Chapter Five: Moochers
Wednesday, October 6th (11:12am)
Flat 3-B, Puddlemere Estates
Oliver never remembered dreams, the night of October 5th allowing no exceptions. What he did remember, vaguely, was waking up and turning off the phone's ringer at some point during the night. He also remembered turning off the alarm and pressing the snooze button repeatedly before he found a better solution by slamming the clock into the nightstand drawer. It wasn't until a loud CRACK! jolted him up from his bed that he realized he may-have-just-somewhat-kind-of-accidentally slept in longer than he'd intended.
Dizzy and disoriented, he stood beside the bed now, only in his shorts, his eyes barely open as he surveyed the room. When no suspect shadows appeared in the darkness, he raced into the hallway and towards the kitchen, touching the walls for support and stopping in the few rooms along the way that would indicate the source of the Apparition.
He regained his sensibilities only as he approached the end of the hallway, a part of his mind reminding him that he was expecting Percy today and, considering his attitude towards his alarm clock, the 'intruder' may just be him.
And Oliver was only in his shorts.
His feet tried to stop just before the kitchen but failed, instead skidding on the mat and flying into the kitchen and onto the floor, landing headfirst and flat on his stomach.
"Classy," a heavy American drawl remarked.
Oh, please let that be Henry. Please let that be Henry alone, minus Dave and – good Lord! - minus Percy! Oliver felt the initial shock of what'd occurred slowly set into his body - the tingling of pain in his knees, the burns on his hands from the hall mat, the loss of several layers of skin from his chest. Or at least, the feeling of such a loss. In the few seconds on the floor, he tried to compose himself. What he needed was a few moments alone with a few undignified yelps and time to let him master the pain without movement. What he did instead was put on a brave face and tried to ignore the pain and the fact his ass was high in the air, chancing a glance up.
Henry was standing above him, holding a teapot in one hand and a teacup in the other, looking down at Oliver with a slightly bemused expression, as though he were a proud parent watching a child at play. "I'll assume you thought it was too early for Percy to be here? 'Cause if this is how the British greet their new houseguests, I've been missing out."
Oliver's turned his head back down and he felt his entire body seemingly melt into the floor, letting out a heavy groan into the concrete that was certain to be heard by the occupants of the suite below him.
At least Percy isn't around. Thank goodness for small favors!
"Henry, I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop looking at Oliver's ass. I'm going to get jealous!"
With a hiss, Oliver turned his head sharply in the other direction. From his (painful) position on the floor, he saw Dave's bottom half sticking out of an opened fridge door, his own ass moving to a tuneless whistle that he only just burst into.
Oliver turned his head back to Henry, looking up and asking cautiously, "It's just you two, right?"
"Right, Prince Charming," Henry quipped, setting down the teapot and teacup, and offering Oliver a hand up.
Oliver allowed himself to be slowly pulled up by Henry's strength and, once he was steady on his feet (albeit leaning against a wall), he found energy to bellow out, "What the hell are you two doing here now?"
Dave stuck his head out of the fridge for a moment, appraising Oliver's appearance before turning back. "Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of an empty bed this morning. All things considered Ol, I think you should keep in mind that young love can be fleeting and a little attention to one's personal appearance can go a long way. Take for instance--"
"Dav-id," Henry gave his usual warning, passing Oliver a cup of tea with an apologetic look. "Sorry about this, Ol. We thought you'd be up by now, getting ready for Percy. Isn't he popping by soon?"
Oliver shrugged his shoulders and tried not to drop his cup with the pain that came over him. He gave Henry a large smile, trying to appear casual. "Percy? Sure, he'll be here after lunch. Is there anything I can help you guys with?"
Henry poured two more cups of tea, a gentle smile on his face. "I'm glad to hear that he won't be by for a bit. We were hoping to find you alone. We wanted to have a little chat with you about this whole thing."
Oliver rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the soreness. The pain of his comedic entry only furthered his tensions. He was too tired to care why his friends had chosen this moment on this particular day to come annoy him. Why couldn't they have knocked or at least, have arrived a little earlier, ensuring that he'd be up-and-about for Percy's arrival?
