Author's Note: It's the fifth chapter! I haven't ever got this far before!
Thank you to the reviewers. Right, I'm now going to eat some wotsits and
watch Neighbours.
PS Please read my original writing if you've got a minute. It is slash!! (Well, one is… the other one could be. I haven't decided yet…)
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 Five
Oliver resolutely bit his lip and wiped his eyes with a dripping sleeve. The rain had been falling in torrents ever since the tired Quidditch team had trooped out of the changing rooms and onto the pitch, and the resultant mood was definitely not an increased team spirit.
"Fred! Get out of the bloody way!" Angelina howled, as she avoided hitting him by mere milliseconds and swerved downwards, swearing profusely.
"I can't see because of the pissing rain!" George yelled back, equally annoyed at being mistaken for his brother.
"Neither can I," Fred swooped down towards his brother, escaping a bludger hit in his direction by a hair's breadth. He was trying to hover in one place but the wind kept blowing him eastwards.
"I can!" Harry was flying circles around them all, safe in the knowledge that his glasses were repelling water.
"Shut up Potter," the rest of the team shouted, Fred raising a fist towards the younger boy, "Stop taking the piss!"
Oliver shook his head. Soaked to the bone, water streaming down his face, his hands slippy on the broomstick below him; this was bloody ridiculous. "Right, that's it," he bellowed, coming to a halt on the ground. "Practice over." Sliding off his broomstick, he motioned towards the changing rooms. "Everybody inside."
"Blimey, I'm stiff," Angelina was attempting a stretch as Oliver unlocked the changing rooms.
"I'll give you a massage, sweetheart," Fred leered, grinning as he skipped away from Angelina's practiced flick of her wet cloak.
"Bugger off, 'sweetheart'" She laughed, and slipped through the door to the girls changing room, Katie following closely behind.
Oliver blanched, memories of the previous evening assailing his senses.
"Anyone up for a bit of the Weasley magic?" George rubbed his hands together, and reached for his own massage bar. Harry shrugged and nipped into the shower.
"Maybe later," he muttered, locking the cubicle door.
Oliver leaned back against the wall for support. He'd caught a faint whiff of the massage bar as George had passed, and the very thought of a half naked Percy had been enough to turn his legs to jelly. This has got to stop, he told himself firmly, all the time his memory wandering back to his roommate. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his bag and ran, unwilling to spend another moment in an environment that exiled Percy so intensely.
*
The early-morning-Quidditch alarm had rudely awakened him in Percy's arms.
"Don't go," Percy had murmured sleepily, not relinquishing his tight hold of his roommate, "You'll make the bed all cold."
"Is that the only reason you're pissed off I'm leaving?" Oliver had mumbled petulantly, unwilling to leave the welcome confines of Percy's arms.
"Obviously… I can't think of any other reason I'd want you to stay…" Percy snuggled closer, his chin resting on Oliver's shoulder.
Oliver smiled quietly, for the first time unable to say anything at all.
"Skip your practice and stay here with me," Percy mumbled, his breath warm on Oliver's neck.
Shivering with anticipation, Oliver had shifted even closer, pressing his skin against Percy's. "Do you think I want to go?" he'd murmured softly, his fingers grazing the other boy's.
Percy pulled away, "It's Quidditch, Olly… I rather think you'd walk through hot coals if there was a broomstick at the other side."
"Am I that shallow?" Oliver had been hurt, turning to face his roommate.
"No, Ol," Percy's fingers reached briefly for Oliver's, "You're that single- minded." Percy slipped out of the bed and padded across the room to the bathroom, shrugging. "May as well get dressed and make a start on working, now I'm awake…"
*
"Will you put some bloody clothes on, Wood, you're making me feel cold," Percy was sat at the table, papers spread neatly all around him, when Oliver wandered out of the shower after practice. Percy was making precise annotations to a long parchment on 'the medical properties of the common garden slug' whilst watching Oliver wander around their room in his blue Quidditch towel.
