Note: Thank you so much for all the patience you've allowed me with this series (really, I do appreciate that no flames/fireworks/army-launched missiles have been thrown my way, regarding either the quality of my 'non-British' writing or the tardiness of updates). Once again, please pardon my 'over-edits' and 'Canadian-isms' – I don't think there's much hope of either of them changing ;) If you have any suggestions or would like to reach me, the best way would be via my livejournal (username caraotd). My update schedule is in my user info here.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter & Co, nor do I claim to. Dave & Karen are mine. A huge 'thank you' to Nicole for the beta.

--

Chapter Six: Shut Out (2)

Walking with purpose, Percy's eyes kept forward, his brow furrowed in an attempt to concentrate only on his class destination. His reflexes kicked in, giving a slight nod to fellow students and also acknowledging the younger ones he tutored. But as Dave continued to purposely walk at his heels, treading on the base of his good, already-torn-this-morning robe, he was slowly losing his cool.

Growing up in a large family, Percy was well aware of the little intended annoyances that were commonly directed his way (thank you very much, Fred and George, he thought wryly). Eastern breathing techniques, ancient chants, finding his 'quiet place' – at age seventeen, Percy had tried just about the lot. And yet, to everything there was a time and place, and the southwestern corridor on a Tuesday morning fell into neither category.

So with no other course of action, Percy abruptly stopped walking just outside of their classroom door. Dave crashed into him, textbooks flying over Percy and narrowly missing several first-years that passed by. Turning on his heel, Percy gave a disapproving sigh (the one he usually reserved for his brothers) and crossed his arms.

"Remind me, please. How old are you?"

"Shut it," Dave muttered, scrambling to save his textbooks from crushing footsteps. "What was that for, anyways?"

"Getting you off my heels. Here," Percy said, reaching a hand down. Dave batted him away, seated firm in the center of pandemonium, gathering up the loose papers that had fallen out of his textbooks and scattered about. At this site, a surge of regret ran through Percy and he knelt down to help him, ignoring the bumps and Sorry!'s that were called down to them.

"So, how are things going between you and Oliver?"

Percy's head snapped up, halted in his task. His fingers tightened around the papers. "Good." Did Oliver say something to him about me? "Er- How's Karen?"

Dave shook his head but only to wave his blond hair away from his eyes, his smile bright and wistful. "She's great. Best schoolwork I've ever had." He took a heavy breath, clucking his tongue against his teeth. Percy's own nerves were now on edge, knowing Dave well enough to tell when his friend was easing his way into treacherous waters. Cluck. Cluck. "Tell me, Perce. How are things going with Penelope?"

And there it was. Percy ran a hand rigidly through his thick hair over and over, trying to control the surge of anger that suddenly raced through him. Like he needed to deal with this. Dave's silly prying into problems that just weren't there, only spoken of because he didn't have anything better to do. For once, Percy didn't have the patience or the want to deal with any of it. He was tired and hot, and he certainly didn't want to get into things with Dave at this hour of the morning!

He gathered his robe about him and rose with Dave's papers in hand. "What do you mean, 'how are things going?' We're great. Adam's a great guy."

Still sitting on the floor, Dave looked up at him questionably. "I didn't mean to imply--"

"There's no one else I'd rather see her set with. They're going to do well together, those two."

Dave scratched the back of his neck. "I'm happy to hear--"

Percy had taken off his glasses, cleaning the lenses on his sleeve. "We're not like other couples. She's quite happy to work hard for her marks. And so is Adam."

"I know," Dave said, finally getting to his feet. He dusted off his robe with one hand, balancing the recovered textbooks and papers in the other. "I'm his roommate, and he's always--"

But Percy was still talking, still cleaning his lenses. "Working for her marks. She's not at all like some Ravenclaws. Honestly! Karen never seems to--"

Percy stopped, realizing that he'd gone too far. Karen was one of his closest friends – and Dave's breaking point, he reminded himself too late.

As though on cue, Dave's eyes grew small, his tone lowered. He pointed a finger at Percy. "Karen is a Ravenclaw. She's a good student, and a great friend. To everyone." Percy winced. "And I'm happy with her. I love her. It's not like we're together for popularity reasons or just for the convenience of being with someone, like you and Pennel--"

Dave stopped, his face suddenly filled with guilt. After a moment of stunned silence, he cleared his throat and gestured towards the doorway. "After you."