Speaking of which, you'd better hustle them along, Wood, his mind issued another pointed reminder. Not that it mattered to Oliver that Percy might see him in his shorts. But there is a certain etiquette that-- Oliver wobbled over to a barstool with his teacup and looked at his friends expectantly. "Let's have it, and let's have it fast."
"Funny you're still single with that attitude," Dave muttered.
Henry let out a heavy sigh, about to admonish his blunt friend once again. But Dave anticipated this move, quickly closing the fridge door with an armful of foods that Oliver knew weren't in his fridge yesterday. "Don't say a word, Oak. You can't say this isn't surprising, even to you. The entire world is caught up in Oliver' Wood's love life, and he decides to sleep for-? What? Twelve hours? Ol, you're in the news, the papers. You're what everyone along Diagon Alley's talking about. Your ears should be ringing!"
Surprisingly, Henry turned to Oliver instead of addressing Dave. "And really, you should have been up a little earlier to deal with the little things. You're not going to have an easy time of it."
"Obviously," Oliver muttered. He took another sip of his tea, trying to quell his annoyance. He knew that they would have to come up with a sort of game plan to cover their lies. But who was to say that 'they' meant all four of them, and not Percy and him alone? After all, Oliver reasoned, they were the ones who had to go through with it all.
He watched Henry and Dave exchange a look and winced. Evidently he hadn't done a good job hiding his annoyance. And as good as friends as they were, he couldn't find the patience to follow their advice. He hated the feeling of giving up control, something that he's had to live with since the Candy Cane interview. And now that Percy would be involved, he was given the opportunity to balance out Dave's hyper and critical nature, and Henry's paternal concern.
Oliver remained quiet, slowly draining his teacup as the kitchen was enveloped in an awkward silence. He then looked at his teammates pointedly (though, he admitted, without much credit considering he was almost naked) and opened his mouth, about to tell his friends exactly where they could go until this whole ordeal passed, when--
Is something tapping?
"I think that's the window. Sounds like an owl!" Dave said, rushing into the living room.
His scorn forgotten, Oliver turned to Henry, now puzzled. "How is that possible? My mail is screened from the fans."
Henry was finishing his own tea, smacking his lips. As he licked around the rim, he muttered, "I come here for the Quidditch, I stay for the tea... Oh, sorry Ol. Your mail is still screened, I'd imagine. It's probably just your family. Or Percy."
"Oh" was all Oliver said, but he spun around the stool and followed Dave into the living room. An owl? From Percy?
Dave quickly opened the window and let in Percy's owl, Hermes, taking a note from his hand. Oliver cooed and the owl snatched the note out of Dave's hand, flying across the room and landing on his shoulder. He took the note, throwing Dave a smug look before tearing it open, while his other hand ran over the owl's feathers, scratching lightly behind his ears. As though he sensed a more accommodating target, Hermes flew to Henry's shoulder, and he took the owl into the kitchen to (Oliver assumed) fed him some bits of toast.
As Oliver tore open the envelope, a warm familiarity came over him. It was a combination of security and friendship that made his heart swell, realizing that his best friend's owl would remember him, and come to him so freely even after their separation.
He skimmed the note.
Oliver-
Off at one o'clock. Is that time alright for arriving to your flat? Also, I'd like to see Henry and Dave with you, if that's possible. I've a few things to go over.
Regards,
Percy
Henry yelled out from the kitchen, "Well? What does it say?"
Oliver cleared his throat. "Percy's free at one. He wants to know if we all can be here when he arrives. Apparently, he has a few things to discuss."
Henry reappeared, the owl still on his shoulder with an entire piece of bread hanging out of his mouth. "That's great. We all have some issues to iron out. And Oliver, this is especially important for you. You're not going to believe the media outpour that--"
Oliver grabbed a pen, quickly writing 'See You Soon', and attaching it to Hermes leg. With a quick flick of the window latch, the owl was off again. He crumbled up Percy's note in his hand. It didn't say anything beyond what he'd told Henry and Dave, but he felt the childish desire to keep a part of his friendship with Percy private, as though he could draw a barrier between his friends and keep a part a Percy only for himself.
