A/N: Erm, so it's been about a year since I updated and for anyone who has been followng I am so sorry. I've not been well, I won't bore you with details, but I'm doing much better now and I'm determind to see this story finished! The review I received recently simply saying 'pls' got me moving on finally sorting this chapter out, so thank you to Mayacomany for that. :)

Chapter 29

Dear Percy,

Hermione's making me write. Seriously, she's stood over me, send help [the p of 'help' trailed away into an illegible smudge and several ink blots, as though there had been a battle for the quill. Rather neater handwriting continued the letter.]

Hello Percy, I hope this letter finds you well. Hagrid has made us aware of the upcoming plans. Please don't tell anybody he said anything, he meant well. While we both firmly believe that we should be permitted to accompany you all in carrying out these plans, we will agree to not pressing the point in exchange for some information. Obviously we are extremely concerned and Hagrid's information was extremely limited. I thought that someone as integral to the Ministry as you, with the ear of your boss, would be sure to have a thorough knowledge of the circumstances and be compassionate enough not to leave us in the dark. We will be in the Gryffindor common room awaiting your fire call at midnight tonight.

Hermione

P.S. Ron insists on adding something.

[The writing took on his brother's familiar scrawl again] Percy, please, I need to know what's happening. Worried about everyone. Ron.

Percy, sat at his desk at work, sighed deeply. He'd thought that by opening his brother's owl first he might at least be able to begin the day with something pleasanter than the howlers, and Prophet requests, and heaven only knew what else, was in his in-tray. He should have remembered that Ron only ever tended to owl him when he wanted something.

It was his brother's heartfelt postscript though, rather than Hermione's calculatedly flattering request, which forced Percy to capitulate. He sent the owl away without a reply but he knew that come midnight he was going to be sat in front of a fireplace convincing his little brother that enough people were rushing into danger as it was. Ron's reckless, headlong bravery was admirable (and oh so Gryffindor in a way Percy would never be) but not something Percy intended on encouraging.

XXXXXXX

"It's sent." Ron slipped into his seat beside Hermione, ten minutes late for Transfigurations. McGonagall just glared at him, none of the teachers but Snape seemed to have the heart to tell off either Ron or Hermione at present.

Hermione nodded, taking notes all the time. Even in the current circumstances Hermione was dedicated to her schoolwork. Once Ron would have thought her unfeeling but now he knew her too well and had begun to understand why she did what she did. Hermione took the idea that knowledge was power as literally as any Slytherin, she was desperately absorbing anything and everything she could in the hope it might help. The hope that if she took enough notes, attended enough classes, and aced enough tests, she might discover some way to save them all. Though his own response could hardly have been more different, Ron had every faith in her approach. If anyone was going to pull him and Harry out of trouble it had always been Hermione. Harry would stand fighting, and Ron would stand at his side, as long as mind and body allowed, but it was Hermione who gave them the tools to fight with.

He looked at the girl at his side, took in the frizzier than usual hair bundled back in a rough plait, the dark circles under red rimmed eyes, and the pale, pinched, face. Fleur Delacour herself had never looked better, there was no one he would rather were at his side through all this. He extended a hand and squeezed her knee suddenly, causing her to smear ink across her parchment and look up at him in startled annoyance.

He turned red and shrugged guiltily, removing his hand as though burned. Hermione turned an answering shade of scarlet and gave him a small smile. She looked at him for a long moment before something the Professor was saying caught her attention and she returned to her notes.

Ron took no notes in that lesson or any other that day and Hermione didn't try to make him, instead handing him copies of her own at dinner time. "You're going to need these eventually," she said tiredly. "One day we're actually going to have to sit some exams around here. Can't expect You-Know-Who to get us let off every year."

"Thank you." Ron smiled and took the rolled up parchment. "For everything. I don't know where I'd be without you."

Hermione gave a wry smile, "Dead probably, or worse expelled."

XXXXXXX

"Aren't you going home yet?"

Percy looked up from his work to see Druscilla's head poking round his office door.

He forced a tired smile. "No, I've got some things I want to finish first." He gestured at the parchment strewn across his usually tidy desk.

"Well, don't stay too late." Druscilla had mostly given up trying to persuade her employee to go home. Percy almost missed her attempts, being accepted as a piece of unmoving office furniture was a little disheartening at times.

Currently though he was forced to concede her willingness to leave him was helpful. "I won't," he lied.

As soon as Druscilla had left he conjured another pot of coffee. There was no prospect of using the floo at home, or at Grimmauld Place, without someone catching him at it, and though his mother often complained he and his brothers and sister didn't spend enough time talking as a family she would definitely be unimpressed by him telling his little brother things it had been deemed unnecessary for him to know. Percy didn't agree with keeping Ron and Hermione in the dark, they were after all the closest thing Harry had to family.

It was the sound of his stomach rumbling that eventually reminded him he had told Oliver he'd come round for dinner. He looked at his watch, he was due there in less than quarter of an hour. He could go, he thought, use Oliver's floo to firecall Ron. But then, much as he had to admit he had become extremely fond of Oliver and certainly trusted him, he didn't really want him to witness any more of his sibling rows if Ron wasn't happy with what Percy had to say...

Sighing, Percy scribbled a brief note.

Sorry, can't make tonight, need to work. See you tomorrow.

He briefly contemplated adding a kiss to the end of the note but that seemed a little immature, and if anyone found it and realised it was from him... Percy shook his head and sent Hermes with the note as it was. Oliver probably wouldn't care either way, and perhaps he'd even relish the chance of an evening to himself, they had been rather living in each others' pockets of late.

