Title: Roman Holiday (1/1)

Author: Iphigenia

Email: SharLee224@aol.com

Pairings: Oliver/ Percy, Oliver/Harry

Rating: R

Improv #2: holiday- rapt- candle- feast

Summary: In the midst of a war-torn world in which friends and family fight on opposite sides, Percy Weasley takes a holiday.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me. It belongs to JK Rowling and associated corporations.

Spoilers: none

Notes: Implied twincest and characters are kind of OOC. Thanks to Elske, my wonderful and speedy beta.

A young man, with short red hair and icy blue eyes, sat, reading a forty-page budget proposal- that no one else would bother to read- waiting for the clock to turn six. Six, that magical number. Three of which was Satan's number. Not that it mattered much to the wizarding community. Wizards were not, as a rule, Christian. They didn't believe in God, and they certainly didn't believe in the Devil or 666.

Today was a Wednesday, the third day in a row that Percy Weasley, aged twenty-six, would be leaving work at six. The rest of his department went home at five. Percy worked from six in the morning to six at night for much-needed overtime pay and to stay away from the Burrow. He could no longer stand to be there. He wanted to get out, but safe housing was scarce in wartime.

Six minutes, he thought, inking his quill for the sixth time. Six minutes and he would have to go home. Although the Burrow was quite busy and running at full capacity, Percy knew that tonight, at least, he would be missed. All the Weasleys would be home for Midsummer's Feast, an old wizarding tradition dating back to the 1500's.

His father, Arthur- a Ministry employee himself- would be sitting contentedly in the kitchen, drinking a butterbeer, making a nuisance of himself as his wife Molly hustled and bustled about, making a scrumptious feast from scratch. Percy's eldest brother, Bill, would be wearing a dashing fedora and talk about his exotic adventures in curse breaking with Hermione, who would be listening with rapt attention. Charlie, a dragon keeper currently working in Romania and living life as if there weren't a war on, would make a dramatic entrance, then disappear into the garden with his "dog," Snuffles, (otherwise known as one escaped convict, whom Charlie was harboring not-so-secretly) for hours at a time and return wearing a satisfied smirk, ignoring the pointed looks from most of the family. The twins would cause trouble, be sent to their room, and come down smelling of sex and candy, also ignoring said pointed looks. Ron would sulk because he wouldn't be able getting any attention (let alone anything else) from Hermione, who would be up in Bill's room, door locked, doing who-knows-what. The only remaining Weasley was Ginny, the youngest sibling, from whom Ron wouldn't get any attention either. Actually, Ginny wouldn't even be there. Not this year, possibly never again. She had gone over to Voldemort's side after her graduation, much to the surprise of her family. Well, every Weasley but Percy was shocked. Percy was not, although he had to feign outrage and run to Fudge demanding that she be hunted down. In reality, Harry Potter had told him about her months ago. The Boy Who Lived and commander of the Order of the Phoenix, the Light's side's main, if not a bit shady, hope for defeating the Dark Lord, would also be at the feast, distracting Ron from Hermione's temporary absence. The beautiful Miss Granger was now a top Auror along with her boyfriend Ron. They were incredibly sweet together, when they were together, that is. When they were, they were sweet. Sickly sweet. Percy wondered if Hermione was seeing Bill on the side. Ron and Hermione were much too sweet to be real.

There was no such thing as happily ever after, Percy knew. Penelope Clearwater, top potions researcher at the Luna Foundation, was a textbook example of this. He had been married to Penn for exactly six months before she had been murdered. Not by Death Eaters, mind. Her own lab assistants did it. They said it was an accident. Percy knew better, of course. Harry told him later that it had been an Auror operation, with the command issued by none other than a certain Ron Weasley. Penn, raised in the liberal British muggle world, had been speaking out against the increasing Ministry restrictions and censorship. The job of the Aurors was to keep civil order. So a candle had been lit in the chamber, just as Penn had been purifying some magical benzene- a very explosive combination. With a simple "incendio" spell, Penelope had been snuffed out. By his youngest brother. Percy hated the war, but he hated Ron even more. He didn't tell him, though, and continued to pretend that he didn't know. Percy had no idea how Harry managed to conceal it all from everyone. No one suspected a thing.

At six precisely, a large black owl swept into the small, cramped office. The unfamiliar owl dropped a scroll on his desk, then flew out the window without so much as a hoot. Percy regarded the scroll warily. Finally, after a considerable amount of countercursing, he opened the scroll. Dear Percy, it read, its letters formed by a cold, impersonal muggle typewriter, It's the day! I'm taking a holiday in Rome. Care to join me? I've missed you so much. Love, Audrey. Attached, he found a muggle passport with his photo on it, a plane ticket to Rome, and a large packet of euros (used).

