All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies.

Pairings: Percy/Penny, eventually Percy/Marcus, Cedric/Oliver
Contents: Angst, Slash, POV, Fluffy (sorta), Het
Spoilers: Yup. Books 2 and up.
Summary: Percy may be a freak, but that's not always a bad thing. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.
Status: Incomplete
A/N: In here Oliver is a friend and Percy can be normal around him, or so is my skewed view. And I liked the idea of Percy as a Wild Mage too much that I butchered it. Ruthlessly. Also, this is unbeta-ed. Was originally Percy Weasley and the Dominion Jewel. I decided to keep this PG-13, so no sex. Darn. Wait… by mentioning that word, does that mean it's not 13 anymore?

One scene may seem trite at first, but please continue to read; it's not trite at all.

*~* Indicates time change

~*~ Indicates scene change

Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue

Superstars and Cannonballs

"Mr. Weasley, I believe you are ready to try the animagus transformation." I've been waiting almost the totality of my life for those words. As well as another phrase, but that's different.

"Are you sure, professor?" I ask just to make sure it isn't some cruel joke and she'll take back her words.

"I'm quite positive, Mr. Weasley," her lips thin into a tight line. No, Professor McGonagall wouldn't be so heartless, although she does seem amused with my questioning.

"What would you prefer I change into first, professor?" As if I'm able to decide.

"Start with something small," she advises.

Something small?

Owls are small… what species of owl… Screech owl, like Hermes. I've spent enough time in her mind to know what the end result should be. I'll start off simple and then increase the difficulty with each transformation. Makes sense.

"A screech owl," I nod, worrying my lower lip.

I let my mind loose. I can hear Professor McGonagall's soft breathing. I tune it out. I focus on myself, my shallow breath, my fluttering stomach, my slowing heartbeat. My bones click and shift painlessly as the world becomes larger.

I close my eyes, thinking nothing but owl.

Mice.

Flexing talons.

Strong eyesight.

Razor hooked beak.

Fluffy greyish down.

Narrow body. Lithe.

There is a small click and then no more movement within my body.

I open my eyes on at a time. The world is indeed larger and very bright. And Professor McGonagall is colossal.

I screech undignifiedly as she approaches me, throwing my wings into the air.

I have wings.

I've done it!

All of a sudden the world is normal.

No… No, I lost concentration….

"Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall gasps, completely abashed.

Wha?

I look at her with half-shut eyes, suddenly very tired and very hungry.

"Would you please put a robe on!"

A… robe? I look down. My robes are puddle on the floor where I had transformed… Leaving me stark naked.

Hastily I wrap my robes around my bony body. How embarrassing. The quickest way to lose respect for someone is to see him or her naked.

I pull my robes even closer to my body.

"It seems we have overlooked this minor glitch," she purses her lips.

Minor glitch indeed.

I pluck my glasses from her extended hand,

"This should not be difficult to overcome, although I have never known this to happen before. Clothing usually stays with a person during the transformation." I love being the exception to the rule; it gives me the experimental feel of a lab mouse. "I have never known a screech owl to have violet eyes. You also have a white blaze though your left eye. Both of which you can use as identification when you register." Still thinking that I'll get that far? "At the moment, you are dismissed to study for your NEWT's, I believe you have an appointment with a Slytherin. Now, I must consult Albus about this glitch."

How does she know about Marcus?! No, I won't think about that now.

"Yes, ma'am."

*~*

He plopped down on his bed with a heavy sigh, fingering the eye patch over his left eye.

"What happened to you, honey?" she asked.

"Marcus," he spat with far too much venom for someone so young. "On the way home."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "You have put balm on it?"

"Yeah, I should be able to see properly again by tonight. It won't even scar."

"Is he being punished?"

"Don't ask… All because I am a Gryffindor."

"You don't know – "

"Yes, I do know. That he admitted it several times gave away his motive."

"Don't be so bitter, brush it off – "

"I can't when he's physically hurting me! It's different when his intentions were just emotional scarring, but physical I can't handle."

"Things will improve."

"When I graduate and no longer am in contact with anyone in school."

"Don't be so gloomy, things are bound to improve."

"Only because they can't get any worse."

She sighed in defeat.