Percy was numbed. Did he just-- No, I had to have heard wrong. But knowing all too well what had just occurred, the redhead could only manage a slight nod at his friend before walking by.

--

Can't be late. Won't be late. Push it Wood!

Shoes pounding cobblestone, Oliver pushed through the barrage of students, all of whom were much smaller and thus, more susceptible to injury from the brute Scot. He took little notice of them scurrying out of his proximity, his thoughts firmly focused on trying to not think about the assignment. Because, as he kept repeating to himself: It's not a crush. It's not love. Everything involves these stupid charms, for a silly assignment set up by an egotistic professor who's bent on playing Merlin.

Wasn't it?

Breathing hard, Oliver leaned against the doorframe, gazing into the empty classroom with wonder. He'd never arrived for a class early before, at least never alone. Pulling himself together, he walked through the aisles and tried to pick a seat, something he rarely had the option of doing. Oliver was having a Percy moment, indeed.

Choosing a back corner desk, he set his books under the seat and rested his head upon the desk, his cheek pressed hard against the wood. Oliver had always prided himself on being in tune with his feelings (Exhibit A: My coming out at age 15, he thought wryly), and he didn't need a second opinion to know this assignment, everything that was coming out of it, was weighing on him. He also knew that if he didn't cool down and focus on everything else in his life (Hello? Remember Quidditch?), this could affect his mental fitness for tomorrow's game.

He shuddered at the thought.

"Mint?"

Oliver jerked at the sudden voice that was accompanied with a sharp poke between his shoulders.

"Karen?" He said cautiously, sitting up and turning to his side.

Of course. Who else?

Glasses perched on the tip of her nose, Karen looked over the frame with eyes full of concern, seemingly larger than normal, Oliver supposed, due to her cheeks that were sucked in on a candy. Giving her a small smile, he used his index finger to slide her glasses gently into place.

"I have some muggle candy in my backpack, if things get really bad," she said knowingly, pointing to her knapsack on the floor. "You don't look so hot."

No kidding, Oliver sighed. "Are you anticipating a bad day or something? The chocolate stash, I mean."

She shrugged. "No. Just life. Stuff. Nothing really, I suppose, when compared to what you and Perce are going through."

He jolted at her words. "What do you mean?"

"This whole thing must be hard. Right?" Karen peered at him over her glasses, causing them to slide down her nose again. "Like with the Slytherins yesterday."

Oliver relaxed, shrugging his shoulders before settling back into his seat and turning away from her. Her voice had been sympathetic but her eyes remained fierce, as though she would take on the entire Slytherin house in defense of her friends. Which she probably would, Oliver thought, but saying instead: "So far, we've been lucky to avoid the Slytherins. It's mostly Fred and George right now."

She clucked her tongue thoughtfully in a gesture that reminded Oliver of Dave. "You two are on your own with them."

"Chicken," Oliver joked.

Karen reached into her bag for a box of small candied chocolates, spreading the contents onto her desk. Oliver scooped a couple off the desk, their hands brushing in the comfortable way of two friends that have confidence in their friendship, nothing less. Like Perce and I. Only not, he realized, remembering some of the awkward moments of their evening together. Is it all because of the charms- Yes, it has to be!

"Mr. Wood!"

Oliver's head snapped towards the doorway, a candy catching in his throat. He coughed a couple times, trying to regain his composure as Professor McGonagall watched him from the doorway. The classroom remained empty save for them, students still filing outside the doorway. Even Flitwick was nowhere to be seen (and it occurred to Oliver, distantly, that if Percy or Dave had been present, he would have made a smart comment about looking on the other side of the desk for him).

But now isn't the time for smart remarks, is it Captain?

"If you're all right, Wood," McGonagall pursed her lips together, creating what Oliver hoped was a bemused expression. "Follow me, please. Take your books. Oh, and if Miss George has something with the name Cadbury on it, I wouldn't object." Half-turned, she gave him a pointed look before walking away.

Oliver began to pile his books onto the desk, his heart beating hard. What does she want? What did I do now? Quidditch? Or—

Karen placed a chocolate bar over his textbook pile, slipping his assignment from a folder and placing it with her own. Before he left, he cast her a hesitant look but she spoke first:

"Good luck, Ol." Her forehead creased with worry, she wouldn't meet his eyes.