Which, he acknowledged, was petty and childish and somewhat inexplicable, but he wanted it regardless. And, as usual, went with his instincts first before questioning them.
Dave had been quiet for a few minutes but now he asked, "What did you say to him? Did you remember to--"
"None. Of. Your. Business." Oliver answered pointedly, only half-jokingly. Inside he felt a momentary triumph, and he tried to suppress a smirk as he turned and quickly walked down the hallway. In an overly casual voice, he said:
"Henry, would you and Dave mind going to Percy's place and having his things sent directly here? I know Percy would rather everything was supervised by, you know, friends. Take special care with Monty. Percy and I shall be back after one. Until then, watch where you Apparate when you arrive at his place!"
He quickly entered his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and then leaned against it.
"Felt good."
12:46pm, Puddlemere School for Witchcraft and Wizardry
The Main Hall
To his friends' credit, Oliver silently admitted, he wasn't expecting the barrage of media coverage that followed his luncheon with Percy. Sure, he'd been informed that the news hit the media almost immediately, and they'd done just as he suspected by relentlessly pursuing Percy's identity. Why, the phone calls from both their families the day before proved as such!
And yet, as Oliver had attempted to take a quick shower to some music, he wasn't prepared to hear a rundown of his Quidditch career on every muggle-wizard radio network. Nor was he prepared to see a manipulated photograph of him and Percy on the cover of the Daily Prophet (quite unflattering, he believed) shoved underneath his doorway. As he had waited for a piece of bread to toast, he flipped through the muggle television stations only to see that every wizard-oriented network was broadcasting some sort of talk show or fan interviews of Percy. Flashes of high school photographs would dance across the screen, all with poorly lit backgrounds (and bad haircuts!). Some of his old classmates (ex-friends) gave 'revealing' interviews of how they roomed together ALONE! for seven years.
To his horror, Percy's image was even displayed across the bottom of the CQN network screen with the headline: Breaking News.
Fans had begun to gather outside of his apartment building and, by the time he was ready to face the day (not soon enough!), they had begun a steady chant of "OL N PER-CY, OL N PER-CY."
And so it was with great relief that Oliver Apparated into Puddlemere School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, directly into the main corridor just outside of what was apparently the Great Hall.
"This place has nothing on Hogwarts security," he muttered, thankfully. One school pretty much looked like any other, and he turned towards the ascending staircase, confident that he'd find Percy quickly, when--
He felt a large hand on the small of his back. He turned around slowly (or am I being turned?), realizing that his easy entrance had been quickly discovered.
It occurred to him that one never loses the feeling of foreboding when they're in trouble in school.
But – there was no one in sight!
"Down here! Now, who the hell are you? No, don't answer! Follow me to the headmaster!"
Oliver stared. Standing at about three-feet tall, a man resembling his old Professor Flitwick gave him a stern look and jerked his finger around in no particular direction. He had long white hair and a beard, and wore crumpled clothing that was obviously too big on him.
"Er—I didn't mean to arrive like this," Oliver said meekly, trying to stand his ground. After all, he was a grown-up! Not that I feel like one… He pushed on bravely, ignoring the small man's critical stare. "I was just looking for one of your professors. Percy- er, Professor Weasley?"
The man snorted, his hands on his hips. "You and everyone else! The headmaster will deal with you!"
"No!" Oliver said, louder than he intended. He gave the small man a smile. "I'm his friend. Well, really more than that. I suppose. Er- Oliver. Oliver Wood. I just came to take him home."
The small man ran his gaze up and down Oliver's body, then reached into his pocket and took out a pair of folded glasses. He put them on his face, his eyes enlarging into the large, unnatural shape of pop-bottle bottoms.
"Holy brooms! You're-You're Oliver Wood!" The man started to rock on his feet excitedly, rubbing his hands together. "Oliver Wood, Oliver Wood! I can't believe it , I just can't believe it! To think that our dear Perce has gone all this time without mentioning that you and he were together. He's quite the little secret keeper, bless his soul! Why, I only had him over to my place for tea last week while we discussed the-- Oh, I'm Professor Flitwick, by the way. Professor Glen Flitwick. I daresay my brother at Hogwarts probably taught you! And –er, you've probably heard of me? Professor Weasley has mentioned me, yes?"
