A/N: Hello everyone, so this two monthly updating thing is becoming an awfully bad habit. Sorry...again!
Review responses:
Guest: You thoroughly guilted me into to getting a move on with the proofing of this chapter, I hope you enjoy it. :)
1CharmedPhoenix: I am blushing from the flattery! :D I know you've waited a long time, I'm overwhelmed that anyone is still waiting! Percy, Snape and Neville are my personal favourites too and I have become very fond of Druscilla so I promise not to abandon them all. Hope you enjoy the update and thank you for the lovely reviews! :)
A Subtle Change
Chapter 23
Percy awoke early on New Years Day after a night of troubled sleep and was careful to leave for work before anyone else was up. He was certain he couldn't face anybody's questions about why he had refused to join them the previous night and why he looked so shattered this morning.
He was relieved to make it into his office without having to speak to anyone. Most of the Ministry was taking the day off but he knew that Professor Thornfield would likely show up at some point. He wandered into her office with some papers, intending to leave them on her desk, only to find her sat working with a look of deep concentration.
She looked up briefly, "Are those the maps I wanted?"
He nodded, "Yes."
She took them with a brief thank you, the accompanying tight-lipped smile emboldening him enough to add "Happy New Year."
She raised a dubious eyebrow, "Quite."
He started to retreat but was called back. "Oliver got home safely last night." she said pointedly.
Percy couldn't find a response. At his silence she snorted and turned back to her desk.
"Weasley, I need the Departmental Accounts file." She didn't even glance up.
"Of course, Professor."
"Did you want something?" She looked up as he lingered, wanting to alter the atmosphere between them.
Courage failed him and he shook his head, unwilling to address the issue for fear of what she might say, "No, I'll get it for you now."
"Coffee as well," she called after him.
Percy's shoulders slumped, this was the relationship he'd been accustomed to having with his boss before he'd come to work for Druscilla Thornfield, the relationship he'd thought he wanted with her – respectable, professional, distant. Now he found he was missing her 'unprofessional', overly familiar manner. Her cold attitude from the previous night was showing no signs of thawing. He didn't quite understand, normally when she wasn't happy with someone she was only too happy to go into why with them, whether they wanted it or not, but this time she had so far made it clear that she wasn't going to acknowledge a problem if he didn't. Of course acknowledging a problem meant acknowledging what had caused it and he wasn't sure he was ready to do that. So he'd fetch her her file and her damn coffee and then retreat back to his office to wade through the paperwork he was so keen on and try to ignore the fact that he was pretty certain no one would be arriving at lunchtime to drag him out and make him eat something.
XXXXXXX
Percy was not the only one who had not been sleeping well. Severus Snape repressed a yawn as he entered the Headmaster's office.
"Good Morning, Severus."
"Good Morning, I got your message requesting me to come and see you. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, I didn't get back until the early hours of this morning."
The man looked tired and worn as Dumbledore passed him Druscilla Thornfield's letter. "They think they've found him."
Snape read quickly through the letter before handing it back to the headmaster. "It does sound convincing. How can we verify it?"
"That is exactly what I've been wondering. As you saw, Professor Thornfield included the results Percy got when he scanned the island. If we could compare them with a similar scan performed from inside Voldemort's current residence…"
Severus understood instantly. "Of course, Headmaster. I'll go back this afternoon."
"Severus, you do not have to rush back, this will be dangerous enough if you are caught, perhaps arriving unsummoned would not be for the best," Dumbledore cautioned.
"No," Severus disagreed, "If I've been summoned it will all the harder to slip away from his notice. I have a small potions lab there where I am unlikely to be disturbed."
"Severus, we are so close to ending this, it is not a time for extra risk."
"Headmaster, please trust me to handle this as you normally do." There was a hard note in Severus' voice suggesting his patience had been pushed too far already recently.
Dumbledore quickly acquiesced, knowing that Severus was the only person with the experience to make an informed decision and trusting him as always not to take unnecessary risks, but some risk was inevitable. He watched the other man leave his office with the usual pang of guilt.
XXXXXXX
Snape had made his way as quickly as possible to the Dark Lord's lair, he was starting to think it had earned such a melodramatic term.
Something in Dumbledore's caution had left the potions master feeling reckless and restless all at once and it had seemed best to get the necessary information before his nerve or temper faltered. The scans of the wards were simple, non-invasive and should pass unnoticed but the Dark Lord's ever growing paranoia had Severus decidedly on edge. The more time he spent here without good reason the greater the chance that awkward questions would be asked.
He gathered the required information as quickly as possible and was about to leave when he heard approaching footsteps. With no time to retreat Severus simply composed himself as best he could and unconsciously tightened his grip on his wand as Lucius Malfoy rounded a corner.
"Severus, what are you doing here?" Lucius didn't wait for a response, "Never mind, it doesn't matter, I'm glad I ran into you. I wanted to thank you," he continued without preamble, "Narcissa told me you took care of her while I was…" Lucius seemed, for almost the first time since Severus had known him, to be noticeably uncomfortable. Azkaban had clearly left its mark and Severus felt awkwardly obliged to break the silence.
"There's really no need to thank me, Lucius, I didn't do anything," he slipped his wand surreptitiously back into his pocket.
Lucius' gratitude seemed only to increase, "Don't be modest, she told me that you came to see her, more than once, and that you looked after her when she fainted."
Severus experienced a sharp stab of guilt at the reference to his assault on Lucius' wife, made so much worse by the man's clear belief that he had been taking care of her. His intention had been to get rid of Lucius as fast as possible but instead he found himself asking, "How is she?"
Lucius smiled, he almost always smiled when talking about Narcissa, "She's doing well, delighted to have Draco home, and she'll be even better once things here are…concluded." It was amazing how in the space of a short sentence the man went from talking in a loving tone about his family to trying to find a tasteful way of talking about killing a boy the same age as his own son.
Severus briefly wondered, and found he could not remember and indeed no longer cared, if the man had always been like this. Either way it did not lessen his own sense of guilt, or the nagging question of Draco. Whatever happened next, Harry was not the only young boy whose life was set to change.
XXXXXXX
Druscilla's frosty air had not thawed throughout the day. Percy had fetched and carried and filed and minuted to the best of his, quite superior, abilities but she remained unmoved. It did in one respect have its advantages, he supposed as he told her he was leaving for the day. His desire to be distracted by work had finally been outweighed by the nagging guilt that he had not yet seen his family since midnight and that he probably at least owed them a 'Happy New Year'.
Normally if he left before his boss he'd be called back with a 'get me a coffee before you go?' but not today. Today she simply nodded, "I'll see you at the Order meeting later, I hope you're ready to deliver the report. I wasn't there after all so it'll have to be yourself or Oliver," there was a glint in her eye he didn't at all like when she mentioned the young quidditch player.
He was about to respond with a choice remark of his own when a memo whisked through the door and dropped on to his boss' desk. It was sealed, always an unusual and rarely a good sign. Druscilla ripped it open, read it, swore, leapt to her feet and passed it to him to read. "I suspect we won't be making that meeting after all."
XXXXXXX
Druscilla and Kingsley met in the Ministry lobby on the afternoon of the 2nd January both looking haggard and angry. Kingsley was in the same robes he'd had on the previous day and Druscilla's hair had collapsed from it's 'up do' and hung about her shoulders in wilder than usual curls. They nodded their hellos before Druscilla took the auror's arm gratefully and allowed him to guide her through the floo system to Grimmauld Place.
"Did you send them news, tell them about Percy's discovery?" Kingsley asked as they emerged into the drawing room with the bloodstained ceiling.
Druscilla looked momentarily as though that had been the last thing on her mind in the preceding 24 hours. "I sent the same letter to Dumbledore that I sent to you, so doubtless he has shared the information with the Hogwarts staff, and I spoke with Remus myself on New Year's Eve." Kingsley raised an eyebrow at this information. "However I was intending to update the Order at the meeting last night before..." she trailed off, gesticulating in a way that suggested Kingsley already knew why this had not happened. The head Auror nodded his understanding. "And on top of everything else I now have an intern buzzing about the office," she grumbled. "She turned up this morning."
"Should that not have been rearranged for another time?"
Druscilla sighed, "I promised her father, and I strongly suspect he's beginning to worry there won't be another time."
Kingsley looked grimly amused, "Good to know morale's running high."
"Oh absolutely. Everything's simply marvellous right now. New year, new positive attitude from everyone," her voice dripped with angry sarcasm.
Kingsley placed a calming hand on her arm before she could storm from the room, "You're not the only one angry about last night, but I think we would do well to remember that attitudes are contagious."
"You mean I should calm myself before I infect the more impressionable members of the Order with my rampant outraged cynicism?"
"Yes." Kingsley responded, softening his blunt tone with a gentle hand at the small of her back as he guided her through into the large kitchen that the Order had made its official meeting place.
They were the last to arrive and took their seats at the large table just as Dumbledore began. He nodded in greeting, "I was about to start without you as you are certainly already aware of what I'm afraid I have to say first. For the benefit of those not from the Ministry, and in explanation of why we were forced to postpone this meeting from yesterday evening, the Death Eaters decided to celebrate New Year's Day in some style. They attacked a group of muggles last night who were holding a bonfire on a beach on the South Coast. The Aurors responded swiftly but things did not go well. The Ministry was being quite sparing with information so I judged it best to wait until we were all assembled to raise the matter." Dumbledore had indeed cancelled the meeting the Order had planned the previous night with nothing more than a one line note to the Order members that had implied a need to postpone due to the Ministry staff members being called back into work for an unstated reason.
"I'm afraid we were all a little busy dealing with the fallout," Kingsley sounded, unusually, a little reproachful.
"What was the fallout?" Emmeline Vance sounded sure that she didn't want to know but was asking out of necessity.
"There are ten aurors dead and a further fifteen were treated by St Mungo's for varying degrees of injury," Kingsley responded quietly. At his side Tonks looked more serious and sombre than anyone in the Order had ever seen her, even her hair was a simple, straight brown, plaited out of her way.
"And the Muggles?" McGonagall asked warily.
"Dead. All of them."
There was silence around the table at Druscilla's blunt words.
"They're getting too bold," Moody growled.
"Too bold? I'm not so sure. Five Death Eaters were killed or taken into custody. Given the losses on the Ministry's side it would seem the attack was less bold and more well planned. They don't fear the Ministry. Why should they?" Severus' tone was worryingly neutral and it crossed several people's minds to wonder where he had been the preceding night.
Druscilla smiled for the first time since entering the room, and indeed for much longer than that, but it was not a pleasant sight. Her smile, her whole facial expression, had taken on a sadistic edge. Someone was going to pay for the events of the previous evening and she was going to enjoy it.
"I think we can give them a reason to. Percy, perhaps you'd care to relate your findings."
Percy had been sat quietly, isolated at one end, between Bill and his father instead of in his usual place at Druscilla's side. He hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "I believe we've found where they are keeping Harry."
Severus nodded, "Dumbledore showed me the Professor's letter. You research is sound, if somewhat recklessly carried out towards the end. Dumbledore and I carried out a test of our own yesterday and it would seem you are right."
"What test?" Druscilla frowned.
"We compared the magical signature and readings Mr Weasley took from the air with some I took from inside the building the Dark Lord has been using. They are a perfect match."
Remus paled, "Couldn't you have been detected doing that?"
"Yes, but we could see no other way to be sure," Severus responded simply, effectively cutting across any further discussion of risk to himself by continuing, "It seems Mr Weasley and Mr Wood's hard work paid off."
Percy looked awkward and Fred frowned, "What did Oliver have to do with it?"
"I wound up needing someone who could fly in order to investigate my lead. Oliver was the obvious choice." Percy quickly attempted to change the subject, "Harry appears to be being held on a small island off the North West coast of Scotland."
"And you flew out there?" Even Fred was beginning to look impressed, while Percy was looking ever more uncomfortable.
"We did, yes."
"Why didn't you ask Charlie?" George looked curious.
"I…" Percy looked momentarily flustered before ploughing on, "Oliver was already with me, he'd been helping in my research."
"Professor Dumbledore asked me to help Percy out," Oliver cut smoothly in, "And I was only too happy to. Hopefully this information means we can get Harry back."
"While this is certainly a significant step forward, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We know where they are, but getting in there is another matter." Kingsley sounded grim.
"Severus and I are working on that, we will report back to the Order when we are ready." This effectively ended both that line of enquiry and the meeting, with Dumbledore standing and saying that if no one had anything further to add (and the implication was clear that they hadn't) he and the other teachers needed to return to Hogwarts.
As Molly announced she was putting on a pot of tea for everyone that wanted it, Druscilla approached Percy, "Wait for me before you go back to the Ministry."
"Yes, Professor." It was the last thing he wanted to do, he was keen to leave, but he assumed she would at least not be long.
Twenty minutes later his patience was fast running out.
Oliver and Charlie were sat by the brutally carved stone fireplace, drinking large mugs of tea and demolishing huge slices of Molly's home-made cake. Ron had once told Percy that he was sure Hermione's philosophy was 'when in doubt, go to the library'. Percy felt his mother's was 'when in doubt, put the kettle on and start baking'. Oliver was gesturing with his cake, covering himself with crumbs that Percy itched to brush off, and looking more relaxed than Percy had seen him since their trip to Scotland. The young quidditch player was now chatting animatedly to the older Weasley after having looked so reserved throughout the meeting. It seemed that Charlie had noticed this unusual quiet behaviour and, in his typically friendly manner, had drawn Oliver into conversation.
Percy had always known that Oliver sort of hero-worshipped his older brother for his Quidditch skills. In the past he had found it variously amusing and endearing but now he found something else entirely flaring hotly at the sight of the two of them laughing so comfortably together.
"You could have played for England!" Percy heard Oliver protesting in disbelief, "How could you throw it all away like that?!"
Charlie laughed good-naturedly, "It wasn't what I wanted. I loved Quidditch but working with dragons is..." words seemed to fail him. "It's just something else, I can't even begin to describe what it's like."
"But, but what about Quidditch!?" Oliver spluttered, unmoved by the passion on Charlie's face as he spoke about his chosen profession and completely unable to comprehend someone choosing anything over Quidditch.
He wasn't sure what it was but seeing Oliver like that with Charlie, laughing comfortably and looking so at ease, made Percy's stomach clench unpleasantly. He walked purposely over to the two men, "Excuse me, Oliver, I need a word with Charlie."
"Of course," Oliver gave him one of his easy smiles, though there was something less open in his expression than Percy was used to. It was the first time they'd spoken since the moment on the beach and nothing in the other man's attitude had changed, it was the same friendly behaviour as always. "Happy New Year by the way."
Percy nodded stiffly, not knowing what to say and noting that the longer he stayed quiet the more pained the expression in Oliver's eyes became until eventually after a long moment he moved away from the two brothers.
Charlie watched the stilted exchange with some curiosity, "What did you want, Perce?"
"Oh," Percy floundered for a moment, he had acted on impulse to break up the cosy chat he'd been witnessing and he suddenly realised how strange that was. He'd been jealous of his own brother talking to a man he had rejected only days before. A man he'd tried to convince himself was of no interest to him. "I just, well…You really think now is the time to be talking about Quidditch?"
Charlie looked at him in concern, "Are you alright, Percy?"
"I'm fine, why would I not be fine? I just think we've all got bigger concerns than idiots whizzing around on broomsticks!" Percy snapped irritably.
"Everyone needs to unwind, Perce, even you." Charlie spoke carefully as though approaching a wounded and snarling dragon, wanting to help but suspecting he was likely to get burned in the process. "Especially you. You've been quiet and snappy the last couple of days and when I asked Oliver about it he just got this funny look on his face and changed the subject. Have you two had a fight?"
"No, of course not. Why? Did he say we had?" Percy's expression was certainly more manic than Charlie liked to see on anyone, least of all his already occasionally high-strung little brother.
"No," Charlie was quick to calmly clarify his meaning, "He just looked upset when I mentioned you. In fact he's been looking rather less like his usual self for the same length of time as you've been biting people's head's off and refusing to talk to anyone. I put two and two together."
"And got five. It's nothing, Charlie. I'm just stressed, we all are!" Percy's voice was raised in something that sounded like irritated condescension but Charlie recognized as a pained uncertainty.
"Yes, Percy, we all are and it's starting to pull this group apart!" Charlie hissed, tugging Percy out of the room and away from the looks the rest of the Order were giving them. He maintained his grip on Percy's arm but altered it's intent to a reassuring squeeze, "We can't fight the Death Eaters if we're too busy fighting each other," he hesitated, "Or ourselves."
Percy pulled his arm away and brushed imaginary creases from his sleeve, "I'm not interested in fighting with anyone, Charlie, including you." He straightened himself up primly, "I have to get back to work."
"Percy!" Charlie reached out again, "Come on, there's so clearly something wrong, just talk to me."
"There's nothing to talk about!" Percy snapped, "I really need to go. I'll see you at home, Charlie."
Percy retreated with all speed to the Ministry but was only afforded a few minutes' peace before Druscilla stalked into his office.
"Percy I asked you to wait for me, what happened?"
"I'm sorry, I…" he trailed off, unwilling to tell his boss that he'd just needed to get out of there and away from everyone.
"Weasley, when I ask you to do something I do not consider it a suggestion." She shook her head, "Pull yourself together and find me these papers."
Percy watched as she thrust a list at him and stormed out before he collapsed into the chair at his desk. He glanced down at the list of reports, statutes and documents Druscilla wanted and sighed, this was going to take hours. Oh well, he thought, it wasn't as though a distraction would be unwelcome.
XXXXXXX
Dumbledore left Professors Snape and McGonagall as soon as they reached Hogwarts, "I need a little time to think, I will likely need to speak with you both later." He swept away to his office without another word, wearing a deeply troubled expression.
Minerva was surprised when her colleague fell into step beside her as she wandered back to her own office, not veering off at the dungeons as he normally would. He followed her right into her office and stood gazing out of the window with his back to her.
His next remark confused her, seeming to come out of the blue. "The Malfoys weren't involved last night, they were apparently spending the evening with Draco. I spoke with Lucius yesterday afternoon," the man sounded troubled.
"Severus?" Minerva McGonagall had learnt through years of careful friendship with the difficult man that pushing for information was not the way to get it. Severus would open up only if he chose to. He seemed almost keen to say something however and she had a feeling he would rest easier once he had.
As it was it nearly exploded out of him in a sudden rush, "He thanked me for taking care of his wife. His wife who I assaulted and then wiped her memory! She was terrified of me."
"You didn't have a choice, Severus."
"They trust me," Severus' voice was filled with a pained disbelief, his face still carefully turned away from her, "After everything they still trust me."
"Yes." She remembered back to her earliest days of teaching, to Severus as a troubled young boy and the strange friendship that had sprung up between himself and Lucius. The two could not have been more different. Lucius was dedicated, a top student with impeccable manners and an ability to sail through trouble and scandal without it ever touching him. Severus on the other hand had never been out of trouble, a brilliant student in some classes and hopeless in others because he simply wouldn't try. He had gone from sneering at Lucius' disdain for everyone else to somehow winding up as the other boy's friend, the few years gap between them making it all the stranger. She'd felt at the time that though the friendship appeared genuine it was unlikely to lead to anything good for either one of them. That Lucius Malfoy could still trust his old school friend with his beloved wife when he had always seemed so paranoid about the rest of the world somehow did not cause her the same surprise it did Severus. "People create bonds at Hogwarts that tend to linger long after. Just look at Remus and Sirius, or for that matter Remus and yourself."
"I beg your pardon?" he turned around with an indignant expression, clearly not caring for who she had associated him with.
She smiled knowingly, "I can't help but think that neither one of you would truly like to see the other come to harm, you may never be friends but you'll never be indifferent to each other."
"No, indifferent is not the word I would use." The implication was clear that the word he would use was not polite. Unusually however, he allowed the matter to drop. He sighed deeply, "Thank you."
"Whatever for?" As much as she wanted to help the troubled man in front of her, Minerva was sadly aware that she could not.
His smile managed to be both bitter and genuine all at once. "For not believing that there is something you could say or do that might improve the situation."
"If I thought there was I would do it. You go through too much."
As with all expressions of concern or affection, Severus brushed her words quickly aside. "I'm going to see the Headmaster. We both know why he wanted to be alone. He's wondering if he can ask me to do what he needs me to and it will be easier for him if I go and suggest it."
"Yes," she nodded, "I wish there was another way."
"I'm not sure I do."
"No, I'm sure you don't. One day, Severus, if you want to take up living again, you may have to stop looking for new and interesting ways to punish yourself." To her friend's shock she sounded on the verge of an uncharacteristically emotional outburst. "Go and speak with Albus, but for heaven's sake could you make just the smallest effort to stay alive!"
"Minerva," he took her arm gently, "I assure you, if working alongside you all these years hasn't prompted my demise then my chances with the Dark Lord are better than they have any right to be."
She returned his dry smile and shook her head, "Severus, you are as impossible as the day you first set foot in my classroom and you still worry me just as much."
As he departed he shot back, "You know you only turned out to be slightly less annoying as a colleague than you were as a teacher." He couldn't hold back the smile of amusement as he heard her fuming behind him.
Severus' smile faded long before he reached the Headmaster's office. His genuine respect and affection for the older man was still constantly at war with his resentment of Dumbledore's manipulation of people, including Severus himself. He did not wait for a response to his knock but let himself in to find Dumbledore sat at his desk staring intently at the letter Druscilla had sent the other night as though it might yet yield new information. Severus knew him well enough though to recognise that his attention was far from being on the piece of parchment in his hand.
The Headmaster gave him a look of quiet reproach, "Severus, I was hoping for some peace and quiet to think things through."
Severus' annoyance with the other man evaporated when he saw how tired the Headmaster looked. Instead of respecting his wishes and leaving though, he closed the door and came to sit opposite Dumbledore at his desk. "I know what you're thinking about. You don't need to ask me, I'll find a way. Give me a few days and I'll see what I learn about the wards, from what I already know of them I'm sure I can find a way to bring them down."
"I wasn't going to ask you." A lie and an obvious one, Severus wasn't even sure Dumbledore wanted him to believe it.
"You would have, eventually. How else can you get Potter out?"
Dumbledore sighed heavily, "I don't want to have to ask you to do it. The chances of you being caught are higher than ever and there is no way you'll be able to bring those wards down without him knowing, whatever happens afterwards you won't be able to stay hidden."
"When I first came to you I said I would do anything, that I wasn't asking you to shelter me, I was offering to help you. It won't take him long to work out who brought the wards down once I do it but things will likely quickly descend into chaos and, after far too many years of teaching here, I am accustomed to chaos. The greater worry to my mind is what you intend to do once the wards are down."
XXXXXXX
Percy's day had not improved after his scolding from Druscilla. He had not seen her again and by the time he had tracked down all the papers she had requested she had left for the night. He looked at his watch and realised that if he left immediately he should get home before dinner was off the table.
Instead, he sat back at his desk, conjured himself some coffee and sighed deeply. Going home would mean facing Charlie and he was in no hurry to do that. He might be having trouble preventing himself from thinking about things but he could damn well prevent himself from having to talk about them.
Charlie's kind words of concern had made one thing horribly clear though: he'd hurt Oliver. He'd hurt the boy who had refused to laugh at him with the other students because Percy preferred studying to quidditch, the friend who'd believed in him as few other people ever had, the man who'd tried to kiss him on the beach.
Percy had been dodging around that one even in his own head, but he had no doubt that that was what Oliver had intended. But how could he explain that to Charlie, or to Thornfield, or to anyone...
He didn't want to think about any of it.
More than once Percy had wondered at the Sorting Hat's placement of him in Gryffindor. Proud as he had been to be part of, and indeed to lead, that house it had never quite felt like a proper fit. The impulsive Gryffindor nature, perfectly exemplified in Oliver Wood and his mad idea to attempt to kiss Percy without so much as a by your leave, was almost entirely foreign to the young Weasley. Of course, Percy wasn't sure a 'by your leave' would have helped very much. There was no way Oliver could have approached him that would not have led to his hasty retreat. It had always been Percy's instinct when uncomfortable or unsure to pull away.
Percy knew he was intelligent, knew that there were few things he couldn't master with a little time (flying being a notable exception), but sometimes he felt that other people and their interactions were a riddle beyond him. He could solve the most complicated arithmancy equation, translate Ancient Runes into perfect modern English and brew a potion even Snape couldn't scowl at (though he had, Percy was still a Gryffindor) but he found even the simplest of human interactions hard work.
Oliver's actions had shocked him in more ways than one. Percy had never considered what Oliver Wood might look for in a partner (though certain assumptions such as 'female' had simply been a given in Percy's mind) but he was certain that if he had indulged in such an exercise the person he would have imagined would have been nothing like himself. He'd have expected someone who played or loved or at least vaguely understood quidditch for a start. Someone open and passionate (about people instead of pieces of paper), someone relaxed and fun. Someone as completely opposed to Percy Weasley as Oliver was himself. It seemed, however, that Percy's assumptions on Oliver's tastes, all the way from female to 'must like quidditch', had been proven doubtful in that moment on the beach.
Of course he had no idea what Oliver had wanted from him. What that kiss would have been about. A declaration of love, or lust, or something in between. Percy supposed that if it had merely been an idle impulse in a heated moment Percy's skill with a broomstick was irrelevant. It wasn't as though he had encouraged this behaviour though, aside from that hug he rarely initiated physical contact with Oliver (or with anyone) and he certainly hadn't done anything else to imply Oliver's actions would be well received. So if it were merely a warm, willing body Oliver was seeking there had to have been better options.
Some of his own acquaintance in the Ministry would have declared that a warm body was all people like Oliver were looking for. He winced at the phrasing, even as he wondered if he hadn't heard that judgement pronounced too many times to dismiss it as fast as he should.
Pulling away from Oliver had been instinctive, the motto he'd taken to living by to preserve his career, the same motto Druscilla Thornfield seemed to live to flout, 'Don't get yourself into compromising situations'.
The same strategy he'd used to justify walking out on his family.
Cowardice had made him run on the beach but it was something far worse that kept him running, a cold, calculating thought that this was an issue that could only lead to difficult situations and which if he dropped Oliver would drop right along with him. A gnawing feeling in the pit of Percy's stomach told him that for once his logic was flawed and a contemptuous voice in his head told him his behaviour was selfish and cowardly and more than a little cruel.
However what was the alternative? To tell Oliver politely that he was not interested but that of course he supported him in whatever lifestyle he might choose to pursue? Replaying the last sentence back in his mind, Percy groaned and sank his head into his hands, "I sound like Fudge!"
Indeed the head-in-the-sand strategy he seemed to have adopted was strongly reminiscent of the Minister. He found Fudge a hard man to respect much of the time. Mr Crouch had been misguided and immovable in his ideas but he had at least held the courage of his convictions. Percy was well aware there were worse things to be than wrong. Fudge seemed to have a constant overriding concern for the way he appeared in the eyes of others, a concern Percy could not honestly claim had never motivated him. Could not even claim it wasn't motivating him now, leaving him too afraid to question why the idea of telling Oliver that he had misread the situation felt so hard.
Druscilla would probably have suggested there was much more to his current turmoil than a disinclination towards an inevitably awkward conversation.