--

After first class, Percy and Dave walked to Honors Charms in silence, going through all the outward motions of friendship. Inside Percy was a torrent of questions – the primary one being: What happened? He rarely fought with his two best friends, their friendship based on teasing, mock arguments and other jests that were played off each other's own quirks. And yet he couldn't bring himself to speak to Dave. No, all he wanted to do was find Oliver and a hot cup of something, and try to sort out what was said because Percy (he himself reasoned) must have blacked out at some point. He couldn't think through the mess of memory, recall clearly what was said or the emotion behind it. But Oliver would know what happened, even with Percy's high-pitched, inarticulate and somewhat self-bias explanation. After all, he always did.

But Oliver wasn't around, and Percy had to face that - no, he hadn't blacked out, hadn't succumbed to a Slytherin plot, hadn't been taken over by an alien life form. And none of those reasons are foolish enough to keep up this silence. As the previous students filed out of Professor Flitwick's class, Percy touched Dave's sleeve, holding tight in a desperate plea for attention.

Dave turned around, his eyes softening with realization, and regret.

Percy rushed to speak first, hands gesturing wildly: "I'm sorry, Dave. I never meant to--"

"No, Perce. It's all my fault, I just wasn't thinking and--"

"Please," Percy breathed out heavily. "Can we just forget everything?"

Dave smiled, shrugging his shoulders in a sign of surrender. "Already forgotten."

"What's forgotten?"

Karen!

Percy turned quickly at the sound of her voice, watching her lean into Dave and kiss his cheek. She turned to him and repeated, "What's forgotten? Is something the matter?"

"Of course not," Dave gave a short laugh, ruffling her hair. Giving him a tight smile, she stepped lightly on his foot.

"Just, you know," Percy shrugged. "Guy stuff." She gave him a look of disbelief and he felt his face redden. Sure Weasley, she'll take that answer. He looked passed her, trying to cover his lame excuse with a search for Oliver. However, noticing the empty room save for Flitwick at his desk, he quickly asked: "Did we miss Ol?"

"Kind of," she started, her hands fidgeting together. Dave shifted his textbooks to his right hand, reached out with his free hand to cover her hands. She let out a heavy sigh, continuing: "McGonagall got to him right before class, told him to take his books. And he hasn't been back."

Percy stared at her thoughtfully, rocking on the back of his heels. Why would she need Oliver? Is it – is it about me? About this assignment? Have I done something wrong? Maybe--

"Some Quidditch thing?" Dave supplied as though reading his mind and trying to pacify him. "Maybe for the game tomorrow? Can't be trouble if it didn't involve me, too."

"I'd imagine its Quidditch. McGonagall's right into that sort of thing," Karen chimed in hopefully. Percy managed a tight small smile as he thought: Nice try, guys. Perhaps Karen had detected his pending questions, as she looked pointedly at Dave and added quickly: "Er- You have time to walk me to next class?"

"Always," he answered fast and with a bright smile, as though trying to quell his worried expression.

As they swiftly walked away, Percy stepped into the classroom and set his books on a desk up front, casting a small smile in Flitwick's direction as he sat down. He set his glasses on the desk, leaning back in the chair and looking up at the (blurry) ceiling. "What's going on here?" he muttered.

"Problem, Mr. Weasley?"

Percy sat up quickly. "No, sir! Er--" He looked around the classroom (then repeated the action after remembering to put his glasses back on) and, once assured of their privacy, he leaned forward in his desk. "Sir? I suppose you've heard about Professor Plum's assignment?"

Flitwick flashed him a smile. "Of course, Mr. Weasley. And might I say that he's told me you and Mr. Wood are doing a great job."

"Really?" The scholar had taken over Percy's body. Smiling brightly, he tilted his head to the side, crossing his feet under his seat and arching his back higher. His toes wiggled in his shoes. A quick, orgasmic flush of pride ran through him, tingling his fingers and sending a glow of warmth through his insides. Wait until I tell Oliver that we're--

Oliver! Focus Percy!

"Er-- Professor? Actually, I wanted to ask you about the charms themselves," Percy took a long breath. "What is the basis for these charms? Why weren't you asked to perform the charms? Are there any side effects? What might happen if--?"