*~*

Marcus is waiting impatiently outside the common room when I arrive, and the twins are heckling him.

Strange, the twins – everyone really – haven't noticed Marcus studying in my dorm. Except Oliver.

Curious.

"Flinty is having an affair with Olly?"

"No, no, it's Percy!"

"Percy, please, he's too anal. It's got to be Oliver."

"If you two are done being annoying bastards," Marcus interjects, "I do have a life that doesn't involve either of you."

"Poor Flinty, it must be Percy."

"Whom should we feel more sorry for?"

"Flint: he has to put up seeing Percy in – " George chokes on his last words.

"George?" Fred asks in trepidation.

He croaks something incoherent before clasping a hand to his throat. Fred does the same before they look to Marcus in fear and awe, then bolt.

Marcus watches them leave, predatorily leering.

I clear my throat and he jumps.

"Didn't see you there, Weasley."

Well that was quite obvious. I look down at him disbelievingly.

"So… studying?" he asks hopefully.

"NEWT's in two weeks," I nod curtly before adding, "what was that?"

"What was what?" he bats his eyelashes innocently.

"Don't act dumb, it's unbecoming." Did I just say that?

"Nothing I do is unbecoming," he smirks smugly. He's just so modest with an ego to match.

"Study."

~*~

"I just don't understand this! This is so stupid!" He wails, banging his fist on his text.

I sigh heavily before responding; it's been like this all night and things are not improving at all. Oliver was smart and took off early to meet with Cedric.

"What is it this time?" I try desperately to keep the exasperation and frustration from my voice.

"Mandrakes."

"They restore someone who is cursed or unable to transfigure back to into their original selves, the Mandrake Restorative Draft is taken."

"I know that shite!" he growls. "You already said that! But how are you supposed to get a mandrake to restore you if you're, say, a matchbox?!"

"We don't need to know that," I frown. I don't know the answer to that one; I guess I've never really thought about it.

"You don't know," he drawls lazily.

I glare at him.

"I win!" he says with much too much glee.

I blink at him in shock. This guy must be bipolar. "Win what?" I ask cautiously.

"That round of questioning." I guess that's makes sense. "So, that means you lose and article of clothing." That, on the other hand, is very, very, very nonsensical. And just plain wrong.

I curl my lip, insulted. "No!"

"Why not?" he chirps.

"Marcus, I don't know if I should say I'm frightened or disturbed, but I'm betting a little of both."

"Play along, Weasley," he says meaning to be coy, but he looks just plain ridiculous.

"I refuse."

"The rules are simple: you get a question wrong or are unable to answer, you lose an article of clothing."

Now I know for sure that I'm sickened… However, I do know more than him. Not to get a swollen head or anything, but it's true.

"Fine."

"Fantastic!" he smiles brightly. I can't tell what emotion is behind it. "Now lose a piece of clothing."

What made me do this?!

Hah! I take off my hat, thankful for not removing it before hand.

"Great!" he beams. I have never seen Marcus this happy before; it's still unnerving. "Now ask me a question." He never said about what.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doesn't count: that's not going to be on the NEWT's," he waggles a finger in my face. I want to bite it. "Now question away."

And if I refuse, then what?

But I won't, I ask. Why is my logic not connecting with my mouth?

"The planet 'S' is seen the size of a knut and one hundred billion kilometres away. What is the actual size of 'S'?"

"What the hell kinda class is that from?!"

"Advanced Arithmancy," I supply conceitedly. I won.

"That's not going to be on the test!" he bellows.

Nonplussed, I respond with a lame, "It will be."

"How do you fucking know?!" Denial.

"You lost, Marcus, lose the robe." I smirk as he peels off his robe.

An hour and several articles of clothing later, we were still volleying questions. I am clearly in the lead having only shed my hat. Marcus, however, only has his pants to lose. That line of hair from his navel dipping down into his pants is tantalizing.

What am I thinking?! That's Marcus! And I wouldn't do this to Penny!

I resist the urge to jump him, pin him down, and ravishing him, choking down my bile. I've never had these urges before, not even with Penny. Sure, I think about sex, but that's at night, in my dreams, not when I'm conscious and certainly not about Marcus or any male. Usually my few and far between wet dreams consist of faceless women.

