A/N Well, those of you who follow my writing may well have concluded that I only ever really get down to writing when I should be doing something else… Today, being Sunday, I should be writing an essay on Time Travel for philosophy tomorrow, but quite frankly, I'm very bored and soooo not in the mood. So I thought I'd get another part up of this. Thankyou for the lovely reviews, they are very very welcome. And just a small aside to the reviewer who asked… Any confusions regarding Hermione's role in this will be cleared up soon…

Angel Interceptor x

Part Three

"Morning sweetheart,"

Oliver opened one eye to find Percy sitting over him, gently playing with his hair. The sun was streaming through the curtains.

"Mmmm," Oliver smiled lazily, "I could wake up every morning to this, you know."

Percy shrugged, "So why don't you?" He dropped a kiss onto Oliver's forehead before snuggling down, pulling the duvet over the two of them. His arm snaked around Oliver's chest and pulled him closer, "I've said it before; why don't you move in here? It's nearer to the training ground. It's practical, it's cheaper. We don't have to pay two rents."

"We apparate to work," Oliver pointed out, relishing the contact as his legs intertwined with Percy's, "It doesn't make a scrap of difference where we start from."

"Stop making excuses." His fingers were gently exploring Oliver's bare chest, his lips dropping brief kisses across his shoulders.

"What would the neighbours say? More to the point, what would your parents say? Your Mum already thinks I'm holding you back in your quest to find the new Mrs Weasley." Oliver's hands covered Percy's, pressing their bodies together.

Percy shook his head, nuzzling the other boy's neck as he did so, muttering, "No she doesn't, don't be ridiculous."

He leant back into Percy's soft touch, murmuring "In the nicest possible way, she does. She's desperate to have you all settled down and married. You're the only one who's not sorted out." His fingers squeezed gently.

"What about Ginny?"

"Why on earth do you think that Harry has got an open invitation to stay at your house?"

Percy wrinkled his nose. That was something he hadn't considered. But now he came to think about it, Molly was always dispatching them on errands; buying milk, de-gnoming, and a bit of gardening in the paddock. Seems there was more to his mother than he'd previously thought, there was a definite skill in the matchmaking department there. Percy shifted slightly, his fingers sliding downwards. Percy felt Oliver's sharp intake of breath and decided that this was the perfect time for a change of tack, "I have two bedrooms. If you're that worried about the neighbours, you can pretend you're the lodger." He shrugged, his fingers grazing Oliver's boxers, "Though I'm not entirely sure why you feel we have to lie."

Oliver shook his head, pulling away. "Sometimes you can be so bloody obtuse, you know that?"

"What's wrong?"

"I'm going to make coffee."

*

Oliver was sat on the kitchen windowsill, the cafetiere on his lap. The street outside was uncommonly quiet. It was still early, and to be honest, Sunday morning in Percy's area of London was never a hive of activity anyway.

"Be careful, you'll spill." Percy was leaning against the kitchen door, having pulled on a pair of checked pyjama bottoms.

Smiling slightly, Oliver shook his head. "Percy, your pyjamas have a crease up the front. Please, please don't tell me you iron your pyjamas."

Oliver was gratified to see a slight blush snake up Percy's face.

"Doesn't everybody?" he mumbled stiffly.

Oliver shook his head again, unable to stifle his grin, "Nope." He raised an eyebrow, "Only old people. And perhaps people who are too frustrated to live a normal life." He shot a sidelong glance across the kitchen.

"Frustrated?" Percy licked his lips, "So, Oliver, you're going to put the coffee down, come over here and ease my frustrations then?"

"Percy Weasley, does your mind permanently reside in the gutter, or does it come out sometimes for holidays?"

Percy shrugged. "It's pretty much there all the time." He raised an eyebrow, "Occasionally it has a Tuesday off though…"

Oliver slipped off the counter, "Remind me to avoid you on Tuesdays then, sweetheart." His lips grazed Percy's, his hands exploring the boy's bare back.

"So, basically what you're saying," Percy mumbled, his hands in Oliver's hair, his body pressed tightly up against Oliver's, "…what you're saying is that you only want me for sex…"

Oliver's hands stilled, his mouth pulling away from Percy's. "Stop putting words in my mouth, Perce." He sighed, running his fingers through his mussed hair. "I'll pour the coffee out."

