In retrospect, Percy thought his years as a young student at Hogwarts
showed him presenting very foolish behavior, but the result of which wasn't
something he resented at all.
He seemed to remember having a crush on Oliver Wood, the Quidditch- obsessed, sandy haired boy in his dormitory. Under normal circumstances, Percy would have considered anyone who had a fixation on anything other than school work an enormous waste of space, but he was fond of Oliver for whatever reason. Might have been the frequent smiles he flashed in Percy's direction. The kind of smile that made Percy go weak in the knees and feel his stomach fluttering like he'd eaten something his little twin brothers gave him.
Once, when Percy was in second year, he went into the Gryffindor changing rooms after a Quidditch match to tell his brother Charlie something. He didn't remember what exactly was so important anymore, because that was overshadowed by other things. Like how Oliver whooped when he came in and smacked him good-naturedly on his rear end.
Percy had to think on it, because he tended to think on everything, especially things that included Oliver, and even more especially things that included Oliver's hand and Percy's arse. He concluded that it was masculine and athletic to touch other boys' arses. (That was the only time in his life that Percy considered trying out for the Quidditch team.)
But then again, it worked out just as well if he made sure he was around Oliver after a sweaty practice or match when there was a healthy amount of adrenaline flowing through Oliver's bloodstream. It didn't matter if Percy was on the team. He managed to get several more brotherly smacks that year. One wasn't really all that brotherly, Percy liked to think. Oliver's hand stayed on his pants a little longer than it needed to, not that it bothered anyone except Katie Bell, who would glare first-year-like from the stands at the way the two boys were standing just a little closer together than was really necessary.
It was funny how whenever Oliver had some chocolate, he would share it with Percy. When most people share chocolate, they break off a piece and hand it over to the other person. Oliver had a peculiar way of sharing. He would break off the chocolate with his teeth and hold it with his jaw until Percy leaned forward and pulled it away with his lips. Then Oliver would laugh and pinch Percy's freckled cheek lightly. Percy's older brothers thought it was just about the most adorable thing they had ever seen and took great pleasure in winking at Percy conspiratorially or puckering their lips when they saw Percy and Oliver together. It was mildly infuriating, kind of like how Percy could never stop himself from blushing, but it was something he had to live with. Besides, Oliver seemed to like it when his face reddened.
Sometimes in the bathroom, Oliver would come out of the shower with a towel tied around his waist and grin at Percy, who would probably have his toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth, or half his face covered his shaving cream. Of course, Oliver would look shining and immaculate and beautiful, and Percy would know he looked like a complete dork, lanky and freckly and wide-eyed. Despite Percy's inherent dorkiness, Oliver would grin and run his fingers through the red hair, spiky from Percy's pillow.
Now, Percy would shake his head at their immaturity and ignorance, but then, he would be rendered brainless by Oliver's lips so close to his, grinning toothily; so much so that he wouldn't even have the presence of mind to close his mouth or anything. This never deterred Oliver. He'd just laugh and ruffle Percy's hair, tipping their foreheads together.
It was Percy who first asked Oliver on a date. It wasn't really a proper date. It was just a trip to Hogsmeade for an afternoon. Oliver said of course he'd go with Percy. For the two days before the scheduled trip into town, Percy was a ball of energy, unable to stop himself chewing on his quill when he wrote essays, who bouncing his ankles in class.
Oliver was a real gentleman about the date. It was as if he understood how fluttery and incapacitated Percy felt. He grinned reassuringly and held Percy's hand. Percy felt faint, and allowed himself to be led into the Three Broomsticks, into and out of Zonko's and finally up the hill to the Shrieking Shack. Oliver hoisted himself into a pine tree and Percy followed; they settled on a branch about ten meters from the ground. Percy held on tightly to Oliver, staring skeptically at the ground, which suddenly seemed very far away. Oliver smiled assuredly and pushed Percy against the thick trunk of the tree. Leaving his hands on his shoulders, Oliver leaned forward and kissed Percy. Kissed him right on the mouth.
Percy remembered that kiss very well. He forgot immediately about the distance from the grass below and relaxed so much that he was tipping off the branch and Oliver had to catch him. They laughed together and ducked in for another kiss.
Percy smiled fondly on his days as a pimply, awkward teen. Life was better now. Not better in the sense that it had once been bad, but better in the sense that everything had become much richer. His love for Oliver, his success at the Ministry, Oliver's leadership of the Quidditch team he now played on. As he'd matured, he'd realized something. Money and credibility mattered less and less and feelings became more prominent in his mind. His and Oliver's, mainly, because they felt such wonderful things.
