Part Seven.
The Potions exam hadn't gone as badly as he'd thought it was going to, Oliver reflected as he soared over the spires of Hogwarts early that evening. The written exam that morning had been ok; Oliver had spent the duration hurriedly jotting vague answers with a shaking quill. Percy had shot him a reassuring smile as Snape had handed the papers out, and even as he wrote, he could see Percy across the room, briskly scribbling page after page of essay answers. Contrary to popular opinion, even the individual practical exam that had followed hadn't been as big a nightmare as had been predicted. Because Wood directly followed Weasley in the alphabet, Percy had risked trouble by slipping over to wish Oliver luck as he'd left the exam room. For a couple of hurried seconds as Snape finished setting up, they'd stared at each other, before Percy had whispered 'Good Luck' and slipped around the corner out of sight. Oliver hadn't found the potion too difficult to prepare, but Snape had hovered over him, a small sneer playing on his face until Oliver accidentally shredded his grassroots and dragon toe-nail shavings in exasperation. Snape had then written something on the parchment in front of him, his face for once gleeful. However, Oliver let out a deep breath, the potion had managed to shrink the rabid guinea pig to the size of a small mouse, and the boils had definitely disappeared, so it had been successful. Not something you see every day, Oliver grinned as he swooped and dived by the Gryffindor tower, Oliver Wood confidently leaving an exam room secure in the knowledge that he'd passed.
* Percy had waited outside for him, jumping at every little creak as he imagined god-knows-what going on inside the dungeon. What if Oliver messed up? It didn't bear thinking about, and Percy resolutely shook his head - that wasn't going to happen. Oliver knew enough to pass - he'd made sure of that the previous night after dinner, as they'd gone over and over their notes. But Oliver had got more and more nervous as the night had progressed, until finally Percy had called a reluctant halt on proceedings before his roommate self-destructed. He'd then had to endure three quarters of an hour of Oliver explaining the ins-and-outs of hypothetical Quidditch moves using balls of socks as players, making them float above the table. It had taken all of Percy's remaining energy just to stay awake at the start, but buoyed up by Oliver's infectious enthusiasm, by the end of the demonstration, Percy had to grudgingly admit to himself that he'd listened to every word, and had generated almost enough enthusiasm to pick up a broom for the first time in a very long while. They'd both been relaxed enough to sleep easily after that, but Percy had woken early to the sound of Oliver padding backwards and forwards to the toilet. Nervously, he flicked a glance at the dungeon door, hoping above anything that Oliver would do ok.
"Staring at the door won't make it open any quicker, you know."
"Wha.?" Percy found himself staring up at Professor Dumbledore, resplendent in a long purple gown with orange moons at the cuffs and hem. Percy grinned briefly, nervously readjusting his robes. He'd splashed a little of the potion on his sleeve, he realised, as Dumbledore sank onto the bench next to him. "No. its not that. I've already done my exam, Professor." he shut up, realising it made no sense, him sitting in an empty corridor waiting for nothing. He went back to closely examining his own cuffs, willing Oliver to hurry up.
"I know, Percy." Dumbledore smiled down at his head boy, and his eyes twinkled. "I have great faith in Oliver, and I know he's a lot more intelligent than people give him credit for."
Percy's head shot up, and he found himself staring into deep blue eyes. He blushed, wondering just how much the Professor really knew. "I know.I've been helping him."
"Oliver seems to be universally underestimated academically," Dumbledore went on, seeming to ignore Percy's comment, "and there aren't that many people willing to see past his Quidditch accomplishments."
Percy blinked furiously, and wondered how it was that the Professor could see what everyone else glossed over and ignored. He glanced back towards the potions classroom.
Dumbledore got to his feet with a little difficulty, and lent against the wall for a moment, "Damned bludger," he muttered, rubbing his knee awkwardly, "That's the last time I referee a staff Quidditch match." For a second, his hand rested lightly on Percy's shoulder, before he set off down the corridor, leaving Percy to wonder exactly what had just occurred.
* Percy was sat on the grass by the lake, lazily watching Oliver dive and swoop through the air above him. The early evening sun was casting long shadows across the grounds, and Percy was beginning to wonder exactly how long Oliver could stay in the air without getting bored. He fought the urge to glance at his watch; this was only the first exam after all. There was still a long way to go.
Oliver landed next to him with a small thud. Tumbling off his broomstick, he lay, a huge grin on his face and slightly out of breath, on the grass next to the other boy.
"Feeling better?" Percy asked wryly, plucking a piece of grass and twirling it between his fingers.
"What do you think?" Oliver raised himself up onto one elbow so he was facing his roommate, "I never have to do potions again!"