XXXXXXX

Oliver thought at first that the tapping on the window was a knock at the door. He put down the salad vegetables he'd been chopping and wiped his hands, quickly going through to the dining room to light the candles on the table, surprised that Percy was actually a little early for once. The beating of wings against glass though was unmistakable to any witch or wizard and Oliver looked up to see Hermes outside. "Hello you," he sighed and opened the window, gently removing the note from the bird's leg. "Going to be late is he?" Hermes hooted softly and flew off without waiting for a reply.

Frowning, Oliver read the note. Afterwards he crumpled it up and blew out the candles as viciously as you could blow out a candle. It just figured that the first time he tried the candlelit dinner romance nonsense on somebody they wouldn't even turn up. He knew he was getting into this all far too quickly. He wasn't sure if it was the war with You-Know-Who and the impending battle, his own inexperience with relationships, or simply how incredible Percy was, that had him throwing himself into this relationship from the start with no idea of how practical or long-term their association might prove to be.

He would however have appreciated a bit more of an apology, and a note that felt like less of an afterthought, if Percy was going to stand him up.

He flung the screwed up note with perfect accuracy into the waste paper basket at the other end of the room, before sitting heavily and grumpily on the couch.

Oliver wasn't used to rejection. He didn't usually do the chasing, he'd never been interested enough in anyone to be bothered. He didn't crave romance or even much company as a rule. He'd always been happy enough to let others approach him if they were interested, and his relationships had never lasted long enough, or been significant enough, to really deserve the word.

Percy though...Percy was different. Percy held his interest without even trying. Made him want to do the chasing. Made him want something that was deserving of being termed a relationship. It was impossible to define just what it was about the other man that had him hooked, because the short answer was 'everything'. His intelligence, his passion, his drive and dedication. His height, Oliver had to look up a bit to kiss him, that was surprisingly nice, Oliver mused, becoming distracted. Oh and that gorgeous shade of crimson he kept turning whenever he was embarrassed, which seemed to be quite a lot. It was even better when you could see how far down it travelled on that pale skin, Oliver grinned at the thought. Then there was those surprisingly strong, skilful hands, usually endearingly smudged with ink. Oliver would have been content to daydream about his boyfriend's desirable qualities in great detail for some time but his mind chose to pour cold water on his fantasies by reminding him that he would not be enjoying any of those qualities tonight. He scowled moodily, suddenly feeling unaccountably alone in his large and comfortable flat.

Oliver didn't have long to indulge his misery however as a sudden smell of burning attracted him back into the kitchen with a shout. The room was filled with smoke and dinner was frankly unsalvageable. He swore loudly and dumped a smoking pan into a sink of water, only to find clouds of steam and a smell of melting plastic joining the choking smoke. "Oh for God's sake!"

Why was he doing this? He was no good at this kind of thing, wasn't really much good at anything that didn't involve flying. If Percy had shown up he probably wouldn't have been impressed anyway. Giving up on wafting the smoke around, Oliver grabbed a pack of beer from the fridge and retreated once more to the couch.

He ignored the sensible thought that he hadn't actually eaten much at all today, (due to rushing around buying ingredients and poring over recipe books to create the smoking mess currently melting his washing up bowl), and flipped the lid on a bottle of beer. Over the next hour, he wound up flipping the lids off all the others too. Several bottles later he found he felt rather more annoyed than morose.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself, "I do not spend my time sat around waiting for some daft bloke to decide to pay me attention." A little voice in his head though reminded him that no indeed he did not wait, he was usually found trailing at said daft bloke's heels actively trying to get his attention.

"Right, that's enough." Oliver jumped to his feet, grabbed the wine he'd bought specially for dinner along with his cloak, and stormed from the house.

XXXXXXX

It was getting late and though most people had gone to bed the Gryffindor common room was showing no signs of emptying out completely any time soon. Ron began toying with something in his pocket, this might call for desperate measures. "We need to clear the common room before Percy calls." It was probably best, he thought, to tell Hermione what he was planning.

"He didn't write back," Hermione reminded him, "I hope he does call."

"He'll call."

Hermione was surprised by Ron's certainty. "How can you be so sure?"

"He's not the git I once said he was. He's been different since he came home last summer. He'll call. I know he's pompous and stand-offish, but I mean if he wasn't he wouldn't be Percy, it doesn't mean he doesn't care. He's just not got the best way of showing it."

Hermione gave him a rare smile, it was the one she normally reserved for when he began his homework unprodded. "You really are becoming more mature."

Ron pulled a face, "Thanks!"

"It was a compliment!"

"Really?!"

Across the common room, Neville bit back a laugh as he approached the bickering pair. "Everything ok?" he asked, pleased to see them bantering like their old selves.

"Hermione says I'm becoming mature!" Ron burst out in accusatory tones.

"Well I take it back! Clearly you're not," Hermione shot back.

Neville couldn't hold back the laugh any longer.

"What?!" They turned on him almost simultaneously.

Neville shook his head, "Nothing," he blundered on quickly, "You seem a little more relaxed and I notice you seem keen for the common room to empty out. Is something going on?" He had determined after their previous attempts to rebuff him that he would stop asking, stop trying to be a part of their group when he never really had been, but then Luna had talked to him. The girl had a way, older than her years, of putting things so that you saw them differently. She had encouraged him to keep on reaching out and her encouragement gave him courage.

His courage however was dashed aside with an airy motion from Hermione and an awkward look from Ron.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione was using the voice he secretly thought of as her 'Head Girl Voice', authoritative, no-nonsense and quite possibly steamrollering you so you didn't notice Ron and Harry's, and even her own, latest bout of rule breaking.