The smaller wizard clasped his hands together, looking at Percy mischievously over the desk. If Oliver were here, he'd make a smart comment about the booster seat he uses. He always did, at least back when we shared the same Charms class. "Mr. Weasley – Percy. I can assure you that Professor Plum is fully qualified to see the charms-- Oh, look who just walked by. Excuse me. I just want to have a little chat with… yes…" Jumping off his chair (and quite a dismount it was, Percy noted), Flitwick walked (no, ran) into the hallway.

Percy's previous academic glow now dampened with his professor's reluctance to answer his questions, he allowed his head to fall to the desk, hitting the surface with a slight smack!

--

Oliver's gaze darted back and forth, from the aging phoenix on its pedestal to the mess on Dumbledore's desk. He'd never been to the headmaster's office without a friend, whether it be the Quidditch team for a congratulatory handshake or with Dave after getting into a mess of trouble. He smiled, briefly remembering a time in fifth year when Percy was called to escort them back to their dormitory when a fistfight broke out after the final game. He never thought Percy would live it down.

Actually, I never thought he'd stop lecturing. Oliver looked up from the desk, his eyes meeting a small, wizard clock. Five more minutes of sitting in the hardest chair ever, would cause him to miss seeing his friends after Charms, as well as the start to his next class.

"Mr. Wood! Ah, I'm sorry to keep you waiting." Oliver turned his head in time to see the headmaster swoop into his office, followed closely by McGonagall and Plum. Plum gave him a large wave, almost skipping into the headmaster before McGonagall caught his elbow.

Oliver tried to turn his grimace into a grin for the headmaster. Honestly, I don't know how Perce stands being around these professors all the time!

The headmaster wiggled into his seat, raising his eyebrows at McGonagall and then Plum, who had crossed his arms with a satisfied look about him.

"Oliver," the headmaster's voice was quiet, "How might your assignment be going for Professor Plum? Hmmm? Any complaints? No one's turning green? No unexpected warts?" The headmaster, a slight smirk on his face, held out a dish of lemon drops.

Oliver waved at them, shaking his head slightly. "Percy and I are doing all right. Nothing has really changed that much."

"No?" Professor McGonagall asked with a slightly hopeful tone to her voice.

"Well - only he's been to my practice, and I'll be going with him to his duties tonight."

"Yes, yes. I've heard about that," the headmaster nodded. How did he-- "Mr. Wood—Oliver, I'll get right to the point as I'm sure you're eager to find out what you're doing here. You have noticed some changes with the charms, yes?"

Oh please, plu-ease, don't speak of crushes or feelings or potentially lewd thoughts about boy sex-- "Er. I'm not sure what you mean, Headmaster."

"Nothing unusual happened during the ceremony?" Dumbledore peered to him over his spectacles. From behind, Plum wiggle his eyebrows at him.

Oh Merlin help me. "Oh- yes. There was fog. Some lights." Oliver stopped as Plum turned pink, turning his gaze to the ceiling with a tight smile as though trying (unsuccessfully) to conceal his joy. "Is… Is something wrong, sir?"

"I suppose that would depend on your position, Mr. Wood. You see, it's been brought to my attention that there might have been some problem with the charm." Professor Plum cleared his throat, but Dumbledore held up an index finger to keep him from interrupting. "Or perhaps, no problem at all. Which, as you understand well Oliver, can be just as bad."

Oliver gulped, his gaze momentarily shifting to the empty chair beside him. He desperately wanted Percy to be with him – because he wouldn't say something foolish or ask the obvious question, instead seemingly able to translate professor-speak But Oliver was alone and so he tightened his lips together, determined to keep silent.

Receiving no comment, the headmaster continued. "You know, Oliver, there was a time when only wizards married into wizard families. Even as early as one hundred years ago, marrying a muggle often meant your wand was broken and you were banished from our world.

Oliver nodded. He'd heard the stories but then again, who hadn't?

"Wise wizards soon found reason and, all that is, as they say, history. But when two worlds so different come together, they tend to adapt some practices. Almost everything is affected. For instance, the muggle love of law and order quickly found its place among wizard bonds."

Dumbledore paused, looking at Oliver as though waiting for a response. But the Scot still sat tightlipped, waiting to see where the headmaster was going. "Married wizards now have legal rights intertwined with magic – oh, you know, taxes, community property and all that sort of thing." He waved his hand, then added hesitantly: "And -- er, divorce."

