Notes: Thank you so much for the reviews – they are still so lovely and nice to receive. Also, I can't stuff enough cupcakes into Nicole (georgeandfredweasley), whom I've met through this website and this story, and who offers a speedy beta and infinite encouragement.
Disclaimers: See previous chapters.
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Chapter Seven: Only the Lonely
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Though the sun was high and strong, a frosty wind hit Oliver as he left Hogwarts and raced to the Quidditch pitch. He didn't mind the sharp cold, knowing he'd soon be outfitted and flying, the air coming as relief rather than discomfort. For this Keeper, winter days made the best practice times.
As he sped to the pitch, a part of Oliver knew the cold also served as distraction. He'd much rather think about numb fingers right now, certainly not a night of tea and cocoa and friendship, or a morning of meetings with impossible-to-deal-with professors. And he especially didn't want to think about the parting words of Professor Plum, so pleased that his school project revealed his hidden magical abilities: "I do think it best for you to tell Mr. Weasley yourself. You will take that responsibility? Right, Mr. Wood?"
If Dumbledore hadn't been standing right there…And then to fall asleep in the library and find Percy gazing down at him, nose almost to cheek, knees pressing into his own. And cold fingers moving through his hair…
Oliver paused at the entrance, looking over his shoulder to see Percy running behind him, down the hill. He watched with detached interest as his roommate tripped over his feet and rolled, soon regaining his footing almost as fast as he went down, red hair flinging wildly in the breeze. This was nothing new, it happened a lot; yet it didn't stop Oliver from calling out:
"You all right?"
Percy continued to run until he was in front of him, breathing heavily and holding up a hand to indicate he'd need a moment to catch his breath. "All" (breathe) "right." He didn't look at Oliver, instead focusing on the staircase to the Gryffindor stands. "Do you want to eat now or later?"
Oliver felt queasy at Percy's discomfort. Does he know about the charms? Was that why he was poking at me like some sort of science experiment? "We still have a few minutes before the rest of the team gets here. Er-- what kind of lunch did you get?"
He reached out for the bag but Percy slapped him away, a bemused smile finally breaking the tension, and he started up the stairs with Oliver close behind. As Percy's robe flapped back and the familiar scent of –well, of library, washed over him, he tried to gain a level perspective. He's a reasonable guy. He knows mistakes happen. And it's not like he has to sleep with me or anything.
Hand on railing, Oliver hesitated at that thought. Maybe I should have went straight for the pitch--
"I'm starting without you," an impatient voice said from high above. "I've got sandwiches, in case that will make you move any faster."
Oliver raced the rest of the stairs, appearing at the top to find Percy (still breathless), sprawled out on the benches, textbooks scattered on the ground. And a half a sandwich gripped in both hands.
"The other bag," he said, just before taking a large bite.
Oliver sat down, digging into the second brown bag for his own sandwich (rye thick with turkey, he noted silently and with delight) and leaned back, starring at the blue sky. All he could hear was the wind and Percy chewing quietly, and without looking Oliver knew he too was looking upwards. It occurred to him that this type of comfortable silence wasn't one he could enjoy with Dave; the witty Ravenclaw never settled down around him, always looking for some form of conversation or entertainment (usually in the form of mischief). But things were different with Percy, and Oliver appreciated the comfort in his friendship that even extended to sitting quietly on this Quidditch pitch, forgetting all the expectations and pretense that came with being Oliver Wood.
But will it be enough? Will our friendship survive this? Or will he turn resentful? Merlin, if only I could know how he would react. Or how everyone else would!
Oliver jumped as warmth touched his fingers, and looked over to see Percy holding a paper cup to his hand. "You have to drink something. Er-- I suppose I should have brought you water but--"
"Tea's fine," Oliver nodded, taking the cup. "There's water in the locker room. Er-- Could I ask you something?"
Percy blinked at him, picking up his half-a-sandwich once more. "Of course."
He took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "You –um- could I have a cookie?"
Chicken.
That earned him a bright cocky smile, revealing white teeth. "And whatever gave you the impression I brought cookies, Mr. Wood?"
Oliver matched his expression. Teasing was a welcome relief to the tension. "As your esteemed brothers pointed out this morning, it's Captain Wood to you, Head Boy Weasley. And you don't eat lunch without something sweet. Usually a cookie," he added in for good measure, his eyes now scanning the area around them.
"Actually, if my brothers' were to pick a name for me to call you, I doubt it would be as formal," Percy muttered, taking a small bag of cookies out of his robe.
"Exactly!" Oliver chuckled, grateful for the lifted mood (and of course, the cookie). "Like The Keeper of my Heart."
Percy snorted. "The Quaffle of my Eye. I've heard some of the younger years calling you that at the last game." He sighed, then shifted his gaze towards the remains of his sandwich crusts. He began to munch on them thoughtfully. "Are you going to tell me the truth about your visit with McGonagall?"
Oliver paused, using that time to take another bit of his cookie. The sun clouded over, the wind suddenly growing bitter. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he found the courage to say, "Yes. It's just – I just can't right now, Perce. It's something that I need to think through. You'll be the first person I tell, really. It's just--"
He felt a land lay on his shoulder. "All right." Pause. It occurred to Oliver that this form of trust, of allowing him to keep such an obviously important secret quiet from his best friend, was a gesture Percy Weasley rarely made. He continued: "I trust you, Ol, I do. But-- well, it's something to do with the assignment, right? The charms?"
Oliver dropped the rest of his cookie. "Charms? Assignment?" Nervous laugh, casual-like shrug of the shoulders. "Now that you mention it, I've been meaning to ask--"
A throat cleared, and both boys looked up to see Fred and George in front of them, hovering on their brooms. "I told you we'd find them here, Fred."
The other twin smirked, "In their little love nest."
"And with a picnic! Now, that is romantic!"
In a stage whisper, Percy leaned closer to Oliver and said, "We can probably take both of them, Ol. I'll go for Fred, he'll try to distract with wordplay. George hits harder, you take him." Ignoring his brothers, he handed Oliver another cookie.
Mouth full once more, Captain Wood played along, using his stern drill voice: "Not until after the game, Perce. Then you can hex them all you like."
Percy gave a heavy sigh. "If I must."
Oliver looked sideways to his roommate, both exchanging wry smiles. He always liked this side of Percy, the one that didn't allow his brothers to get the upper hand. Stomach full of turkey and cookies, and now warmed with tea, Oliver sat back comfortably. From the corner of his eye, he noticed: "Perce, you've got another rip in your robe." He extended his hand to the base of the robe." Right here, it's--"
"I know," Percy said quickly. "Happened this morning after the prefect's meeting. It's fine, Ol. Really." He slid a little ways down the seat, his robe now out of Oliver's reach.
What the hell--
Oliver retracted his hand quickly, turning in time to see the puzzled faces of Fred and George Weasley.
"Man," he muttered, feeling his face heat up. What did Percy think I was going to do? "Er- On the field. Now! Let's get that practice in!"
The twins paused, their faces still frozen. After a moment, Fred said simply, "We are on the field, Oliver."
Yes, Captain, that would be the pitch they're hovering over. "All right then. Start your drills. I'll be right down."