"Yeah, nothing to tell, mate." Ron, Neville thought to himself, was an appalling liar.

"Right, well, ok then." Neville's smile could hardly have been less sincere or more unhappy and as he left them to go up to the dormitories Ron almost went after him, but Hermione caught hold of his arm to stop him.

"No. If we drag him into this we're only putting him in danger," she insisted.

"We're hurting him."

"Better hurt by us than the Death Eaters." Hermione looked grim. It was a look Ron was more used to from Harry than from her. Her hand on his arm though was warm and grounding and reminded him of the kind heart under her currently hard exterior.

"Where would I be without you?"

Hermione frowned, "You need to stop asking that, I'm running out of answers."

"You? Out of answers?" he smiled softly. "Never." The moment stretched out between them and became awkward. Ron cleared his throat loudly. "And talking of people never short of answers, we should be making sure everyone does clear off before Percy calls."

"And I suppose you have a plan for that that I'm not going to approve of?"

"How do you know you won't approve?"

"The glint in your eye." Hermione folded her arms with frown. "That look means rule breaking."

"I'm not sure the rules actually specify no stink bombs in the common rooms." He winked.

XXXXXXX

Oliver banged on the door several times without getting a response. He checked his watch, it was late but not that late and he could see a light inside. He was about to give up when the door swung open and he was greeted with a welcoming smile, which only widened when it's owner noticed the wine.

"I'm sorry to just turn up uninvited, but..." Oliver floundered, looking for words to explain why he was there.

"Hey, a hot guy shows up at my door bearing wine, I'm never going to complain. Come on in." The tall, dark and handsome Ballycastle Bats Chaser stood back to let Oliver follow him inside.

"That is not why I'm here, Adam." Oliver was determined to be clear from the beginning. The two of them had something of a history and, though there had never been anything as formal as an arrangement, only a few months ago that would probably have been exactly why he was there.

The man laughed at Oliver's fierce assertion and held up his hands in surrender, "Ok, point taken! Though the last time you showed up out of blue with alcohol..." his laugh became a filthy grin and Oliver smacked him in the arm, possibly harder than he needed to.

"Shut up!" he laughed with him, shoving the wine into his hands and collapsing onto the couch. "I just need someone to chill out with, I'm not having a good time at the moment. Though in some ways I am and it's wonderful," he sighed, "But it's also a little bit awful!"

Adam frowned. "Sit tight, I'm going to go open this..." he glanced down at the bottle in his hands, "Extremely expensive wine!" Oliver buried his face in his hands. "And when I get back you can tell me why you're on my doorstep with expensive wine in the first place, because the only reason I can imagine doesn't seem to be the one on your mind."

"It's not. I don't feel like I have a lot of friends I can talk to about this, I was just hoping you might listen to me moan about my life for a while. Not much in it for you except the wine I'm afraid."

"You overestimate your own charms if you think they outweigh wine this fancy! I'm afraid if I can only pick one or the other I'd be sorely tempted to take the wine anyway." Adam winked.

Oliver pulled a face at the man's retreating back, relieved at the easy banter. Adam couldn't be less like Percy if he tried, he was confident, flirty, knew exactly what he wanted, and had a blunt openness about him which was softened by a ready smile and kind heart. The delightful Irish lilt to his accent probably helped too. Oliver was still deep in thought about the differences between Percy and Adam when a wine glass was pushed unceremoniously into his hands and a familiar body flopped on to the couch beside him.

"You want to tell me what's wrong with you? Or shall I tell you what I think Puddlemere did wrong in that match against the Wigtown Wanderers the other week?"

Oliver's introspection ended abruptly at the implied criticism of his team. "Only if you want to hear just how poor your league chances are if you keep fielding that Seeker you paid far too much money for!"

"He's getting better!"

"It wasn't like he could get worse!"

Adam looked about to argue before shrugging and turning to his wine. He clearly had trouble defending a Seeker whose major contribution to the team so far had been possibly the funniest Quidditch incident in years as he managed to bounce off a goalpost and collide with the Keeper, unseating both of them and losing the Snitch to boot. "So what's got you so conflicted anyway? I've never seen you this worked up over anything that wasn't Quidditch related before."

"What makes you think it's not Quidditch related?"

"You said there weren't many people you could talk to about it, you'll talk to anyone and everyone about Quidditch. And, Wigtown Wanderers aside, you're not doing that badly at the moment."

"We're not doing badly at all!" Oliver frowned. "But you're right, it's not Quidditch. Quidditch...god, for the first time I can remember, Quidditch feels like the least of my concerns."

Adam looked suspiciously at his glass before topping them both up. "I have not drunk enough to be hearing you making statements like that. What the hell is the matter with you?"

"I'm seeing someone." Oliver took a large gulp of wine and put the glass down on the coffee table to gesture emphatically with his hands, "And I really like him, probably more than I should when it's really not been that long but I can't help myself!"

"Alright." Adam was quiet for a moment. "Well, much as I didn't think falling hard and fast was your style, and risky as it can be, if he's dating you I presume he likes you so what's the problem? You think he's not that interested?"

"I don't know. I mean he's very work-orientated, workaholic might be a less kind way of phrasing things, it's hard to ever imagine being his number one concern."

Adam snorted.

"What?" Oliver asked, retrieving his wine from the coffee table.

"Because that in no way reflects your own personality!" It was really unfair how good sarcasm sounded in an Irish accent.

Oliver sighed. "Maybe. It's not that that bothers me anyway, he does seem interested and I'm hopeful at least that he's maybe falling a little too," he blushed slightly, bafflingly unaware it seemed of just how much of a catch he was. "It's just that...he doesn't want anyone to know about us. And I know his family really well and we spend a lot of time around the same people and he freaks out when I go near him while there are other people about. It's difficult!"