Percy shook his head, "What on earth is wrong with you? One minute you're fine, the next minute you're off. It was only a joke, Ol. What's going on?"

Oliver blinked. An uncomfortable silence filled the kitchen.

            Finally, "Nothing."

            "Don't give me that. I know you too well." He folded his arms.

            "We're not at school anymore, you can't tell me what to do, Perce."

            Percy waggled an eyebrow, "I thought you liked it when I got strict…"

            "I'm serious."

            Percy sighed, muttering, "So was I." He got the milk out of the fridge.

            Oliver passed him the cafetiere, "We're not children any more. We've got responsibilities, positions to uphold."

            "What has this got to do with us?" Percy demanded, getting cups out of the cupboard behind him. Oliver's was big and blue with Puddlemere United emblazoned across the side. Percy's had been a gift from work, 'You don't have to be mad to work here, but it helps'.

            "It has everything to do with us, if you would only take your blinkers off!" Oliver held up his mug, "Puddlemere United. They pay me to play Quidditch, and I do it really well. I love it, in fact. But you tell me how many gay Quidditch players you can name."

            Percy smiled, taking his coffee. "You can be the first."

            Oliver shook his head, "I don't want to be the first. I was never a trendsetter. I like to follow that crowd. More importantly though, how many gay members of the Ministry can you name?"

            "I don't mind being the first, even if you do."

            "Except you won't be the first; people have been thrown out of office for admitting that they've been involved with a man."

            "Not for years," Percy sighed obstinately, sitting down.

            "Why do you refuse to see it how it really is?"

            "And why do you only ever see the negative?"

            "I'm going for a walk."

            "Fine, run away."

            *

            "Sorry." Oliver was leaning against the bookcase, a rueful smile on his face. "Forgive me?"

            Percy sighed, and put the newspaper down. "You've been gone ages. I was worried."

            "I know. I'm sorry."

            "I cooked us dinner."

            Oliver blushed, "Is it salvageable?"

            Percy shook his head, smiling slightly, "No. But that's more to do with my complete inability to cook rather than you not being here when it was ready."

            "Funny how you're clever enough to be the youngest head of department ever to hit the ministry, but you can't even boil an egg without setting something on fire."

            "Eggs are very difficult, I'll have you know."

            Oliver smiled. "I know. Difficult buggers, eggs." He stilled, suddenly serious.

            Percy bit his lip, staring across the room at Oliver. "Will we ever agree on this?" he asked softly.

            "I don't know." Oliver took his hands out of his pockets, and sighed. "I love you, Perce."

            "I know."

            "Sometimes I think that you don't think I do." He grinned, replaying the sentence in his head.

            Percy smiled gently. "I know you do. I've always known."

            "I'm scared that it isn't going to be enough, Perce. I'm worried that this is going to rip us apart." He sank down into a huge paisley armchair, his face strained.

            "It won't."

            "I don't think I have your optimism."

            Percy shrugged, suddenly scared. "It isn't optimism. I love you, you love me. We're not doing anything wrong; we're not breaking any laws. We can get through this."

            "Me and you – our relationship – it is no-one else's business but ours. I don't understand why you suddenly want to bring it into the public domain."

            "I'm sick of lying, Ol." He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm so tired of lying to people. If people ask me if I'm in a relationship, I want to say yes. I'm so proud of you, Oliver. I love everything about you, and I want people to know that you're mine. What's so wrong with that?"

            Oliver smiled softly, "Nothing, in principle." He bit his lip, "But everything in reality. Who is going to take us seriously once this all gets out? I'll never play for the first team again, and you'll never move out of International Cooperation. Is that what you really want?"

            "No; of course I don't want to compromise you. But I just think that we deserve more than this…"

            "We're never going to agree, are we?"

            "We'll find some middle ground."

            "You sound very sure, Perce."

            "What other option is there?" Percy patted the sofa, "Come over here, lets not think about it for a while."

            Oliver curled up on the sofa, his head in Percy's lap. Above him, Percy gently stroked his hair, curling his fingers in and out. Oliver closed his eyes, a sudden burst of fear flying through him. He couldn't bear the idea of not having this anymore, of not being able to love Percy and have him love back. Terrified, he clung harder to the other boy, feeling Percy's grip tighten on him.

'Please don't let anything tear us apart…'