"Don't tell me you don't like me wandering around like this…"
Percy blushed, and tried to concentrate on the parchment in front of him.
"I could flex my muscles for you, if that's any better, or show you my six- pack," Oliver teased, bending over slightly and contracting his stomach so the muscles showed. "Is this better?" he laughed.
"Bugger off, you, I'm trying to concentrate," the blush had spread all up his face, and down his neck, "The common garden slug is particularly useful when chopped finely and fried…" he read aloud.
"You're sweet when you're embarrassed," Oliver murmured, unable to take his eyes off the other boy.
"Shut up, Ol." Percy tried not to look up, "I'm trying to educate you in the ways of the common garden slug! What would happen if you walked out of this room right now, and were attacked by a Bolivian Grass Newt? Would you know how to shallow fry a slug, and when to add the butter and the garlic…?"
He was rewarded by Oliver's Quidditch cushion whizzing past his ear.
"Was that Hogwarts' best Quidditch player in action once again?" Percy teased, raising an eyebrow and chucking the cushion back. "Mental note: must try harder next time…"
The Quidditch cushion whizzed past his other ear.
"Bugger." Oliver muttered as Percy dissolved into giggles, "I don't know what you're laughing at, head boy… I don't see your aim being any better."
"Is that a challenge?" Percy laughed, reaching for his wand.
The cushion hit Oliver full in the face.
"I've still got bigger muscles than you have," Oliver muttered, red-faced, reaching for his clothes.
Percy nodded, trying to hold a straight face, "And that is so important…"
*
"How did the revision session go?" Oliver had his feet up, and was watching a replay of the '1987 Puddlemere United versus Chudley Cannons Quidditch Cup Final' in his new 'Quidditch History PhotoStrips' Magazine, whilst eating a pot noodle.
"That smells really bad, Ol," Percy edged to one end of the sofa, his nose wrinkled in distaste.
"Stop avoiding the question, head boy," Oliver looked down at his pot noodle, and speared a floating pea. "…and this tastes a lot better than it looks, alright?"
Percy raised an eyebrow. "I think it would have to, Ol. I'm not going to tell you what I think it looks like."
"I think I can make a guess, thank you." He waved a fork in his roommate's direction. "You're still avoiding the question. Spill it, Perce, or I'll force feed you Beef and Onion Pot Noodle…"
"It was fine," he shrugged, "I was right, Penny concentrated on the Goblin Uprising, then we moved onto the 16th century Boggart Crusades."
"Scintillating." Oliver didn't even try and look interested. "What I really meant was, how was Penny?"
Percy sighed. "As forthright as always. She thought she had the Battle of 1567 learnt, but I was able to put her right on a few things, I can tell you! Those boggarts weren't willing to give up as easily as she made out, and they certainly weren't as easily subdued…"
Oliver blinked a few times, wondering quite what alternative universe Percy had sprung from.
"…she wants to meet later to talk about herbology, but I told her I had other plans." Percy glanced surreptitiously at his roommate, whose fork was hovering somewhere between the pot and his mouth.
"Other plans?" Oliver mumbled, dropping his fork back into the pot. Suddenly the idea of eating it seemed somehow repulsive.
Percy nodded quietly. "I told her I was revising."
"Oh." Oliver let out a long, disappointed breath.
"In here." Percy continued, shooting a sidelong smile at his roommate, "With you."
Oliver's stomach flipped over. Maybe that alternative universe wasn't so far removed from Oliver's own after all.
*
The evening passed in heavy silence. Oliver, for once acutely aware that the actual exams began in just two days, was struggling over his potions notes.
"What the hell does that say?" he muttered in desperation, straining to read his own scrawled handwriting. In his lighter moments, Percy had compared Oliver's scrawl to that of an extremely drunk spider, but for once Oliver was wishing he had Percy's perfectly legible script.
