I think I need to go to St. Mungo's or something... I have a problem. I'll give you a hint. It begins with a "s" and ends
with a "lash". Or yaoi. Or Shonen-ai. Or gay stuff. Or ANYTHING! And at this moment in time, it happens to be Percy and
Oliver. Yup. That's right. : ) And I happen to be listening to a very lovely song called "All the things she said".
Naturally, I can't keep the "she" part, so I'll fit it for my own needs. : ) HP doesn't belong to me. Notes- '' is for
thoughts and " " is for verbal talk.
Questions? Comments? FLAMES?
colourguard_g4@yahoo.com
For all of you stalkers...
http://jess_personal.tripod.com/
Now, onto the fanfiction!! OH, HO HO HO HO HO HO!!!
****
All The Things He Said
****
**All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
This is not enough**
Minister of Magic Percy Weasley sighed the biggest sigh. He thought that with all the years it had been
since he graduated, he'd forget about him. But, no. He didn't seem to leave him. Where ever he went, there he was. Not
literally, but he was there. It was his face he saw on the front page of his Daily Prophet, it was his name girl and women
of all ages are squealing, it was his quotes in his magazines, it was even the questions on the mouths of his employers.
Oliver Wood.
It was the eyes who he couldn't get out of his head. Those chocolate brown eyes. And that deep, rich brown hair. His skin was
that bronze that Percy would never in his life get it to be that way. His body so- and there was no other word for it- sexy
like some damn model. And his voice, oh, how he loved his voice. And the way he smelled after a shower... or a quidditch
match. Or even after class.
**I'm in serious shit, I feel totally lost
If I'm asking for help, it's only because
Being with you has opened my eyes
Could I ever believe such a perfect surprise?**
It has been 5 years, 3 months, 2 weeks and 6 days since he had seen Oliver. But who was counting? Ok, and 16 hours. But that
was besides the bloody point. Well, not really. That was a long time since he had seen that sparkling face on his own eyes.
And that isn't counting the pictures on magazine covers, in the papers or on the posters. In *real* life.
Honestly, it could have kept on going like that. Why not double that number? Why did he have to see him? He really didn't.
Even though he really, really, really wanted to. No one was making him see him. Unless you counted himself. But he did. Oh,
did he count himself. His mind and heart were practically dying from the lack of Oliver oxygen. The will to wake up in the
morning. Knowing that he was alive and well. And single.
**I keep asking myself, wondering how
I keep closing my eyes, but I can't block you out
Wanna fly to a place where it's just you and me
Nobody else so we can be free**
But everyone he knew wanted him to go. But nobody was actually making him. "Go to the damn game, Perce," they said. Not
really forcing him to go, but practically there. "It's the Quidditch World Cup- you can't miss this!" they told him. It wasn't
like he cared who was playing- who actually made it to that damn cup thing. He didn't even know the team he was on.
Something United. He just knew that Oliver was going to be there.
Sure, Percival Weasley had been to a few games in his career as the Minister of Magic. A whole one game. And that was too
much as it is. He has only been the minister for 3 years. Too much quidditch could do a lot to the mind of a 26 year old.
Perhaps thats why Oliver was always so... well... weird. Ya... weird. That was one word on the list of the 1,000 other words
that could possibly describe Oliver Wood.
**All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
This is not enough**
So now he was waiting up in this cramped press box waiting for Oliver.
Oliver Wood.
Even the damn name was sexy. But as he saw the quidditch team coming up in their soiled red robes, he became chicken. Yup.
Former Head Boy/Prefect GRYFFINDOR Minister of Magic was scared *shitless* of what he could possibly say to this angel. No.
Arch Angel. That's what he more looked like. But he saw a glance of that brown tuffet of hair and froze. His eyes searched
widely for an escape route- anything. He was desperate and even started to slide his heels back to break through the glass that
surrounded him and about 15 other people.
No. He couldn't do that. 'Just calm down, Weasley. Just stand here with your head at a 10% lift and don't say anything to
embarrass yourself.' He blinked. 'Or just to be on the safe side, say nothing at all.'
**And I'm all mixed up, feeling cornered and rushed
They say it's my fault, but I want him so much
Wanna fly him away where the sun and rain
Come in over my face, wash away all the shame**
And, oh God, he saw his eyes. His brown, bloody beautiful eyes. Those chocolate eyes that seemed on the verge of toffee now.
Argh, he was obsessed. He even noticed the little differences of his changed appearance. His hair is just a bit longer than
he had it in school. Maybe a centimeter or two? Hey, that isn't being obsessive. He just could judge lengths very well.
But those eyes weren't looking at him. Percy didn't even think that Oliver had even seen him yet. Perhaps if he left now
Oliver won't even know that he was here. Yes, yes, yes... just leave. Percy thanked every god he had ever heard of in his
head when he saw a staircase opposite of him. Feign sickness if anyone asks. Just don't let Oliver see you. See what you have
become. Ugh. The Minister of Magic. How him-like.