Adam let out a groan. "I take if I said 'Get out now' you'd hardly be likely to listen to me."

Oliver frowned, "Look he's got his reasons, he's concerned about his career, and some conversations just aren't that easy to have! He's got a bit of fragile relationship with his family and he's a little insecure about the way people see him."

"Sounds like a delight." The Irish lilt was beginning to lose its mitigating effect on the sarcasm.

"He is!" Oliver insisted passionately.

"Ok." The other man sounded thoroughly unconvinced.

"Adam!"

"What?!" The older man sighed, and continued more calmly. "Look I just, I've been there, you wait this out and you could be waiting an awfully long time, and feeling like someone's dirty secret isn't good for anyone's self-esteem."

"Speaking from experience?" Oliver doubted it somehow, the idea that Adam would have put up with anyone making him feel like that was laughable.

"Yes actually, and the bloke in question is no closer to being out and proud now than he was four years ago as far as I know. After it got to a year with no sign of change I threw in the towel on the relationship. The whole thing was a mess."

The anger on Adam's handsome face was doing a pretty poor job of masking the pain the relationship's breakdown had obviously caused him. "I can imagine." Oliver clearly hadn't read the other man as well as he'd thought he had, then again the two of them had never wasted too much time on talking.

Adam's expression softened. "On the other hand, you can't determine the speed with which someone else comes to terms with themselves and their life and where you fit into it. I'm not saying I can't see why he'd find this difficult, I'm just saying you should be careful. You're not the kind of person happy with hiding from people and this sounds like an awkward situation. I take it you won't tell me who he is?"

"No, but you don't know him anyway. You're the only person I feel comfortable talking to who doesn't know him. I think it feels so bloody difficult because I can't talk to anyone about it for fear of them working out who I'm talking about and him having a meltdown. He's been through a really rough year and quite aside from anything else I don't want to put any more stress on him."

"You are way too nice for your own good you know."

"I'm not." Oliver felt suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. "I wouldn't be sat on your couch drinking wine that I was supposed to share with him and complaining about him if I were."

"Did you have a fight?"

Oliver sighed. "No. He was supposed to come over for dinner, hence the expensive wine, then about ten minutes before he was due he owled me to say he had to work late."

"Is this guy some kind of idiot?!" The wine was not making Adam diplomatic.

"Quite the reverse I assure you, he's ludicrously bright. He's just not always great with people."

"Can I reiterate what a delight he sounds like?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

They sat in frustrated silence for a long five minutes, both intent on the wine (the expense of which was entirely wasted on two young men simply looking to get drunk).

Eventually Adam broke the silence. "Look, it's clear you're invested in this relationship so I guess you need to make your mind up how happy you're going to be waiting around for him to be honest with people. You said it's not been long, to be fair to him maybe he just wants to be really sure this is a serious long-term thing before he starts shouting about it."

Oliver brightened, "Yeah, maybe you're right. I mean it's not like I've ever gone and shouted to the world about my sex life."

Adam snorted. "No, but I'm not aware of you ever denying it either. It's hardly a secret, even if somehow Witch Weekly hasn't got the message yet. Personally I think they just don't want to get the message, you're too handsome and charming for them to let go of their desperate hopes easily."

Oliver chuckled, "I think now you're overestimating my charms. I know what you're saying though and I don't like the way things are, I don't want to hide. It's not so much about wanting to scream it from the rooftops, it's more that this feels so completely awkward because it's not just him lying to his family, I'm having to do that too!"

"So, to be blunt..."

"What you?" Oliver decided they could both play the sarcasm game.

"Shut up and think about something. What did you come here for?" Adam raised a hand to stop Oliver answering. "Did you want someone to talk to about all this because you don't know what to do? Or because you know what you're going to do but you're frustrated because you know that in the long-term it might not make you very happy? Or did you come here because you're looking for something else?"

It was Adam's brutal frankness in apparently asking Oliver if he'd come over to end his fledgling relationship by having sex with someone else that stunned the man into silence. There was nothing seductive in the question, but something told Oliver that if that was what he was looking for then he wasn't going to be turned down. He sat back and finished his wine, allowing himself to wonder what exactly it was that he wanted.

It was almost irritatingly clear. He sighed. "I think I'm in trouble. I don't like this, I don't like hiding from people and the way he's behaving is making me feel like he thinks there's something wrong with what we're doing, which makes me think he's thinks there's something wrong with me, but seriously he is...he is smart, and passionate, and handsome, and he treats me like I'm so much more than just a dumb Quidditch player. He may make me unhappy at times but he also makes me feel like I'm worthwhile and valued and..." Oliver let his head flop back into the sofa cushions. "Oh shit!"

A warm hand landed on his shoulder, but its intent felt friendly rather than flirty. "If he makes you feel all of that then maybe you need to give it some time. You may need to be a little patient and hope for the best. As a friend I would seriously caution you against waiting around forever, but I think if you walk out at this stage you'll never stop wondering if he would have come around. Give him a chance. And if you need to get pissed and complain every once in a while my door is always open, as long as you're bearing expensive wine."

"Thank you." Oliver kissed him impulsively on the cheek. "You're a good mate. I should go home."

"You should." Adam hauled him off the couch and shoved him playfully towards the door. "Get out, I have an extra training session in the morning – by which I mean in about 6 hours time and it's going to be hell as it is. Do not go drunkenly visiting this poor bloke, go home and get some sleep."