Percy looked up from his history notes, his brow creased. Oliver had become more and more agitated as the night wore on, with Percy trying to ignore the frantic flicking of his books and notes. Sighing, he moved around the table, "Powdered hoof of giraffe, it looks like," he was peering over Oliver's shoulder, "But that can't be right… no, it's powdered hoof of goat. Look –you've spelt 'goat' with two 't's."
"Just because I can't spell," Oliver grumbled, suddenly desperately worried that he was going to fail miserably, "Everybody thinks I'm thick as two short planks."
"Don't be bloody ridiculous," Percy sank down into the chair next to him, "You don't think that do you? You're as clever as the next person."
"Except if the next person happens to be you, that is."
There was a long pause. "Is that what you really think?" Percy asked quietly, not looking up. He was fiddling, his long fingers shredding a tiny scrap of paper.
Oliver was staring down at his parchment. He hadn't meant to say that. Miserably, he began to flick the pages in front of him.
"Well?" Percy continued to tear at the paper, "Do you compare yourself to me?"
Oliver didn't reply, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him up. This was an issue he hadn't ever wanted to address.
"You're not answering me, Oliver." Percy looked up, and his grey eyes glittered.
"I…" Oliver gulped, "I've always compared myself to you," he muttered, trying not to look at his roommate. "But I've never been good enough to even come close."
For a second, there was complete silence, neither boy looking at the other.
"Is that what you really think, Ol?" Percy gazed across at Oliver, his fingers tentatively grazing the other boy's, "That you're not good enough for me?"
Oliver was gazing in wonder down at their slowly intertwining fingers. "Well, I'm not, am I?" he burst out, pulling away from Percy's insistent touch, "Why on earth are you even friends with me? You're going straight into the ministry, whilst I'm going to struggle to even pass the NEWTs at this rate. The only thing I'm good at is riding a broomstick…"
Percy reached once more for the other boy's hand, this time not letting him let go, "Where did all this come from?" he asked gently, slowly stroking the other boy's palm, "Why now?" With his other hand, he cupped Oliver's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze, "Why today?"
Oliver felt like he was drowning; his whole being was focused on Percy's soft touch, "I… I don't know," he managed, "I'm just so scared of letting you down by failing…"
"You won't ever going to let me down, Ol…" trembling, Percy squeezed the other boy's hand. He managed a nervous smile, "I mean it, you know… you won't let me down."
"I don't why I'm being so stupid," Oliver tried to smile, "I'm just… I don't know…"
"Lost for words?" Percy shrugged, "Well, there's got to be a first time for everything, Ol."
"Shut up, Perce." Oliver smiled sideways at his roommate, not relinquishing his touch.
"How about you get an early night, and I'll go through all the potions notes with you in the morning?" Percy reluctantly let go his hold, "You look exhausted."
Oliver was still awake when Percy had come back from the bathroom. Pulling the blankets up around his neck, breathing in the faint essence of Percy that was left from the night before; he waited until the other boy had quietly slipped into bed and switched off the lamp.
"Can I… can I come over there with you tonight?" Oliver asked, the tremble in his voice belying his fear.
The pause was so long, Oliver was adamant that Percy hadn't heard him.
"No… you stay where you are."
Oliver shifted in the bed, barely able to contain his disappointment. For the first time in a very long while, he felt close to tears. He pulled the pillow over his head so that Percy wouldn't hear him cry.
The pillow also muffled the sound of Percy padding across the floor, the sound of his nervous breathing as he slipped under Oliver's covers mumbling, "I much prefer your bed."
With a stifled gasp, Oliver turned round in amazement. Percy pulled the other boy to him, slipping an arm around him as he got comfortable.
"We couldn't have you getting cold, could we…?" he teased, his lips grazing Oliver's neck, "We've got a long day of potions tomorrow, Ol."
And a very long night ahead of me, Oliver groaned, suddenly realising the weight of the old adage, 'There's no pleasure without pain". Sighing, he curled his arms around his roommate, resting his head on Percy's chest. He could feel him breathing beneath him, smell him, taste him even. He longed for more, but he could feel Percy's breathing steady beneath him, feel him slipping into sleep. Oliver closed his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips.