**When they stop and stare, don't worry about me
'Cause I'm feeling for him what he's feeling for me
I can try to pretend, I can try to forget
But it's driving me mad, going out of my head**
Percy quickly turned around and as un-noticeably as he could (he is the MoM, after all), opened the door and quickly shut it
behind him.
He hurriedly sped down the steps. His light pound of his foot hitting the stair wasn't really a pound at all, and it surprised
him how silent he could be when certain circumstances were arisen. Was that a good thing, though? That he could creep so
quickly and silently out of danger? Perhaps the sorting hat should have put him in Ravenclaw.
But his foolish heart sped up about 20 KMH when he heard the same door he just went through open and close with footsteps
following. 'Oh, gods, who is it now?' he thought as he sped up a little quicker. He concentrated on not falling flag on his
face when he took a turn, and then jumped the last six steps.
**All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
This is not enough**
/THUMP/
Ok, jumping the last six steps was not a good idea at all. Not at *all*. Perhaps he just wasn't used to it as he was. After
all, he attended Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The steps in that place alone were practically famous. Or maybe
it was a sign. Yes, a sign!
A sign that he's getting old...
'Or maybe...' he thought as he turned his head around and tried to see just who was following him. It was sort of hard. Being
on the ground and with your glasses five feet away from you. Seeing was very difficult. But he could tell who it was, anyway.
He didn't need his glasses to know that shape. He shouldn't even have turned around. He would have recognized that smell from
anywhere. Well, so much for trying to escape. He turned back around to look straight forward.
**Mother, looking at me
Tell me what do you see?
Yes, I've lost my mind**
"So, uh... tell me." That oh-so familiar Scottish accent jeered. He coughed slightly. "Is this was Ministers of Magic do
these days? Run away from quidditch keepers?"
Oh, his voice had gotten deeper. And sexier. Yet stayed the same.
Percy groaned and put his hands in his arms. He really didn't want to hear this. He really didn't. And he didn't want to be
here. Ok, well, yes he did, but... not like this. He had managed to embarrass himself without even opening his mouth.
Percy felt a very small gust of wind and heard the rustle of cloaks walk past him. They stopped and he heard the sound of
medal and concrete scraped together for a second. More rustle of cloak. Souls of shoes clicked the ground as he heard them
stop right in front of him. A finger poked his arm.
**Daddy, looking at me
Will I ever be free?
Have I crossed the line?**
Hot breath disturbed Percy's thin, straight red hair. He thought he heard something that could be considered a chuckle. A
finger poked at his head now.
"Oi, Perce, look up. It's me- Oliver." The quidditch play said.
'No shit, Sherlock. I would recognize you even if there was a sea of 1,000 look-a-likes.' Even though, Percy looked up only
because he didn't want to upset Oliver. He hated doing that. Upsetting Oliver. That was five times worse than stealing candy
from a baby.
He felt cold medal slide past his face, and settle on his nose. He opened his eyes. To see a pair of those damned eyes
staring back. How he loathed to love those eyes. But he noticed, with a thump of his bloody heart, that those eyes were
awfully, wonderfully close.
**All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
This is not enough**
The wind gushed past the two. Several strands of shining red hair went into Percy's eyes. But he didn't even bother to brush
them out. He couldn't even blink. He was so lost in eyes of yummy chocolate syrup, it was disturbing. But he couldn't look
away. He was afraid that if he looked away Oliver would just disappear in thin air. Just be wiped out of existence. And
that really wasn't the number one thing Percy had on his wish list.
But Oliver never went away. In fact, he just got pushed back into hard reality.
The all famous quidditch keeper Oliver Wood leaned in to kiss the Minister of Magic Percival Weasley.
Percy's mind went blank as he felt warm, soft lips caressing his own. He didn't know what to do or think. He couldn't do
either. He just shut his eyes helplessly and sat up a bit to deepen the kiss. Finally, thoughts randomly popped into his
head.
Desire
Want
Passion
Pleasure
Love
Were these thoughts his own? Or were they even Oliver's? That thought was cut short with a pink tongue softly touching his
lips, asking for permission. Percy all willingly accepted.
So where was this going to lead to? Anything? Perhaps only this kiss? Or a one night stand? Percy didn't know or care. He
moaned softly as he just decided to screw every logical thought in his mind and live for this moment.
Yes, live for this moment.
He'd have to put that into his next speech.
Live for this moment.