He glances expectantly at me.

"What did you do to me?" I demand harshly.

He looks away studying the far wall intently.

"What – did – you – do – "

"Potion," he spits, frustrated. "A libido increasing potion, happy?!"

Bugger.

"No, no, I'm not! It's rape Marcus, You couldn't have just asked, so you take! Rape, damnit!" My voice cracks, but I'm not hysterical, much to my credit, just sad. He could have asked – I would have given. No! That's the potion talking. I can feel it now, distinctly, humming through my blood, my bones, my skin. And right to my groin.

He reaches for me and I recoil.

"Percy," he shakes his head sadly, which makes him sound sexy. No, Marcus is not sexy; he's ug- damn attractive. I can't win this.

"Get out, Marcus," I seethe, pointing at the doorway. "Get out now."

He hesitates. Yeah, he hesitates whenever something horrible is going to happen, he always does.

"Now, Marcus!" That's the first time I've raised my voice tonight.

I can't control myself much longer. He did this to me, so he deserves whatever he gets. Unfortunately, I'm the one to teach him that lesson.

I reach out and grab him roughly, pulling him to me.

"You're responsible for whatever happens," I accuse; it's his fault, therefore if I hurt him, he's to blame. "I hope you feel guilt for the rest of your wretched existence," Not life, he's too low to have a life.

I growl, throwing him down to the floor. Merlin help me, I get a rush from it. It's the potion, not me. I would never be like this. Never.

I straddle his waist, leaning down to bite his exposed collarbone. And I thought I needed to gain weight; his bones are protruding nicely, and I can feel everyone of his ribs as I run my hands up and down his sides.

He gasps prettily as I bite down hard enough to leave a bruise for days. Marked. My mark. Mine. I want to bite his ribs like that, but first, symmetry.

I clamp my teeth down on the other side of his neck, hard enough to draw a small amount of blood. I lap at it, coaxing more to well forth with my lips. I roll it over my tongue: fresh blood. I've wanted that ever since I was trapped in Professor Lupin's mind.

I want more.

I bite down harder, drawing more blood. Marcus' chest vibrates as he groans, arching against my thighs and belly.

He likes this too.

Masochist.

That makes me a sadist.

Now for his ribs. I push myself down his thighs… Desire brushes desire.

He loves this.

Merlin, I need to get out of this!

He chomps down on my collarbone as I rake my nails over his ribs.

It feels wonderful.

No, I need to get out.

I shove him down and he moans.

"Get the hell out!"

He doesn't. Merlin help me, he doesn't.

He reaches for my pants, and I swat him away.

"No. Get. OUT!"

I throw him down again and he hits his head on the edge of one of his texts, splitting the skin… I want to lick up the blood.

No! I – This needs to stop. If he won't leave then I will.

I rush from the room, leaving him behind as I head for the Head Boy's bath. He would never be able to get in there.

I pass Cedric and Oliver on the way, giving them a curt nod of acknowledgment before locking myself into the bath.

Away from Marcus, my blood is slowing, cooling, not as demanding. The change is welcoming.

I need to analyze this; it's the only way I can keep myself at a relative normalcy.

I search frantically for anything sharp and a phial. Strangely enough I am able to find both, a shard of glass and a phial.

Wielding the glass in one hand, I slice the palm of my opposite hand, watching the blood well up with fascination. I catch most of it in the phial until it's full, then I set the sample aside and lick my wound, feeling a lot calmer than I was moments ago.

Dropping the phial into a pocket, I head up to the hospital ward to see if Madam Pomfrey will lend me some balm for my hand.

~*~

I wake up more tired than when I went to sleep, and very alone. No Oliver.

By the sun just peeking above the horizon, I can bet that Oliver is warming up for practice, or rousing players from their warm beds.

Marcus, on the other hand, was gone when I got back. Thank Merlin.

Complicated. Everything is now so very complicated. And it's his fault. Am I still able to meet with him normally? Will I still be able to look at him anymore? What about Penny? What about stopping the damn rhetorical questions?

I'm too exhausted to think abysmally this morning. But I need to talk to Penny, explain everything.

My hand is sore.