PS Please read my original writing if you've got a minute. It is slash!! (Well, one is… the other one could be. I haven't decided yet…)
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 Five
Oliver resolutely bit his lip and wiped his eyes with a dripping sleeve. The rain had been falling in torrents ever since the tired Quidditch team had trooped out of the changing rooms and onto the pitch, and the resultant mood was definitely not an increased team spirit.
"Fred! Get out of the bloody way!" Angelina howled, as she avoided hitting him by mere milliseconds and swerved downwards, swearing profusely.
"I can't see because of the pissing rain!" George yelled back, equally annoyed at being mistaken for his brother.
"Neither can I," Fred swooped down towards his brother, escaping a bludger hit in his direction by a hair's breadth. He was trying to hover in one place but the wind kept blowing him eastwards.
"I can!" Harry was flying circles around them all, safe in the knowledge that his glasses were repelling water.
"Shut up Potter," the rest of the team shouted, Fred raising a fist towards the younger boy, "Stop taking the piss!"
Oliver shook his head. Soaked to the bone, water streaming down his face, his hands slippy on the broomstick below him; this was bloody ridiculous. "Right, that's it," he bellowed, coming to a halt on the ground. "Practice over." Sliding off his broomstick, he motioned towards the changing rooms. "Everybody inside."
"Blimey, I'm stiff," Angelina was attempting a stretch as Oliver unlocked the changing rooms.
"I'll give you a massage, sweetheart," Fred leered, grinning as he skipped away from Angelina's practiced flick of her wet cloak.
"Bugger off, 'sweetheart'" She laughed, and slipped through the door to the girls changing room, Katie following closely behind.
Oliver blanched, memories of the previous evening assailing his senses.
"Anyone up for a bit of the Weasley magic?" George rubbed his hands together, and reached for his own massage bar. Harry shrugged and nipped into the shower.
"Maybe later," he muttered, locking the cubicle door.
Oliver leaned back against the wall for support. He'd caught a faint whiff of the massage bar as George had passed, and the very thought of a half naked Percy had been enough to turn his legs to jelly. This has got to stop, he told himself firmly, all the time his memory wandering back to his roommate. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his bag and ran, unwilling to spend another moment in an environment that exiled Percy so intensely.
*
The early-morning-Quidditch alarm had rudely awakened him in Percy's arms.
"Don't go," Percy had murmured sleepily, not relinquishing his tight hold of his roommate, "You'll make the bed all cold."
"Is that the only reason you're pissed off I'm leaving?" Oliver had mumbled petulantly, unwilling to leave the welcome confines of Percy's arms.
"Obviously… I can't think of any other reason I'd want you to stay…" Percy snuggled closer, his chin resting on Oliver's shoulder.
Oliver smiled quietly, for the first time unable to say anything at all.
"Skip your practice and stay here with me," Percy mumbled, his breath warm on Oliver's neck.
Shivering with anticipation, Oliver had shifted even closer, pressing his skin against Percy's. "Do you think I want to go?" he'd murmured softly, his fingers grazing the other boy's.
Percy pulled away, "It's Quidditch, Olly… I rather think you'd walk through hot coals if there was a broomstick at the other side."
"Am I that shallow?" Oliver had been hurt, turning to face his roommate.
"No, Ol," Percy's fingers reached briefly for Oliver's, "You're that single- minded." Percy slipped out of the bed and padded across the room to the bathroom, shrugging. "May as well get dressed and make a start on working, now I'm awake…"
*
"Will you put some bloody clothes on, Wood, you're making me feel cold," Percy was sat at the table, papers spread neatly all around him, when Oliver wandered out of the shower after practice. Percy was making precise annotations to a long parchment on 'the medical properties of the common garden slug' whilst watching Oliver wander around their room in his blue Quidditch towel.
"Don't tell me you don't like me wandering around like this…"
Percy blushed, and tried to concentrate on the parchment in front of him.