"I wasn't thinking of..." Oliver was silenced with a look. "Yeah ok, good point." He swore he could hear good-natured laughter at his expense the moment the door closed behind him.

XXXXXXX

On the stroke of midnight Percy found himself looking round at the oh so familiar common room, realising how much he missed it. Coming back there at the end of a school day had always felt like coming home, he wasn't really sure anywhere felt like that anymore. Though he didn't recall it smelling quite so bad...

"Hey Perce," Ron managed a small smile. "How you doing?"

"Fine, thank you, Ron. Nice as it is to see you however, I should not be doing this! And what is that smell?!"

"Stink bombs." Hermione looked unamused.

Ron ignored the disgusted looks he was getting from both of them. "We're worried Percy, you can't keep us in the dark!"

Percy sighed. "Don't get worked up, why do you think I'm here." He frowned, "We know where Harry is and how to get in, no I do not propose to tell you how but I'm sure if you put your minds to it you can guess who got that particular task."

"Snape." Hermione tried to sound like Hagrid hadn't already let that slip.

"I will not be commenting further on that matter," Percy responded primly. "We're going in with the Aurors and Dumbledore's going to go after Harry and Voldemort. I don't know what he's planning, he's playing his cards close to his chest as usual. So you see there's not much more to tell than you've likely already heard from Hagrid." Percy gave them a disapproving look, "And I'll have you know I think taking advantage of someone as kind-hearted, but not perhaps quite level-headed, as Hagrid to get your information is a little below the belt."

"Well you weren't telling us!"

Percy just frowned at his youngest brother. "I know you're worried, we all are, we just don't want to add you two to the pile of things we need to worry about!"

Hermione saw a fight brewing between the siblngs and interjected before Percy could get huffy and leave without giving them any more information. "How are you going to be travelling, you're not apparating surely?"

"No, apparition was too risky, we're using Portkeys."

"How on earth did you get a Portkey into the Dark Lord's top secret hideout?!" Ron looked almost amused.

Percy gave a grim smile. "By giving the job of producing them to someone both very devious and extremely brave."

"Snape!" Hermione nudged Ron none too gently, "How do you think?!"

"I couldn't possibly comment." Percy said. "On a completely unrelated note however, as you've mentioned Professor Snape, it might be nice if you were to behave with a little more respect towards him. He is a teacher after all."

Ron gave a grudging shrug of what might have been agreement and Percy didn't push it further. "We're assembling at Grimmauld Place at 8pm the night after tomorrow, the Death Eaters should all be gathered then we think."

"You're attacking when they're strongest?" Hermione asked.

Percy seemed to share her nerves at that idea but tried to put a brave face on it. "We don't want them showing up with reinforcements at an unfortunate moment, or simply going to ground and getting away with everything like so many managed last time."

"So how are we getting to Grimmauld Place." Ron asked.

Percy frowned. "You're not. Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous, why can't we go with you?!"

"You're too young and it's not safe. There is going to be fighting, there's no way around that and the Death Eaters have never shown the slightest inclination towards mercy just because their targets are still children!"

Ron snorted, "Fred and George are barely older than us and frankly we're both more responsible than they are!"

"I'm not going to argue that last point," Percy conceded, "But what have they got to do with anything?"

"You're letting them go!"

Percy sighed. "For starters, I am not 'letting' anyone go, that is not my decision to make, and actually Fred and George are not going to be going with us. Though they don't know that yet so keep it to yourselves."

"Why not?" Hermione frowned, as surprised as Ron to hear his twin brothers were not forming part of the rescue attempt.

Percy somehow managed to look even more serious than usual. "Ginny. We don't want to move her to Hogwarts, or leave her on her own anywhere, she's just too vulnerable at the moment. If anyone can take care of her, should it all go less than according to plan, it's the twins."

Ron and Percy, probably the two that had suffered most from Fred and George's pranks, shared a rare moment of affection for their difficult yet ingenious siblings. "Fair point. I think I'd rather tackle a Death Eater than take on those two," Ron grimaced.

"At least the Death Eaters wouldn't be trying to feed you Canary Creams and Puking Pastilles." Percy agreed. "Look Ron, Hermione, please trust me, you don't want to come with us. Just stay safe inside these walls while you can, if this doesn't work..." he trailed off.

"We don't want to stay safe while the people we love are in danger," Ron sounded more upset than angry.

"I know that, and if I were in your shoes I'd probably have seen things the same way. From my shoes however what I see is my little brother, and his equally young and inexperienced friend, trying to persuade people to let them go and fight Death Eaters."

"We've done it before." Hermione reminded him.

"That fact isn't making anyone any happier you know. Or more inclined to test your luck by letting you try it again."

"Percy..." Ron began.

"No!" The redhead in the fireplace almost shouted, forgetting in his concern to keep his voice down. He dropped his tones to a furious whisper. "Stop asking me, the answer is no, the answer will always be no. I am not going to argue with you, Ron." There seemed to be an unspoken reason that it could be the last time they saw each other that Ron didn't like one bit. "I need to go, just try not to worry yourselves sick ok? We'll let you know what's happening as soon as we can."

"Ok." Ron swallowed thickly and called out as he saw his brother preparing to go, "Perce!"

"Yes?"

"Be careful."

"I will." The two brothers stared at each other in silence for a moment before Percy's head disappeared and the fire died down. Ron was so quiet and still that Hermione couldn't hear his breathing even in the empty common room. She reached over and squeezed his hand, guiltily grateful that her own family were muggles and, at least for now, not about to charge into harm's way.