Breakfast is not a pleasant affair. I'm too busy avoiding Marcus, Oliver, and Penny to do anything other than inhale my omelet.

And to make matters worse, the mail comes. I sent my résumé to the Ministry only three days ago and this morning a harassed, yet important-looking Eagle Owl returns with my answer.

I stroke him and offer my links. I don't feel like ingesting meat this morning.

I open the letter in apprehension.

Dear Mr. Weasley,

We are pleased that you have taken… blah, blah, blah. We have come to the conclusion blah, blah, blah. You have been accepted into the Department of International Cooperation. Your request for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures has been reviewed… blah, blah, blah. No requirements met… blah, blah, blah. Your language talent is more apt for the Inter… Glad to see you following in your father's footsteps. Ouch. See you the first day of July.

Regards,

Catrine Petty

Chief of Admissions

British Ministry of Magic

Etcetera, etcetera.

Damn. First Marcus, now this. When did this spin so out of control?

"Thank you," I tell him.

He nibbles empathetically at my thumb. Is sorry.

Don't worry yourself, I whisper into his mind. I forgot to mention my tutoring. It's my own damn fault.

I could kick myself.

I need to get out of here.

~*~

I collapse face first onto my bed.

"What's wrong, Perce?" Oliver. He must have followed me.

"If I tell you will you go away?" I mutter into my comforter.

"Whoa! Bitter! Maybe I will," he entertains the idea.

The bed dips as he sits next to me.

"I really, really don't want to talk about it," I tell the comforter.

"Really, now?" I can hear his smirk. Oliver's not the comforter's.

"Really."

"Cedric believes it has to do with Marcus." Does he now? That's nice, Ol, just believe your boyfriend when he tells you everything is ok. "After all, he was with you last night before you ran past us." Cedric is quite perceptive, though; he knew I couldn't handle this and he was right. At least he has the common decency not to flaunt it.

Well, Marcus does play a part.

"Cedric is clever, but that's not entirely truthful."

"Is that what happened at breakfast?" He strokes my hair in a soothing manner. It feels nice.

I can't have it.

He's a friend. He has Cedric. I have Ma– Penny.

My body becomes ridged. What am I going to do with this mess?

"Percy?" he attempts.

I roll into a sitting position.

"I – I need to speak with Penny."

"Oh. All right." He's hurt.

"No, Oliver, I'm not telling her and not you," I promise. "There is just – I need to go."

~*~

After asking four people where to find Penny, I am finally able to catch her spread out on a bench studying.

She notices me and throws me a stunning smile.

I frown plopping down next to her. I keep my hands in my lap, not touching her like I normally do.

"Percy, what's wrong?" She places her hand on my arm and I recoil. I'm dirty; she's clean.

"I can't do this anymore." This is too difficult. I can't believe I'm doing this, I love her so much, but the guilt is too much.

"What can't you do?" She asks tenderly, cupping my face in her palm. I want to draw away, but it's too comforting.

Everything. I can't do anything anymore.

"Us. I – I can't do us anymore." No, no, no, no, no! That came out too harsh!

"What happened to you, Percy?" She is now concerned for my well-being. She looks up at me sadly, her eyes darkening.

"You really don't want to know." Could I possibly be any colder? I'm sorry, Penny, I truly am.

"I might not want to, but I have a right," she states firmly. At least one of us knows how to be sure, how to get through life.

Marcus. "I'm sorry, Penny," I shake my head.

"Percy?" Hate me, Penny. This would be a lot easier if you were to hate me.

She sighs in relief. But that would mean –

"We'll still be friends, though," she bobs her head, more determined than disappointed. "Just not friends who snog hello."

I look up to her face with a weak smile on my lips.

"Yes, Penny, friends."

~*~

"Percy…" I ignore Oliver's voice outside my bed curtains; I'm perfectly happy where it's warm and alone. "Percy!"

"Go away," I grumble crossly.

"Nope!" Great. "It's NEWT time!" He rips open my curtains.

No. It can't be. "I haven't studied enough!"

"Percy, you know you'll do better than everyone else so suck it up and get up!"

"Thanks for your support, Oliver," I snort wryly.

"Anytime," he grins broadly. "I'm glad that whatever's been bothering you is gone now."