Once more, Oliver felt Percy's hand on his shoulder. Through the fabric, his hand still felt cold and heavy; unlike earlier though, it took all of his energy not to shake it off. "Ol, are you feeling well enough for practice? You know, after this morning and considering you were just here a little over twelve hours ago--"
"Course I am," Oliver said brightly, giving Percy's own shoulder a thump that was hard (and manly!), causing him to spill tea over his robe. "Er-- Sorry 'bout that, Perce. Really. Gotta run. Thanks for the sandwich and cookies. And tea – that was good tea."
With a short wave, he started down the stairways and to the locker rooms, pausing only when he heard Fred speaking:
"So, Perce. What a surprise it was to George and myself, seeing you at practice again."
"And in his favorite spot, too, Fred. Near the Keeper's hoop."
Even from the stairway, Oliver could have sworn he heard Percy sigh. "Come off it. You two know that Oliver and I are partners in this assignment. If we didn't reschedule our lives around these things, we'd fail."
Shaking his head, he raced back down the stairs. If only Percy knew we weren't part of the assignment anymore.--
Ignoring his brothers, Percy took a napkin from his lunch bag and began to scrub at the tea stain. No use! It's set, damn it! Now both of his robes were ruined, his normal robe torn and stained with tea, and his winter one burned the night before at practice. It occurred to Percy that these Quidditch practices were more hazardous than he originally thought.
Maybe some cold water on it – yes, in the locker rooms. No, he shook his head. If the twins ever discovered him in the locker room while Oliver was getting ready – no, he'd have to figure out another way to remove the stain. Besides, his roommate seemed like he needed some time alone, he obviously had a lot on his mind. And that fact was strange in itself, as Oliver wasn't a nervous man by nature (unlike me, Percy added). Yet he seemed preoccupied with--
"Earth to Percy." A hand waved in front of his face.
Percy blinked, only now noticing that his brothers still hovered in front of the stands. Exchanging a look with his twin, George said, "Is there something wrong?"
"Of course not," he snapped, much harsher than he intended. He sighed. "It's nothing."
"It's the assignment, right?" Fred said softly, a foreign look of concern on his face.
Just… go do your drills! He responded hesitantly: "It's complicated."
"Yeah? Well, hang in there Perce."
"Be strong. It'll be over soon."
Percy stared at his brothers. Were they being sensitive? Caring?
"Of course," Fred continued seriously. "You might want to consider some things now that it's the second day of the assignment."
What does he know? "Like what?"
George nodded, a similar solemn expression on his face. "Well, you are going out with the Quidditch team captain. So--"
"You might want to consider putting out a little."
Before Percy could grab his wand, the twins were cackling down the way to the pitch, lining for their drills just as Oliver walked out, broom in hand. My talk earlier did nothing, Percy thought, mixed sensations of amusement and gloom running through him. At least they weren't saying anything in front of Oliver – yet.
And why did they have to bring that up anyway? It's not like I could forget the differences between Ol and I. Percy leaned back in his seat, his head resting on the bench behind him. Oliver might be his only roommate, his best friend, but Percy knew he embodied a part of the school's spirit that he could never touch. Well, it wasn't as though he'd ever made me feel out of place, awkward. Except today, really. Percy stared at the clouds, ignoring the clamor on the pitch. Even when he came out, I never felt our friendship threatened. Merlin, I hope he didn't feel that way!
Of course, he knew, there was the matter of Oliver's silence about his love life. But if he'd been in love before - truly heartfelt, full-blown love, he would have told his best friends. Right? Right?
Percy sighed. Only earlier he'd been reasoning how his relationship with Penny could have alienated Oliver and yet here Percy was feeling the same way. Something wasn't making much sense.
The only information he was sure of was that Oliver had a secret, one that developed just after their breakfast together-- No, that's not right. It seems to me that he was acting strange at breakfast as well. But what could have happened in that little time, just before we met again in the Great Hall? And somehow McGonagall knew that secret (Right?), discussed it with Oliver in lieu of classes and Oliver, in his wisdom, deemed it private enough to keep from his best friend. I wonder if he's told Dave… Percy made a mental note to speak with his blond-haired friend in Plum's class. But would he have had time to tell Dave, just before we met up in the library before lunch?
Lunch…
Penny! Oh... bugger! Percy quickly rolled up the arm of his robe and glanced at his watch, already knowing how futile that effort would be. He usually ate lunch with Penelope, forgotten today in the midst of friendship crisis and secrets of which he still didn't know the answers. She just might be with Adam anyways. At that thought, he felt a twinge of optimism (at least she won't miss me) followed by puzzlement: I'm her boyfriend. Won't she care if I'm not there?
But he was even more puzzled as the thought crossed his mind: Does it really matter if I'm there or not?
Ignoring the edgy suspicion that was growing around his friendships, Percy dipped into the bag of cookies and took out another, losing his thoughts in a mixture of peanut butter and chocolate chip. In his newfound role as a spectator to Oliver's practices, he found the outdoors a less threatening atmosphere than before. It was hard for him to focus, sitting high above the field as Oliver flew back and forth in front of the Keeper's hoop, yelling commands in his thick Scottish brogue that Percy wasn't even sure a fellow Scotsman could understand.
The air cool and damp on his face, the sky glowing darker in the early afternoon hours, Percy was enjoying just being there, sitting back and allowing the stress of the day wash over him. Besides, watching Quidditch really wore him out.
Practice was only held for forty-five minutes and after he heard Oliver's last instructions bellowed from beneath the stands, he packed up his and Oliver's things, setting down to the locker rooms. Step, step, stomp. Pause. I'm really going to have to find a better way to keep in shape. The stairs just aren't doing it.
He paused outside of the locker room, uncertain if he should enter.
Early afternoon classes began right after lunch and the players soon raced past Percy, their hair damp from showers and the smell of soap lingering long after they were gone. He exchanged a small smile with a few, stiffening when he brothers emerged from the locker room, pausing to speak:
"He's in there, Perce. Clothes and all. Sorry if that's a disappointment."
Fred elbowed George. "We'll try to get him unclothed for you if we win the game tomorrow. Celebratory tumble."
Percy rolled his eyes, trying to keep his lips together. The fresh air had put him in a good mood and as much as he hated to admit it, his brothers were sometimes too much to resist a smile. Sometimes.
He knocked on the locker room door, poking his head in. "Ol, I'm here. You ready yet?"
Wearing only trousers, Oliver was sitting on a bench, looking up to give a tight smile as he put on his socks. Percy's breath caught at the sight of him. Almost makes me want to get on a broom. Almost. He self-consciously raised the pile of textbooks in front of his chest as Oliver said: "Nah. You go on ahead, I'll meet you in Plum's class in – err"
"Five minutes." Percy warned.
"Right. Five minutes. There are some things I wanted to go over here. We won't be allowed back on the pitch until early tomorrow morning."
Keep this pace up and you'll be too tired to even play tomorrow. "Just don't be too late. I'll wait for you up front, all right?"
"Sure, sure, Perce," Oliver said quickly. "No problem. Now, get out of here. I'm right behind you."
All thoughts focused now on Plum's first class after the assignment charms, Percy left the locker room area quickly. He didn't notice the Slytherins that stood in the shadows, flexing their arms menacingly, waiting impatiently for him to leave.