The professor's reaction was one that would normally make Oliver terribly uncomfortable; however, he was overcome with relief at not being sent to the headmaster's office after his school years, and he played along with Flitwick jovially. "Of course Percy's mentioned you! Why, it is my pleasure to finally meet you, sir."
"Glen. Call me Glen." The professor blushed, then gestured for Oliver to follow him. "Come with me, I'll take you to his class. He's probably just finishing up. Oh, I could just kick myself for not realizing you two were together. I mean, he talks about you often enough! I should recognize true love when I see it. But you understand, it's the mark of a skeptical generation. We tend to ignore…"
Did he just say… "Percy talks about me?" he couldn't stop himself from interrupting. Nor could he stop a large smile from spreading over his face, and he felt his ears warm. "Percy talks about me to you?"
"To everyone!" Flitwick said over his shoulder, motioning for him to keep up. "Quidditch is his thing."
"Thing?" Oliver tried to keep up with the scampering man ahead of him.
"You know, his thing. His hobby. Oh dear, how shall I explain? Professor Livingston may teach Ancient Runes but all she talks about is food. The meals she's eaten in different areas, what she's rated them. The students tell me the entire exam is about recipes. Professor Johnston teaches divination but all she talks of is the latest gossip in the papers. She's off her rocker, bless her. Incidentally your Percy has been trying to shake her all day! Let's see, where was I?" He paused. "Professor Smitty only talks about his children. All the time! And the poor man, hasn't seen hide-nor-hair of them in years but still, he talks and talks and talks. And you can't go anywhere with Professor Davies without hearing about his latest conquest. I just wish he'd be a little more discrete, is all." The professor muttered the last line under his breath, taking a sharp corner and stopping before a large door.
Oliver almost ran into him, stopping just in time. "And Percy talks about Quidditch all the time?"
"No, not all the time," Flitwick snorted, throwing Oliver a look over his shoulder. "And not all Quidditch. No, on second thought I would place him more in the literature category when he's around the other professors. He loves his books, that one, as do I. But he's young, and he identifies with the students well, so often they'll discuss Quidditch. He's a huge fan, so naturally we all think of it as--"
"His thing," Oliver finished. He scratched the back of his neck. He wasn't quite understanding this thing business but it wasn't too much of a surprise to hear that Percy enjoyed discussing Quidditch with his students. After all, they'd spent many a night discussing Quidditch in a darkened dorm room. It had been one of the many benefits to having the dorm room to themselves, and they'd taken advantage of their isolation since their first year together.
"You want me to tell him you're here?" Flitwick asked, hopefully. His hands were pressed together as he stared up at Oliver in open adoration.
"Thanks but I think I can handle it," Oliver smiled at him, holding out his hand. Disappointment was evident on the man's face but he gratefully took Oliver's hand, squeezing it tightly before trotting off.
Oliver paused just outside of the two large doors for a moment before pushing them open gently, ignoring the pounding in his heart. After all, it's only Percy's class. My boyfriend Percy. Get use to it, Wood.
He'd been expecting a classroom but instead he'd been led to the school's auditorium, with about five hundred chairs spread out before a large stage. The ceiling appeared to tower just as high as a Quidditch stadium, with a dramatic red curtain framing the stage area. Like the rest of the school, the theatre looked muggle-built and modern, complete with the latest gadgets and technologies that Oliver could see on first glance. The chairs themselves numbered into the late-hundreds, he guessed, all of them pillowed with bright purple fabrics.
On the stage itself, about three-dozen students were sitting in various positions, the most popular being on their bellies on the floor. They all wore robes that were either opened or semi-buttoned, though they all appeared engrossed in what their professor was saying.
And it was that professor that Oliver couldn't seem to take his eyes off. Pacing around the students (and over them, he noticed), Percy held a tattered copy of a very large book very close to his face. He was reading aloud a scene that Oliver couldn't place, his voice growing deep and strong with every word of what sounded like a sad soliloquy. He wore no robe, only muggle trousers and a sky-blue sweater, and his hair was just as curly and wild as it had been the day before.