XXXXXXX

Sleep did not come easily to Percy that night and he awoke the next morning feeling anxious and short-tempered. It wasn't long before he'd snapped at his mother, argued with Fred and George, and indulged in enough petulant storming about Grimmauld Place that Ginny, who'd been trying to sleep, dragged herself to her bedroom door to shout at him to go and be noisy and cross somewhere else.

Come lunchtime Charlie, as ever, tried to smooth things over. "Perce, Bill's at The Burrow, said he wanted somewhere quiet to go over some Gringotts stuff." He tactfully didn't mention that Bill's precise words had been 'I can't bloody concentrate with that moody git storming about upsetting everyone'. "Why don't you head over and join him, the two of you can make sure the beds are all freshly made and there isn't a pile of washing up or anything. Mum was saying she wanted to go back there as soon as possible once things are a bit more settled."

Percy didn't look keen. His mother however thought it was a marvellous idea. "Oh yes, do please, Percy. If the two of you could just change all the beds for me, I changed them before we left but they'll need changing again after so long!"

"Alright, well I suppose it will at least give me somewhere quiet to work too. I've got a report I could be working on."

"It's been you making all the row, storming about the place," Fred grumbled.

"That's enough, boys," Molly's warning tone silenced Percy's response and put an effective end to further squabbles until he left for The Burrow.

Bill, unlike his brother, was easy to irritate but quick to regain his good humour and, having had a productive morning and quiet lunch, he was surprised but not annoyed by Percy's arrival. He was less sanguine about Molly's orders to change all the beds "But she changed them before we left, they've not been slept in!" and exchanged a long-suffering eye-roll with his younger brother at their mother's fastidiousness. "Fine, I'll take the top half of the house, you take the bottom, we'll see if everything Gringotts could teach me about ancient curses was enough for me to survive entering Fred and George's lair."

Percy managed a tired smile but didn't seem in the mood for jokes so Bill left him to it.

XXXXXXX

Oliver didn't awake feeling much better than Percy had. It being a Saturday with no training, he'd taken the opportunity to oversleep and emerged from his bed sometime long after noon with a fuzzy head and even fuzzier feeling mouth. Some coffee and toast and he was back on the way to feeling human. Unfortunately that meant his mind was now awake and alert enough to dwell on the events of the previous night.

He had a feeling that, even though he'd technically done nothing wrong, Percy might not be too happy if he knew he'd been and got a little smashed with Adam. The idea of ever introducing the two of them made Oliver's head hurt. Percy was insecure enough to not react terribly well and Adam would simply become more convinced that the relationship was a terrible idea and that Percy wasn't worth the trouble. He was though, Oliver sighed.

After a quick shower Oliver put on a nice shirt and went off to seek Percy. It was a Saturday, maybe he could persuade him to take a day off and have some fun, forget Death Eaters and looming conflict for a few hours. He flooed to Grimmauld Place to find out that Percy had gone to The Burrow and, after shaking off Fred and George, followed him there.

The Burrow without the Weasley clan was odd. His first impression upon leaving the fireplace was of a kind of stillness and silence he had never before experienced in this house. An only child himself, he'd always loved the slightly chaotic bustle of the place. Now though, it had an abandoned feel to it that saddened him. "Bloody Voldemort!" He wasn't sure if it was the still lingering safe feel of the Burrow that emboldened him to say the name, but whatever sense of safety he'd had could not prevent him from jumping violently at a snort of annoyance coming from behind him. He whirled round, fumbled for and dropped his wand, and found himself facing down an oddly angry looking Percy.

The tall redhead gave him a look normally reserved for when he felt Fred and George had done something even more than usually foolish. "That was worthy of Tonks."

Oliver suddenly felt very small. Percy had a way of speaking to people sometimes that emphasised every advantage of his own intelligence and brought to the fore all of his less socially aware characteristics. Oliver was sure he didn't mean to come across to people as aloof and superior, but when he was like this that was exactly how he seemed. Perhaps if he'd pointed this out, or simply stayed quiet and given Percy a moment to see that he'd hurt him, the conversation might have taken a better turn, but Oliver instead tried to diffuse the situation with humour.

"Yeah," he grinned self-consciously, picking his wand up, "Should probably get my wand on a bit of elastic for tomorrow eh?"

Percy could not have looked less amused. "You know you don't have to come with us. You could undoubtedly be of great use at St Mungo's or even at Hogwarts with Madame Pomfrey – I think it's fairly obvious that no matter what state they recover Harry in they're not going to take him anywhere in the public eye, so she's liable to end up with at least one patient and I doubt it will stop there."

Oliver didn't know how to process everything Percy had just said fast enough and chose to avoid the issue of him remaining behind for now. "Cheery. So you're not counting on Harry being mostly fine just perhaps a little vexed by the whole experience?"

Too late Percy clearly remembered Oliver had been Harry's Quidditch captain and had been rather fond of him. "I'm sure he'll be fine. We know he's alive, as long as he stays that way then anything else we can fix."

Oliver's smile was closer to a fond grimace as he took hold of Percy's hand. "You shouldn't try reassuring people, you're extraordinarily bad at it." He was quiet for moment and his grip on his lover tightened. "You know damn well that isn't true, not all things are fixable."

"Stay here." Percy's comment seemed to blurt out of him from nowhere.

"What?" Oliver was beginning to feel like he was getting whiplash trying to keep up.

"Stay here. Don't come with us. You're right, plenty of things aren't fixable and that's even saying people are alive to be fixed. Stay. Please."

The pleading look in Percy's eyes had Oliver briefly considering it, but only on one condition. "Is there any chance that I could persuade you to stay with me?" For a moment Oliver couldn't deny the temptation to run, to take Percy and just leave it all behind.

Percy shook his head sadly and pulled away. "I can't. I have to do this. My family..."

Oliver gently recaptured both of his hands, stilling anxious, fidgeting, fingers. "Then don't ask me to stay away. Do you think I want you in the line of fire? That part of me doesn't want to brain you with my Firebolt and hide you somewhere until it's over?"

"Stunning me would probably be more effective."

Relieved at Percy's slightly more light-hearted tone, Oliver gave a smile, "No way I'd get the draw on you, I'm not much of a dueller."

Percy's mood flipped suddenly and he scowled. "Precisely why you shouldn't be coming along! What use do you even think you're going to be?!"

Aware though he was that Percy was trying anything in order to persuade him away from danger, Oliver couldn't help but flinch at the unkind words. "If this is your mood right now, I think I'm just going to head home. Why don't you try and get some more sleep tonight, you look exhausted and hopefully you'll feel better in the morning." He kissed Percy perfunctorily on the cheek and left without another word, trying to pretend he felt as calm as he wanted to. Fighting with Percy Weasley just seemed like a recipe for disaster, he was passionate, insecure, and currently at least mildly irrational, and Oliver knew a few more sharp comments about his own lack of abilities would have him saying things they'd both regret.

XXXXXXX

Hearing raised voices, Bill made his way downstairs, hampered only slightly by something bright yellow and green that tried to grab hold of him from under George's bed as he left. By the time he got downstairs, silence was reigning again and he found his brother in the kitchen washing up the lunch plates so vigorously Bill was a little afraid there wouldn't be any plates left when he'd finished.

"Was that Oliver Wood I saw heard?"

Percy nodded stiffly but didn't look up from the washing up.

"Percy?" Bill turned him to face him, but was met with red-rimmed defiant eyes that told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't going to get any answers. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine Bill, can you just leave things alone." Percy shrugged out his grasp and turned back to the dishes.

Bill sighed and left him to it for a few minutes while he sorted the kettle and a couple of mugs.

Percy was drying his hands by the time Bill tried again. "Look, I know you don't want to talk about it, whatever it is, you're making that very clear, but I wondered if this might help?" he pushed a cup of hot chocolate Percy's way.

Percy said nothing for a moment, just stared at the mug. "Thank you." His voice was stiff but Bill suspected from repressed emotion rather than any genuine annoyance at his brother.

"I'm going back to Grimmauld Place in a bit, you going to come with me?"

"Yes, I will do." Percy still wouldn't look at him.

"Percy..."

A glare from a pair of eyes stunningly similar to his own cut him off. Bill sighed again, "Have it your own way."

"Bill," Percy called him back as he left the kitchen. He gestured at the mug he was now holding, "Thank you."

Bill sighed, "Anytime little brother, I'm sure you can't help being a pain."

There was a tense moment before Percy smiled weakly at the joke, "Think I learnt that from you."

"Probably." Bill watched as Percy seated himself in a sunny patch by the kitchen window then wisely left him to it.

XXXXXXX

Alone in his room that night Percy allowed himself to think of just how badly a small part of him had wanted to talk to his older brother. He had no idea what he was supposed to do to fix this and Bill was, if nothing else, very good at wriggling out of romantic messes. Percy had long ago lost count of Bill's girlfriends, and somehow he always seemed to manage to part from them on good terms. Even the feisty Fleur had greeted the dissolution of their relationship with a kiss on each cheek and the parting shot that she felt the male ponytail had rather had its day - according to Charlie anyway, Percy hadn't been on speaking terms with his family at the time.

The number of times Bill had talked around upset girlfriends was impressive and Percy considered that surely talking around an upset...boyfriend? (that word was less scary, at least inside his head, than he would have expected it to be) couldn't be too different. But that would have involved telling Bill that there was in fact an upset boyfriend to be talked round and Percy was by no means ready to have that conversation and least of all to have it with his endlessly popular and charismatic brother, adored by everyone and most especially by their parents. Percy was able to admit that though Bill was not always the ideal elder brother he'd rather set himself at odds with him from day one by being the competitive middle child desperate to outshine his high-achieving sibling.

He did wonder though, of all of them Bill seemed the most likely to be unshockable by the unconventional. With his earring and ponytail Bill had come under enough scrutiny from their mother at least to perhaps feel some sympathy for his younger brother attempting to avoid that. The idea of telling his affectionate but slightly old-fashioned mother made Percy's stomach lurch. He'd disappointed his parents so badly once before, he couldn't bear the idea of doing it again. Telling Bill would have been a gateway to telling everyone else. Even if he could have trusted his brother to keep his confidence, Bill would never have stopped trying to persuade him to say something and eventually Percy felt sure he would have caved to the pressure. Eventually though he was going to have to say something, at least he was if he still had something worth saying something about.

He might have been quiet and polite but Percy was well aware that Oliver had been angry with the things he'd said to him. Outside of Quidditch Oliver wasn't really one to shout and Percy had begun to notice an unexpected maturity about him. Oliver was perhaps rather more capable than Percy was of realising that just because you were angry about something didn't mean that it was the right moment to discuss it, that sometimes it was wiser to come back with a cooler head and less muddled heart. Percy had always thought he was the sensible one, the one who would always act rationally instead of emotionally. Instead he was finding that Oliver seemed to realise just how bad Percy was turning out to be at that and was continually willing to put aside his own feelings to allow Percy time to work through his. Very much like he was tolerating hiding their relationship while Percy worked out how on earth he could live with the consequences of honesty.

Guilt stabbed down hard. He couldn't begin to find words for how he felt about Oliver, possibly because the only ones likely to fit scared him half to death. The idea of him being hurt, being killed, felt like an icy hand squeezing Percy's stomach, leaving him queasy and disoriented, wanting to be sick and finding himself breathless in a suddenly airless room. He sat heavily on the bed, breathing deeply and slowly, forcing down panic and tears. He was good at self-control though, good at pushing things down until he could breathe again, his experiences last summer, learning to live with the knowledge he'd killed someone, had given him plenty of practice. Finally he stood up, went to clean his teeth and change into his pyjamas, mechanically readying himself for bed, even with little hope of sleep.

Lying in bed he felt, at least superficially, calmer. Something in him seemed to have frozen and he felt very little of anything, as though his mind was aware that it would be crushed under the onslaught of his feelings so had shut them out altogether. The bed felt cold and very large. He sighed and wondered what Oliver was doing and if their fight had upset him as much as it had clearly angered him. If he too found his bed too large and too cold, or if he were sensibly getting some sleep before tomorrow's big push.

XXXXXXX

Oliver had been tossing and turning in his bed for hours, unable to get his argument with Percy out of his head and unable to stop worrying about the day ahead. In the face of potential torture and death at the hands of the Dark Lord's finest their spat really didn't look so important. He knew Percy had only said what he had to try and convince Oliver to stay away and stay safe, but landing on the back of him blowing off their dinner date, and his constant terror that someone might work out that they were dating at all, it had hit hard upon Oliver's 's own insecurities. He'd felt for a long time that the only real talent he had was for Quidditch. He'd scraped by at school, got decent grades, better than decent when it came to charms perhaps, but ten minutes listening to Percy (when he could spend ten minutes listening to what the man was saying rather than drifting off mentally in potentially inappropriate directions) and it became abundantly clear that he wasn't even close to being in Percy's intellectual league. He'd listened to his boyfriend (god, was he allowed to use that word yet? well it couldn't do much harm in his head) talking to Thornfield or Professor Lupin and been lost within minutes. It took even less time on the one occasion he'd heard Percy talking to Snape, whatever they'd been talking about (potions and charms and their interactions as far as he could tell) it was light years beyond most people's understanding.

Oliver knew he was alright looking, that he was showing signs of success in his chosen career. He'd read enough Witch Weekly articles on himself to know that there were people out there who thought he was a good catch, but somehow all the things they listed about him seemed unlikely to appeal to Percy. Percy's interest in Quidditch was minimal and mostly seemed to be to humour Oliver or his family. He didn't seem particularly looks oriented, and it seemed inevitable that his own career path would far eclipse Oliver's given the opportunity. So what did Percy see in him? Was he beginning to wonder that himself?

But then if that was the case why was he with him at all? Oliver was aware just how much it must have cost Perfect Percy (not a nickname he'd ever be using to the man's face, even if he meant it rather more sincerely than his brothers ever had) to admit he wanted something so far outside the bounds of convention. He was also aware that there could be a very genuine negative impact on Percy's glittering career if (when?) it all came out. Percy was not one to take risks without good cause, if he was with Oliver he was with him because he wanted to be.

Oliver sighed, this was solving nothing. Navel-gazing was not going to fix things. He rolled out of bed and back into the previous day's discarded jeans and t-shirt. Less than five minutes later he was creeping through the darkened corridors of Grimmauld Place trying desperately not to wake anyone.

Thank god he knew which room was Percy's, as frankly he currently felt like just knocking on them all until he found him. The desire to see him, to hold him, to reassure himself that somehow this would be alright, was so overwhelming. He had a feeling Percy would not consider that an eligible excuse.

He took a deep breath and risked a quiet knock on the door, something told him his lover was as unlikely to be able to sleep as himself.

Mere moments later, wearing a dressing gown open over pinstriped pyjamas, Percy opened the door, his eyes widening when he saw who it was.

Oliver bit back a laugh as Percy awkwardly pulled his dressing gown further closed.

"I've seen you in a lot less than that," he murmured.

Percy blushed so brightly Oliver was slightly worried it was going to alert people to their presence. "Can I come in?"

Percy glanced, quickly, wide-eyed, along the empty corridor and then hustled the other man into his bedroom. For a long moment neither of them said anything, the weight of their argument from earlier and that of the plans for the following day pressing down heavily on them both. Eventually Percy reached out, took Oliver's hand and refused to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"You didn't say anything wrong."

"Well no," Oliver agreed wholeheartedly, "But I shouldn't have walked out. I know you were upset,

I realised that at the time but I still walked off without trying to sort things out. I've been lying in bed for the last couple of hours staring at the ceiling and all I could think was I wanted to be here with you. Percy I'm as scared as you are, I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, and I don't care if it means sneaking out at 5am I just want to spend tonight with you."

Percy nodded quietly and pulled Oliver over to the bed. "I've been feeling the same. I'm glad you're here."

Oliver's churning stomach eased once they lay quietly together in the dark.

"Oliver?"

"Yes?"

"Will you really not mind if I turn you out at 5 o'clock?"

Oliver took a deep breath, grateful Percy couldn't see his expression. "Whatever you want, I don't want to make things uncomfortable for you."

"Thank you." Lips met his own in an unusually hesitant kiss. The "I'm sorry," was almost too quiet to hear.

Oliver said nothing, simply gripped the other man harder and closer to him. He was determined to give Percy some time but once all this was over, he thought, something had got to change.

XXXXXXX

A/N: I don't have a date for Chapter 30 but like I said I'm determined to get this story finished, so I hope you won't have to wait too long...if anyone's still reading that is! Love to hear what you thought of it. :)