver's Quidditch cushion; but it was too late, Oliver had whipped it away so quickly Percy just didn't have time to respond.
"That's what comes of messing with Hogwarts' top Quidditch player," Oliver licked his finger and marked the air, "One-nil to me, I think."
"Accio cushion," Percy muttered, without pausing to think. The cushion flew across the room to Percy's outstretched hand, whereupon he calmly slipped it onto his seat and sank down onto it, "That's what comes of messing with Hogwarts' top Wizard." With an unflustered air, he picked up his quill and began to write.
*
Across the room, Oliver couldn't bring himself to start writing. His quill hovered over the page, but Oliver was too busy scrutinising his roommate. Percy was scribbling onto the parchment, swapping quills as he colour co- ordinated his pristine notes. A small smile played on his lips as he wrote, as if remembering his small victory over Oliver. For a second, Oliver wondered why in the hell he had let him win. Percy, feeling Oliver's gaze upon him, turned to smile shyly across at his roommate, before turning back to his notes. "Ahhhhh…" Oliver breathed, realising. "That smile…"
Erm… Thankyou very much to those who have reviewed already.
Cheers for offering to read it Kim, especially during Indiana Jones. Blame MSN though, I couldn't get through to you to give you the second draft, so you'll just have to read it here along with the rest of us. (
For AS WHS B.
Disclaimer : These characters don't belong to me. Please don't sue. Unless you want my overdraft and a future of student loan repayments, that is.
Part Three.
"I'm bored," Oliver threw his quill down onto the table, and flicked a glance towards Percy, who was making very studious-looking notes from a huge ageing textbook.
"Shut up." Percy turned the page and stifled a grin.
"Percy… I'm really bored,"
"I'm not surprised you're bored," Percy shot his room-mate a sidelong glance, "You have been working for all of… twenty three minutes." Shrugging, he turned to glance out of the window, but not before throwing a surreptitious grin in Oliver's direction; "I can understand why that might be difficult for someone like you…"
Feigning outrage, Oliver threw his cushion across the room, where it bounced off Percy's head and landed on the floor, "What do you mean by that, huh??"
Percy leant over and picked the cushion up, smirking at the almost- obligatory image of a broomstick and a golden snitch as he moved over to make room for it on the chair, "Great, that should make working a bit more comfortable."
"Percy…." Oliver warned, making a move towards the other boy,
"Well, it is well documented that you can only concentrate when you've a broomstick between your legs…"
Oliver sank back onto his chair, and laughed. "That is so not true! I can concentrate on loads of things… Hang on… what are you doing?" Percy was advancing towards him, broomstick in hand.
"Stand up,"
"What…?"
"Stand up, or else!"
"Well, don't let it be said that I can ever resist a man with a broomstick," Oliver grinned, and obeyed.
*
"Where are we going?" Oliver was pulling on a blue stripy jumper as he followed Percy down the stone staircase, trying to keep an eye on the narrow spiral steps as he mistook an armhole for the neck. "Bloody hell," he muttered, "Since when did jumpers become so complicated?"
"Blimey, Olly, you do find life quite difficult, don't you?" Percy teased; ducking away from a right hook swung loosely in his direction. He chuckled as he slipped through the doors into the grounds with Oliver following behind, tugging his jumper down as he did so.
"You never answered my question," Oliver grumbled, jogging the couple of steps it took him to catch his roommate up.
"I'm taking a hard-earned break from Potions, and you're going to get rid of some that pent-up energy you're currently emitting."
Oliver raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.
"Oliver, we're carrying a broomstick and heading towards the Quidditch pitch – it's hardly rocket science, is it?"
This time Percy wasn't quick enough to dodge Oliver's elbow.
"Oi," he spluttered, coming to a dead standstill in front of Ron, Harry and Hermione, looking particularly guilty and holding a plastic bag.
"What are you messing around at?" Ron asked, surreptitiously sliding his mucky hands into his pockets. Hermione pulled her robes closer around her, looking quizzically up at the head boy. "Shouldn't you be working?"
"We are working, Ron." Percy unconsciously pulled himself up taller, and looked down at his younger brother. "What are you three doing out here? Haven't you got revision to be getting on with?"