It isn't, but NEWT's are more important.

Hey, that's a great start.

I get dressed and brace myself. And I'm off to fail my tests.

But I have to keep my promise to Professor Dumbledore. Yes, I'll try and keep my promise. Just like I kept my promise to protect Penny last year.

*~*

"Twelve! I got twelve on my OWL's!" he exclaimed in amazement.

"And you doubted yourself." She shook her head in mock shame.

"I always doubt myself." She rolled her eyes.

"And you shouldn't," she glowered. "How will you ever get into your Ministry?"

"It's not mine. Father wants one of his sons in the Ministry, I don't necessarily want me in the Ministry."

"Don't you want to – "

"I want my father to be happy with his freak son," he spat. "I have to do something to prove myself."

"Does your father even know?"

"No," he growled.

She decided to avoid that in the future.

"Is a prefect not enough? Is a twelve not enough?"

"It's all been done before."

"Then strive for something that hasn't."

"The Ministry hasn't been done and Father wants one of us to go that way. The twins at a desk? Never going to happen. Ron? He's too interested in quidditch. Ginny? She's interested in becoming a Mediwitch. It's up to me, Alanna. I have to do this."

"You have a very strong sense of duty. You would have made a great knight, like Kel."

"Kel?" he inquired.

"In Ginny's room; she's a knight, like me; the second woman knight."

*~*

"Mr. Weasley, I'm afraid there is no way to get around your glitch." No way to be a true animagus, she means.

"I see," I reply dolefully.

"You will still be able to transform, however, be sure that when you return you have your clothing at hand."

"Yes, ma'am."

"As for now, your concentration needs work, so for the next few lessons would you be so kind as to transfigure just parts of yourself?"

Trail and error. I love being the experimental one. When was the last time Professor McGonagall actually had to deal with another animagus? Probably her teacher.

I don't think I've ever seen her this unsure of herself.

And I'm the butt end again.

"Try a knarl this time." A knarl….

"Ma'am, what part of a knarl?"

"Please turn your hair into a crown of quills."

Quills.

Quills.

My scalp itches. I have to ignore it. I have to concentrate on quills.

Quills.

"Excellent, Mr. Weasley. Very good." Huh?

I pat my head to see if I really have quills.

I do, and I draw blood.

Hissing, I suck on my bloodied finger, trying to grasp the escaping feeling of quills, to remember for future references.

"I shall see you this afternoon. I need to have a chat with Mr. Wood and Mr. Jordan before the match." She hurries out.

Today is the match for the cup, Gryffindor against Slytherin. I promised Oliver I'd show up and support him. Unfortunately Marcus will be there. I've spent the past few weeks avoiding him; we haven't even met for studying and finals are coming up.

~*~

My blood tests returned. I had asked Snape for a few potions to test what type of potion Marcus had used on me. I have done my research; there are many varieties of lust potions, which in itself sends chills down my back.

I stare at the paper, my results scrawled in my hurried hand. I had little time to examine my results while testing, but now…

Now – Merlin, there's no difference in my blood count. There was no potion.

That would mean that –

No. I refuse to believe I acted of my own free will. He must have used some Dark Arts charm or maybe even the Imperius Curse; I wouldn't put it past him.

I need to confront him.

Maybe this time I won't back out.

~*~

Oliver and Marcus look like they're trying to kill each other with a handshake.

"Mount your brooms! Three… two… one!" Madam Hooch blows her whistle and the crowd roars.

"And it's Gryffindor possession, Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor with the quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good Alicia!" Lee shouts enthusiastically over the pitch. "Argh! No! Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the field – WHAM!" Lee has to do his own sound effects, as if the crowd can't see that George just aimed a bludger at Warrington.

"Nice bludger work there by George Weasley. Warrington drops the quaffle, it's caught by Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession. Come one, Angelina!" Apparently Professor McGonagall's 'chat' with him had no effect, just like the thousands of other chats she's had with him about being impartial.

Angelina scores, I can hear Lee go on about it, but I catch Marcus' eye – not deliberately. And he just stares back, stupidly continuing to fly – right into Angelina.

I wince.

He shakes his head, shouting that he was sorry and he didn't see her as the crowd verbalizes major disapproval.