--
Oliver hadn't meant to lie to Percy – at least, not really. When his teammates left after practice, a flash of green caught the corner of his eye, shining bright in a dark corner of the locker room. He'd opened his mouth to issue challenge, to bring this shadow forth, this obvious Slytherin out into the light and get whatever business he had in mind out of the way. Before he had a chance, though, Percy had looked in and Oliver did he best to lead him away, knowing that asking him to wait would lead to--
Not that I can protect Percy forever. Oliver knew that as soon as their marriage was made public knowledge, not even their friends would be able to keep straight faces or resist a tease. But sometimes the only things that mattered were life's big moments and how you respond, react, to the challenge. Wasn't that what Percy said last night anyways?
And so that was Oliver's quick reasoning that led to his current position: as a heap of wounded flesh on the cold locker room floor, bleeding from his mouth and nose, his eyes already too swollen to open. He could barely hear a disturbing, wailing sound, realizing moments later that the inhuman noises were coming from him. Just the thought of moving sent waves of nausea through his body, spinning the room into a kaleidoscope of twisted images. If he'd only known that it wasn't just one Slytherin in the shadows but the entire Quidditch team, he might have tried outrunning them, perhaps even using his broom for a quick escape. This whole situation, lying helpless on the floor, his cheek firmly smacked into the grime – it's not like it's unexpected at this point now, is it Ol? Chalk up another mistake to my stupidity, he thought deprecatingly.
But at least it's not Percy. That was the one bright spot in this mess, this actual literal mess that he was still too numbed to move away from.
After another few minutes passed, Oliver tried to focus on a stick lying in front of him. That's either my wand… or a twig. If only I could reach it… If only he could grasp his wand, he would cast a few common cleaning and first aid spells, perhaps even managing to get into the showers.
And it'll be like this whole incident never happened.
--
Gnawing at the corners of his fingernails, Percy wearily eyed the classroom door from his front row seat, anticipating each approaching footstep as Oliver's. He'd arrived at class with minutes to spare, setting up his quill and parchment just as Professor Plum walked in the door.
"Hello, Mr. Weasley," he said, dropping his lesson plan onto his desk. He spoke so low as for only the students nearby to hear him. "How might you be today?"
Did he just wink at me?Percy straightened his back, his hands folded in front of him. "I'm fine, thank you Professor. Er-- How are you?"
Plum mouth opened and closed. And opened again, asking hesitantly, "You're-- fine, are you? You're really-- fine?"
"Of course." Percy's forehead creased. "Shouldn't I be fine? Er-- Aren't you fine?" Am I missing something here?
Seeming to snap out of his confusion, Plum jumped, clapping his hands together twice. "Of course, of course," he answered, loud enough now for everyone to snap to attention. "It's so good to see you all here! And you've sat next to your partners for today's class, that's very good, very good. I'll give you all a few moments to get settled." He busied himself about his desk, his eyes occasionally glancing up and meeting Percy's, only to be quickly directed away.
After his unsuccessful attempts to catch Plum's gaze, Percy turned his attention to the door. Whatever is that man talking about? And where the hell is Oliver? He rotated the quill in his hand, the feather lightly tickling his wrist. He flipped through the textbook, then his notes and back to the textbook again, all the while keeping his eyes on the doorway.
Until something poked sharply into his back.
"Karen!" he hissed, knowing the source of the attack before he turned around. Sitting directly behind him, Karen and Dave were leaning forward in matching positions, their elbows propped on the desk, chins resting on fists.
"Yes?" Dave wore a bemused smile.
"What are you two doing up here?" Percy asked shortly, glancing over his shoulder at the door once more. Any longer and he'll be officially late. This better not affect our grade!
"Everyone's paired up, so we thought we'd come a little bit closer to you and Oliver. We reasoned we'd be safe with a seat near the front row, center," Karen teased, exchanging a smile with Dave.
"Where is Hogwarts favorite Scot, anyhow?" Dave tried to look past Percy and towards the doorway. "Did he overdo things at practice?"
Percy shrugged, trying remembering how he left the pitch. I went into the locker room – no, I looked inside, and he was changing. Everyone else had left, he told me to go on ahead. But if he'd planned to stay for a bit longer, wouldn't he have said something? Unless he thought I'd disapprove… which I would, but that's beside the point! At the time, it occurred to Percy that perhaps, after the twins' disappearing clothing incident last night, Oliver might not feel comfortable changing in front of him. But that seemed to contradict so much of his personality that Percy had come to know over the past six years.
Or thought I'd known… Percy shook his head to himself, trying to rid the nagging sense of irritability that was turning inside of him. That smidgen of self-doubt that seemed to grow as the day passed on, stemming solely from the reasons why Oliver felt the need to keep so many secrets from him.
Turning back to his friends, he met their curious eyes with an uncertain voice. "I've no idea where he's at. He said he'd be right behind me," Percy took a long breath before leaning in closer to Dave. "Do you know about this secret he has?"
The blond man raised his eyebrows. "Secret? No. Haven't a clue."
"Why would he-- Oh, you mean the meeting this morning?" Briefly, Karen looked to her side, exchanging a look with Dave. "I'm sure whatever it is, he'll tell you. He's not a secretive guy."
Dave cleared his throat. "He's probably just taking his time getting to class. Or maybe he stopped to help a student find their room or something. You know how he is."
Percy gave him a deadpan stare. "Help someone find a classroom in December?"
"Oh, you know Oliver," Karen spoke pointedly, shaking her head. "He's probably taken the broom for another ride. Or thought up a new Quidditch strategy for the game tomorrow, and he's writing it down in the Play Book."
Neither of these explanations sounded plausible to Percy. Maybe in third year, even fourth, but he wouldn't consider doing those things now. Oliver may not be the most academically driven student at Hogwarts but he rarely missed class and even then, never without telling Percy first. Actually, none of these explanations even sound like plausible excuses my friends would make up, much less believe themselves.
Keeping his focus forward and quill on the parchment, he half-turned his head over his shoulder and whispered: "Do you guys know something that I--"
"I'm sorry, Professor," Oliver breezed into the room, immediately sitting down hard in the chair next to Percy's. Though his shirt was untucked and his hair messed, he looked just as Percy left him in the locker room, albeit a little breathless. He looked at Percy with stressed eyes, though he gave a quick shrug as though to say, 'No big deal.'
"Practice ran late today. If you'd like, I could get a note from--"
Plum held up a hand, stopping his explanation. "That will be all right, Mr. Wood. Considering the game tomorrow, I think we'd best forget this little incident, don't you think?" His eyes widened at Oliver, as though his words were some secret message that only the two would understand.
Who'd-a-thought Plum was a Quidditch fan, Percy mused as he turned in his seat to face his partner. He had planned to ask what held him up, as practice was clearly over when he'd last seen him. But Oliver was facing the opposite direction, focused on tying his shoelaces with such concentration that by the time he'd finished, Plum had cleared his throat to call the classroom to order.
"Twenty-four hours," the professor declared from his chair. The room quieted down immediately as students turned to face him, looking expectantly, eager for once for their next instructions. With a hint of a smile playing at his lips, the professor looked around at each student before rising from behind the desk. "For one full day, you've been married to your partners. Hopefully you've participated in some aspects of their lives, learned something about the other that you haven't previously known. Anyone?"
"He's an ass!"
"We've started dating!"
"My parents have been to see Dumbledore about you!"
"She has a comfortable mattress!" (This comment was followed immediately with a slap! sound, Percy noticed).
The room enveloped into chaos of shouts and laughter, everyone impatient to share, gossip, bemoan and tease about their own experiences. Smiling and nodding encouragingly, Plum looked around the room as though he were hearing each individual story, delighted at the excitement, the energy that flowed with good conversation.
He walked to Percy and Oliver's desk, stopping just as his thighs brushed the front of the table. He clasped his hands behind his back. "That's wonderful, wonderful news. As always, remember you can take your questions to me or another teacher at any time." (Fat chance, Percy remembered his earlier difficulties in trying to find answers). "Let's see. How are things going between you and Mr. Sharp, Miss George? I understand you two were together before the assignment?"
Percy looked over his shoulder. Karen was biting her bottom lip as though trying to find something to say. Eventually, she started slowly, "Well, we're spending a lot of time together. But, you see Professor, nothing's really changed there."
Shouts of "Shame! " and "Dave, are you blind?" ran through the students and, Percy was pleased to see, his blond-haired friend turned red at the banter. At least now I know that kind of blush isn't limited to the Weasley family. Even Oliver himself contributed to the heckling.
"I've a few things to teach you, Dave-my-boy," a Ravenclaw teased from across the room.
Looking around, Percy saw that it was Adam who spoke. Adam, whose arm was now draped casually over the back of his partner's chair, his head leaned in and almost touching her blond curls…
Oh, Penelope looks nice today, Percy thought belatedly, only now realizing she was present in the classroom. Looks very nice and… clean. She always looks tidy. Some part of him wondered if Dave ever used the words 'clean' or 'tidy' to describe his girlfriend's primary attributes.
He coughed.
"It's just," Karen started again as the room quieted once more. Unlike Dave, she had only smiled when the students twisted her words. "We're not sure what you're looking for, other than proximity to one another. And cooperation."
The professor beamed. "And that, Miss George, is a lovely lead-in to today's lesson: 'Honesty!'" Plum used his trademark air-quotation gestures.
"Not the air-quotes. Anything but that," Oliver muttered, nudging Percy.
Plum was pacing. "How you present yourself to the world can be completely different to how you interact with your mate. Yesterday I warned you all there would be little tests you would hardly know of, all of which are going to be used to determine your final grade. And to me," Plum said, hoping onto the surface of the desk and crossing his legs, "I feel that your measure of honesty for the first twenty-four hours would be most telling of how seriously you've taken this assignment. Since you've been together only a short time, and the charms aren't real," Plum coughed heavily, and then cleared his throat, "we'll only focus on how honest you've been with your partner since the bonding. This is a charm I've worked up for this assignment only, thus making the spell inoperable under normal bonds." As a side note to himself, he muttered, "But wouldn't it be lovely if married couples actually could use it…" Ahem. "Take a look behind me, please."
Plum waved his wand, an incantation lighting the classroom wall, complete with illustrations and dialect pronunciation. An empty, capped vial appeared on each desk. "When performed correctly, the vial will fill with a cloud that corresponds to your level of honesty with each other. White symbolizes total honesty and sincerity to how you've interpreted the assignment. But honesty can also be disastrous to a relationship-- and let's be truthful: No one can be totally honest all the time. We're aiming for an ivory or bone-colored cloud, but I'll accept cream with full points. The darker the cloud, the less honest you've been. You've the entire class. Begin… now!"
"Where were you?" Percy whispered, his eyes darting back and forth, reading the incantation and looking at the empty vial. "You said you were right behind me?"
Oliver sighed. "Took me a bit to put everything away. Nothin' to worry about, Perce. I made it here on time, Plum's not going to deduct anything from our assignment."
"Oliver, I didn't mean it like that. But if you thought you were going--"
As though Oliver hadn't heard Percy, he turned his back to him, looking over his shoulder at Dave and Karen. "How's it going, guys? Looks a bit complicated for Plum's class, eh?"
Karen shook her head, her eyes watching as Dave hovered his wand over the vial, already muttering the charm quietly under his breath. "Not really. Dave and Perce covered this kind of incantation in their Charms class this year." In low voices, she and Oliver began to discuss the advantages of being partners with students in Honors Charms.
Percy reverted his gaze to the classroom wall. Dave was right; the incantation might have been difficult if he hadn't already been tested on this technique. From the corner of his eye, he watched Plum go from desk to desk, helping students fill their vials. Already, he had helped some pairs to fill their vials with clouds of creams and yellows (and one very nasty orange, Percy noted). The trick was to balance the wand correctly to the rhythm of the words.
Best get started then, the redhead resolved. He set out his wand, positioned over the vial, and began muttering the Latin spell that would determine their level of honesty to each other. Piece of cake. He couldn't have asked for a more interesting charm; after all, he knew Oliver was keeping something from him. And since he's never been anything except honest with his roommate, he couldn't help his growing curiosity at what color the vial would show.
He finished the spell quickly and, with a quick look at Oliver, they both leaned in close to see the results.
Nothing happened.
"That's strange," Percy muttered, staring at the vial's clear contents. "Let me try again." Quickly, he repeated the spell and wand positions, speaking slower to ensure that all his words were pronounced clearly.
The vial remained transparent. I couldn't have done anything wrong. Maybe there's something wrong with the vial--
"Oliver," he started, turning to his friend. But Oliver was staring at Professor Plum who, Percy noticed, was standing at Adam and Penelope's desk, watching her finish the incantation. The vial turned a pristine bone color and Plum clapped, exclaiming, "Excellent! That's the brightest one I've seen yet!" At those words, Penelope leaned into Adam, both smiling brightly at their success.
"Oliver," Percy tried again, taking his eyes away from the group. He jumped when he realized Oliver's eyes had already gone back to him, watching him stare at Penelope and Adam. "Er-- what do you suppose went wrong here? You want to give it a try?"
Oliver rolled his eyes, his cheeks stained with the faintest hint of a blush. "Perce, if this isn't working for you, how's it suppose to work for me?" Still, he raised his wand and spoke the Latin words in a clear voice, moving his arm to the rhythm of the spell. And yet, true to his words, the vial remained clear.
"Heh heh," Oliver chuckled nervously. "You suppose we have a homophobic vial here?"
"Not unless it was charmed by the Slytherins." Percy thought he saw Oliver stiffen at his words. He cleared his throat again, as though to reset the mood, and turned in his chair. "Dave, how'd you get your--"
But his two friends were leaning over their own vial, looking panic stricken at the results. Inside, the vial showed a dark blue cloud with shades of grays and blacks rapidly turning through the blue.
"That's—there must be something wrong with our vials," Percy started slowly. His friends looked up at him, then towards each other with questioning glances. Why would their relationship be showing blue? As much as he didn't like to admit it, Dave and Karen had the strongest relationship he knew, even more so than his relationship with Penelope.
Dave spoke first, slowly. "I've never been anything but honest with you, Karen. What's--"
"Percy's right," she blurted, looking at Percy and Oliver. As though by purpose, she didn't acknowledge Dave. "There must be something wrong! Why would--"
"Ah, and how might we be doing here?" Plum started, and then gasped when he noticed the vial. "Blue! Look at this, class!" He held up the vial for everyone to see. Both Karen and Dave turned red and sunk in their seats, still not looking at each other. "Related to dishonesty, a dark blue symbolizes a lack of communication, that there are some truths being withheld. See the clouds of black turning in the blue? This shows that the feeling is restricted to only one of the partners. Which one of you is it?" Plum peered over his glasses at the partners, who remained silent to answer the question. "I see. Well, I'm not happy to see this in any case. The fact that you were together before the assignment might play a factor, but there's other couples in here who have been dating for awhile. Let's see some improvement by tomorrow, all right?"
"Way to go, Dave!" Someone yelled from the back of the room.
With meek expressions, both nodded and then shifted their gaze to the desk, unwilling to look at the other. Percy didn't know what to say and, judging by the shocked expression on Oliver's face, he surmised that his friend was also at a loss for words.
Percy tapped the point of his quill on the desk. "Professor? I'm afraid there's something wrong with our vial here. Could you take a look at it?"
"Hmmm? Oh, yes. Mr. Weasley, aren't you in Honors Charms? You should be able to perform that spell easily without my help."
Lord. Don't embarrass me academically! Percy felt the trademark Weasley blush start – the tingling in his toes, the nausea in his tummy, the warmth circling his neck. And-- oh, there it was: the full out blast of red that painted his face, his ears and (he felt certain) made his red hair stand even more on end. Self-consciously, he ran a hand through the curls, trying to muster a good response that might redeem his intellect.
Plum peered at him over his glasses, looking at his reddened facial features. "Do you need one of my blood pressure pills?" he whispered. "No? All right then."
He heard Oliver stifle a laugh.
I can't wait until professor evaluation time comes around.
"I'll handle this for you, gentlemen," the professor said importantly, taking the clear vial and turning to the side of the classroom. Percy straightened up, trying to see the color of the cloud but Plum turned away, the vial now lost in the layers of his robe as his wand gave pronounced jerks.
Percy leaned into Oliver, brushing their shoulders together. "Ol, this doesn't sound like the same--"
"Done!" Plum exclaimed, placing a vial of pure white something on their desk. "That's good, boys. Who's next?" He walked by them without further comment, smacking his lips.
Now filled, the vial rolled back and forth on the desk, the contents appearing like a heavy, snowy mist rather than the expected cloudy texture. It looked-- It looks unnatural, Percy realized with a start. "Does this look right, guys?" Percy asked, before noticing that Oliver had turned back to Dave as they tried to determine why their cloud had turned blue. Karen remained silent.
"Guys?" he interjected louder, waiting until they turned their attention to him. "This isn't right. The cloud can't be white. This isn't even a cloud, look at it! And I know the incantation used wasn't--"
Hands clapped and all the vials vanished from each desk. "Excellent! Only a few vials filled with dark colors, and I expect those partners to work out their problems this evening. Those with dark vials, I'll be performing this incantation tomorrow after class with you. Understood?" Plum raised his eyebrows, looking behind Percy's head, himself certain that Dave and Karen were still shrinking in their chairs. "Wonderful! Now I have a special notice. Due to the third-year Herbology disaster – you remember, the headmaster was discussing this in the Great Hall last evening?" Plum rolled his eyes. "Anyways, Professor Sprout will need the late morning sun to de-charm the affected plants. So I'll be expecting you here for this class instead."
For the first time in Percy's academic career, he heard murmurs of excitement ripple through his classmates, eager for another day of Plum's class.
"Right," Plum smacked his hands and lips together in unison. "Also, I'm to remind you that late afternoon classes tomorrow are cancelled due to the Winter Quidditch Finale, this year between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Good luck to the players-- er, player here," he added, with a pointed look at Oliver. "Now, keep paying attention to your bonding, reporting any problems to me. I'll see you all here tomorrow, remember!"
Chaos broke out as the class scrambled to gather their papers and books, intending to make the most of their five-minute break before the next class. Of course, Percy thought as he tried to see Adam and Penelope from his seat, normally his fellow students weren't this happy for a Tuesday afternoon but the assignment's novelty still hadn't worn off. For a quick second, he thought he saw a flash of Penelope's blond hair exit the room. Must have a test or something. We'll talk later, anyways, he reassured himself, though a part of him wondered if he'd find the time to speak with Penny at the prefect's lounge, especially with Adam there.
He cleared his throat. "I'm going to ask Plum about the charms." He gathered his textbooks into a pile, ignoring Oliver who had turned and looked questionably at him, seeming to be trying to form the right words to say. But Percy had already leaned forward in his chair and said loudly over the noise, "Sir? I've a question about the bonding and the charms you performed. Do you suppose you could spare a moment to--"
"Sorry, Mr. Weasley," Plum said, hurriedly taking his lesson plan books and rushing out the door with the stream of students. "Perhaps tomorrow. I'm in a bit of a hurry right now!" He gave a short, apologetic wave as he scurried out of sight.
Still sitting at his desk, Percy was dumbfounded, numb. There it was – just another strangeness to the day that put the ink on the quill, so to speak. When had life gotten so complicated, so nasty? Within twenty-four hours, his professors had ostracized him to the point they were running away before he could ask a question. Plum had even faked the honesty charm today - of that, he was increasingly certain. Oliver earlier as much confessed that he was keeping a secret from him. And Penny wasn't accessible for advice or comfort, both of which he rarely received from her but nonetheless, he felt she'd certainly provide considering the circumstances.
And then there's my friendship with Oliver. Since they were 'married,' their friendship had been strengthened by sharing their activities, partaking in good conversation; yet also made awkward with the silent questions that arose: Haven't we always been close enough friends to know each other this well? If we weren't in this assignment, wouldn't he tell me his secret? And what took him so long to get to class?
Dave and Oliver were talking Quidditch strategies behind him, the other students (including Karen, he noticed) having already emptied the room to make the most of the break. He half-turned to watch them, their faces animated, hands using wild gestures that only paused to draw the outline of the Quidditch pitch and player positions on the insides of their textbooks. And even the horror at seeing their illustrations inside a book wasn't enough to alleviate the sinking feeling of paranoia that was firming in his heart, saying louder and louder: Just how close are we, anyways?
Students for the next class already begun entering the room and, taking this silent cue, all three boys simultaneously rose. Percy interrupted his friends, "Dave and I have Honors Potions, then Ancient Runes. We'll meet in the dormitory after last class?"
"Sure, Perce," came Oliver's casual response. He coughed. "Whatever."
Percy turned fast on his heel, forgetting himself in the surprise at Oliver's short answer.
Whatever?!! What've I ever done to-- About to pose question, he stopped upon meeting brown eyes that stared back into his own, small and guarded, as though to bring him to challenge. This was not, in Percy's experience, an Oliver Wood who should be confronted. But still he reached out a hand, placing it gently on his friend's shoulder. "Ol," he started. Just as his hand made contact, Oliver jumped back, letting out a slight yelp.
He looked at Percy in surprise, rubbing his shoulder with his hand. "Don't touch me, Percy," he hissed, grabbing his books and heading out the door.
What the--Eyes wide, Dave looked at Percy. "Did I miss something between you two?"
Feeling as though he were slapped, Percy bit his tongue, not trusting any response, any excuse, he might provide. Everything seemed fine last night, this morning. What the hell happened to him since then?
Aware Dave was watching him, he gave a short nod and walked away, forgetting that they shared the next few classes together. He entered into the crowded corridor and let himself be swept away in the student tide, more defeated and alone than he'd ever felt at Hogwarts.
--
Rushing to the dormitory after a particularly boring potions class, Oliver thought back over the events of the past few hours. Not that they'd be difficult for him to forget; after all, it wasn't everyday that he lied (poorly lied, he knew) to his best friend. Or had to struggle with a way of telling Percy that Plum set them up for the most humiliating experience of their lives, with no immediate solution in sight. And on top of everything, Oliver's quick turns and stairway climbs were beginning to resemble, he knew, ballet pirouettes, the pain of the Slytherins locker room visit unwilling to disappear as easily as the scars.
But despite his aching shoulders and legs, and the distant thought about the quality of his health for the Quidditch game tomorrow, Oliver continued up the Gryffindor dormitory staircase slowly, only focused on how poorly he treated Percy. There was no reason to keep the news from him any longer; after all, if their situations were reversed, he'd want to know immediately what was going on. And besides, he knew he couldn't (wouldn't!) keep a secret from Percy any longer than he had too. Because after Plum's class, after sitting alone in his last two classes, the only fact he could focus on was: Merlin, I'm scum.
With great relief, Oliver arrived at the top of the staircase, pausing to catch his breath and stretch his arms, trying to relieve the stiffening that had begun. The door to their room was open. Percy was sitting at his desk with his back to the doorway, his quill working furiously, his head resting on the desk surface as he wrote. The winter sun was setting early, its harsh rays shining on his form and through his hair, illuminating the orange layers to a fire engine-red.
And suddenly Oliver was taken back to this morning when it occurred to him that his feelings weren't just of the friendship variety. That inexplicable something that seemed to fill him, warm him, while also being the source of intense nausea. Oliver tried to push the thought out of his mind, knowing just how bittersweet it would be to even consider thinking about his roommate in that way. Because, as good as a friend Percy might be, he was as straight as men came. And, Oliver well knew, it wouldn't take a lot of energy for this Quidditch player for fall completely, head-over-heels in love with the man sitting at the desk.
Oliver choked at this thought, leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath. When he'd calmed, the quill had stopped moving but Percy's head was still resting on the desk. Waiting.
He took a step forward, knowing that one of the hardest (and truth be told, sometimes easiest) aspects of friendship was trying to apologize without actually using the exact words. He let out a shaky breath. "You're all set for the night?"
Percy grunted something that sounded like 'yep' from underneath his huddled form. His quill resumed writing.
Oliver put his textbooks on top of his own desk. "Want me to get us some food for later?"
An index finger jutted out from under the huddle, pointing to the two brown bags that sat on Percy's nightstand. The quill didn't stop moving in the other hand.
Ok, I get it. You're the better friend here. Oliver sighed. No matter what had happened, Percy was going to have to meet him halfway on this one, at least for him to muster the courage to tell him the truth.
"You brown bag a lot, don't you?" The burly man walked (as best he could) over to Percy's bed, sitting on the corner. "Me too, when I'm at practice. Seems like we're always being pulled in different directions. Well, not this week," he chuckled dryly.
No answer.
Oliver stretched his arms out and up, trying not to groan at the pain. "Er- Perce?" he started, trying steady his breathing. "What exactly happens at the prefect's lounge? Anything illegal?"
Percy spun around in his chair, raising his eyebrows. Oliver gave him a hesitant smile, gratefully taking the gesture as a reaffirmation of their friendship.
"Tonight's straight-forward." Mindful of the wet ink, Percy carefully rolled up the parchment and tied a swift bow. "I did my tutoring in the library earlier and wrote to Hermione beforehand, so she'll take over any others that need help tonight. It's mostly just patrolling and paperwork, and I've a quick meeting with the headmaster before we go," Percy paused, looking at Oliver thoughtfully. "Take your play book. I've a feeling that you'll need it."
"Have you ever seen me go anywhere without it?" Oliver joked lightly, lying back on the bed. Percy always took care to ensure his bed free of lumps, unlike his own that bulged with tossed socks and wrinkled sheets, and he often took advantage of his roommate's compulsion for neatness. He stared at the ceiling. It felt good to be finally lying down and giving his aching, bruised shoulders and legs a rest. "You're always busy, Perce. Not that you ever say anything about it."
Pause. Oliver was certain that if he were sitting up, Percy would be looking thoughtfully at him, as though choosing the right words for a response. I wish he wouldn't do that. He doesn't have to do that with me.
"You're always busy too, Ol," came the response. "Seems like we've been good at finding things to distract us ever since we came here."
"Yeah," Oliver chuckled softly, closing his eyes and smiling. "Keeps us out of trouble, you might say. Funny we've even had time to introduce ourselves. Why, I don't think we've ever spent an entire school day together here. I go one way, you go the other, and we're lucky when we do meet up in between." He reached behind his head and, fingers touching a pillow, quickly pulled it under his head.
"It's been nice, though," Percy started, stopping short as though he realized he didn't want to say that. "I mean-- I mean, that we get to spend more time together now. Because, you know... It can be a little… you know..."
Is this Percy Weasley, letting a sentence, a thought, go unfinished? Quickly, Oliver was snapped back into the waking world, his eyes now wide open. He sat up slowly, mindful of his aches. Percy was still half-turned in his chair, an elbow slung over the back and his chin resting thoughtfully on his forearm. One sleeve had been rolled up to write, and Oliver only noticed now how many freckles coated his arm, standing out amongst the pale skin. His eyes were closed. Though his nature may be quiet, I don't think I've ever seen Percy so tranquil, he thought.
And as much as he didn't want to disturb such peace, knowing Percy rarely experienced a good rest from the world, Oliver couldn't help but try to put his last sentence together, eventually coming up with, "… lonely?"
Percy's blue eyes suddenly stared back at him. "What's the time, Ol?" he asked quickly, before biting his top lip under.
Uh-uh. You're not getting out of this one, Weasley. Heart racing, Oliver scooted to the corner nearest the desk. He felt a tight muscle twinge in his back. "Are you ever lonely, Perce?"
Straightening his back, Percy turned towards his desk, his fingers fiddling with the rolls of parchments. "Pretty hard to be lonely, Oliver," he said, in a matter-of-factly way. "It's not like we're bored, or--"
Oliver reached out, touching his arm. He flinched, the cold skin a surprise to his warm hand. "Hey, don't get after me. I was just--"
"Don't get after you?" Percy's blue eyes turned ice, jerking his arm out of Oliver's touch. "After everything--?"
Oliver put his palms up. "Look, I'm sorry for before. But I'm not--"
Percy pushed out his desk chair with his feet, his knees now almost touching Oliver's. He crossed his legs. "Ol, let's reexamine the facts here. You're the one who's keeping secrets. You're the one who's acting funny. My best friend one minute and a puzzle the next. You're hot, then cold. What the hell is going on here?"
Oliver hesitated, ducking his head only briefly to gather his thoughts. There's the truth, Wood. You're not getting off easy today. "I know," he started quietly. "I know I haven't been the best of friends today. Perhaps I've never been the most considerate friend, and I'm sorry. I've got a bit on my mind."
"And I don't?" he friend retorted, an arm gesturing to the rolls of parchment on the desk.
"You do, I know," he nodded in earnest. "And there are some things I have to tell you, Percy. I just--," he paused, looking down at the pattern on Percy's comforter. He couldn't bring himself to tell his secret, not with his friend so distressed. "I just …can't." He finished lamely, closing his eyes briefly.