Merlin-Merlin-Merlin. Oliver cleared his throat quietly. "Sir? I don't mean any disrespect but- I don't really see where you're going with this. Divorce? The bonding for class," he jerked a thumb in Plum's direction. "That wasn't real. And now – you're speaking about divorce?" This couldn't be right, Oliver couldn't be hearing all that was being said. Merlin! Divorce? What is this – Merlin! Dave will never let us forget this one!

"Wood," McGonagall said quietly from behind Dumbledore. "Perhaps I can clarify what the headmaster is saying. There seems to have been some mistake. It would seem that you and Mr. Weasley – Percy, are bonded together. Regardless of your feelings – or lack of feelings, you two are legally married."

Oliver's heart was beating fast, loudly. He knew he was a mess of nerves just from the wait alone and it took all his energy not to run from the room or break out into laughter or perhaps find a nice broom to fly away on -- Everything was sounding like gibberish. After looking incredulously at each professor, he rose from his seat, his hands facing palms up. "I'm sorry, I still don't see how it's possible that--"

"Oliver," McGonagall said more firmly, walking towards him and placing two hands on his shoulders, "You and Percy must get a legal divorce."

Well, you can't get any clearer than that now, can you?

Unsure what to say, he managed an "Oh" before sitting back down. This was unexpected, something in his brain registered, but it wasn't so bad, no. Actually this was good news – great news, even, when he recalled all the horrible thoughts and worries that had passed through his mind as he awaited the meeting. He'd expected a reprimand for something he'd done (or forgot to do), something that could have led to expulsion or worse, a Quidditch-related punishment.

Despite the cold sweat that had enveloped Oliver, it was all he could do to restrain a laugh. So he would have to get a divorce from Percy? So what? It was, as his grandfather use to say, "nothin' on a big ship."

"Ok," Oliver started, shrugging. He was speaking low, talking aloud to himself. "So we're married? Big deal. It's like you say, Headmaster. Divorces are common place nowadays."

"That is true, yes," the headmaster spoke calmly. Rising, he shuffled to the front of his desk. "Oliver. There is a bit more to this. Do you need a moment or--"

"There's more?" You've got to be kidding. Oliver looked at the empty seat beside him. Why isn't Percy here to hear this?

The headmaster looked grave. "You and Mr. Weasley are very young. You're good friends, and that's good news for the stability of our world. But the marriage was performed under amateur charms," Plum coughed, "and impure reasoning, and no unstable bond can be broken easily. I'm afraid until we can determine a safe way for you to divorce, you must remain married."

Oliver couldn't hold back the loud, awkward chuckle that escaped. "Him!" he exclaimed, realizing that he shouldn't be pointing accusingly at Plum but not caring. "These aren't full charms. And-and he doesn't have that kind of power!" Let this be some kind of joke, a prank. Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed--

With a sheepish grin, Professor Plum shrugged his shoulders dramatically and held his hands high in a gesture of surrender. "Who would have guessed? I mean, the chances--"

"Who else?" Oliver demanded, still not caring that he was yelling in front of his headmaster and head-of-house. This isn't real. What will Percy think? "How many other people have you put through this?"

"No one," Plum said easily, folding his hands behind his back. "It would seem that you and Percy are the extent of my power. Mr. Wood, if you would please calm down, I'll explain everything to you--"

"There's other matters, Mr. Wood," McGonagall broke in. She took a deep breath, taking a moment to allow the office to dissolve into silence until only the coos of the phoenix could be heard. "It would seem that, as with all marriages, yours and Mr. Weasley's will be made public knowledge. Tomorrow morning the registry will be updated to include you both."

And that was the chink in the armor, the reason why McGonagall looked so tense, the reason why Percy hadn't joined them, the news that put everything into perspective for Oliver. Images of lying on the locker room floor, trying to summon the energy to ignore the painful fights and teases after matches, solely due to being the only gay student playing Quidditch. It wasn't that gay couples were uncommon in the wizarding world, as there were quite a few gay students at Hogwarts that never encountered hostilities. However, there were some boys that would always find something, someone to bully for no particular reason, and now Percy would be one of those being bullied. For Oliver's choice.

"Can't you chance a divorce? I mean, we're only seventeen. We don't want to be married! And not to each other," Oliver's voice cracked.

