I Told You I Don't Care
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Chapter Three
Would You Find it In Your Heart
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Dumbledore left and, after telling Percy and Draco where they lived, Oliver and Ron Apparated back to their London flat. It wasn't anything fancy, but it had two bedrooms so hopefully no fights would break out . With nary a word to each other the two men began to get things in order for their latest endeavor.
Ron began to cancel chess matches, claiming family issues. Oliver wrote a letter to his coach as well as the head of the European Quidditch League explaining why he had to take the rest of the season off. True it wasn't much of an explanation beyond 'family problems' but it was the only one he could give.
Odds were their sponsors and bosses, respectively, would consult with each other and realize they were having relationship problems and let it be. While their relationship, sham that it was, wasn't a public thing those who they regularly associated with were aware of it.
Sometimes Ron was almost sad it was nothing but a big lie. Oliver was a fantastic bloke and any guy would be lucky to have him. Handsome, funny, fun to be with, sweet, patient and that was just off the top of Ron's head. And great with his lips.
But, after three years of killing people together, any spark that may have been there was smothered by mutual guilt, shame, and the fact they were so used to lying they doubted they could have a truthful relationship.
"Have you ever wondered what we're going to do when all this fighting is done?" Oliver asked as he hauled his things into Ron's bedroom. Ron looked up from his calendar and cocked his head to the side just so. Oliver knew him and his movements so well Ron wouldn't have to speak a single word to communicate.
"I mean…when we have to tell everyone 'surprise, it's a huge joke? We've never so much as shagged let alone were in love?'" An arched eyebrow here. "Those few times aside I mean. Not that I want to tell your brothers about those…they're right scary blokes you know."
"I know."
The Weasley's were old-fashioned in many ways. Ron had been raised on the ideal of 'no sex before marriage'. While his family sort of accepted that he and Oliver were most likely shagging and had no plans to marry, finding out that they had shagged without a relationship period was going to make someone lose a few vital limbs.
Someone being Oliver and, as he valued all of his various limbs and vital organs, he didn't fancy such a confrontation.
"I suppose I never thought about it." Ron said slowly. "I guess I figured we'd kind of die before the war was over and never have to worry about it."
Oliver rolled his eyes and went back to his moving. Ron watched him for a moment then glanced at is calendar again. It was a magical item so the moment his scheduled opponents removed him from their plans the matches vanished from the calendar. He was already cleared for the next three months so he had nothing to worry about. He shut the book and stood up.
Oliver was putting some of his books onto his bookshelf. The older man spared him a glance as he flopped onto his bed.
"I suppose if we don't die we'll make up a story about our breakup and never mention the fact that we've killed more people than most Death Eaters dare to dream of. You'll end up the first openly gay Quidditch star and snag a guy who understands why you're so passionate and obsessive about what you do. He'll be a dreamer so he can balance out all of the logic ridden plays and moves in that brain of yours and maybe be willing toconsider that big family you crave so much."
Oliver smiled slightly. They knew each other well after all of this time and Ron knew without asking that he was right about what Oliver wanted so far.
"And I suppose I'll finally get over Harry and Hermione and find a nice person who understands why I love fairy stories and sparks when I kiss them. And then I'll get married and make my mum happy."
Oliver made a show of clapping to show his approval and Ron chuckled before taking in the mess Oliver had made of his room. He rolled his eyes. It wasn't that he was a compulsive neat freak or anything, he just liked to be able to see his floor on occasion. He didn't think that was a horrible thing or an off the wall request.
But he also understood it wasn't that Oliver was a slob or anything; he was just very sentimental and liked to keep anything that seemed to be symbolic. Unfortunately for Ron that seemed to be everything.
"You're a pig Oliver."
"Oink."
Ron made a face then tilted his head off to the side again. "So what do you think of this Ol? Percy and Malfoy…working for the Order. Probably our main sources of information for all this time."
