Wounded

Soclosetolife: You'll see a lot of that sarcasm, as I happen to be a very sarcastic person myself. The more serious a situation, the more sarcastic I get.

Inkwick: I don't know about one of the best. While the P/O Fandom isn't huge or anything…there are a lot of really great stories on ff.net. I'm glad you like my Oliver, since he'll be the 'narrator' of the entire story.

Nott: I'd like to think I'll do an okay job, but there won't be much of the other mentioned pairings, so hopefully it won't matter a lot. And thanks…I like my taste in music too. LOL

Andrei: That's true enough.

And, also, thanks to JWGrey, Louis, Kazza, and Lillebox. Thank you all so much for the reviews, I appreciate all the feedback.

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Chapter Two

Wildfire Borne of Frustration

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Oliver walked into the Muggle pharmacy, looking around. What he needed was a painkiller, so he figured he could find it here. He really didn't want to risk someone seeing him at a Wizarding shop and having to explain why he was buying them.

The general thought was that if a person was buying painkillers, they were mere steps from addiction. Never mind that some people tore muscles and broke bones…what the press wanted was to tear people apart and spit out their bones.

…Well, maybe not that dramatic, but damn close.

"Can I help you?" The man behind the counter looked to be about forty-ish with graying black hair and sparking brown eyes. Oliver handed him the slip of paper the team doctor had given to him and watched him read it. "You're in luck, we just got some of this in today… It's not for you, is it?" He peered at him over a pair of half-moon glasses, looking very serious.

"No sir." Oliver said politely. "A friend of mine had a…accident."

"Oh." He nodded. "Well, if that's the case, you'll need to watch your friend very carefully. These pills are no joking matter lad; depending on the dosage a person could take a leave of their senses, fall asleep suddenly, see things."

As he spoke he walked away from Oliver and began to look over his shelves of pill bottles. He picked up a small orange one and walked back over to him.

"Here we are. Now, remember what I said. Watch carefully." He handed Oliver the bottle then went to his cash register. "Will you be wanting anything else?"

"Umm…" Oliver looked around to see if there was anything he might want and, after a moment, decided on a candy bar. He really shouldn't be eating anything like that (strict diet and all) but damn if he wasn't in the mood for chocolate.

He drew out a wallet that contained a fair amount of Muggle money and paid. He kept the wallet because, as much as some wizards like to believe it, he knew there was no way in hell he'd ever get everything he needed on a day to day basis in the wizarding world. Sometimes you needed the Muggles to get by.

He walked back to the hotel, just…enjoying the early morning peace. London wasn't the most restful of places, so a chance to walk around and not worry about being run over by a bus or stray pedestrian and be able to hear yourself speak was a nice change. It was nearly six in the morning, so it'd be busy and full soon enough.

Their hotel was mostly inhabited by Muggles; so they'd been ordered to keep all magic to a strict minimum, least someone see it. And, considering that the Minister of Muggle Artifacts and Encounters (from what Oliver understood the last bit had been added when Percy took the job.) was laid up in his bed, that wouldn't be a good thing.

Or else it'd be oddly convenient.

And yet he noticed Jones and Malarkey talking to some girls in the lobby and claiming they could show them magic tricks. Sure, Oliver knew they were just trying to get into the girls' knickers, but if they didn't keep it down they'd get fined for mentioning magic around Muggles.

Ugh.

He was starting to sound like Perfect Percy, as Fred and George had called their brother back in school. Speak of the twins, next time he had some days off he was going to have to go and visit their shop. They'd promised him some choice tricks at a discount price.

He reached into his pocket and took out his key card. The first time he'd gotten one of these electronic things he'd been entranced for hours, wondering how Muggles had managed to get this kind of magic. He'd been pretty embarrassed when the coach had explained it to him…

He had to admit, for people without magic, Muggles got along pretty well.

The doctor was inside, sitting next to a frazzled looking Percy on his couch turned bed. He arched an eyebrow at the woman and she smiled pleasantly.

"Well, I told you I'd be back to check on you and your boyfriend." He opened his mouth to correct her, but she was on her feet and pulling things out of her bag and had effectively forgotten his presence. "Now, Percy was it, I don't want you trying to do too much too fast, so we're going to start out with soup and tea. I hope you don't mind beef, my son were buy last night and ate me out of chicken broth and then didn't leave so much as a thank you note."

She sighed as she pulled a bowl of steaming liquid from her purse, followed by a mug of what Oliver assumed was tea. Oliver wondered what spell she had to keep everything from becoming one big sopping mess, but decided not to ask. Instead he walked over to the couch and sat on the arm. Percy looked at him and Oliver couldn't help but wince slightly.