Hissing, Percy dropped the packet as if it were nightshade. So this was it. His final chance to get out, encoded in a seemingly simple message. "The day", of course, was D-Day. Not the date of the muggle attack- this simply meant that this was the real thing. The holiday, too, was doublespeak. If Percy went, he would never be coming back. At least not until the war was over, which could be for many years to come. Maybe never. Perhaps Harry would turn dark, and the Light side would never win. Percy could very well be leaving forever. To be with him. His boyhood lover, Oliver, who was now, according to reports, a top Death Eater operative. Was the letter a trap? Percy found that he no longer cared. He was almost certain that if it was, Oliver was behind it. Both Oliver and Percy had eidetic memories, and Percy well remembered the romantic Audrey Hepburn muggle film they had watched so long ago. Percy decided he would go. One way or the other, he was taking a holiday from it all. He had had enough of this war and this life.

He looked around his office casually. The surveillance was there, if not immediately visible. Taking out his wand and murmuring "incendio," he quickly burnt the letter to a crisp, and swept the ashes into his wastebasket, thankful that he had been doing this to his papers on a regular basis. His actions would draw no suspicions, for a while, at least. The passport, ticket, and money went into a hidden pouch around his right thigh. The letter and its contents thoroughly disposed of, Percy surveyed his room for a final time, searching for any mementos to bring with him. To his satisfaction, he found none. Percy made it a point to keep his office as blank and impersonal as his outer persona, so as to prevent his enemies from gauging his personality. In a cool and collected hand that bellied his Order membership, Percy wrote one final note to the Ministry. The note, on crisp white parchment, was placed neatly on his immaculate desk, with a paperweight placed thoughtfully on top of it, so that it would not blow to the floor accidentally. The whole process had taken six minutes. At 6:06:06 PM, Percy Weasley apparated to the Burrow, leaving the Ministry behind forever. He had no regrets.

The Burrow was bustling with activity, and no one seemed to notice the quiet young man who crept up the stairs. He made his way to his room quickly and efficiently. Closing the door silently, he turned to find someone sitting patiently on his bed. Sparkling green eyes studied him intently, no longer hidden behind glasses he no longer needed. Involuntarily, Percy shuddered. Harry Potter did not study people for the fun of it- he had to save the world.

"Going somewhere, Percy?" he asked, his voice calm and in control. That's what Percy liked about the new Harry. Harry had grown up fast, and didn't joke around. Just straight, and to the point. Percy looked into his eyes. Harry knew.

"I'm taking a brief holiday this weekend," Percy muttered, packing his meager possessions into a nondescript black bag. The Order had prepared him well for this whole disappearing thing, though he was loathe to admit it.

Harry smiled, satisfied with Percy's choice. "A Roman holiday, perhaps?"

Percy dropped the sweater he was holding (a distinctive Weasley sweater, which he could not bring with him) and whirled around. He had expected the Order to know that he was leaving, as they were one of the ones who kept his office under surveillance, but not the exact contents of the letter, down to the obscure muggle reference. "How did you know that?"

"Oliver sent me this," he said, handing Percy a letter. It was identical to Percy's, except for the name. Harry, with his lean, muscled build and his smooth pale skin, was the picture of sexy, studied boredom as he added, by way of explanation, "I was raised in a muggle household. Of course I know Audrey Hepburn."

Percy sat down onto the bed next to his boss. "How do I know you didn't simply intercept mine?" he asked, wary of a trap from his own side. Much as he admired and trusted his friend Harry, Percy was after all trying to leave the war effort. One would think that the commander of said effort would be a bit opposed to having an operative, especially such a talented one like Percy, leave. But then again, he reflected, said commander was Harry. One never knew quite what to expect from the world's most powerful wizard.

As if he could hear Percy's thoughts (which he might have, Percy remembered), Harry lazily pointed his finger at the door, locking it. Percy tensed, uncomfortable with Harry's display of his true power. Harry's power had been increasing exponentially since graduation from Hogwarts, and there seemed to be no limit as to what he could do.

"How do you suppose the Order got all of its information before everyone else?" Harry asked, turning so that he faced Percy directly.

Percy blinked, surprised by the non sequitur. "We had an informant, I suppose."

"Yes. Oliver was the informant. And my lover," Harry told Percy, studying his reaction carefully. Harry, of course, was completely in control of his emotions. He, unlike Percy, had learned. "It's no excuse, of course. I knew you two loved each other- still do, in fact."