It looked, Oliver thought suddenly, like he was truly where he belonged.
So startled by such a revelation, he coughed a few times. It wasn't that Oliver was jealous of Percy's position; on the contrary, he was elated that his friend could find such security after having been through his personal trauma with his family and his work. But to have this security at 23… That factor alone was something that caused Oliver to back up a few feet, to entertain the notion that: it's not too late to back out (even when he knew that they had to carry forward in their charades). To ask him to disrupt his life and become a part of some Quidditch farce seemed lower than anything else Dave had dragged him into before.
Because – really – who was Oliver to take this away from Percy? Who was he to--
"Oliver? Are you all right?"
Oliver blinked.
Percy had stopped reading and walking, now looking up from his opened book. Even from such a distance, Oliver could tell his gaze held a puzzled, concerned look for him and, as he tried to find the words that wouldn't fit around his too-big tongue just now, he stomach was jolted once more with the realization that:
We're not alone!
Nervously, he took the stage in one encompassing look without moving his head. The students all stared at him from their positions on the floor, wide-eyed and mouths open, and it occurred to Oliver that under other circumstances, he would have found this to be hilarious. Right about now, however, he was ready to run for the nearest bathroom and lose what little breakfast he'd eaten.
"Oliver? Are you all right?" Percy repeated, walking slowly to the edge of the stage.
"Fine," he blurted out, too loudly. He repeated (normally), "Fine," for good measure before giving a reassuringly smile and head bob to the students. "I'll just wait here, if that's all right."
He took the edge seat in a middle row, his large frame only just fitting in the seat. He relaxed his head against the cushion before looking at the stage again, and--
What are they looking at!
"Er—Right," Percy hesitated, looking at his students as they stared at Oliver. "It's almost time for us to call it a day. I've placed all your graded assignments on the table here, you can pick them up on your way out. As always, you can reach me at my office." He walked over a few students to a table placed in the middle of the stage, straightening a stack of papers and setting them down with finality. He then placed his Shakespeare into a briefcase, adding, "I was quite pleased with your work this time around. I hope to see your efforts repeated for the Hamlet short essay next week. Before we leave, are there any questions about today's lessons?"
Wrong thing to ask, Oliver knew immediately.
Out of the stunned lot, one small boy stood up, pointing an accusing finger at Oliver. "So, it's true? You two really are together! I don't believe it!"
A group of girls in a far away corner snickered together, setting off a chorus of other questions:
"Him? And the professor! Gosh, it's true!"
"Wood! What did you think about the game last week?"
"What do you really think about Puddlemere's chances next week?"
"Professor, we all just thought you were making up those stories about your Hogwarts days!"
Percy cleared his throat, and Oliver could see that he was trying to control a smile. "Class! Does anyone have any specific questions about today's lesson? No?"
Silence.
The small boy spoke up again. "Sir? Were you grading the assignments with Wood in the same room?"
Percy smirked at him. "Nice try, Mr. Abrams. Dismissed! See you all here Friday. And don't forget to pick up your assignments!"
Briefcase in hand, Percy jaunted down the center stairs of the stage, taking a robe from a front row seat and continuing on his way without looking back. Oliver had already stood and, with another quick nod to the students – mouths opened- he fell into step with Percy as he walked by. The strong smell of coffee came at him.
Together, the young men left the auditorium in silence, walking down corridors at a pace that envied Oliver's hurried walk with Flitwick.
Though Percy hadn't met his eye, Oliver had already noticed how tired and worn he appeared as they exited the theatre, walking with slouched shoulders and a dragging step. His pallor was unnaturally pale, and his normally bright blue eyes appeared dull, surrounded by puffiness and dark circles that made them look small and unfocused. His forehead was creased in deep thought. If Percy hadn't been grading papers last night, what had he been doing anyways?
Percy didn't acknowledge his presence until they had arrived in a darkened closet. He left the door ajar and waved behind him, indicating that Oliver should follow and shut it. He soon realized he'd been led to an office - Percy's office, to be exact. For who else could have kept such a small space as meticulous and precise, with muggle filing cabinets taking up most of the room. An empty desk and little chair signaled that it was rarely used outside of necessity, and there was no window.
