Chapter 2

"Oliver? Hey Oliver, you down here?"

A good hour had passed since Ignatius Huxley had seen his best mate, so he'd gone on the hunt, creeping away from the party in the seventh year dorm to search the seemingly vacant common room. He could see little more than shadows as he poked about the circular room; it was pitch dark save for the handful of embers that remained in the fireplace. It was very quiet, although the distant thumping music of the all-night partiers could still be heard several floors above.

"Yeah, over here mate."

Huxley followed Oliver's voice as he padded across the room. "What are you doing down here—Ow! Fuck!" He didn't see the end table in his path until he'd stumbled into it, and once again, the bust of Godric Gryffindor shattered noisily on the floor. "Someone really needs to glue this blasted thing down!" He drew his wand with a snarl and cast a quick reparo. "You alright down here then?" he asked when he finally found Oliver sprawled across a loveseat, his arms and legs hanging over either armrest.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, stretching his arms over his head so his back cracked with a loud pop. "Just resting up."

"You should come back upstairs, mate. Garth Wilder taught us this Muggle card game called 'strip poker.' The cards don't do anything interesting, but it's quite fun anyways, and the girls are shit at it. There's a chance you might get to see some tit if you hurry." In the low light of the last dying embers of the fire, Oliver could make out the lusty twinkle in Huxley's eyes.

He chuckled. "You have fun with that, Igg. I think I'm gonna have to pass on the potential tit."

"Passing up titty?" he half-shouted, scandalized. "I feel like I need to reevaluate our friendship!" But he grinned anyway, turning back to the boys' staircase; his body language clearly stating that he didn't want to miss any of the action. "But so long as you're okay, I think I'll head back…"

"Sounds good, mate. I'm off on a nighttime stroll soon anyhow, once the room stops spinning. Oh, and mind that table!"

"Right," Huxley sidestepped just before he knocked Godric down again. "Cheers, mate." He disappeared up the stairs to the boys' dorm, his bounding footsteps growing fainter and fainter as he spiraled his way up overhead.

Oliver sat up and twisted round in an attempt to stretch out his sore back before bending down to tug on his trainers. As he laced one up, a small calico cat slinked over, nudging her nose into his hand. "Hey Sprinkles," Oliver whispered fondly to the cat. "Ready to go on a little adventure?" But then his normally easy-going kitty suddenly became very tense, and she darted away to hide under a bookcase for safety. "Hey! What the—!"

He turned just in time to see a looming figure shine a bright light in his face. He shielded his eyes with one hand and scurried backwards, nearly tumbling off the loveseat in the process. Unbeknownst to Oliver, Percy Weasley, who'd fallen asleep in an armchair, had woken up to the sound of poor Godric smashing, and now had his lit wand pointing directly in Oliver's face. "You know it's against the rules for a student to wander about the castle at this hour, Wood," Weasley said firmly.

"Merlin's pants, Weasley!" Oliver gasped, pushing the wand out of his face with one hand while clutching his chest with the other. "You're gonna kill a bloke, sneaking up on him like that!" He squinted up at Percy, whose horn-rimmed glasses made him look something like an owl in the wand light.

Percy watched Oliver close his eyes and draw a few deep, calming breaths. "Not even Quidditch stars are exempt from the rules," he said haughtily.

Oliver sighed irritably, his heart still racing. On a regular day, he might have lost it and started screaming at Weasley, but today, he just wasn't feeling it. Perhaps it was a combination of Christmas, copious alcohol, and the fact that Percy always managed to look dorkishly cute whenever he tried to uphold the rules, but Oliver just didn't have the fight in him. He was still buzzed enough to not dwell on the fact that his brain just linked his redheaded roommate with the word 'cute,' so instead, he started laughing.

"Honestly Weasley? You scared my bollocks off to stop me sneaking out?"

Percy looked downright shocked that Oliver was laughing. "It's—it's against the rules, Wood," he said, drawing himself up pompously.

Oliver considered Percy a moment, wondering vaguely why he never noticed how funny his dorm mate was. "Ah, lighten up, Weasley, you great pillock. Here, sit down, will you? And mind my cat; you've already scared her once." Oliver scooted over, making room on the sofa. For a moment, Percy was almost too shocked to move. He and Wood had never really 'hung out' alone together save for the handful of times over the years that they'd been partnered on class projects. But eventually, he felt his feet shuffle over and he sat. Oliver's calico tentatively stalked over, winding her way around his shins.

"Sorry for scaring you, Sprinkles," he muttered, giving a quick pat to the cat he'd shared a dorm with for years.

"She likes you," Oliver commented, smiling down at his cat. It was a well-known fact that Oliver had a real soft spot for his pet, and although Percy wasn't much of a feline fan, he knew better than to insult the cat in front of her owner. "See? Maybe you aren't such a prat after all."

Percy scowled, which only made Oliver's grin widen. The redhead flicked his wand, illuminating a few torches so they had proper lighting. "So why are you sneaking off, then?" Percy blurted, while mentally chastising himself for prying.

"Who says I'm sneaking off?"

Percy bit his lip. His roommate would normally never engage him and he wondered vaguely why Wood was doing it now. But he was feeling bold so he decided to press on. "Forgive my crassness, but a certain Miss Lucinda Lathrop was quite clear about—ahem—in which of her bodily orifices she wanted you to place a certain appendage of yours…"

Oliver threw his head back and laughed. "Wow, Weasley, nice!" He said, folding his arms behind his head. Rolling his eyes, he continued. "I'm hiding from her, actually. I really want nothing to do with her…ah, 'bodily orifices,' as you so delicately put it."

"Hiding from her?" Percy repeated in disbelief, one ginger eyebrow disappearing into his hairline. "I thought an evening with a lady like her—and I use the term 'lady' loosely , mind you—was exactly the sort of thing you wanted."

"Not quite," said Oliver darkly.

"Can I ask why?" Percy asked, watching Oliver as he absently stroked the calico's ear.

"Let's just say she's not my type," Oliver said with a shrug.

"Why?"

"She just isn't."

Percy thought for a moment. "Does she—ah—have a physical anomaly of sorts?"

Oliver cocked an eyebrow. "No. It's not like she was hiding a penis or something up her skirt." He smirked when Percy's ears flushed violently red.

"Perhaps you were too drunk?" Percy suggested mildly, glancing down at his fingernails.

Oliver snorted. "Please. I'm not even drunk."

"Is that so?" Percy asked, his boldness continuing. "I'm not entirely convinced of that."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Please. I saw your dancing."

Oliver laughed again, and unless Percy was seeing things, there was definitely a faint blush on Oliver's cheeks. "Okay, okay, maybe I was a bit buzzed. But I'm better now. What can I say? I like to have fun." He glanced sidelong at Percy. "…You should try it sometime."

Percy chose to ignore that. "I saw you go—what do you call it? 'Shot for shot' with that horrid Wilder boy."

"Nah, after about three, I started banishing each of those shots to the Forbidden Forest," Oliver said, waving his hand dismissively toward the window where a good deal of snowfall was now frosting the black trees of the forest. "Somewhere out there, a very drunk centaur is stumbling about, haphazardly firing arrows off into the night…"

Percy felt his face twitch into a smile, and he was stunned at himself. Here he was, well into the wee hours of the morning, sharing a laugh with Oliver Wood. "Best not tell your mate Huxley about that," he warned solemnly. "He wouldn't even pretend to understand why you'd go and waste perfectly good booze."

Again, Oliver laughed loudly; a happy sound that made Percy's spine tingle. "That's very true! Merlin, Percy, you're really funny when you're not being a pompous swot!"

Offensive as the comment was, Percy chose to ignore it as well, for Oliver had used both his first name and complimented him in the same breath. He did, however, manage to pull on a haughty face before speaking again. "Pompous swot, am I? That's no way to talk to the bloke who bailed you out from McGonagall's wrath."

For being buzzed, Oliver was still quick on his game. "Bailed me out?" He repeated, sitting up straight and pointing a thumb at his own chest incredulously. "I bailed you out first!" He reached out and jabbed Percy playfully in the chest, causing the redhead to look down at the finger and back up with wide eyes. "But in all seriousness," he continued, "what was that crap you spouted to ol' Minnie? About the fluxweed?"

Percy stared at the burly Quidditch captain, absently rubbing his chest over the sore point where he'd been poked. "That wasn't crap, Oliver," he said, testing out Oliver's given name and gauging him for a reaction. None came and so he continued. "Fluxweed and sneezewort release hydroxyl compounds and smell like alcohol if not properly ventilated."

"What? Really? Who told you that?" He scratched his head in disbelief.

"Arsenius Jigger…"

"Arsenius Jigger?" Oliver repeated, rolling the foreign name around in his mouth until a dark look crossed his face. "Hang on, that's not that barmy bloke in Slytherin with the facial tic, is he? I know you're a prefect and all, but I still wouldn't expect you to be consorting with the enemy…"

A rather pained expression crossed Percy's face. The brief thought crossed his mind that if Oliver wasn't so cute, he would have yelled at him by now for being so thick. The fact that his mind was linking Oliver with the word 'cute' bothered him somewhat, so he swept it away before he could dwell on it.

"Arsenius Jigger…you know, the author of Magical Drafts and Potions?" He was met with another blank look, so he added, "our potions textbook?"

"Sorry mate, I don't read," Oliver said with a shrug.

Percy blinked slowly, the happiness he felt at being called 'mate' overshadowed by the offensiveness that Oliver didn't appreciate reading. "Please, tell me you're joking."

"Well, at least not potions texts, anyways," he said, twisting round to crack his back again. It popped noisily. "Ouch, one of your brothers really nailed me good with a Bludger last week." He stiffly got to his feet, trying to loosen up as Sprinkles gracefully leapt to the floor. "Well," he sighed, looking down at the redhead. "It's been a right pleasure chatting with you, Percy. But it's getting late and we best be on our way."

Percy was suddenly torn. Part of him was enjoying Oliver's company so much that he wanted to ask him to stay, while the other, more familiar part of him, wanted to remind his dorm mate not to go wandering in the corridors. But then, Oliver's words finally registered. "Wait…'we'?"

"Indeed," Oliver said with a smirk. He reached out, grabbed Percy by the forearm and pulled him to his feet. Although Oliver was much burlier of the two, both boys were roughly the same height and thus they looked each other in the eye when standing. Percy gulped, hating that he could feel himself blushing madly as Oliver maintained his grip on his arm for a touch longer than was truly necessary. He kept Percy just a hair too close; close enough that the redhead could smell the mint in his shampoo. When Percy felt himself begin to panic, Oliver smiled and released him.

Embarrassed, Percy cleared his throat loudly and fiddled with the threadbare sleeve of his jumper. "What…? Ah, what did you mean by 'we'?"

"What I mean," Oliver began, slinging an arm over Percy's shoulders and nudging him towards the portrait hole, "is that we are going on an adventure. Together. And we really must be going, because as you well know, it's getting rather late."

I really shouldn't be doing this, a stunned Percy told himself. But nonetheless, he found himself crawling through the portrait hole behind Oliver a moment later.