"Oh?" Percy asked in a stained voice, fighting a losing battle to keep his expression neutral. His mind filled involuntarily with images of Oliver and Harry in bed together.

"Yes. I seduced him. We needed a way of regularly passing information without suspicion," Harry admitted, having the grace to look contrite. "I'm sorry."

Percy was finally able to steel himself with his years of experience at being cold and unemotional. "What are you sorry for? We haven't even seen each other since Oliver joined them." Them. The Death Eaters. The words stung bitterly in Percy's ears. Oliver had joined the Death Eaters the day after his wedding to Penelope. It was Percy's own fault. Oliver turned to the Dark side because of him. He made a careful study of the ceiling.

"Percy," Harry said forcefully, grabbing Percy's chin and forcing Percy to look at him. "Percy. Don't be mad at Oliver for it, and don't blame yourself. This whole mess is no one's fault. It's killing him. This letter is his leave notice. He can't take it anymore, Percy. Do you think it's easy, keeping that façade up? God knows, the roles we play are hard enough, but a Death Eater, Percy, has no time to himself. His every movement is under surveillance, even in bed. Oliver needs this, Percy, and he needs you, too."

"How do you know?" Percy asked, tears streaming down his face. It was bad enough imagining Oliver as a Death Eater, but thinking of him doing all that and hating every minute was almost worse. Oliver had been unhappy with his life for all those years, suffering so much just for a few bits of information that no one could use without giving him away.

"He called me Percy in bed," Harry said, bring Percy back from his thoughts. "Don't deny your love, Percy. I've seen you both. You're dying inside, Percy. Little by little. If you don't take this holiday, you'll die."

Percy gave Harry an incredulous look. "So you're not stopping me?"

The Boy Who Lived shook his head slowly, allowing his stress to show. "Far from it. I wish I could too, though."

Percy studied the enigma in front of him. The thin red scar on his pale forehead was proof of why Harry Potter, of all the wizards in the world, had the most to lose by staying. "Why can't you? Didn't Oliver send you a ticket?"

Harry gave Percy a look of intense longing. "It is not my decision to make. You know very well what would happen if I left now. It would be just as bad as giving in to the Dark side, perhaps worse. I cannot and will not. You, on the other hand, have the chance to save yourself. Do it, Percy. I won't hate you for it. Hell, I'm going to cover for you in a few minutes. Here," he said, thrusting a muggle watch at him. "Put this on. It's my gift to you, as well as a one-time port-key to Heathrow. It activates in six minutes." As their fingers touched, a blue spark leapt from Harry to Percy. Harry shrugged. "Oh, sorry, I've been doing that a lot lately. I need to figure that out still."

Percy nodded, dismissing the spark. It was probably Harry just giving off magic again. Percy put on the gold timepiece. "You certainly timed this out," he observed, adopting Harry's studied nonchalance.

Harry smiled. "I try," he admitted, ignoring his tendency to plan everything out down to the tiniest detail. Percy would miss that, although many would say that Percy himself could more than make up for that habit.

"So this is goodbye, then?" Percy asked. Of all the people Percy would be leaving behind, he would miss Harry the most.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head and running his fingers along Percy's chin thoughtfully. "Only a 'see you later'. Check the wizarding news occasionally. When the war is over, look in the classified section of a major muggle newspaper. If I am still alive, I will take out an ad addressed to you. What shall I call you?"

"666," Percy replied, after only a moment's hesitation. That number had been haunting him all day and it was good to finally get it in the clear.

Harry grinned. "Thought you didn't believe in that."

"I don't," Percy confirmed. Impulsively, he leaned forward and snogged Harry. Harry didn't resist. In fact, he returned the favor. Six seconds until the port-key activated, they stepped back.

"Give Oliver my love," Harry said softly. Turning towards Percy's bag, he waved his hand over it and handed it to Percy fully packed.

Percy took it unquestioningly. He had faith in Harry's spellcasting abilities. If Harry packed his bags, he could be sure everything was packed in there, perfectly folded to optimum efficiency. "Tell my family I love them," Percy said, half-wondering why he hadn't the guts to tell them himself.

Harry, though, didn't question him. He simply nodded, smiled sadly, and said, "Until next time."

Percy smiled the first real smile he had smiled since Penelope. "Until next time," he said, feeling the familiar tug at his navel. The world spun, and Percy was on his way. He was going on a holiday with Oliver Wood. Nothing else mattered.