Title: Staring Down the Sun
Author: Writingpuck
Rating: Mature
Chapter: 2 out of ?
Disclaimer: If I owned the series, we would've ditched Harry and started focusing on Percy long ago. The song lyrics (in italics near chapter title)are from the group Third Eye Blind, and their song "Blinded."
Dedication: This chapter goes out to allie351, who encouraged me to print her a hard copy to read (which turned out to be the only copy I had of it once my computer died).
Author's Note: Oliver's house is this beautiful brownstone, really it's my ideal house. Just thought you guys might want to know. And for those of you who haven't been to visit my profile, I think an explanation is in order.
I'm very sorry for the late update, however, my computer's hardrive went down about a month ago, destroying all of my files. It's taken me quite some time to amass the resources (aka: dig under my couch) to get these next few chapters up, but hopefully it'll all be downhill from here. : )
Chapter Two: "Just an old friend coming over now to visit you and
that's what I've become."
Percy hadn't expected there to be others at Oliver's home, and he wasn't exactly sure what to say (but decided that perhaps being direct was the best option). After all, now that he was intently looking at them, he recognized many of these men as Oliver's teammates. "I'm looking for Oliver."
The two who had been rough-housing sidled over, meeting Percy halfway to the backyard, which he now heard, seemed over-flowing with people. Gawking, the Quidditch player who'd addressed him the first time (Krenech, Percy believed his name was) exchanged a glance with the willowy person beside him. "Course ya are, or else ya wouldn't be 'ere, now would ya?"
Percy ruffled slightly at the implication that he might be a tad slow. Nodding curtly, the Ministry official brushed past the two men and strode towards the backyard, hearing them whisper ('a bit dressed up for a barbeque, ain't 'e?') behind his back.
Shooting them an irritated glance, the redhead managed to trip on a quaffle that'd been strewn across the lawn. "Watch out there!" Someone else called out, though considering the sheer volume of people, it was impossible to know exactly who it was doing the warning. It was harder still to pinpoint Oliver in the quivering mass of blue-clad witches and wizards.
Even those who lounged beside the pool seemed to be dressed in blue, and Percy was aware of feeling incredibly out of place. It would have been too much for Oliver to tell him about the party; Percy silently fumed, knowing he wasn't told simply it would have been much to considerate of the dolt to say anything.
Then again, Percy hadn't exactly specified when he would be coming. Hadn't said he'd be coming at all, really.
Weeding his way through the crowds, he avoided cups filled with what looked (and smelled) suspiciously like green Ogden's, stopping once to grab an arm and ask it's owner politely where Oliver might be hiding.
Having the suspicion that the man was rather sloshed, Percy winced away from the hug he'd gotten in place of an answer, listening to the fellow say, "Oliver's a good man, a lucky man," over and over.
The fellow's lady-friend helped Percy out of his stronghold, and pointed the pale man in the direction of the brownston behind them. "Went inside for a bit more refreshments, and to grab the oinker."
The Ministry clerk thanked her and trudged off, uncertain if the oinker referred to the meat, or Oliver's fiancée.
The sliding glass door was propped open, and Percy quested cautiously in the the spacious and sepia hued kitchen. "Hello?" he inquired properlu. To be honest, the whole event had him rather unnerved. Asides from Ministry events, Percy'd believed the war had been preventing parties from getting this large (wouldn't want the partiers to become Death Eater targets), but apparently he'd been wrong. After all, this party was anything if it wasn't a mash of Irish hullabaloo.
"Really now Al, we're working on the straws, just hold-" A pale blonde called distractedly as she walked into the other room, stopping her sentence as she caught sight of Percy. He'd never met her before, but it didn't take his advanced intelligence for Perce to understand that this must be the much talked about fiancée.
She was pretty, of that Percy was sure. She even seemed rather pleasant, and unlike himself, she was at least dressed for the event. Managing to overcome her bewilderment, she plastered on a smile. "Who are you now? One of Ollie's friends?" The last statement seemed more than a tad doubtful.
Swelling with indignation, the ice-cold man forced his stiffening legs to move forward. "Pleased to meet you, I'm sure. My name is Percy Weasley, assistant to the Minister of Magic." Percy's mouth was moving, but he couldn't be sure what on earth it was managing to talk about. All he could focus on was that he was standing in front of the women his ex was going to be marrying.