"I think its totally and completely buggered." Oliver deadpanned. "But what isn't these days? This is life, you know? Why try and figure it out anymore?"
Ron nodded slowly and laid back to stare up at the rather bland cream colored ceiling. He'd wanted to paint this room once, when they first moved in, but now it seemed he never had the time or the energy to do it. He was barely into his twenties and already he was possessed by a weariness that seeped right into his bones.
Oliver was right. He'd spent a lot of time wondering why. Why him, why Oliver, why them, together, for this job and these missions and he always came up just as empty as he started. It just was the way it was and there was nothing anyone, least of all the two of them, could ever do to change that.
And thus the pointlessness of wondering about the future, in his honest opinion. Things would go the way they would with or without their say-so and any plans or dreams they were foolish enough to build would be dashed.
It happened time and time again and Ron was entirely too…tired to believe that things would ever change. He and Oliver would die in this strange little life of theirs and no one would ever realize that there was more to them then a big dumb jock and a loud and slightly anti-social chess player who happened to be sleeping together.
And of course that was the point in their perfectly crafted little scam wasn't it? To draw everyone in to a surface image and not risk being found out or have anyone suspect that they may just be more than what they appear to be. Let Harry and Hermione be the beautiful faces associated with this fight and never let the likes of them be seen, with dirt under their nails and bags under their eyes.
They were destined to be forgotten. Or perhaps, much worse, never to be known at all.
He felt the bed dip and turned to look at Oliver who stretched out next to him. They laid next to each other for sometime, a companionable silence filling the apartment. And Ron let himself think back to how he'd gotten tangled up in all of this subterfuge to begin with. (For reasons he didn't want to get into Ron really enjoyed the word subterfuge. He'd looked it up a few years back and while he never used it out loud he liked to think it. It made him feel a bit smarter than most people suspected he was.)
"Ronald."
He blinked at the man addressing him, opened his mouth but only a squeak came out. The man actually smirked at him as he slid into the chair across from him with a sort of grace Ron wouldn't have thought he could possess. Mainly because he was supposed to be dead.
"I…you. Dead."
"Quite." He gestured for a waitress and quietly ordered a cup of tea. She nodded and walked off. "You've been well it seems. I understand you beat Price for the European championship last month."
Ron nodded and tried to push aside the absurdity of small talk with a dead man. After all, stranger things had happened hadn't they? The man nodded as well and leaned forward.
"I'll make this simple for you. Dumbledore wants you to use your new station as Chess Master to help the order." Ron's heart clenched for a moment and he bit his bottom lip. This was, really, what he'd always wanted right? A chance to fight besides Harry and make the world good again and put down the bad guys?
Right?
"I…how?"
"Your station comes with the reasonability of traveling the country, and occasionally the world, for your matches. That ability would be useful to us when it comes time to check on our less…trusted members."
"You want me to spy on the order?"
"We want to you identify and rectify any leaks or betrayers."
"Rectify." He repeated softly. The word caused chills to run up his spin and he wrapped his arms around himself as if trying to warm up. He wasn't really cold though. "You would want me to…I mean. You know what I mean."
"I have a glimmer of an idea." He agreed before holding up a hand to order him silent. He took his tea from the waitress, who took a moment to flash Ron a smile before sauntering off with her hips swaying in a manner that would have been intriguing under different circumstances, then turned back to him. "I didn't say it was an easy or pleasant task. Or one you can ever discuss or garner fame from because you can never tell anyone. But it is an important one that not just anyone can do. Even your friend Potter was passed up."
And that struck a cord in him and judging by the man's face he knew it. He knew Ron's weakness, his one horrible vice, that thing that sometimes gnawed away at his mind and made him wonder what kind of friend he truly was.
Deep inside he wanted to be better than Harry. More known, more worthy, more effective, the hero, the one that got the girl (or guy), the one that everyone knew by name… He craved to show Harry up just once.
He'd just been played, manipulated, and he found that he really didn't care that much.
"Okay."