"We're taking a break, Percy," Harry glared defiantly up at the older boy, "Is there something wrong with that?" He and Ron still hadn't forgiven Percy for confiscating a pack of Muggle playing cards Harry had managed to procure the previous week. Fred and George were planning to do some kind of spell on them and Harry and Ron had been in for a share of the profits. Percy had come across them in the hallway discussing the financial arrangements; at which point he'd taken one look at the cards and slipped them into his pocket with an exasperated 'What would Mum say," and a shake of his head.
"Run along back inside," Percy indicated the great doors with a flick of his red hair, "And don't let me catch you wasting time out here again."
"They never told us why they were out here," Ron muttered sullenly, as they turned around, "I like the way it is one rule for them and another for us… what are you pushing me for?" Hermione was shushing him with repeated jabs to his side. Percy hadn't moved, a slow blush creeping up his neck
"I told you, Ron, we're working," he turned around so his younger brother wasn't witness to any more of his embarrassment, wishing he could hide the broomstick. "Go back inside."
"I didn't think you could take NEWTS in flying…" Ron muttered.
"Shush!" Hermione poked him with the plastic bag.
Percy blushed crimson, and gripped the broomstick harder.
*
"Why didn't you just tell them the truth?" Oliver had to run to keep up with Percy, a feat in itself considering their comparable sizes. Percy had always been the skinny, tall one, whereas Oliver was well built and muscular. Hours on the Quidditch pitch versus hours in the library; it wasn't that hard to ascertain which one should have been catching up with the other. Percy, however, was striding away like nobody's business.
"What?" Percy marched on, gripping the broomstick hard.
"Why didn't you just tell them you were having a break?"
"I don't take breaks."
Oliver raised an eyebrow, "Funny, that," he drawled, grabbing Percy's arm and dragging him to a standstill, "You're doing a pretty good impression of somebody taking a break…"
"This isn't a break," Percy muttered defensively, not looking at the other boy, "This is a calculated attempt to calm you down so I can get some peace and quiet to get some work done…"
"Liar." He elbowed Percy and made a grab for the broomstick.
Percy shook his head and tutted, "We're not on the pitch yet, and it's against the rules to fly out here."
"Whose rules…?" Oliver grinned, making another attempt at snatching the broom, "You're not suggesting we stick to the rules are you?"
"Yes," Percy was holding on tightly to the broom, "I am head boy, and it wouldn't be seemly for me to be seen to be breaking rules." His voice had taken on the steely edge that had been evident when he was talking to Harry and Ron.
Oliver shrugged, not in the mood to stay on the ground for any longer than was strictly necessary. He found the broomstick as integral a part of his life as others found breathing, or eating, and he longed to be in the air. "Race you to the pitch then, head boy…"
With a long sigh and a gentle prayer that no one was watching, Percy set off after his roommate, his long legs clearing the distance between them easily.
*
The flying had been good, Oliver realised, smoothing down his mussed-up hair as they got back to their room. A real release of energy. Percy had been right as well, he felt less like climbing the walls and more like making some headway through his notes from Professor McGonigal's lessons.
Percy hadn't said much. He was embarrassed by the encounter with Ron and the others, and he slipped back into his chair not much better off for his time outside. Why did he always feel so confused?
"Are you comfortable there?"
"Wha…?" Percy came back to reality with a bump, and made a grab for Oliver's Quidditch cushion; but it was too late, Oliver had whipped it away so quickly Percy just didn't have time to respond.
"That's what comes of messing with Hogwarts' top Quidditch player," Oliver licked his finger and marked the air, "One-nil to me, I think."
"Accio cushion," Percy muttered, without pausing to think. The cushion flew across the room to Percy's outstretched hand, whereupon he calmly slipped it onto his seat and sank down onto it, "That's what comes of messing with Hogwarts' top Wizard." With an unflustered air, he picked up his quill and began to write.
*
Across the room, Oliver couldn't bring himself to start writing. His quill hovered over the page, but Oliver was too busy scrutinising his roommate. Percy was scribbling onto the parchment, swapping quills as he colour co- ordinated his pristine notes. A small smile played on his lips as he wrote, as if remembering his small victory over Oliver. For a second, Oliver wondered why in the hell he had let him win. Percy, feeling Oliver's gaze upon him, turned to smile shyly across at his roommate, before turning back to his notes. "Ahhhhh…" Oliver breathed, realising. "That smile…"