Until, that is, Percy's legs uncrossed and hit against his own. He stood up quickly. "You don't want to. Well, I guess it just doesn't get any clearer than that, Oliver, does it?" Opening the cupboard, he grabbed his robe and swung it around his shoulders, wrapping his arms around the pile of textbooks. He headed towards the door.
"Perce, it's not like that," Oliver tried. But when Percy turned around at the door, his face full of frustration and hurt, he felt the wind knocked out of him, unable to find the words to ask him to stay.
"Am I ever lonely, Oliver," Percy repeated his question quietly, looking at him with big blue eyes, shining with genuine sorrow. "Always. Always lonely, Oliver. And how can I ignore that? If I'm not someone's brother or their tutor or their roommate," he spit out the last word, "then why the hell would they want to confide in me, anyways."
His words weighed heavily on Oliver, who immediately stood and stepped forward. "Oh, Perce," he breathed out quietly.
"Look at today, Ol. Is there any reason to keep denying that my life is like this?"
Words of encouragement came back to Oliver, ones spoken by Percy the night before, their significance hitting him with a resonating logic. Percy is just trying to live his life here the best way he knows how, with the cards he's dealt. And surprising, Oliver realized with another jolt, as perfectly balanced and level-headed as his friend's persona always appeared to be, he needed to have some form of stability, certainty, reinforced often.
And who didn't? Oliver thought bitterly, realizing that everything Percy was saying had some ring of truth. How long has he felt this way? Why haven't I been there for him?
Percy was still talking, now biting back a choke. "My professors won't even talk to me. They think I'm a-a joke! You're keeping me at a distance which, of course, you always have, right?"
Oliver shook his head hard. "No, Perce. I--"
"Dave's got his own life, his own worries. And my girlfriend," Percy used the back of his sleeve to wipe his brow. "My girlfriend won't even give me the time of day. So, Oliver, if you'll excuse me, I've a meeting with the headmaster right now and then my duties to perform. If you prefer not to join me in the lounge, that's fine. I'll certainly understand!" Without waiting for an answer, he rushed out the door.
Heaviness settled in Oliver's heart but instead of following Percy or settling down, he began to pace the room. His steps hurried, he walked back and forth, kicking the legs of the beds and chairs, throwing any unfortunate object in his way over to the couch or into the fireplace. How the HELL did this happen?
Upset and restless, he walked towards Percy's desk, gripping the back of his chair with tight fists. Without thinking about the implications, he jerked one arm upwards, his fist shooting through the top of the desk, splintering loudly, and sending thin pieces of wood through his skin.
Searing pain coursed through his body, serving only to heighten the aches left by his earlier fight with the Slytherins. His mind went blank for a moment, then suddenly overloaded with belated thoughts of twisted fingers and throbbing everythings, and then finally, the reality of what he'd done. He stumbled to Percy's bed, sitting at the corner once more, and watched the blood drip from his hand onto the faded pattern of his comforter. The pain felt like nothing else he'd experienced, distant and numb, as though his body had shut apart from his mind.
The pain felt deserved.
"Well. That had to hurt."
Oliver looked up to see Dave standing in the doorway, his arms folded, a smirk on his face. Dave? Did he just see—Aware he was in a state of detachment, shock, Oliver turned his eyes back down to his arm, looking again at the splinter cuts and jabs, the blood that was still trickling down. After a moment, he said calmly, "Isn't there somewhere else you have to be?"
Chucking softly, Dave shook his blood hair out of his eyes and strolled into the room, towards Percy's bed. He opened the truck, rummaging until he found a small, personal first-aid box. He sat next to Oliver, taking out a handkerchief and placing it over his lap.
Gently taking his arm, Dave placed it on the cloth and peeled back the bloodstained sleeve. He worked in silence, diligently, until the blood was cleaned and most of the splinters removed. After a few minutes passed, he used his wand to close the wounds, though some were too deep to be penetrated with his limited knowledge of healing charms.
"Percy's desk," Dave said softly, his eyes still concentrated on Oliver's arm. "Never has such a desk been used so much. Never has so much time been spent at--"
"Shut it," Oliver said sharply, trying to take his wrist back.
"Uh-uh. Not yet." He continued muttering charms, until: "I can't seem to cover all the wounds. It's almost as though you've used healing charms recen-- Oh. I see." Dave clucked his tongue. He wrapped a cloth bandage around the hand and up his forearm tightly, tying a neat little bow at the top. All the while, Oliver knew, the wheels would be turning in that sharp mind of his. Cluck. "There. That's cute, eh? Now, take off your shirt, Ol."
"What?" Oliver said, trying to center on the words that were being said. But the pain was making it hard to concentrate. "No, this is fine. I'll just change in the--"
"It's only me. Here, I'll even get a shirt for you to change into." Gently taking Oliver's arm off his lap, Dave walked over to his truck, choosing a sweater from the top. "Don't fret. I've no intention of leaving Karen for you, no matter how good you look without your shirt."
"Shut it," Oliver said again, only this time he was unable to hide his amusement. Dave threw the sweater onto Percy's bed. "I'm fine, Dave. Really. Thanks for everything, but--"
"The Slytherins got to you today, didn't they?" his friend asked quickly, folding his arms. Cluck.
Don't do this, Dave. Oliver blinked at him, shaking his arm to allow the blood to flow more evenly. "Wha-- No! Honestly, Dave, I don't know where--"
"That's why you won't take off your shirt now. And why you jumped in Plum's class when Percy touched you. Oliver, he's going to catch on sooner than later." Shaking his head, the young man took out his wand once more and sat next to Oliver, muttering a quick cleaning charm onto the comforter. Most of the blood came out but, to Oliver's horror, the faintest trace of darkness couldn't be wiped away.
"You should have gone to the infirmary immediately. Or I could have helped you with the healing charms. They're bullying you, Ol, just trying to find an excuse to pick on you. No one else feels that way. And Plum would have understood if you couldn't have made it to class."
Oliver stood, slowly removing his shirt. "Plum, maybe. But not Percy."
"Percy deserves to know the truth. I just passed him in the corridor," Dave jerked his head towards the door. "He walked right by me. Don't tell me he doesn't have a lot on his mind."
"Everyone does," Oliver retorted, finally able to remove his arms from the sleeves, allowing the soiled shirt to fall to the floor. He wouldn't look at his chest, unsure of the full impact of the beating.
"Geez, Ol," Dave hissed. "How are you even--"
"Look, I did what I had to do," Oliver said pointedly. "Aren't you the one in Honors Potions? There's the sink over there. Do you think you could take a moment and whip me up somethin' to get rid of this, instead of the lecture?" Well aware he didn't deserve Dave's attention, he nevertheless pulled on the clean sweater in silence and busied himself with tidying the mess he'd made of the room. He wouldn't look at his friend; the sounds of liquid pouring, glasses bumping together and the muttering of quiet charms provided the only clues that he wasn't alone.
After a few moments:
"Over here," Dave said quietly. Looking over, Oliver saw a smoking beaker resting beside the sink, Percy's spare ingredients lined against the wall. Dave was wiping the counter with a cloth and, with a brief glance in his direction, made his way to the couch. For the first time, Oliver noticed the lines of stressed that seemed to line his face, and he remembered the dark blue vial from Plum's class.
Great, Oliver thought cynically. Now I can just add guilt to the emotional rollercoaster of today. Grabbing the beaker and stifling a sigh, he sat down (carefully!) onto the couch. Slowly, he let the mint-flavored liquid coat his throat, feeling the tingles and tightenings as his body healed.