"I could flex my muscles for you, if that's any better, or show you my six- pack," Oliver teased, bending over slightly and contracting his stomach so the muscles showed. "Is this better?" he laughed.
"Bugger off, you, I'm trying to concentrate," the blush had spread all up his face, and down his neck, "The common garden slug is particularly useful when chopped finely and fried…" he read aloud.
"You're sweet when you're embarrassed," Oliver murmured, unable to take his eyes off the other boy.
"Shut up, Ol." Percy tried not to look up, "I'm trying to educate you in the ways of the common garden slug! What would happen if you walked out of this room right now, and were attacked by a Bolivian Grass Newt? Would you know how to shallow fry a slug, and when to add the butter and the garlic…?"
He was rewarded by Oliver's Quidditch cushion whizzing past his ear.
"Was that Hogwarts' best Quidditch player in action once again?" Percy teased, raising an eyebrow and chucking the cushion back. "Mental note: must try harder next time…"
The Quidditch cushion whizzed past his other ear.
"Bugger." Oliver muttered as Percy dissolved into giggles, "I don't know what you're laughing at, head boy… I don't see your aim being any better."
"Is that a challenge?" Percy laughed, reaching for his wand.
The cushion hit Oliver full in the face.
"I've still got bigger muscles than you have," Oliver muttered, red-faced, reaching for his clothes.
Percy nodded, trying to hold a straight face, "And that is so important…"
*
"How did the revision session go?" Oliver had his feet up, and was watching a replay of the '1987 Puddlemere United versus Chudley Cannons Quidditch Cup Final' in his new 'Quidditch History PhotoStrips' Magazine, whilst eating a pot noodle.
"That smells really bad, Ol," Percy edged to one end of the sofa, his nose wrinkled in distaste.
"Stop avoiding the question, head boy," Oliver looked down at his pot noodle, and speared a floating pea. "…and this tastes a lot better than it looks, alright?"
Percy raised an eyebrow. "I think it would have to, Ol. I'm not going to tell you what I think it looks like."
"I think I can make a guess, thank you." He waved a fork in his roommate's direction. "You're still avoiding the question. Spill it, Perce, or I'll force feed you Beef and Onion Pot Noodle…"
"It was fine," he shrugged, "I was right, Penny concentrated on the Goblin Uprising, then we moved onto the 16th century Boggart Crusades."
"Scintillating." Oliver didn't even try and look interested. "What I really meant was, how was Penny?"
Percy sighed. "As forthright as always. She thought she had the Battle of 1567 learnt, but I was able to put her right on a few things, I can tell you! Those boggarts weren't willing to give up as easily as she made out, and they certainly weren't as easily subdued…"
Oliver blinked a few times, wondering quite what alternative universe Percy had sprung from.
"…she wants to meet later to talk about herbology, but I told her I had other plans." Percy glanced surreptitiously at his roommate, whose fork was hovering somewhere between the pot and his mouth.
"Other plans?" Oliver mumbled, dropping his fork back into the pot. Suddenly the idea of eating it seemed somehow repulsive.
Percy nodded quietly. "I told her I was revising."
"Oh." Oliver let out a long, disappointed breath.
"In here." Percy continued, shooting a sidelong smile at his roommate, "With you."
Oliver's stomach flipped over. Maybe that alternative universe wasn't so far removed from Oliver's own after all.
*
The evening passed in heavy silence. Oliver, for once acutely aware that the actual exams began in just two days, was struggling over his potions notes.
"What the hell does that say?" he muttered in desperation, straining to read his own scrawled handwriting. In his lighter moments, Percy had compared Oliver's scrawl to that of an extremely drunk spider, but for once Oliver was wishing he had Percy's perfectly legible script.
Percy looked up from his history notes, his brow creased. Oliver had become more and more agitated as the night wore on, with Percy trying to ignore the frantic flicking of his books and notes. Sighing, he moved around the table, "Powdered hoof of giraffe, it looks like," he was peering over Oliver's shoulder, "But that can't be right… no, it's powdered hoof of goat. Look –you've spelt 'goat' with two 't's."