****
Wow, I impress me again! I'm so proud of me self! I really enjoyed writing Percy. I hope you guys enjoy reading him. Hehe
And I really like the fact Percy didn't say one word through the whole thing. He thought plenty of things, just never spoke
them. ^.^ Be a doll and review.
with a "lash". Or yaoi. Or Shonen-ai. Or gay stuff. Or ANYTHING! And at this moment in time, it happens to be Percy and
Oliver. Yup. That's right. : ) And I happen to be listening to a very lovely song called "All the things she said".
Naturally, I can't keep the "she" part, so I'll fit it for my own needs. : ) HP doesn't belong to me. Notes- '' is for
thoughts and " " is for verbal talk.
Questions? Comments? FLAMES?
colourguard_g4@yahoo.com
For all of you stalkers...
http://jess_personal.tripod.com/
Now, onto the fanfiction!! OH, HO HO HO HO HO HO!!!
****
All The Things He Said
****
**All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
This is not enough**
Minister of Magic Percy Weasley sighed the biggest sigh. He thought that with all the years it had been
since he graduated, he'd forget about him. But, no. He didn't seem to leave him. Where ever he went, there he was. Not
literally, but he was there. It was his face he saw on the front page of his Daily Prophet, it was his name girl and women
of all ages are squealing, it was his quotes in his magazines, it was even the questions on the mouths of his employers.
Oliver Wood.
It was the eyes who he couldn't get out of his head. Those chocolate brown eyes. And that deep, rich brown hair. His skin was
that bronze that Percy would never in his life get it to be that way. His body so- and there was no other word for it- sexy
like some damn model. And his voice, oh, how he loved his voice. And the way he smelled after a shower... or a quidditch
match. Or even after class.
**I'm in serious shit, I feel totally lost
If I'm asking for help, it's only because
Being with you has opened my eyes
Could I ever believe such a perfect surprise?**
It has been 5 years, 3 months, 2 weeks and 6 days since he had seen Oliver. But who was counting? Ok, and 16 hours. But that
was besides the bloody point. Well, not really. That was a long time since he had seen that sparkling face on his own eyes.
And that isn't counting the pictures on magazine covers, in the papers or on the posters. In *real* life.
Honestly, it could have kept on going like that. Why not double that number? Why did he have to see him? He really didn't.
Even though he really, really, really wanted to. No one was making him see him. Unless you counted himself. But he did. Oh,
did he count himself. His mind and heart were practically dying from the lack of Oliver oxygen. The will to wake up in the
morning. Knowing that he was alive and well. And single.
**I keep asking myself, wondering how
I keep closing my eyes, but I can't block you out
Wanna fly to a place where it's just you and me
Nobody else so we can be free**
But everyone he knew wanted him to go. But nobody was actually making him. "Go to the damn game, Perce," they said. Not
really forcing him to go, but practically there. "It's the Quidditch World Cup- you can't miss this!" they told him. It wasn't
like he cared who was playing- who actually made it to that damn cup thing. He didn't even know the team he was on.
Something United. He just knew that Oliver was going to be there.
Sure, Percival Weasley had been to a few games in his career as the Minister of Magic. A whole one game. And that was too
much as it is. He has only been the minister for 3 years. Too much quidditch could do a lot to the mind of a 26 year old.
Perhaps thats why Oliver was always so... well... weird. Ya... weird. That was one word on the list of the 1,000 other words
that could possibly describe Oliver Wood.
**All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
This is not enough**
So now he was waiting up in this cramped press box waiting for Oliver.
Oliver Wood.
Even the damn name was sexy. But as he saw the quidditch team coming up in their soiled red robes, he became chicken. Yup.
Former Head Boy/Prefect GRYFFINDOR Minister of Magic was scared *shitless* of what he could possibly say to this angel. No.
Arch Angel. That's what he more looked like. But he saw a glance of that brown tuffet of hair and froze. His eyes searched
widely for an escape route- anything. He was desperate and even started to slide his heels back to break through the glass that
surrounded him and about 15 other people.
No. He couldn't do that. 'Just calm down, Weasley. Just stand here with your head at a 10% lift and don't say anything to
embarrass yourself.' He blinked. 'Or just to be on the safe side, say nothing at all.'
**And I'm all mixed up, feeling cornered and rushed
They say it's my fault, but I want him so much
Wanna fly him away where the sun and rain
Come in over my face, wash away all the shame**
And, oh God, he saw his eyes. His brown, bloody beautiful eyes. Those chocolate eyes that seemed on the verge of toffee now.
Argh, he was obsessed. He even noticed the little differences of his changed appearance. His hair is just a bit longer than
he had it in school. Maybe a centimeter or two? Hey, that isn't being obsessive. He just could judge lengths very well.
But those eyes weren't looking at him. Percy didn't even think that Oliver had even seen him yet. Perhaps if he left now
Oliver won't even know that he was here. Yes, yes, yes... just leave. Percy thanked every god he had ever heard of in his
head when he saw a staircase opposite of him. Feign sickness if anyone asks. Just don't let Oliver see you. See what you have
become. Ugh. The Minister of Magic. How him-like.