"The ministry can't chance it," Plum spoke up, moving to stand beside Dumbledore. McGonagall made a face. "And you see, it would also annul your assignment. There are a lot of people watching this assignment, Mr. Wood. And if you and Percy divorce before Monday, the charms are set in such a manner that I'll be forced to fail you both."

Oliver rolled his eyes, speaking more forcefully, "I don't care about failing! If you can't break this marriage, if people find out that-- Why is this even possible? How was this even allowed?"

"Mr. Wood," Dumbledore broke in gently. "It would seem that Professor Plum's parents performed binding ceremonies. Now, I visited the Minister of Magic himself last night, and after much consultation with people who know far more about this field than I, we determined there is no way to break this marriage quickly, or keep things out of public knowledge. Therefore--"

"The good news," Plum interrupted, folding his hands and pacing, ignoring the sharp gaze of McGonagall, "is that you two already work well together. You're good friends, and there shouldn't be any adverse affects to your bond together. As long as nothing endangers your friendship, the bond is stable and good for our world."

"Good for you--"Oliver sputtered, his leg accidentally hitting the leg of his chair. It scattered backwards, falling with a loud bang. "Your world. You-you're the reason that Percy, that now-- And you didn't tell us sooner and-- We're only students, and you--"

Oliver knew he wasn't making much sense – hell, he wasn't making much sense to Oliver right now, but when he shut his mouth all he could think was: I don't want to be here I don't want to hear this and what am I suppose to say because Percy's the smart one and Percy would know how to handle this and why are their lips still moving

"Why me?" he broke into their words, not paying attention to what they were saying. "Why aren't you telling this to Percy yourselves?"

There was a long pause before McGonagall cleared her throat. "As you know, Oliver, Mr. Weasley is currently involved with Miss Clearwater. To find out – well," McGonagall stopped, her lips twitching, "To find out that he is married to a young man at age seventeen, he just might—well, we thought it better that you break the news to him."

Oliver waved her words away, nodding. That was the answer he'd been expecting. Percy worked well under school-related pressures, but something like this would send his whole world crumbling. Oliver thought to their conversation the night before. Percy was the perfect prefect and a great friend, even with his imperfections. He tried his best everyday and even when the world knocked him down, he still gave it his all. And after all that effort, to become the person he'd grown to be and with such a promising future ahead – there was this complication.

"You will be able to break the bond, Headmaster?" Oliver asked quietly.

"Yes. Eventually," Dumbledore answered, peering over his glasses at Plum.

Oliver walked away from the desk and the now silent professors, leaning against the frosted glass and looking outside, seeing nothing. It really is just a complication. No one was sick or dying. He hadn't failed the assignment with Percy, and he wasn't being kicked off the Quidditch team. Actually, all that Plum did was complicate their lives a little more. So they were married? So they wouldn't be able to marry another until this whole divorce thing went through? They were seventeen, that wasn't about to happen anytime soon. They'd have to check off the 'Married' box on forms for a bit. Their families would get a laugh and then forget, this 'bonding' shoved aside for the life's normal problems.

But Oliver knew things weren't that simple. If they were, he'd sit back with his friends and joke about the situation over a butterbeer. And that's what he wanted to do, to laugh, to shrug his shoulders and take the news with the same 'Bugger-all-it'll-be-better-next-time' attitude he had after losing a match. But this wasn't a Quidditch game, and knowing how much marriage – this situation, would hurt Percy, he couldn't help the twinge in his heart. If only there was some way this couldn't be made public, some way to spare him… He felt awful, powerless to control the circumstances and though he knew the bonding ceremony wasn't his fault, everything negative associated with this assignment (this damned assignment!) was linked with those three little words he'd dared to say years before: I am gay.

Percy will be so disappointed in me.

Oliver was angry. He was angry enough to regret ever getting sorted into Gryffindor, ever meeting Percy Weasley and ever taking Plum's stupid course. Because if none of that happened, then he wouldn't have woken up feeling – something. The something, Oliver knew now, that must have been part of the 'amateur' charm performed under 'impure reasoning.' It must have. But if I'm feeling this way from the charms, then—what does that mean for Percy? Is there something more to this?

"Well," he said aloud, surprised at the rough sound of his voice. He continued to look out the window at nothing. "Isn't this just the shit?"