Ron snorted and turned over, curling up against Oliver. Had he really ever been that stupid? It seemed so long ago when he, a twenty year old kid who'd just gotten his first real taste of fame, agreed to become a killer. So he could be better than Harry.
He hadn't realized until much later that it was because he was worse than Harry he'd been chosen. Because his soul was darker, because his rage and anger burned brighter and ran much deeper, because he was expendable and his innocence meant nothing to anyone. Harry needed to be fresh faced and still believe in the goodness of people so, when this was all over, he could stand up and help rebuild things without the taint of blood on him.
But not him. He could drown in blood, choke on the scent and the taste and die drenched in it, and that was okay because when it was over he wasn't really needed.
He could do this because he understood that sometimes things really were black and white and Harry loved those shades of gray. Sometimes you couldn't forgive and forget, you couldn't spare a person's life because it was the right thing to do. Some people just had to die. Some people were just evil and some were just good.
Fuck the motivation behind it because life wasn't a stupid two-dimensional novel and what a person was thinking or feeling or needed meant nothing when the lives of many were at risk. The why was meaningless in the grand scheme of things and Ron was oh-so content to never know what made these people he'd known forever change.
He was pretty sure he didn't want to know because the 'why' may just drive him out of his skull and he thinks he rather needed to be inside of his skull for the time being and all impending insanity will have to be put on hold for the time being.
Oliver's hand curled in his hair. "You think too much Ron."
And of course Oliver had to be the same otherwise he wouldn't be here. Not in this apartment, not in this bed, not holding him and keeping him from flying off of the edge of a very high cliff. He never imagined he'd be dependent upon another but at least it was Oliver, who understood his why and had many whys of his own.
"Never about anything important." Never about anything he could, or would, change. And so life went on.
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"Have I mentioned how much I object to sharing a flat with your idiot brother and his boyfriend for any length of time, greater good be damned?"
"Once or twice. In the past five minutes." Percy drawled in a perfect imitation of the smaller man. If Draco was at all amused he certainly didn't show it. He just sat back in his chair with a huff and crossed his legs at the ankle. "I think you're overreacting just slightly."
"Yeah, well, you're an idiot." Draco muttered. "Your brother and I have hated each other from the very moment we encountered each other and I see no reason to go messing with a good arrangement." Percy just smiled and the blond sulked, looking petulant. "You can't very well want to go either. I seem to recall you fancying Oliver Wood for the past decade or so. It can't be pleasing that he's boffing-"
"A childhood crush is hardly a reason to begrudge my brother happiness." Percy interrupted. Draco eyed him for a moment then laughed.
"You want to ring his scrawny little neck don't you?"
"Yes." Percy said as he fell onto the couch across from the blond. "I most certainly do. I spent most of my teenage life living in fear of my parents finding out I fancied men, even created an elaborate lie of a life with Penny and then Ron not only gets the guy I always wanted but our parents want them to get married. It's infuriating."
He took a deep breath and put a hand over his eyes. "And still not a reason to get in the way of Ron being happy or try to make the next few weeks, or months, impossible."
"Bugger that, it's an excellent reason. I say you call the coot-"
"You really shouldn't call him that."
"And tell him we've changed our mind. We simply can't work under these conditions." Draco finished, pointedly ignoring the redhead. Or at least he tried to ignore him. It was hard to do when Percy was smirking at him like that. "What?"
"Nothing." His face slipped back into its usual faintly amused mask. "I sent in my letter of resignation. Sandusky was very upset to lose his 'number one guy'."
Draco's lips quirked. "It's so nice to be loved."
"Even if it is by a sociopath." Percy sighed dramatically then peered around the small apartment almost sadly. This had been his place since he'd moved out of his parents home, nearly eight year ago, and he had to admit he didn't like the idea of leaving it. He had been really proud of himself for being able to save up the money, on his own, to get his own place and pay the rent every month.