He seemed to remember having a crush on Oliver Wood, the Quidditch- obsessed, sandy haired boy in his dormitory. Under normal circumstances, Percy would have considered anyone who had a fixation on anything other than school work an enormous waste of space, but he was fond of Oliver for whatever reason. Might have been the frequent smiles he flashed in Percy's direction. The kind of smile that made Percy go weak in the knees and feel his stomach fluttering like he'd eaten something his little twin brothers gave him.
Once, when Percy was in second year, he went into the Gryffindor changing rooms after a Quidditch match to tell his brother Charlie something. He didn't remember what exactly was so important anymore, because that was overshadowed by other things. Like how Oliver whooped when he came in and smacked him good-naturedly on his rear end.
Percy had to think on it, because he tended to think on everything, especially things that included Oliver, and even more especially things that included Oliver's hand and Percy's arse. He concluded that it was masculine and athletic to touch other boys' arses. (That was the only time in his life that Percy considered trying out for the Quidditch team.)
But then again, it worked out just as well if he made sure he was around Oliver after a sweaty practice or match when there was a healthy amount of adrenaline flowing through Oliver's bloodstream. It didn't matter if Percy was on the team. He managed to get several more brotherly smacks that year. One wasn't really all that brotherly, Percy liked to think. Oliver's hand stayed on his pants a little longer than it needed to, not that it bothered anyone except Katie Bell, who would glare first-year-like from the stands at the way the two boys were standing just a little closer together than was really necessary.
It was funny how whenever Oliver had some chocolate, he would share it with Percy. When most people share chocolate, they break off a piece and hand it over to the other person. Oliver had a peculiar way of sharing. He would break off the chocolate with his teeth and hold it with his jaw until Percy leaned forward and pulled it away with his lips. Then Oliver would laugh and pinch Percy's freckled cheek lightly. Percy's older brothers thought it was just about the most adorable thing they had ever seen and took great pleasure in winking at Percy conspiratorially or puckering their lips when they saw Percy and Oliver together. It was mildly infuriating, kind of like how Percy could never stop himself from blushing, but it was something he had to live with. Besides, Oliver seemed to like it when his face reddened.
Sometimes in the bathroom, Oliver would come out of the shower with a towel tied around his waist and grin at Percy, who would probably have his toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth, or half his face covered his shaving cream. Of course, Oliver would look shining and immaculate and beautiful, and Percy would know he looked like a complete dork, lanky and freckly and wide-eyed. Despite Percy's inherent dorkiness, Oliver would grin and run his fingers through the red hair, spiky from Percy's pillow.
Now, Percy would shake his head at their immaturity and ignorance, but then, he would be rendered brainless by Oliver's lips so close to his, grinning toothily; so much so that he wouldn't even have the presence of mind to close his mouth or anything. This never deterred Oliver. He'd just laugh and ruffle Percy's hair, tipping their foreheads together.
It was Percy who first asked Oliver on a date. It wasn't really a proper date. It was just a trip to Hogsmeade for an afternoon. Oliver said of course he'd go with Percy. For the two days before the scheduled trip into town, Percy was a ball of energy, unable to stop himself chewing on his quill when he wrote essays, who bouncing his ankles in class.
Oliver was a real gentleman about the date. It was as if he understood how fluttery and incapacitated Percy felt. He grinned reassuringly and held Percy's hand. Percy felt faint, and allowed himself to be led into the Three Broomsticks, into and out of Zonko's and finally up the hill to the Shrieking Shack. Oliver hoisted himself into a pine tree and Percy followed; they settled on a branch about ten meters from the ground. Percy held on tightly to Oliver, staring skeptically at the ground, which suddenly seemed very far away. Oliver smiled assuredly and pushed Percy against the thick trunk of the tree. Leaving his hands on his shoulders, Oliver leaned forward and kissed Percy. Kissed him right on the mouth.
Percy remembered that kiss very well. He forgot immediately about the distance from the grass below and relaxed so much that he was tipping off the branch and Oliver had to catch him. They laughed together and ducked in for another kiss.
Percy smiled fondly on his days as a pimply, awkward teen. Life was better now. Not better in the sense that it had once been bad, but better in the sense that everything had become much richer. His love for Oliver, his success at the Ministry, Oliver's leadership of the Quidditch team he now played on. As he'd matured, he'd realized something. Money and credibility mattered less and less and feelings became more prominent in his mind. His and Oliver's, mainly, because they felt such wonderful things.