Title: After the Quidditch Match (1/5)
Author: elgatoneun
Rating: PG-13 for slash
Pairing: Percy/Oliver
Summary: After the first match of the year, Percy finds Oliver and tries to comfort him.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.
Spoilers: Everything up to and including book 3.
Feedback: Would be appreciated
Notes: This takes places during Percy and Oliver's 7th year (Prisoner of Azkaban). I subscribe to the popular belief that Percy and Oliver are the only two seventh year boys in Gryffindor.
Percy looked up from his textbook at the sound of noisy clumping that accompanied the entrance of the twins and several members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They had played ferociously regardless of the terrible weather; they had done their best. If Percy admired anything, it was people who persevered, despite the odds, to do their duty. His faint look of admiration changed to one of disapproval at the muddy state they were all in.
"Shouldn't you have cleaned up by now? You're positively filthy! And you're tracking mud all over the floor."
"We were checking in on Harry. He'll be fine, in case you were concerned." Angelina Johnson coolly informed him. Percy blushed. Angelina lifted one eyebrow at him disdainfully before she turned and regally left the room. The other girls followed in her wake.
Percy looked over at Fred and George, chagrined by their gleeful smiles.
"Oy! That Angelina, do you think she'd marry me?" George asked, blissfully sinking into a fluffy armchair.
"Not if I ask her first," replied Fred, who was leaning against the fireplace.
Percy frowned at them. The twins were covered in mud; they looked like giant versions of the gnomes that continually infested their garden at home. He watched as Fred lazily flecked off crusts of dirt that had dried from the warmth of the fire. Then he realized something.
"Where's Oliver?"
"He's drowning himself in the showers," George replied nonchalantly.
"What!?" Percy bolted straight out of his chair. He looked anxiously back and forth at the twins, waiting for one of them to elaborate.
"He's depressed, he's been in the showers since the end of the match." Fred turned to dry the other side of his body.
"That was over an hour ago! Didn't anyone check up on him?" Percy was outraged. The twins blinked at him, curious at Percy's extreme reaction.
"He'll be fine, …" George began reassuringly, only to have Fred finish his sentence.
"Oliver will get over it. C'mon, George, let's hit the showers, I think my face is cracking." The twins bounded up the stairs, leaving Percy gaping incredulously at the fireplace. Of all the boorish, inconsiderate, uncaring …
Percy stalked up three steps of the stairway before he changed his mind and yelled, "Accio Umbrella!"
A yelp from one of the twins confirmed that they had unfortunately been caught in the trajectory of the umbrella's path. Percy grinned, savoring the moment, just before the umbrella flew into his hand.
He left the confines of the castle and trudged out in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. The weather had calmed down a bit. There were no longer lusty gales and booming thunder. The rain, however, continued to pour down steadily.
He reached the locker room and attempted the door. It was obviously locked from the inside.
"Alohomora!"
A wave of wet warmth enveloped Percy as he entered the locker room. He didn't hear the showers, but the amount of steam was such that he could barely see two feet in front of him.
"Oliver, … Oliver, are you in here?" There was no answer. He muttered a curse when he banged his shin against one of the benches. Percy slowly moved deeper into the room. He heard a small knock. He stilled his movement; there it was again. And again. Percy headed in the direction of the knocking sound that reverberated in the atmosphere.
He turned left at the last row of lockers. Oliver Wood was slumped on the far end of the bench, his forehead leaning against one of the lockers. He was naked except for a small white towel around his waist.
"There you are. What are you doing?" Percy inquired gently, eyes flickering over him, checking to make sure he was okay. His relief turned to exasperation. Honestly, all this fuss over a stupid game.
Oliver slowly turned to face him; he was the picture of abject misery. Percy felt his irritation dissipate. His eyes fixed on the reddened patch of skin on Oliver's forehead, confirming his suspicion that the knocking sound had been Oliver, steadily thumping his forehead against locker.
"We lost, Percy," whimpered Oliver in a pitiful voice. Percy had to bite his lip to keep from smiling at his friend's overwrought expression. Oliver was such a drama queen.
"It's okay, Oliver, just a minor setback. You'll win the next one, I'm sure of it. Come on, get dressed. You'll catch a chill sitting around like this." Percy helped Oliver stand up. Oliver flung his arm out, just narrowly missing clocking Percy in face.
"You don't understand. It's all verra well for you," Oliver's accent seemed to get more pronounced when he was distressed, "this is my last year. I willna have another chance." Oliver's agitated movements caused his towel to slip off. He didn't notice, but Percy did.
In fact, Percy's jaw dropped. Oliver was a very well built, brawny lad. He was a fine, proud example of Scottish manhood.
Percy raked his eyes over the vision before him. Broad shoulders, beautifully defined chest, muscular torso and a long, thick, hm, well…
Percy suppressed the urge to lick his lips at a sight more appetizing than anything Honeydukes had to offer.
Oliver seemed oblivious to his ogling. He was still clutching miserably at Percy's shoulder.
"I'm a failure, it's me … the best team we've ever had … it has to be me. I can't win …" the rest of his words were muffled against Percy's shoulder. Percy struggled to get control of himself, the feel of Oliver's lips moving on him making it just that much harder. He took a deep breath.
"Oliver, it's not that bad. Stop wallowing, it's unbefitting your position. Now where are your clothes?" Percy shook Oliver lightly. He looked at Percy, eyes blinking, his gaze seemed to focus. Oliver pointed to a locker. Percy opened it and handed him some robes. Oliver put the robe on, not bothering with anything else.
Percy decided this was good enough and led Oliver back to the Castle. By the time they reached the Gryffindor tower, they were both soaked through. The umbrella hadn't helped as the weather, capricious as always, changed in intensity again. Rain had buffeted them at every angle and the winds had whipped their robes around their legs.
Oliver followed him up to their room. He collapsed on his bed, heedless of the water soaking through the bed covers.
"Incendio!" Percy started a fire to warm up their room. As Head Boy, Percy should have had the privilege of having his own room. However, this would have forced Oliver to room with the sixth-year Gryffindor boys. It would have been unfair to let one boy have the largest and most comfortable dormitory all by himself. So, to spare his dorm mate of the past six years this indignity, Percy generously gave up his private room. As a reward for this noble gesture, a luxurious private bathroom had been magically added to the their room. It was a perk that more than made up for any inconvenience that came from sharing.
Percy tore through his mate's wardrobe and threw him some warm clothes.
"Here, put these on before you freeze to death." He made sure Oliver caught them before turning to find some dry clothes for himself. He struggled out of his robes. Everything was wet. He changed his boxers and pulled on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. He decided against the top and put on an old comfortable sweatshirt instead.
He glanced over at Oliver. He was only half-dressed and staring at Percy intently. Embarrassed by this intense scrutiny, he picked up his and Oliver's wet things and put them into the laundry chute. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom.
"Oliver, go sit on my bed. You're dripping all over your sheets." Oliver docilely obeyed, shivering slightly as he moved. Percy sat behind him on the bed.
"Arms up." Percy began drying off the other boy. He rubbed Oliver's back vigorously with the towel. He turned Oliver slightly so that he could reach his front as well. Percy had to put his arms around the other boy in order to finish the job properly. Throughout this endeavor, Percy was aware that Oliver's gaze had been locked on his face. He looked up into warm brown eyes, glinting with amusement.
"Aren't you going to dress me?" Oliver grinned at him adorably. Percy handed him a thick wool jumper. Oliver agreeably shrugged it on.
"Bloody idiot," Percy muttered. Oliver pushed him down playfully. Percy pretended to resist.
"You prat, you had me worried."
"I'm sorry." Oliver paused for a moment, "I'm beat."
"Me, too. I'm going to bed."
Oliver looked at Percy expectantly and gestured to his still damp sheets.
Percy lifted his bedcovers.
"Oh, come on then." Oliver dived into the bed and snuggled up to Percy. This was surprising; along with the luxurious bathroom, Percy and Oliver had been given enormous beds. So enormous, they were almost indecent. He had expected Oliver to sleep on the far end of the bed, but he was definitely not complaining.
"Nox." The room went dark. Oliver's breathing was tickling Percy's neck, so closely were they entwined.
"Percy?" The whisper was a soft caress.
"Hm?" His eyes were closed. He was at that drowsy, lethargic state just before sleep.
"I meant for you to use a drying spell on the bed. But this is much better." Oliver put his arm around Percy and pressed in closer.
Percy opened his eyes in the darkness … and smiled.