One of Percy's eyes had a path on it, because it would be very sensitive to light for some time, his lip was split and the entire left side of his face was purple and puffy.

Percy must have caught the gesture, because he looked away and closed his eyes. Oliver frowned, wanting to say something but not knowing what in the world he could possibly say. He didn't want to make Percy feel any worse than he possibly did, but Oliver had never been one of those…'good with words and comfort' types of people.

He didn't get long to think about it, because he noticed the woman was glaring at him. He shrank back a little bit, reminded of his grandmother just a little bit too much for his liking.

She walked over and pushed the tea into Percy's hands. "You drink that now and when you're done Mr. Wood here will give you the soup. I have things to which I must attend and I'm sure you don't want some over-protective old woman hanging around you two." She patted his shoulder in a gesture that seemed to be soothing, without being pitying. "I'll be back in a few hours."

Percy managed a small smile, which she returned, before gathering her things and walking out, closing the door softly behind her.

Oliver blinked, swallowing some, then held up his bag, trying not to feel overly silly. "I bought you the painkillers she told me to get. The guy said they had a lot of side effects so someone would have to watch you."

Percy nodded, fingers wrapping around the mug tightly. "Maybe Penny will."

"Oh." Oliver said then sighed. 'That was quite deep and meaningful Wood, what next? I should never open my mouth…ever.' "I hadn't thought you were still together."

He couldn't keep the disapproval from his tone and hated himself for it…it had been a stupid thing to say. Percy wouldn't be the first guy in the world to have the pretty wife and perfect family at home, while 'enjoying the company of other men' when his wife wasn't around.

Still, Oliver had to admit it made him…uneasy. …Okay, he thought it was a horrible cowardly thing to do, but who was he to judge what anyone else-

"Aren't." Percy said, blowing on his tea. "Married Flint. Two years."

Oliver squinted at him. "You married Flint?"

Percy dropped his mug, which bounced on the carpeted floor but didn't splash them, and stated at him, eye as wide as a saucer and seemingly on the verge of taking leave from his head. (Oliver wanted to kick himself for noticing that without his glasses on, Percy's eyes were a very clear blue, with gray flecks, which he found attractive.) Oliver bent down and grabbed up the mug.

The moment it was upright it refilled with tea. Oliver had to confess that was a very handy trick.

"Sorry."

"Its okay. And I take it that's a no?"

Percy nodded, drawing his legs up to his chest. A stray lock of hair fell into his face and Oliver wanted to reach up and tuck it behind his ear and damn his Gryffindor loyalty straight to hell. Sometimes he really wished he could care just a little bit less about people.

"So Penny married Flint. Weird. I never say Flint as the marrying type…mostly I never thought there'd be a woman that des…umm…" He trailed off and looked back at the wet spot in the carpet. The pink was now turning brown from the tea and he realized it would probably stain. Cleaning spells had been another area Oliver had been pretty deficient in.

He couldn't believe he'd been about to say that Penelope must have been desperate to marry Flint. He really should just stop talking; there was no way he was making things better by talking.

Percy's lips quirked. "She loves him. I don't get it."

"I doubt she gets it." Oliver said, glad to have been given an easy out. "You're still friends then? If she'd be willing too look after you?"

Percy nodded and tilted his head back. Oliver noticed the bruises along his throat and tilted his head off to the side, for the first time realizing how short and to the point Percy's words had been. In school Percy had always been one for long, drawn out explanations and any story he told had to have the whole background and events leading to it told first. Three word statements weren't his usual fare.

"It hurts to talk." Oliver said, frowning. Percy looked down at him, blinking. "You, it hurts you to talk. Your throat." Oliver saw how Percy's hand twitched, like he wanted to tough his throat but didn't want Oliver to see him do it. "You should have said something."

"It's fine."

"I may not be a healer, but I'm not an idiot either." Oliver said, standing up then looking at the bag the pills were in. He wondered how Percy was going to swallow those if just speaking hurt.

"I didn't-"

"Oh, shut it." Oliver said, handing him his mug. Percy took it and frowned, looking a little…well, Oliver wasn't sure how to describe the look. It was…open. Vulnerable. Worried. He looked away hurriedly, not wanting to see Percy looking at him like that. "I can live without being talked to, you know, I'm not that hard up for amusement. Last night notwithstanding."

He glanced back, hoping the look was gone and finding that it was. Thank god.

For a moment Percy looked startled, then his lips twitched again. Who knew, Percy Weasley had a sense of humor. Oliver sighed and stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his pants, then looked around. They had to leave the hotel the next morning. They had a short break coming up after their next game in Ireland, two weeks. It was mandatory; otherwise Oliver wouldn't have bothered with it.