"I didn't think of it like that," Percy admitted, with a sidelong glance at the boy lying next to him.
"Surprise, surprise," Oliver aimed a light kick at Percy's shin, "Knowing you, you were probably sad to see it go."
"I resent that remark,"
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Oliver dodged a playful thump from the other boy, "And don't you dare try and pretend that you weren't watching me up there, thinking that we should be getting back because we're wasting precious revision time."
Percy suddenly busied himself in watching the sun sink slowly in the sky across the lake.
"You were! You really were!"
"Shut up, Broomstick Boy."
"Revision? On an gorgeous evening like this?" Oliver shook his head in mock disbelief. "I despair of you sometimes, head boy."
"What is so special about an evening like this?" The confusion clear in his voice, Percy shot a quizzical glance at the other boy.
Oliver sighed. "Considering how clever you are, Perce, there's a whole part of you that is as thick as two short planks."
There was a long pause. Percy got to his feet and wandered the few paces to the water's edge.
Oliver bit his lip, "Percy."
"No-one has ever called me stupid before," he admitted without turning round, "I suppose I'm just savouring the moment."
He couldn't help but laugh. There were only a limited number of people in this world who relished having their intelligence insulted. Percy slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and turned round, a smile playing on his lips. Stood, nonchalantly by the water's edge, Oliver wondered how it came to pass that this tall, gangly, freckled, red-haired boy came to symbolise everything that was important in the world to him.
"This is a turn-up for the books, surely?" Percy grinned cheekily, "Oliver Wood, great Quidditch Captain of our time, without a word to say for himself? This is surely a sight I never expected to see." he tailed off, suddenly equally lost for words.
They stared at each in silence for a long moment.
Biting his lip, Percy stuck his hand out, "Come on, Broomstick boy. Come tell me what I'm missing about this glorious evening." The slight quaver in his voice belied his nervousness.
The sun was setting, the sky a tumultuous blur of reds and pinks. For a second, Oliver glanced across the horizon, before he reached for Percy's hand to help pull him up.
"I suppose you'd better bring the broom as well," Percy conceded, without letting go of Oliver's hand as the other boy bent to pick it up. "I've developed a strange partiality for the broomstick in the last few weeks," he murmured, as the two boys slowly wandered off around the lake's edge, hand in hand.
The Potions exam hadn't gone as badly as he'd thought it was going to, Oliver reflected as he soared over the spires of Hogwarts early that evening. The written exam that morning had been ok; Oliver had spent the duration hurriedly jotting vague answers with a shaking quill. Percy had shot him a reassuring smile as Snape had handed the papers out, and even as he wrote, he could see Percy across the room, briskly scribbling page after page of essay answers. Contrary to popular opinion, even the individual practical exam that had followed hadn't been as big a nightmare as had been predicted. Because Wood directly followed Weasley in the alphabet, Percy had risked trouble by slipping over to wish Oliver luck as he'd left the exam room. For a couple of hurried seconds as Snape finished setting up, they'd stared at each other, before Percy had whispered 'Good Luck' and slipped around the corner out of sight. Oliver hadn't found the potion too difficult to prepare, but Snape had hovered over him, a small sneer playing on his face until Oliver accidentally shredded his grassroots and dragon toe-nail shavings in exasperation. Snape had then written something on the parchment in front of him, his face for once gleeful. However, Oliver let out a deep breath, the potion had managed to shrink the rabid guinea pig to the size of a small mouse, and the boils had definitely disappeared, so it had been successful. Not something you see every day, Oliver grinned as he swooped and dived by the Gryffindor tower, Oliver Wood confidently leaving an exam room secure in the knowledge that he'd passed.
* Percy had waited outside for him, jumping at every little creak as he imagined god-knows-what going on inside the dungeon. What if Oliver messed up? It didn't bear thinking about, and Percy resolutely shook his head - that wasn't going to happen. Oliver knew enough to pass - he'd made sure of that the previous night after dinner, as they'd gone over and over their notes. But Oliver had got more and more nervous as the night had progressed, until finally Percy had called a reluctant halt on proceedings before his roommate self-destructed. He'd then had to endure three quarters of an hour of Oliver explaining the ins-and-outs of hypothetical Quidditch moves using balls of socks as players, making them float above the table. It had taken all of Percy's remaining energy just to stay awake at the start, but buoyed up by Oliver's infectious enthusiasm, by the end of the demonstration, Percy had to grudgingly admit to himself that he'd listened to every word, and had generated almost enough enthusiasm to pick up a broom for the first time in a very long while. They'd both been relaxed enough to sleep easily after that, but Percy had woken early to the sound of Oliver padding backwards and forwards to the toilet. Nervously, he flicked a glance at the dungeon door, hoping above anything that Oliver would do ok.