**When they stop and stare, don't worry about me
'Cause I'm feeling for him what he's feeling for me
I can try to pretend, I can try to forget
But it's driving me mad, going out of my head**
Percy quickly turned around and as un-noticeably as he could (he is the MoM, after all), opened the door and quickly shut it
behind him.
He hurriedly sped down the steps. His light pound of his foot hitting the stair wasn't really a pound at all, and it surprised
him how silent he could be when certain circumstances were arisen. Was that a good thing, though? That he could creep so
quickly and silently out of danger? Perhaps the sorting hat should have put him in Ravenclaw.
But his foolish heart sped up about 20 KMH when he heard the same door he just went through open and close with footsteps
following. 'Oh, gods, who is it now?' he thought as he sped up a little quicker. He concentrated on not falling flag on his
face when he took a turn, and then jumped the last six steps.
**All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
This is not enough**
/THUMP/
Ok, jumping the last six steps was not a good idea at all. Not at *all*. Perhaps he just wasn't used to it as he was. After
all, he attended Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The steps in that place alone were practically famous. Or maybe
it was a sign. Yes, a sign!
A sign that he's getting old...
'Or maybe...' he thought as he turned his head around and tried to see just who was following him. It was sort of hard. Being
on the ground and with your glasses five feet away from you. Seeing was very difficult. But he could tell who it was, anyway.
He didn't need his glasses to know that shape. He shouldn't even have turned around. He would have recognized that smell from
anywhere. Well, so much for trying to escape. He turned back around to look straight forward.
**Mother, looking at me
Tell me what do you see?
Yes, I've lost my mind**
"So, uh... tell me." That oh-so familiar Scottish accent jeered. He coughed slightly. "Is this was Ministers of Magic do
these days? Run away from quidditch keepers?"
Oh, his voice had gotten deeper. And sexier. Yet stayed the same.
Percy groaned and put his hands in his arms. He really didn't want to hear this. He really didn't. And he didn't want to be
here. Ok, well, yes he did, but... not like this. He had managed to embarrass himself without even opening his mouth.
Percy felt a very small gust of wind and heard the rustle of cloaks walk past him. They stopped and he heard the sound of
medal and concrete scraped together for a second. More rustle of cloak. Souls of shoes clicked the ground as he heard them
stop right in front of him. A finger poked his arm.
**Daddy, looking at me
Will I ever be free?
Have I crossed the line?**
Hot breath disturbed Percy's thin, straight red hair. He thought he heard something that could be considered a chuckle. A
finger poked at his head now.
"Oi, Perce, look up. It's me- Oliver." The quidditch play said.
'No shit, Sherlock. I would recognize you even if there was a sea of 1,000 look-a-likes.' Even though, Percy looked up only
because he didn't want to upset Oliver. He hated doing that. Upsetting Oliver. That was five times worse than stealing candy
from a baby.
He felt cold medal slide past his face, and settle on his nose. He opened his eyes. To see a pair of those damned eyes
staring back. How he loathed to love those eyes. But he noticed, with a thump of his bloody heart, that those eyes were
awfully, wonderfully close.
**All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
Running through my head
All the things he said
This is not enough**
The wind gushed past the two. Several strands of shining red hair went into Percy's eyes. But he didn't even bother to brush
them out. He couldn't even blink. He was so lost in eyes of yummy chocolate syrup, it was disturbing. But he couldn't look
away. He was afraid that if he looked away Oliver would just disappear in thin air. Just be wiped out of existence. And
that really wasn't the number one thing Percy had on his wish list.
But Oliver never went away. In fact, he just got pushed back into hard reality.
The all famous quidditch keeper Oliver Wood leaned in to kiss the Minister of Magic Percival Weasley.
Percy's mind went blank as he felt warm, soft lips caressing his own. He didn't know what to do or think. He couldn't do
either. He just shut his eyes helplessly and sat up a bit to deepen the kiss. Finally, thoughts randomly popped into his
head.
Desire
Want
Passion
Pleasure
Love
Were these thoughts his own? Or were they even Oliver's? That thought was cut short with a pink tongue softly touching his
lips, asking for permission. Percy all willingly accepted.
So where was this going to lead to? Anything? Perhaps only this kiss? Or a one night stand? Percy didn't know or care. He
moaned softly as he just decided to screw every logical thought in his mind and live for this moment.
Yes, live for this moment.
He'd have to put that into his next speech.
Live for this moment.
****
Wow, I impress me again! I'm so proud of me self! I really enjoyed writing Percy. I hope you guys enjoy reading him. Hehe
And I really like the fact Percy didn't say one word through the whole thing. He thought plenty of things, just never spoke
them. ^.^ Be a doll and review.