"Indeed," McGonagall muttered behind him.

--

After the last morning class, Percy bid a short goodbye to Dave and left for the kitchens, collecting two luncheon sandwiches and a thermos of tea. His professors had avoided speaking to him, suddenly finding themselves otherwise engaged in conversations or work far away from him. His efforts unsuccessful, Percy took a long walk through the school, walking past Dumbledore's office and then a large bay window that overlooked the Quidditch Pitch, all in an attempt to see what happened to Oliver. When he couldn't be found, Percy resigned himself to the library.

His first-year charge was already waiting, potions texts and previous exam sheets scattered over the table. Percy gave her a small smile, setting out his own parchment and quill as he surveyed the library. Despite the heavy coursework assigned this week, the library itself was only half-filled, most tending to wait until the last moment to finish their work.

Like Oliver. And his Charms assignment. Oh, I hope he's done all right—No, no, wait Percy. It's not your assignment. That'd always been the hardest part of tutoring for him. It took all his energy not to reach out and grab the assignment from students, and finish it himself. He just couldn't bear to see an assignment, any assignment, get a bad grade. Even Plum's strange assignment.

"I could add seventeen drops of newt eye extract, that would do it! Right?"

With a quick glance to her work, Percy stifled a sigh. "Sure. If what you wanted to do was completely remove Professor Snape's hair."

The little girl's eyes widened with horror and then laughter as she realized the joke. They chuckled together quietly, Percy putting a finger to his lips to keep some discretion. This was a library, after all.

Feeling eyes on him, Percy looked over the little girl's shoulder. Pale-faced, Oliver was leaning against the library's doorframe. His arms were folded, textbooks placed on the ground, and he was looking thoughtfully at Percy.

Finally! Percy waved him over, watching with growing trepidation as Oliver shook his head slowly as though to bring himself out of a trance, then walk to the table unblinking. What has been going on?

"Er- Oliver. You know Susan here. She's Jack's little sister."

Oliver jumped, as though only noticing the little girl. "Ah yes. Your brother was on the Quidditch team in his last two years here. He's a great guy." In his typical friendly fashion, he offered his hand to the little girl who, please at the compliment about her brother, shook it heavily.

Percy tried not to chuckle at the sight. Oliver had the ability to charm anyone at any age, to become immediately personable and friendly, and identify immediately. Especially with kids, Percy realized. He had noticed that through the years, as outgoing, fun Dave suddenly grew insecure and nervous around children, Oliver would never shy away. Penelope's like that too, Percy reminded himself, still watching the light banter between Susan and Oliver. That quality was important to him – not that I want kids, Percy thought quickly. But comfort around people, including children, was something he looked for in a partner.

And friend.

"Why is he looking at us funny?"

Percy blinked, realizing the little girl was waving her hand in front of his face.

"Not sure. Hmmm," Oliver said jokingly. Some color had returned to his cheeks. "He was always a little off, if you get my drift, Susan."

"Real cute," Percy huffed, trying to hide his smile. "Susan, why don't you try writing all the rudimentary properties of a basic potion from memory? I just need to have a quick chat with Oliver over here."

As Susan opened a fresh roll of parchment, Percy took Oliver's elbow and led him to a table against a corner wall. He held part of his robe in his hand, making it into a fist. "What's going on, Ol?"

Oliver easily shook off the grip (not that there was ever doubt in Percy's mind he could do this), and then moved to straighten out his robes, adjusting his collar with both hands. "What do you mean? Nothing's going on."

Right. It's going to be like that now, is it? "Karen said McGonagall called you out of class."

Oliver gave an exaggerated shrug, almost clipping Percy's chin with his shoulder. "Some Quidditch thing. You know how it is: Win-win-win, and all that."

"All that? Oliver," Percy paused, trying to catch his roommate's gaze. He felt Oliver's warm breath on his face. "You'd tell me if something was wrong?"

"Really, I would, Perce. Shouldn't you--"

"You'd let me know if you were in trouble, right? If you needed help? You're not being threatened by the Slytherins again, are you?"

Oliver gave a loud, short laugh, ignoring the piercing stare of Madame Pinch at the entrance. "Look, I don't need protecting. If anyone of the two of us needs protecting, it certainly isn't--"

"I get it, Ol," Percy interrupted, backing up. Shut out. It's the theme of the day, he thought bitterly.