"Just because I can't spell," Oliver grumbled, suddenly desperately worried that he was going to fail miserably, "Everybody thinks I'm thick as two short planks."
"Don't be bloody ridiculous," Percy sank down into the chair next to him, "You don't think that do you? You're as clever as the next person."
"Except if the next person happens to be you, that is."
There was a long pause. "Is that what you really think?" Percy asked quietly, not looking up. He was fiddling, his long fingers shredding a tiny scrap of paper.
Oliver was staring down at his parchment. He hadn't meant to say that. Miserably, he began to flick the pages in front of him.
"Well?" Percy continued to tear at the paper, "Do you compare yourself to me?"
Oliver didn't reply, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him up. This was an issue he hadn't ever wanted to address.
"You're not answering me, Oliver." Percy looked up, and his grey eyes glittered.
"I…" Oliver gulped, "I've always compared myself to you," he muttered, trying not to look at his roommate. "But I've never been good enough to even come close."
For a second, there was complete silence, neither boy looking at the other.
"Is that what you really think, Ol?" Percy gazed across at Oliver, his fingers tentatively grazing the other boy's, "That you're not good enough for me?"
Oliver was gazing in wonder down at their slowly intertwining fingers. "Well, I'm not, am I?" he burst out, pulling away from Percy's insistent touch, "Why on earth are you even friends with me? You're going straight into the ministry, whilst I'm going to struggle to even pass the NEWTs at this rate. The only thing I'm good at is riding a broomstick…"
Percy reached once more for the other boy's hand, this time not letting him let go, "Where did all this come from?" he asked gently, slowly stroking the other boy's palm, "Why now?" With his other hand, he cupped Oliver's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze, "Why today?"
Oliver felt like he was drowning; his whole being was focused on Percy's soft touch, "I… I don't know," he managed, "I'm just so scared of letting you down by failing…"
"You won't ever going to let me down, Ol…" trembling, Percy squeezed the other boy's hand. He managed a nervous smile, "I mean it, you know… you won't let me down."
"I don't why I'm being so stupid," Oliver tried to smile, "I'm just… I don't know…"
"Lost for words?" Percy shrugged, "Well, there's got to be a first time for everything, Ol."
"Shut up, Perce." Oliver smiled sideways at his roommate, not relinquishing his touch.
"How about you get an early night, and I'll go through all the potions notes with you in the morning?" Percy reluctantly let go his hold, "You look exhausted."
Oliver was still awake when Percy had come back from the bathroom. Pulling the blankets up around his neck, breathing in the faint essence of Percy that was left from the night before; he waited until the other boy had quietly slipped into bed and switched off the lamp.
"Can I… can I come over there with you tonight?" Oliver asked, the tremble in his voice belying his fear.
The pause was so long, Oliver was adamant that Percy hadn't heard him.
"No… you stay where you are."
Oliver shifted in the bed, barely able to contain his disappointment. For the first time in a very long while, he felt close to tears. He pulled the pillow over his head so that Percy wouldn't hear him cry.
The pillow also muffled the sound of Percy padding across the floor, the sound of his nervous breathing as he slipped under Oliver's covers mumbling, "I much prefer your bed."
With a stifled gasp, Oliver turned round in amazement. Percy pulled the other boy to him, slipping an arm around him as he got comfortable.
"We couldn't have you getting cold, could we…?" he teased, his lips grazing Oliver's neck, "We've got a long day of potions tomorrow, Ol."
And a very long night ahead of me, Oliver groaned, suddenly realising the weight of the old adage, 'There's no pleasure without pain". Sighing, he curled his arms around his roommate, resting his head on Percy's chest. He could feel him breathing beneath him, smell him, taste him even. He longed for more, but he could feel Percy's breathing steady beneath him, feel him slipping into sleep. Oliver closed his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips.