Title: After the Quidditch Match (4/5)

Author: elgatoneun

Rating: R for slash, m/m interaction

Pairing: Percy/Oliver

Summary: Fourth match of the season is between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Percy helps Oliver relax after their win against Ravenclaw.

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.

Oliver was in heaven. His body was submerged in water so hot that steam was still evaporating from the surface in wispy tendrils. Strong nimble fingers kneaded gently into the muscles of his upper back thoroughly, deliciously. He couldn't help the small whimpers that were escaping his lips. Warm slick flesh pressed into his skin from all sides. He felt cocooned. He was boneless, lethargic, a prisoner to the sensual assault on his body. He stretched slowly, luxuriously rubbing himself against a smooth chest and pushing into those wonderful hands. He jerked when he felt a rough bite on his left shoulder. The hands also stopped moving. Oliver moaned piteously. He tilted his head to look pleadingly up into stern brown eyes.

"Oliver, I told you to behave. If you can't stop wriggling around and moaning so much, I'm going to have to stop." Percy Weasley was a cold, cruel man. It wasn't fair that such a man had such gloriously talented hands. Oliver stilled his upper body as much as he could. He swallowed a half-bitten groan when he felt delicious pressure glide down from his shoulders to the small of his back.

Oliver couldn't fathom how Percy seemed to be so good at everything. Well, maybe not everything, but everything that counted.

"How am I supposed to give you a proper massage if you keep wiggling about?" Percy asked in a slightly aggrieved tone.

"I'd rather have an improper one." Oliver mumbled under his breath. He looked up into Percy's exasperated face.

"I think you might be trying to take advantage of me."

"Me? Trying to take advantage?" Oliver blinked innocently up at Percy. Well, he hoped he conveyed innocence. "Och, winning at Quidditch is fair hard on the body, my poor muscles are all cramped up and sore." Oliver waited a moment and clutched at his right shoulder, grimacing as if dying from the pain. He peeked under his lashes to garner Percy's reaction.

Percy smiled at him indulgently.

"I see, and I suppose you just manfully withstood all the pain you were in at the victory celebration. You know, the one where you were running around like mad and grabbing everyone."

Oliver wrinkled his brow in seriousness. "I have to set a good example. I'm the captain."

Percy sighed in defeat and started on Oliver's neck.

"Well, I suppose you did earn me 10 Galleons." Percy smiled generously. "Penny hasn't quite forgiven me for that." At that glib confession, the temperature of the water seemed to have dropped to freezing. Oliver shivered. He didn't welcome that cold splash of reality. He sat up, pulling himself away from Percy. He felt a hand caress his back gently.

"Oliver, are you alright?" Percy asked, concerned. Oliver didn't know how to approach him with his growing feelings. They were just two mates, messing about, having a bit of fun. He didn't know how to make it more, how to ask for more. And he was horribly aware that he would lose the little that he had if Percy didn't want more. He could picture Percy's apologetic expression. His pity and disappointment that Oliver could not keep the proper feeling in line with this arrangement. Oliver felt ridiculously like the "other woman" and didn't know how to get back to normal. He didn't even think he could go back to normal, not if it meant losing Percy.

"Yes, I'm fine. I think we should get out now. You're probably knackered."

Percy looked at him quizzically, but didn't argue. Oliver forced himself not to look as Percy stepped out of the bath. He closed his eyes, heard the rustling movement of Percy drying himself. Oliver opened them only when he heard light footsteps padding out into their room. He stood and let the water slide down his body, wishing Percy was there, watching him, wanting him. He knew he was fit, he had enough admirers of both sexes tell him often enough.

He didn't bother with a towel and just muttered a light drying spell. He was fairly good with some of the easier Charms spells. He put on his sleep bottoms, stepped over to the mirror and proceeded to brush his teeth.

"Why the long face, laddie? You're looking very handsome today." Oliver sighed. Fred and George had somehow snuck into the bathroom to charm the mirror into flirting with him and mocking Percy. He had yet to figure out how to end the spell without breaking the stupid thing. The mirror whistled at him every time he was starkers. It wasn't as bad as the retching noises that it made for Percy though. He pushed Fred and George extra hard at practice for that little gem.

"Are you playing with the mirror again?" Percy came back into the bathroom and stood behind him peering at Oliver's reflection.

"Here now, I don't want to see your freckled face."

Percy smiled. He seemed to take the mirror's insults in stride.

Percy leaned over and placed a light kiss on Oliver's shoulder.

"Hey, none of that. He shouldn't have to bear the likes of you touching him."

"Silencio." Percy's eyes locked onto his through the mirror. He licked the same spot on Oliver's shoulder with his tongue. Oliver felt that all the way down to his toes. He unwisely inhaled and choked on his toothpaste foam. He alternately coughed and spit out the contents of his mouth into the sink.

"I'm sorry." Percy didn't sound sorry at all. The stupid sod was laughing at him. All of Oliver's hurt and resentment bubbled over. He pushed himself back knocking into Percy roughly and walked out of the bathroom. Percy followed him.

"Piss off, Weasley."

"Oliver, I'm sorry. What's the matter with you? Are you worried about the Cup?" Percy sounded a little condescending and wholly indulgent.

"Is that all you think I think about? I'm just some idiot that does nothing but think about Quidditch all the time?" Oliver stomped over to his bed, his whole body was trembling.

"No, Oliver, I'm sorry … have I done something?" How could Percy be so smart and yet so dense at the same time? Oliver was horrified to feel uncomfortable pressure around his eyes, he would not cry in front of Percy.

"I'm tired of you treating me like some stupid first year that you have to mind. Just because I'm not as smart as you and your perfect girlfriend. Do you and Perfect Penelope trade stories about how much smarter you are than the rest of us? Does that get you both hot? Does she whisper Arithmancy theories in your ear? Does she know how to make to you come just by …"

Oliver hadn't seen the punch coming. He'd been too worked up in his own rage to pay attention to Percy's growing anger. He stumbled slightly and didn't have enough room to regain his equilibrium. Luckily, he landed on his bed. The left side of his face throbbed with heat and pain. He blinked up into Percy's face, red with anger.

"You will never speak of her like that. Do you understand me?" Percy's words were low and harsh with barely suppressed fury.

Oliver was shocked at his own outburst and Percy's reaction. Percy had never spoken to him in that kind of tone before. He'd gone too far. Percy couldn't look at him like that and still want to be with him in any way. It was over, and it was all his fault. He closed his eyes and felt a tear leak through.

There was absolute silence.

After an eternity, the bed dipped next to him. Percy muttered a healing spell. Oliver opened his eyes at the cool tingle of the spell. His eyes locked on directly to Percy's.

"Oliver, I'm sorry," Percy looked uncertain. He brought his hand to Oliver's face tentatively. Oliver jerked away. Percy's touch would be unbearable now.

"It's fine. You're right, I'm sorry, I had no call to say those things. I suppose I'm just tired." His voice was mortifyingly hoarse. He felt another tear slide down his cheek.

Percy frowned down at him with worry.

"Are you in pain? I may not have cast that correctly." Oliver wanted to laugh bitterly. His whole world consisted of pain right now.

"No, it's fine. You should go do your rounds. I'm just going to sleep."

Oliver moved gingerly under the covers of his own bed. He hadn't slept in it since the first match of the season. Oliver felt Percy's eyes on him the entire time but couldn't bring himself to meet his gaze.

He curled into the bed and pretended to go to sleep until he heard Percy leave the room.

He felt the chill of the room seep into his body. Oliver shivered. It was cold without Percy.