"Staring at the door won't make it open any quicker, you know."
"Wha.?" Percy found himself staring up at Professor Dumbledore, resplendent in a long purple gown with orange moons at the cuffs and hem. Percy grinned briefly, nervously readjusting his robes. He'd splashed a little of the potion on his sleeve, he realised, as Dumbledore sank onto the bench next to him. "No. its not that. I've already done my exam, Professor." he shut up, realising it made no sense, him sitting in an empty corridor waiting for nothing. He went back to closely examining his own cuffs, willing Oliver to hurry up.
"I know, Percy." Dumbledore smiled down at his head boy, and his eyes twinkled. "I have great faith in Oliver, and I know he's a lot more intelligent than people give him credit for."
Percy's head shot up, and he found himself staring into deep blue eyes. He blushed, wondering just how much the Professor really knew. "I know.I've been helping him."
"Oliver seems to be universally underestimated academically," Dumbledore went on, seeming to ignore Percy's comment, "and there aren't that many people willing to see past his Quidditch accomplishments."
Percy blinked furiously, and wondered how it was that the Professor could see what everyone else glossed over and ignored. He glanced back towards the potions classroom.
Dumbledore got to his feet with a little difficulty, and lent against the wall for a moment, "Damned bludger," he muttered, rubbing his knee awkwardly, "That's the last time I referee a staff Quidditch match." For a second, his hand rested lightly on Percy's shoulder, before he set off down the corridor, leaving Percy to wonder exactly what had just occurred.
* Percy was sat on the grass by the lake, lazily watching Oliver dive and swoop through the air above him. The early evening sun was casting long shadows across the grounds, and Percy was beginning to wonder exactly how long Oliver could stay in the air without getting bored. He fought the urge to glance at his watch; this was only the first exam after all. There was still a long way to go.
Oliver landed next to him with a small thud. Tumbling off his broomstick, he lay, a huge grin on his face and slightly out of breath, on the grass next to the other boy.
"Feeling better?" Percy asked wryly, plucking a piece of grass and twirling it between his fingers.
"What do you think?" Oliver raised himself up onto one elbow so he was facing his roommate, "I never have to do potions again!"
"I didn't think of it like that," Percy admitted, with a sidelong glance at the boy lying next to him.
"Surprise, surprise," Oliver aimed a light kick at Percy's shin, "Knowing you, you were probably sad to see it go."
"I resent that remark,"
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Oliver dodged a playful thump from the other boy, "And don't you dare try and pretend that you weren't watching me up there, thinking that we should be getting back because we're wasting precious revision time."
Percy suddenly busied himself in watching the sun sink slowly in the sky across the lake.
"You were! You really were!"
"Shut up, Broomstick Boy."
"Revision? On an gorgeous evening like this?" Oliver shook his head in mock disbelief. "I despair of you sometimes, head boy."
"What is so special about an evening like this?" The confusion clear in his voice, Percy shot a quizzical glance at the other boy.
Oliver sighed. "Considering how clever you are, Perce, there's a whole part of you that is as thick as two short planks."
There was a long pause. Percy got to his feet and wandered the few paces to the water's edge.
Oliver bit his lip, "Percy."
"No-one has ever called me stupid before," he admitted without turning round, "I suppose I'm just savouring the moment."
He couldn't help but laugh. There were only a limited number of people in this world who relished having their intelligence insulted. Percy slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and turned round, a smile playing on his lips. Stood, nonchalantly by the water's edge, Oliver wondered how it came to pass that this tall, gangly, freckled, red-haired boy came to symbolise everything that was important in the world to him.
"This is a turn-up for the books, surely?" Percy grinned cheekily, "Oliver Wood, great Quidditch Captain of our time, without a word to say for himself? This is surely a sight I never expected to see." he tailed off, suddenly equally lost for words.
They stared at each in silence for a long moment.
Biting his lip, Percy stuck his hand out, "Come on, Broomstick boy. Come tell me what I'm missing about this glorious evening." The slight quaver in his voice belied his nervousness.
The sun was setting, the sky a tumultuous blur of reds and pinks. For a second, Oliver glanced across the horizon, before he reached for Percy's hand to help pull him up.
"I suppose you'd better bring the broom as well," Percy conceded, without letting go of Oliver's hand as the other boy bent to pick it up. "I've developed a strange partiality for the broomstick in the last few weeks," he murmured, as the two boys slowly wandered off around the lake's edge, hand in hand.