Percy felt sure that a blind man could tell how attractive Oliver was. His pleasantly muscular physique radiated a quiet and reassuring strength. The outdoor life, and presumably good genes, meant that Oliver appeared to have a healthy glow all year round and his warm hazel eyes seemed forever to be sparkling with energy and mischief. His whole attitude was so open and friendly that he put people at their ease almost at once and his smile was quite simply infectious. It was no surprise that 'Witch Weekly' kept doing features on him even when he hadn't been playing. Percy was also aware that he was in danger of sounding like one of the fan girls Oliver had undoubtedly attracted since embarking on his professional career. He'd certainly had enough of them at school, though Percy could never remember him paying particular attention to any of them, the other man had seemed to view romance as an unnecessary distraction from the purity of quidditch. Now Percy couldn't help but wonder if his lack of notice of the girls might have been for another reason as well.
He recalled one particularly painful occasion when Marcus Flint had made some remark about how even Percy could get a date and yet the Gryffindor Quidditch team were such losers no self-respecting girl would be seen on the arm of their captain. Which was rubbish as there were any number of girls who'd have ripped each other's arms off to be on Oliver's, but Marcus never had been one for insightful insults. Oliver however, instead of becoming angry or embarrassed, had simply responded that clearly intelligence was sexy thus explaining perfectly why Marcus himself was still single, as he led a blushing Percy firmly away before the Head Boy could attempt to remonstrate with the Slytherin.
At that time Percy had been dating Penelope Clearwater, she remained the only person he'd dated. Romance had never particularly interested him but dating Penny had seemed like the thing to do, she had (surprisingly boldly) expressed an interest and thus the first move (like every move that followed it) was made for him.
Penny was clever, respectful, considerate, tactful and very pretty besides. She had felt like the perfect partner for a life in politics, though he wasn't sure he had ever really expected the relationship to last. She was however the kind of person he'd seen himself with, a respectable wife from a good background with intelligence and ambition to match his own.
That was who he was supposed to end up with, who he should want, and what everyone would expect of him. So it was difficult to admit just how much he had enjoyed the opportunity to put his arms around Oliver on the broomstick.
Of course, he reasoned, enjoying human contact wasn't that strange and he had been lonely. He'd been lonely for as long as he could remember, always the outsider amongst his family and his peers and (despite marathon efforts to fit in) at the Ministry too. Penny had helped with that for a while and lately Oliver had been doing the same with his easy familiarity and open, honest smile that always made Percy feel just a tiny bit better about everything.
Despite his charming manner and ability to seemingly like almost everyone (except the Slytherin Quidditch team) Oliver had all the bluntness the Scots were famed for. That only made it worse that he was still smiling at Percy, clearly not happy but not blaming the other man for it. It was the first time Oliver's smiles had made him feel worse, his stomach clenching and internal voice berating him for his behaviour.
Percy reached out blindly for his cup of coffee, gulping at it unthinkingly and pulling a disgusted expression as he realised it was stone cold. He glanced at his watch, it was late, far too late to be here really but the ministry had long ago become his refuge. It was somewhere quiet to think, somewhere he could be alone. Percy was almost always trying to be someone else when he was around others, the perfect son, the perfect student, the perfect employee. He had rarely felt the need to do that around Oliver, never felt like he was falling short of some unwritten standard he was expected to meet. Even Penny hadn't been able to make him feel like that.
The truth was Oliver made him feel things no one else had ever managed to. In Oliver's company he'd felt relaxed, welcome, wanted. He was desperate to be able to say that the gratitude he felt for that was entirely to blame for any other feelings the man had inspired, that he was simply carried away with the thrill of being desired. But Druscilla flirted with him often enough (including at least one occasion early on when it had seemed a serious attempt to entice him into bed) to assure him he might be lonely but he did not respond to every overture of affection like this.
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Alone in his cell Harry had no idea how far his friends had got in trying to find him.
He had begun to wonder if they were looking at all. Perhaps they thought he was dead - it wouldn't be far from the truth.
He hadn't seen another person in what felt like days.
He was beginning to hope that they'd all forgotten about him, that he might just be allowed to rot peacefully down here. He no longer felt hungry or thirsty or even cold; he simply felt defeated.
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A/N: I won't make promises about when the next update will be but I will endeavour to make it as soon as I can. I have absolutely no intentions of abandoning this story. Thanks for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts! :)