Unfortunatly for him, Percy's words triggered quite an unpleasant reaction, as the blonde's words ventured off into quite the wrong direction. "Oh dear. Well, if we're violating some sort of noise ordinance…" She shook his pro-offered hand while gazing behind her with clear concern. "Oliver, love, where'd you put that paperwork?"
A deep timbre grew steadily louder as it's owner strode closer to them. "It's on the countertop, why—" The tan Quidditch keeper's eyes locked onto the uncomfortable meeting between his ex-lover and current fiancée. "Percy?"
The woman had dropped Percy's hand, now that Oliver Wood seemed to be in control of the situation. "I-"
Oliver's strong jaw broke into a wild grin. "Glad to see ya! I didn't think ya'd make it!" He threw his arms around the man joyously, pounding his frail companions back in greeting. "And ya've already met Liza, I see!"
Percy jerked his head in negation, ashamed of the way his icy body melted at his ex's pathetic attempts at masculine affection.
"I'm Liza Harton, Oliver's fiancée," she introduced herself, stepping boldly forward and extending her hand (as if they hadn't just shaken them), there-by forcing a goodly amount of space between Oliver and Percy. Then again, that could just be Percy's imagination.
Feeling as though he'd rather play in a match of Quidditch himself instead of going through this dance again, Percy shook her hand with all the firm structure that years in the Ministry had taught him.
"Perce is an old school friend of mine," Oliver intoned from behind them. The redhead rather doubted they'd ever been friends in school, be he didn't feel that now was the time to be disagreeable. Arguing with someone in their own home could only be described as rude, not to mention that if he denied their old friendship Percy'd have no viable reason for his presence there. At least not one that he could admit to Liza.
Because he could tell by the fact that Oliver had been required to introduce him that Liza had no idea that Percy and Oliver had once had a rather intense and elicit affair. Which also showed that Oliver had paid attention to Percy's wishes in some aspects of life, at least.
Either that or Oliver was ashamed. Neither option seemed appealing to Percy (despite admitting his own humiliation, if only to himself). "I'm here as per request," Percy stated, turning back to Oliver. He gestured to his bandaged and sling-ridden arm, finishing with, "I had some time off from work, and felt that an appearance would be in order. Like you wanted."
"Ah yeah, we'll talk about that later," Oliver replied, eyes on the arm while managing to shift footing in a manner that Percy had grown to associate with discomfort.
A tall, balding man bustled into the kitchen before the redhead could respond, muttering about idiot's and Ogden's and shirts.
"Here, Josce, let me help," Liza said, hurrying over.
"She doesn't know and I don't want her to," Oliver murmered to Percy.
He turned around to face him, displeased with the burning sensation ghe'd felt when Oliver was so close behind him. "That's fine with me," Percy responded, surprised at how cold his tone was. Liza may have numbed him, but the nearness of Oliver had thrown shiver's down his spine. "I only came to give you my blessing."
"Later, please," Oliver pleaded, eyes connecting to Percy's hazel ones. The taller man's eyes held onto them tight, refusing to allow the hazel eyes to take flight. "Promise me ya'll stay. We've got us plenty of spare rooms."
Percy was saying "yes" before he knew it.
The answer seemed all Oliver was waiting for, and he strode towards the glass door, shouting, "Oi, Phil, c'mere!"
With his ex gone, the heat from Percy's back faded and the glacial feelings reclaimed Percy's being. He watched unconcernedly as one of the men in blue, the willowy chap from earlier, came running. "Yeah?" A quick gesture from Oliver indicated Percy, and he tilted his head in stiff acknowledgement of the newcomer. The willowy chap (Phil's his name, Percy reminded himself) waved pleasantly back.
"Take Perce up ta the last spare room on the fourth floor, would ya?"
Phil nodded and dragged Percy away from his old lover, and that lover's soon-to-be wife.
((End /Chapter 2))
Author's Notes (v. 2.0): gasp And so they meet! Read and review, please, since they keep me (and this story) going. All flames will be used to keep me and my bestie's sincerely amused.