Percy was far from wealthy in any sense of the word but what he made with the Ministry had been more than enough for someone who was used to hand-me-downs and second hand things. And now…well, he didn't have a job or his apartment would be inhabited by someone else by the beginning of the month.
It was quite the blow to his pride.
He said as much to Draco when the younger man asked why he was sulking like that, but only got a slightly bewildered blink it return. He shook his head, smiling wryly.
"Right, I forgot I'm speaking to a man who still lives with his mother."
Draco sniffed. "Not of my own choice. My mother wants to keep me close is all."
"Right."
"It's not my fault my mum loves me."
Percy's eyebrow quirked. "Love is it? And here I thought she was just over-possessive and wanted to make sure you never got away from her."
"That's what I said." Draco said, arching an eyebrow. "Weren't you listening?"
Percy laughed lightly before leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. Draco really was one of the most infuriating people he'd ever had the pleasure of encountering. Their friendship was an unlikely one, founded out of the need to check all of the information coming to the Order for accuracy. They got together once every few days and 'cross referenced' their material. What checked out when to Dumbledore and what didn't was put on the back burner.
Because of that Percy had a small glimmer of an idea to what was coming next. Lucius Malfoy intended to get out of Azkaban, where he'd been since Draco and Ron's fifth year, and challenge Voldemort for power. The problem, in Percy's mind at least, was why they cared if they were against Lord Voldemort or Lucius.
But who was he to question Dumbledore's motives. He'd been following the man since Sandusky had taken the position of Minister and now was hardly the time to back out.
Still, Draco was right. He wasn't eager to work with his brother and his brother's lover. It wasn't a matter of lingering feelings for Oliver, Percy liked to think himself beyond such petty things, but the fact Percy had become very accustomed to be alone, aside from his occasional meetings with Draco or Dumbledore. He wasn't sure how he would handle being close to family, who'd he avoided for the better part of a decade, or so close to people who were…together.
It had been a very, very, long time since Percy had been close to anyone in a more than friendly manner. So long, in fact, that he couldn't rightly remember when it had been.
It was quite depressing. Especially when his only companion with Draco, who was something of a serial manwhore. Not that Percy was judging or anything…well. Maybe a little bit. He didn't understand how Draco could be so casual about those he took to his bed.
Then again Draco didn't understand how he could be so uptight so perhaps they were even in that respect. He cracked open his eyes and looked over at the blond who was staring out of the window, eyes unguarded for a rare moment. Percy smiled.
He did like Draco. He was like a younger brother, only less annoying that Ron or the Twins had ever been when he'd lived at him. He had a personality that didn't make Percy wish he'd never been born at least.
"Stop staring at me Weasley."
He smiled again. "Sorry."
Draco glanced over at him. "Don't be strange. I'll need you to balance out your brother's stupidity."
"Stop that. He's a pain but he is my brother."
Draco arched an eyebrow loftily. "There are ways to take care of that you know."
Percy groaned. He could feel a headache coming on already.
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Don't worry about the 'dead' guy, he'll be back later. Feel free to take guesses at who it is though.
Didon: Ron be a killer. Though he doesn't like to be called a killer, he's sensitive about that sort of thing. Hopefully this answered some of your questions.
Princess: It was too cute to last wasn't it? Only not really so cute, when you consider things… Eh. This chapter didn't have a lot of action, but it explained relationship type…things.
Mechante: I do love Percy. He reminds me of my boyfriend only slightly…more so. He's mellowed a bit, but I suspect that's Draco's influence. My brain is a strange and twisted place, full of…boxing rings. Fluffy stories tend to get knocked around, between me and you. It's sad. Hope you enjoyed the batter.
Cherre: Moi, an ego? Surely you jest. :P Ron and Ollie do have a strange cool job, depending on how you view it.
Ms Bluesky: Ah, I can assure you this is plot driven. I like writing fluffy things, but I love a plot to occupy my mind with even more.
Lady: Your wish be my command. I try to go for creative things, or at least new spins on old ideas, and its always nice that people see that.