Oliver let out a heavy breath. As Percy busied himself at a filing cabinet, he cleared his throat and said bluntly, "You don't look so good."
Oliver Wood, always the sweet talker.
Percy looked up at him briefly. "Up all night. My mother gave the press my phone number and address by accident, and I had to keep resetting the security charm to redirect them elsewhere. Lord, but they're clever at getting through those things! How are you handling it?"
"Oh--" Oliver started, thinking back to his twelve-hour sleep. Finally he admitted guiltily, "I slept well, actually. My apartment has a great security system. And I've been avoiding the media for the most part. Though I noticed a crowd of fans gathered on the front stairs before I left."
"I'm surprised to see you here." Percy's head was now almost fully engrossed into a filing cabinet drawer.
"Sorry," Oliver started to apologize but stopped when Percy's head came bobbing back up from the drawer, looking at him quizzically.
"No need to be sorry," he said after a moment, in that practical way of his that seemed so familiar to Oliver. "Just a surprise, is all. Now there won't be any doubt about us."
"Was there any doubt earlier?"
Percy gave him a wry smile, shaking his curls, before diverting his attention back to his files. "No."
"Good." Oliver smiled back, folding his hands behind his back. He was feeling increasingly comfortable around Percy. "Hope you don't mind but I sent Dave and Henry to collect your things."
"Hmm?" Percy looked up, waving a hand. "Sure. They're all packed up, in the middle of the living room. There's only a few things, anyhow. Do you think they'll remember--"
"The dog?" Oliver interrupted, exchanging a smile with him. "Yes, I gave specific instructions."
"Thanks." Percy looked up from the drawer, giving him a grin that traveled into his eyes, his lightened feelings (and his sweater, Oliver noticed) bringing out the ice-blue shades. "Actually, I'm glad you came by the school. There are some things I'd like to go over with you."
Oliver's stomach dropped again. "So you mentioned. That's actually part of the reason why I came here to get you. Is it something…" He let his words hang. He didn't want to finish with "… to do with me?" especially when it probably did concern him.
"Nothing really important," he said, closing the filing cabinet drawer and opening another. "Little things. Mostly household, really. Did you want me to get the groceries? What's your doorman's name? Is he good with animals? Where can my family and colleagues get a hold of me? And how much is rent?"
That's… surprisingly easy. Oliver smiled gently, moving to lean against the door to achieve an appearance of 'casual'. He tried to form his words carefully. "The doorman's name is Jim, and he's great with animals. Has some himself, or so Henry tells me. Other than the basics, I usually eat out but you're welcome to get groceries if you'd like. My fridge was full this morning, the guys must have ordered some in yesterday while I was at your place." And probably charged it to me, those moochers, Oliver realized with tinge of annoyance. "I'll have the securities readjusted to allow your mail to be forwarded to the flat. And as for rent…"
"I don't mind paying!" Percy interrupted sharply, his face still hidden in the drawer.
"I know," Oliver jumped back, a little surprised at Percy's touchiness on the subject. Money had always been a tough issue with the Weasleys' but he certainly wasn't going to say that his monthly rent was probably more than what Percy made teaching all year! Besides of which: "My contract with Puddlemere states the team pays for the flat. It's nothing either of us have to worry about."
Percy let out a deep breath and, glancing up to give a quick nod to Oliver, busied himself back in the cabinet drawer. "All right. That sounds good."
"That's it?" Oliver asked, surprised.
"Not quite. There's something else I want to go over with the three of you together."
"Oh." Oliver shifted his feet and tried to ignore the disappointment he felt at being lumped together as 'the three of you'.
"All done here. Sorry about the wait, Ol. I'm just a few paces behind myself today. The students I can intimidate into silence but my colleagues…" Percy closed the filing cabinet drawer, locking the muggle lock with his wand. In a swift movement, he wrapped the robe around his body and gathered his papers under his arm. He held out his free hand, expectantly.
And after a moment, asked: "Well?"