"Thanks, Dave," he said softly, once the beaker had been emptied.
Shaking his blond hair out of his eyes, Dave turned sideways to look at him. "It's not that big a deal, Ol. So you're married for a bit, so what? So what if it's to Percy?"
"Yeah, so what? It's not like everyone else isn't in this boat, eh?" Sighing, Oliver tried to push his own sarcasm aside. "This isn't about being gay or being 'out,' or even being one of two Gryffindors this year. It's about high school trash looking for a reason - any reason, mind you - to call me out. Do me a favor? Don't tell Percy. He has enough to worry about as it is."
"Percy's not your average Gryffindor," Dave started, then added apologetically: "What I mean is, he's bound to figure things out sooner than later. You've been in worse situations anyways, and it helps when you're not alone, when you can have someone to depend on."
"Not alone?" Oliver retorted. "What, would you have preferred that both Percy and I got bet to a pulp? You're going to have to trust me on this one, Dave. I do have his best interests at heart."
"Yeah. It sure shows through the way you've been treating him."
Oliver moved to the edge of the chair. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Maybe. But whatever you think about me, remember that he's a lot stronger than you give him credit for." Without waiting for Oliver's response, Dave rose and looked around the room, straightening Percy's bed and putting away the first-aid supplies he used.
Oliver looked over his shoulder, watching him clean the room until his eyes caught sight of what used to be Percy's desk. His pain numbed, the wounds now healing, he viewed the destruction with a clear head. No… Now broken, the surface of the desk was at a tilt to the floor, all the books, quills, ink jars and other knickknacks having crashed with the impact. Dave took out his wand. Oliver watched as he neatly levitated the unbroken items to his own desk, with a quickly executed cleaning charm on the spilt ink.
And then, in a day marked already with too many realizations, Oliver was hit with the sudden clarity of what Dave had said earlier. What if he would understand?Oliver looked down at his bandaged forearm and hand, their magic not strong enough to completely erase any evidence of his earlier frustrations. He didn't need Dave to tell him that his poor use of healing charms after practice diminished their current ability to heal his hand. And though the potion was strong and effective, he still felt a strong ache in his shoulders and a soreness in the hand that hit the desk.
"You all right, Ol?" Dave asked at the door.
"Yeah," came Oliver's small answer. How is it possible that now things are even worse than they were before? "Thanks, Dave," he said sincerely, meeting his eyes. "I really appreciate that you're here."
"Anytime, you know that. Come on, we'd better get a move on it. Perce should be finished with Dumbledore by now," his friend was quick to answer, giving an encouraging smile as he picked up his own books. "Let's go. We'll have to think up some excuse our favorite head boy will believe. How about you found out I'm betting against you for tomorrow's match, and took your frustrations out on his desk? All in an effort to preserve my beautiful face." His smile grew cheeky.
"I've something to tell you, David," Oliver said quietly, walking over to his friend and placing his good hand on his shoulder. "It's about Perce and I. There's no easy way to say this. But we're-- we're really married."
--
Percy rushed through the corridors, past the empty classrooms and down staircases, his feet skipping every second step. Few students were around, probably, he knew, enjoying the few minutes of gossip before dinner began in the Great Hall. And remembering the difficult meal that he and Oliver had yesterday, he felt relief at knowing they'd be spending their evening in the lounge or on patrol, relatively safe from the taunts of his brothers and the Slytherin Quidditch team.
Percy had tried to push whatever that'd happened with Oliver to the back of his mind (but of course, only succeeded to focus on their estrangement even more). He hadn't meant to make such a big deal out of his insecurities in their friendship or his paranoia towards this assignment. He was trying to be cool and act the part of the person that he so wanted to be, that he so wanted to be for Oliver. With Oliver, he silently corrected
But Percy was at an age where he was stuck between being true to his self and the persona he wanted to portray, and throwing a guy like Oliver Wood into the mix seemed to eliminate all logic. Oliver was the oddcard in his life, the one part that he couldn't provide a reasonable explanation for existing. He brought out Percy's sense of humor and fun, saying the most unpredictable things while observing the least obvious aspects of life and causing him to think. And as an academic, Percy well appreciated the gift of a different perspective.
Yet with his friendship came the pressures that Percy rarely challenged. Sure, Oliver would calm him down with a quick look or a warm hand over his own, or even just by pouring a cuppa and sitting back while he ranted over his schoolwork or brothers' latest shenanigans. Percy would tease, yes, and make jokes with his friends that played off his studious nature. But there was always a barrier that separated their personal natures from themselves. The best examples being, he knew now, their silence about their love lives and their quiet determination towards their separate interests.
Before today, he never let his insecurities show so obviously (and loudly), and he would never have said what he had if Oliver's secrets hadn't been weighing heavily on him. Because, he knew, Oliver held the cards in their friendship. He was the 'clichéd jock' (to borrow a term from Dave), the young man that could have any friend he wanted or charm any person that he chose. And despite the secrets and blatant differences between them, Percy would never take his friendship for granted or challenge its sincerity. After all, he was the expendable one, not Oliver.
But today seemed to be an exception to the rule, he sighed to himself. Just thinking about the words exchanged between them, Oliver's lame excuses and (Lord) his own paranoia run rampant, he cringed. Though he felt he was right, even knew he was justified to some extent, that didn't stop Percy from feeling that he went over the top. Not like that's out of character or anything, he thought harshly.
He'd just rounded another corner quickly when--
"Whoa," Percy exclaimed, sliding on a gooey something just as he set down another flight of stairs. Letting his books fly, he grabbed onto the railing in the hope of stopping the impending fall. But the gooey something seemed to coat the railing as well and, like an amateur gymnast, he flipped over the side of the staircase, landing hard on the cobblestone floor.
SMACK!Lord.
Lifting his head slowly, Percy let out a soft groan, feeling the familiar pain and dizziness of sudden impact. Truth be told, it wasn't the first time this happened to him – even in this very spot. Actually, if history really does repeat itself, it certainly won't be the last time here at Hogwarts for me.
He slowly lifted his chest off the floor, leaning on his elbows. His glasses had (thankfully!) landed in his lap intact, and he quickly placed them on his head, blinking his eyes back into focus. Nothing broken. Only, I suspect, my dignity. Come on, Head Boy, you're going to be late.
But just as Percy began to sit back on his knees, the sounds of girlish giggling and whispered promises drifted his way. He sighed, realizing that his meeting would have to be delayed for yet another discussion with amorous students about etiquette. It never does end for the head boy now, does it?
Managing to roll over, he looked to his side to see the source of the quiet laughter.
In a darkened hollow beneath a set of stairs opposite his own, a dark-haired student stood tall in the shadows. His body was pressing against a slightly shorter girl whose hands moved rapidly, rhythmically from his hair to below his waist and back up again. Percy could see her long blond curls bobbing over the boy's shoulder and soon, he heard the quick opening of robes, watching in horror as the fabric rippled with the movement underneath. From where he laid, Percy could just make out the gleam of a prefect's badge that glowed brightly in the candlelit corridor.
"Penny?" he whispered.
--
TBC: Poor Percy. Poor Oliver. Poor Dave. Poor Karen. Though some truths will be revealed, they'll further threaten the friendship of the group. And it's only the end of Day Two.
