Title: Staring Down the Sun
Author: "Romanticpuck" / Reggie
Rating: Mature
Chapter: 3 out of ?
Disclaimer: If I owned the series, we would've ditched Harry and started focusing on Percy a long time ago. The song lyrics (in italics near chapter title) are from the group Third Eye Blind, and their song "Blinded."

Summary: In this chapter we have revelations, sleepovers and misunderstandings.

Author's Note: I ended up making two versions of Chapter 3, but I'm pretty pleased with the way this one turned out. Let me know what you guys think. The more reviews I get the sooner I'll place up chapter 4 (which is one of the reasonsthis story earnedit's M rating ). As always, I'mlooking for a good beta, so if you're interested let me know!

Chapter 3: "There's Nothing Left to Do"

Unpacking wasn't something Percy necessarily wanted to do, especially not with one bandaged arm. Not when he wasn't interested in Oliver, and had only come to wish his ex-lover well with his new wife.

But Phil had offered and begun unpacking despite Percy's protests. Or perhaps because of them. The redhead couldn't quite be sure of which. He was prattling off information about the mansion, most of which Percy filed away for later use. Not that he intended on staying much longer.

"How long have they been together?"

The question came off Percy's lips before he'd been able to stop it, and once it was out he realized it was something he'd wanted to know since he'd found out about the engagement. It was what was poisoning his blood, and blocking his path to clarity.

The thin man seemed to see this was important, and tilted his head, thinking, as he shut the last of Percy's pants in a drawer. The redhead made a mental note to hang them up later. Not that he was staying, he had to keep reminding himself of that. Moving closer to Percy, he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Oh, about two years, why?"

Percy's heart sunk. It'd been only a year ago that Oliver'd come onto him. Only a year ago that Oliver had swept him off, that they'd had a night of spread wings and freedom…and only a year ago that his boss had caught them, threatening Percy's job if the redhead ever so much as came NEAR the keeper again.

It made sense now. Harton was the surname of Scrimgour's brother-in-law. He'd never want anything bad for his niece. And his employee sleeping with her fiancée would most certaintly be considered bad form, at least.

The willowy brunette noticed Percy's silence, and raised in eyebrow. "You alright mate?"

The numbness had control, but Percy knew he was in there somewhere. "Yes," he responded stiffly, rising. "Isn't there some sort of party going on?"

As thought Phil had just remembered, he leaped to his feet. "Oi, yeah, let's go!" He grabbed Percy's good arm and yanked him down, chastising him for his clothing choice the entire way, something about how it's too stiff to be relaxed.

The pale man stifled the urge to laugh out his sorrow.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The barbeque didn't last as long as Percy was worried, and he insisted upon retiring to his room early, despite Oliver's drunken protests. Just because Percy was on workman's comp for the week didn't mean he was allowed to fall behind in his duties. He could just see the papers piling up on his desk as he wallowed in luxury.

Though the rest of the party wouldn't really consider what Percy had done wallowing. He'd unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and had an Ogden's, but refused to go swimming, eat ribs, or join in the chorus line of the "Ollie's getting married, how many timeswill heget laid," version of theirdrinking song.

The fragile bird took off his glasses, rubbing his nose. Perhaps he'd had more than one drink. Percy wasn't quite so sure anymore. In fact, the only thing that was registering was that glasses or no, the paper was blurry. Which meant he'd never finish his report on the missing apothecary products, and their potential dark uses.

Sighing, the redhead closed his eyes, dreaming of being able to relax at the party, and thinking about Oliver. He'd promised himself he wouldn't come, and here he was. He'd promised himself he wouldn't think about Oliver so fondly, but he'd betrayed himself yet again.

A soft click was heard behind him, and Percy swiveled in time to see a olive haze shuffling across the room towards him. "Ready ta talk?"

Startled, Percy's hand flew out towards his glasses. Focusing in, the pale boy was even more surprised to see that Philbert was standing in front of him. Clearing his throat, he shoved his surprise under twelve layers of skin.

"I have nothing to talk about," Percy sniffed.

"How 'bout you and Ollie?"

Fear decided to star in a mud-wrestling match with Percy's stomach. "Like he said, I'm an old school friend who happens to be well-placed in the Ministry." A swift gesture to the work on the desk in front of him. "And because of that placement, I'm responsible for a number of reports and policies. So if you'd excuse me."

Percy tried a pointed stare towards the door. That, combined with what was affectionately considered his "pompous streak," were the redhead's secret weapons when it came to getting rid of anyone quickly.

Instead, Philbert simply raised an eyebrow and reclined on Percy's bed. "You don't get ta managin' aQuidditch teamby lettin'things like that get rid of ya," he retorted. "Oliver paid more attention to you than anyone else here."

In a professional flip, fear pinned his stomach. "It's because I'm from out of the country."

"Liar."

Wondering what Oliver's manager knew, Percy was barely able to withhold his questions.

Back stiffening, the redhead adamantly ignored Philbert, returning instead to the blurred parchment in front of him. Percy could pretend to work for hours. "I really must attend to this."

Kicking off his sandals, Philbert leaned his head in his hands. "That's okay. I have all night."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Annoyance didn't begin to describe how Percy Weasley felt as he leaned over Philbert, who was snoring to wake the dead. Perhaps, if Phil had been in his own room, Percy would merely have marveled over how such a wiry man could produce such a resonant sound. But, of course, Phil wasn't in his own room, he was sprawled along one side of the bed in Percy's.

The pale man had managed to avoid talking to Phil for so long that the Quidditch manager had actually fallen asleep.

Which left Percy in something of a bind. He couldn't lay down, because Phil was there. But he couldn't wake Phil up, or else he would end up wanting to talk to Perce. Propriety wouldn't allow the stiff redhead to wake his hostess for some blankets or another room.

Glaring with the fury of a man scorned sleep, Percy yanked a pillow off the near side of his bed. He only had one choice, and that was to sleep in his chair.

He pivoted to take in the creaky wood and froze when a different form of Wood caught his eye. Oliver was swaying, clearly still sloshed, in the doorway. The Ministry worker's throat constricted, and he squawked desperately.

But the burly keeper's eyes were already moving from the sleeping form on the bed, to Percy, and back.

"He fell asleep," Percy shuddered out.

"I'm no' that sloshed," Oliver countered, leaning against the doorframe to steady himself. "'eard 'ima kilometer away."

"It was the only way to keep him from inquiring…about us…"

"Didn' think he went tha' way." Oliver shook his head, tipped backwards slightly, and then managed to stumble out the doorway. "Do whaya want."

Pride kept Percy rooted to the spot, but then the initial anger he'd felt kicked in. The anger about being contacted after all these months, about Oliver getting engaged, about Percy being expected to do something, about Oliver expecting Percy to remain single all this time, about Phil falling asleep on his bed. Striding forward he all but slammed the door.

The talk and door shutting must have awoken the zombie that was Philbert, because he was rubbing his pastel eyes. "Oiii, wuzzoinon?"

Composing himself as best as possible, Percy shot him a look of death. "Shove over."

Sleep clearly confused some words in Philbert's mind. "You shove off," he grumbled argumentatively, sliding onto his side.

Vein throbbing, Percy pushed Philbert aside and slid down next to him. "Go to your own room," he growled.

"Maybe later."

With as much indignation as can be forced into a glare, Percy yanked a pillow from the bed and stumbled over to his chair. Underneath radiant moonlight the injured man curled for sleep as best he could in the moaning chair.

Authors Note: Well, that's it for this chapter. Next time around we have steam, music, and uncomfortable revelations. Hope to see you there!