"Right! Lost in my own little world here, Perce," Oliver tried to force the flush away from his cheeks, taking Percy's hand into his own. "You know, you're a great teacher. I mean, I wasn't here for long but the way you were with those students, I… Er, well, I can see why you love your work."
"Thanks," Percy gave him a genuine smile, and Oliver was pleased to see the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. For far too long, it seemed the scales had reversed, leaving Oliver with the permanently reddened cheeks. "Now it's my turn to ask you something."
"Yeah?"
"Why are we still here?" Percy asked quietly, jokingly, emphasizing his point by swinging their joined hands together.
Oliver gave him a sheepish look as they Apparated to his flat. I just can't seem to catch the upper hand lately.
--
1:56 pm, the living room
Flat 3-B, Puddlemere Estates
When Percy and Oliver materialized in the living room area of his flat, hand-in-hand, Dave and Henry were already sitting on the couch together amidst a dozen large boxes, evidently waiting for their arrival.
"See Hen?" Dave said without acknowledging their presence. "I told you they'd be here soon."
Oliver suddenly became aware that he was still holding Percy's hand, and he dropped it quickly, stepping away from him. "There's no real chance of me getting lost with you two around, is there? I suppose you've gotten everything?"
"Yes, we certainly did! And a little thank you wouldn't hurt, Ol," Henry gently teased from his position on the couch. He shifted in his seat and nodded at Percy. "How's the goin' today?"
"A good day," Percy gave him a smile and nod, extending his hand out. "Thanks for getting all this stuff here. I don't suppose you've remembered that--"
As though to answer the unfinished question, a large beast came barreling down the corridor, jumping onto Percy and knocking him down before he could shake Henry's hand. Oliver took a step forward as though to remove the dog when Percy began to laugh and rub the dog's ears affectionately, use to such behavior. Slowly, he crawled out from underneath him.
"Never mind," Percy said, giving Henry a grin.
"He's a great animal, Perce. Hey, you know what? Why don't Dave and I take off for a few hours? You probably want to get settled."
Oliver gritted his teeth, muttering sarcastically, "You don't say…"
"You'll have to excuse him today, Perce. Slept in a bit this morning, he did. Took a bit of a run in the kitchen as well." Dave winked at Oliver before rising from his seat and walking into the kitchen.
"Indeed?" Percy asked with the hint of a grin playing at his lips, looking at Oliver expectantly until he seemed to remember: "Er- Dave? I don't suppose you could bring Monty out a bowl of water or something?"
Though grumbling could be heard from the kitchen, the sound of running water and dishes clattering soon followed. Dave appeared with the bowl of water, setting it down against a back wall away from Monty, all the while eying him carefully.
"So, you want to talk now, Perce?" Henry asked, though he watched Dave's measured movements with interest as the blond man tried to move slowly back towards his place on the couch.
"Henry and I were thinking about some possible stories that--"
"No," Oliver said abruptly, cutting Dave off. He sat down in the chair facing the couch, giving his teammates a serious look. "Percy talks first. Then you two can say whatever you're going to say afterwards."
"I'd appreciate that," Percy said in a brisk manner, leading Monty towards the water dish. The dog now lapping water (with Dave watching in half-amazement and half-terror), Percy stood in front of the couch, wiping his hands on his pants before he adjusted his glasses and straightened his posture, looking back and forth from Henry to Dave. After a moment's silence, he folded his arms. "I'm certain I can speak for Oliver when I say that we're looking forward to any suggestions you two have for the coming days."
His condescending tone left no doubt as to his actual enthusiasm at hearing their ideas.
Looking at each man in the eye, he clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace before them. The gesture was authoritative and imposing, not unlike the teacher's stance that Oliver had seen one hour earlier. "But there are some issues I want to go over. The first being how this situation shall proceed."
"We've ideas!" A brave Dave insisted.
"I'm sure you do. But I've had all last night and this morning to consider the situation, and I've come up with my own theories. And what I've come up with is that you three have all been hit by one too many Bludgers. Or perhaps your mothers collectively dropped you all on your heads at some important developmental stage in your childhood. Whatever it is, whatever stupidity you've all employed to get into this situation, you surrendered it the moment I agreed to participate in your little drama."