I sincerely doubt he's sorry, but I'm pretty certain he didn't see her; his head was clear turned in the other direction, my direction.

Fred on the other hand, doesn't believe him and aims his beater's club at the back of his head, causing Marucs to bloody his nose on his broom handle.

My mouth waters…

His blood flows just as freely as that ni–

Madam Hooch awards a disapproving penalty to each side.

Alicia takes the Gryffindor penalty and score.

Then Marcus goes against Oliver. Lee rambles on about how great a keeper Oliver is…

Marcus glances back at me before he takes his penalty shot.

To say that he is distracted would be a gross understatement.

Oliver blocks it.

The games continues with filthy Slytherin tricks and Gryffindor retaliation and vice versa… It's impossible to watch all of the cheating and foul play, so I focus on Marcus and Oliver –

"He has the snitch! HARRY HAS THE SNITCH!" Lee bellows into the megaphone. It looks as if he's about to soil his robes.

Marucs sneers.

Oliver tackles Harry.

Fred and George join them.

"Gryffindor wins the Cup! We won the Cup!"

We won.

We won!

No one is watching me, so I let myself go, jumping up and down for all I'm worth. I've never been this excited! It's amazing! WE WON! Wait'll Charlie hears of this –

Marcus is watching me again.

I stop my jumping and retreat to my dorm to congratulate my team when they return, making a brief stop in the owlery to owl Charlie.

~*~

Graduation was a horribly anticlimactic affair. A bunch of cheering, a piece of parchment, and never seeing some of these people again for the rest of my life.

Penny wept openly in my arms, which in itself was awkward, but Marcus kept giving me strange scowls.

Afterwards, Penny pecked me on the cheek and left with her family without a word. Oliver promised to owl, in between his make out session with Cedric – away from the ceremony.

And Marcus… Marcus avoided me, other than making faces at me. Which is why now, I'm seeking him out.

I know I'm being both stubborn and brainless. But I want answers.

Ironic how when I don't want to find him, he's always the first person I run across, but when I'm trying to find him, he makes himself scarce.

After an eternity I run into him in a back hallway. Literally, landing me painfully on my bum.

He scowls down at me, not offering a hand to help me up.

Picking myself up, I dust myself off. I'm going to bruise.

"I need to speak with you," I say stiffly, in my best political voice.

"Say it and get it over with," he spits spitefully.

"That night – that n – that you tried to – when you said it was a libido increasing potion – It wasn't. I tested my blood; what was it?"

He eyes me dispassionately, and then he punches me in the stomach.

It hurts, a lot, but his normal force is lacking. All I have to do is double over and clutch my stomach; I'm not on the other side of the hallway concussed and bleeding from my wherever my body would have hit the wall. That has happened before, courtesy of Marcus.

"Tell me," I wheeze.

"That," he growls viciously, "is none of your goddamned business!" Oh, please. I refrain for rolling my eyes. "And even if it were – which it's not! – I wouldn't tell you anyway!"

I half expect him to stomp his foot he's being so childish.

I don't even know why I bothered.

"Good-bye, Marcus," I bid. I pray never to cross paths with you again.

I turn my back on him and Hogwarts for good.

I don't want to look into his cold black eyes.

I want him to stop me, but thank Merlin he lets me go.

~*~*~

A knarl is kinda like a hedgehog.

The quidditch scene is almost directly from the book: Chapter 15 of PoA.

See, that racy (for lack of a better word) scene wasn't as banal as you thought it was going to be, although it was rather corny.

Thanks to the reviewers! I love you guys!

Kimagure: Thank you. ^^ Yes, Percy is a tad on the dense side, but he can't be that smart and not have any faults, now can he…. As for the other questions... to answer them would be to give away some key points…. Like the Percy/Marcus interaction thing, and yeah.

Niamh: Thank you! Yay! I have converted an O/P fan! Muahahaha!

Mira: Yes, he's quite clueless. About what mind-gripper? I do not know what you are speaking off? *tries to look innocent*

Demeter: Jealous Percy and Human Marcus! Percy doesn't know who Cedric's rebound is. And there is still hope for Oliver yet!

GayRon: Thanks muchly!