He had a healthy chunk of off time just sitting around. He hadn't thought Quidditch players got vacation time, since they were technically off in the Off-season, but they did. A week a year, but Oliver never too advantage. Honestly, what the hell was he going to do, sit around with his parents?

Was there anything more pathetic?

Oliver shook his head to clear it, not sure why he was even thinking about such things. He'd track down Penny later on, after Percy got a little more rest, and see about her checking in on him. He'd go to Ireland, play his game, then go home and sleep for two weeks.

And he probably would only see Percy in the papers, until they got together for their twenty-year reunion. It wasn't like they were friends or had anything in common.

Just two pathetic guys with identical secrets they couldn't let out for the sake of image.

He sighed, and Percy arched an eyebrow at him. He waved off the other man's questioning gaze easily. "I've got practice in a few hours, so I'll have to leave you alone."

"It's fine." Percy said, ignoring his baleful look. "I'll be out of your hair soon."

"Sure." Oliver sad then nodded towards the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower." Percy nodded and, with one last glance at the redhead, shuffled into the bathroom and pulled the door shut after him.

He turned on the water and stripped off his clothes. He was still a little sore from the last game, but it wasn't anything serious. Just the usual aches and pains. He'd learned to live with them back in school. Quidditch had always been a huge part of his life though and, contrary to popular belief, it wasn't his entire life.

Well, it was now. But that too was for the sake of an image. He didn't have a wife or kids or a girlfriend or even girls that he took out, so when people asked him about his relationships he lied and said he didn't have time. If he'd wanted to make time, he could have.

He just…hadn't. Couldn't.

He rubbed at a sudden kink in his shoulder, trying to ease it. Massage was one of the areas he'd excelled in (And he had a few guys in his past that would happily attest to the fact. He may have been discreet and trying to abstain, but he wasn't a total prude…) so he didn't have to bother the doctor with all the same stuff the other guys did. (Which was probably why he didn't know her name.)

Normally the pressure combined with the warm, bordering on hot, water would have the kink eased out in moments, but he found he couldn't relax. He rotated his shoulder for a moment then leaned against the tiles with a groan.

He was stressed out. He hadn't even known he was stressed out, but he was. His muscle aches always got worse and harder to handle when something was on his mind. He figured it was his subconscious' way of telling him he had stuff he needed to sort out. It was very effective.

He bit his lip and reached for one of the little bottles of shampoo the hotel provided, when a dull thud made him freeze. This was followed with thick silence and Oliver, deciding that he was better off being cautious, got out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door, poking his head out of the bathroom.

He didn't see Percy at first and took a few steps out. He doubted Percy could have gotten more than a few steps on his own, considering how swollen his foot had been. He was proven right when he got around the couch and found Percy sitting not three steps away, clutching his foot and looking somewhere between anger and crying.

Percy jumped when he touched his shoulder and glanced up. Unshed tears made his eye misty, but the redhead blinked furiously; clearly not wanting Oliver to see how much pain he was in.

That was the Infamous Weasley Pride in effect. Oliver didn't mind, as long as he wasn't exposed to the even more famous Weasley Temper, he figured he had nothing to worry about. He reached down and helped Percy to his feet then gestured for the redhead to lean on him and take weight off of the swollen foot.

"I'm not sure what you were aiming for but on the grounds that you hurting yourself more isn't something that I would consider productive, I think back to the bedroom would be our best bet."

Percy didn't say anything and, the fact he'd told him to shut it slipping his mind for an instant, he looked down at the slightly shorter man (Not much shorter of course, as Oliver had been the only person taller than Percy when they graduated, and that was only because of a last minute growth spurt.) to find Percy was bright red and staring at his chest.

Oliver swallowed, trying not to blush himself.

There was that whole, he wasn't wearing any clothes element to consider, now that he considered it. He was pretty sure he could hold both his towel and Percy up though…he was hoping anyway.

They walked, slowly much to Oliver's dismay, back to the bedroom and Percy sat down heavily. The blush was gone and now he just looked tired and upset. Oliver hovered by the doorway for a moment while Percy got situated, wondering if now was one of those moments when a person was supposed to say something or do something, in order to make the other person feel better.

He wasn't sure about things like deep, poignant moments…

Then Percy looked up at him and whatever moment there may have been, Oliver had the presence of mind to know it was long gone by now. He slipped out of the room quickly and headed back to the bathroom.

All of a sudden he felt very uncomfortable. He'd shared a room with the guy for seven years, had slept all of five feet away from him through all of those awkward puberty moments, and now he was uncomfortable.

Figured.