Without looking over his shoulder, Percy sat next to Susan, trying to push Oliver's words away. Though true (he willingly acknowledged), Oliver's words stung, and he couldn't help but feel he had said something terribly wrong. And what was more troubling to Percy was that he didn't know how to fix this mess. Weasley, you're batting two for two so far.

With stubborn resolve, Percy tutored Susan for thirty more minutes. Finally assured that she possessed enough knowledge to satisfy Professor Snape, she packed her books and went away, muttering a quick 'Thank you!"

Over the course of his tutoring, the library emptied except for a few students. Percy looked around for Oliver, surprised to find him only two desks away, head lying on arms that stretched out the length of the desk, and – snoring lightly.

Percy couldn't help but smile at the sight, forgetting his anger entirely. He'd only seen Oliver look as tired after a long (and lost) Quidditch match or occasionally during exams, though he hadn't looked quite as peaceful as he did now.

Someone left a nearby window open and Oliver's brown hair blew in the sharp breeze, spiking the ends. Must be freezing. Percy gathered his textbooks together and walked slowly towards him. Quietly, he took the seat next to Oliver, turning sideways so that his knees pushed gently into Oliver's thigh. He reached fingers out to grasp his shoulder, the cold fabric feeling crisp against his skin.

"Oliver?" Percy whispered, shaking him briefly. "You've got a practice in ten minutes, Ol." With a firmer grip, he shook his shoulder again. No answer.

Oliver was normally easy to wakeup but - evidently - their conversation the night before and this (damn!) assignment seemed to have taken even that effort from him. Or perhaps he's tired from whatever McGonagall wanted-- And he hopes to win that game tomorrow? Percy moved his hand to Oliver's back, pushing against his upper spine gently for some response. (The muscles! thought Percy, feeling a sudden sense of inadequacy at his own fitness). But as hard as he pressed, Oliver still didn't move, his snores remaining even.

Percy checked the library clock. If they didn't hurry to the field, they wouldn't have time for his sandwiches. Without thinking, he ran a hand hurriedly through Oliver's hair, his fingers curling in the feathered layers. It's- soft! And it looks so much better than my own when it's messed. Percy pursed his lips together, lost in thought, his fingers still tangled in Oliver's hair. It didn't make any sense, really. Gay couples weren't uncommon in his acquaintance, Hogwarts certainly no exception. Why was Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, all-around great guy, still single? And to Percy's knowledge, having never been with a steady boyfriend.

"Perce?"

It wasn't until Oliver's brown eyes blinked up at Percy that he was snapped out thought, his embarrassing position immediately realized: crammed into Oliver, his hand in his hair, and staring. Caught, he was frozen in place, unable to move away and give a casual excuse. What excuse, Genius? Geez, Ol, I'm sorry that I was trying to molest you in the library. You understand, right? Because I sure don't.

Slowly, Oliver sat up and pried Percy's fingers from his hair. He gently took his hand into both of his, holding firm. Percy knew that his fingers were just as cold as Oliver and for a brief moment, he thought (foolishly!) that Oliver was going to blow on them to gently warm him.

Where did that thought come from? Percy watched in horror as Oliver awkwardly dropped his hands and they painfully hit the table with a thud! Lack of sugar, definitely need to eat something! Why can't I move?

In Scottish tongue still thick with sleep, Oliver said quickly, "It's all right, Perce. Er- I'm awake. Thanks."

Percy jerked his hand away, standing abruptly. "Right. Er- Quidditch!" he blurted out, his tone too loud for the library. Distantly, he heard a strict 'SHHH.'

Oliver looked up sharply yet still blinking the sleep from his eyes. "Right! Quidditch! Practice! And er- lunch!"

Wide-eyed and unable to hide shock at his actions, Percy pointed to the brown bags he'd left beside his textbooks. His hands still tingled from hitting the table hard.

Oliver clapped his back, more forceful than usual. "Oh. Good. That's great. Excellent! You have done very well," he said lamely, giving a bright, false smile.

He looks like he wants to die. Percy groaned inwardly, gathering his textbooks and following Oliver out the library door.

I can't seem to catch a break today. What just happened here?

--

TBC: Where things go Very Well and then Very Badly as Oliver and Percy attend Quidditch practice (again!) and Plum's class.