Oliver settled back in his chair and tried to suppress a smile, not caring that Percy was including him in his rant. Instead he was more interested in watching his teammates, determined to enjoy their every reaction to Percy's tirade. And what a reaction he was getting – Henry had apparently entered shock, immediately blanching at the all-superior tone that had quieted the room. He sat up straight and, Oliver was certain, hadn't breathed in the past two minutes. On the other end of the couch, Dave watched Percy through one hand that covered his face, as though he were a small child that had begged to watch a horror movie and now regretted ever suggesting it.
For his part, Monty had jumped onto the couch and settled down between the two 'victims' for a nap.
Percy continued: "Separately, you're all very fine young men." (Oliver choked upon hearing this). "When you're together though, something's just not right. Like you've all been sniffing old broom polish or something. And so, as much as I do appreciate your input, I think it best for everyone if we slow down, take stock of what's occurred and then create a plan based on as good a sound reasoning as we're going to get after these past few days of your meddling. Questions?"
Percy now paused in his pacing, looking at each man in turn, and meeting his gaze with an unwavering stare. After a few moments Henry hesitantly raised his hand.
"Oak?" Percy was Seriousness Itself.
Henry was looking uncommonly pale. "Perce, I'll have you know I was dragged into this farce innocently. And I believe that my aid to Oliver has more than--"
"Oh, Henry. And here I thought you might have been one of the sane ones," Percy interrupted with a heavy sigh, placing a hand on Henry's shoulder in a dramatic gesture. Oliver tried to muffle a laugh. Percy always was good at deadpan humor, the only problem being that he was too good, and one could never quite tell where the humor began and the seriousness ended.
"Oh, I am," Henry piqued up. "It's just… They have this knack for creating trouble out of practically nothing."
Oliver opened his mouth to remind Henry about his participation in the Candy Cane interview when Percy said quickly, "No excuses, Oak. It's all or nothing. Anything else?"
Dave and Oliver shook their heads in unison, exchanging a knowing smile when Percy had turned back to Henry.
"Good. Now what was it you wanted to speak about earlier?"
Henry swallowed, wiping his sweaty brow as he answered promptly, "Er-nothing. Just some stories. Get our facts straight, you know. But that can wait until later on. And really, I'm much more interested in what you think--"
Percy nodded curtly, cutting him off. "Good. Er-Ol? I don't suppose you would mind me using your kitchen? I've got to feed Monty."
"Again!" Dave exclaimed incredulously, the tension in the living room giving way to normalcy.
Henry breathed out, sitting back in his chair, the color returning to his face. He turned his head to the side to look at Dave, whispering, "See, this is why you can never have children. Regular feedings, Sharp."
Oliver waved his arm towards the kitchen. "Consider this your home, Perce." He turned to his friends as he rose from his chair, smirking at them. "I'm going to help Percy settle in. Isn't there someplace else you two have to be?"
"See you later, Ol. Good luck," Dave said quietly, mischievously, as he helped a still-stunned Henry off the couch.
Oliver leaned against the main window, watching them leave. A wave of relief came over him, and he realized that he felt better now than he had even twenty-four hours before, even when Percy had agreed to play this role. He knew that Percy's show (and what a show it was!) was necessary to put his teammates in their place, but he also knew that his bark was much worse than his bite, and that they'd have to have a long discussion later on with (a more cautious) Dave and Henry.
Oliver leaned to his side, only able to see the corner of the kitchen from where he was standing. Percy was on the floor, spooning dog food out of a can and into a dish, and magically heating it with his wand. He seemed comfortable with the apartment, Oliver noticed, and he himself didn't mind the extra guest – rather, guests. Right now he was a little perturbed that Percy seemed to be having a full conversation with the dog on the floor but he wasn't about to question his new roommate's quirks.
What more could I ask for? Er… Other than this situation to have never occurred?
Still leaning sideways and watching Percy speak to Monty, Oliver fought the disconcerting thought that came to him…
If this situation had never occurred, I never would have Percy back in my life.
- - To Be Continued