Chapter 4

When Percy finally wrenched an arm free, he made for his wand, only to find that someone had already taken it. He felt truly vulnerable as he was dragged roughly behind a tapestry while Oliver, his alleged companion, did nothing to stop it. His captor flung him unceremoniously backwards and his legs connected with a table, causing him to tumble over. Though the ground was a lot softer than what he'd been expecting, the fall still bloody hurt. Stiffly, he pushed himself up onto his forearm. As he felt someone crouch down behind him, Percy drew his free hand into a fist, preparing to defend himself the Muggle way if worse came to worst.

When he turned to face his aggressor, he was naturally stunned to find himself looking into the smiling face of the boy who, for his entire life, had grown up on the other side of Ottery St. Catchpole. "Cedric Diggory?" He asked in disbelief.

"Sorry to do that to you, mate," said the handsome Hufflepuff fourth year, handing him back his glasses which had gone flying in the scuffle. "Just a bit of friendly hazing, is all, I swear by it. I honestly didn't expect you when Sprinkles told us Oliver was bringing a friend."

Again, as he pulled his sore body into a sitting position, Percy found himself pondering the mysterious ways of Oliver's creepy calico. Not only did she help her master slink through the school undetected, she evidently could hold conversations with the likes of Cedric Diggory. But as this was neither the time nor the place for such musings about cats, he shifted his gaze to his supposed companion. Oliver, who'd allowed Percy to get assaulted all in the name of an 'adventure,' had knelt on the plush, blood-red carpet beside the ruffled ginger.

"Honestly, Wood? Honestly? What is the meaning of all this?" He spluttered, gesturing wildly at their surroundings. Light from dozens of red tapers in a hovering crystal chandelier illuminated the cozy nook hidden behind the tapestry. Two old loveseats and a chair were crammed around a spindly table, which now had a broken leg from where Percy flipped over it. "What is this blasted place, Wood? And where did all this—this furniture come from? Nicked, I suppose?"

Oliver didn't appear the least bit stunned by Percy's outburst. He grinned and hooked his arms beneath the redhead's armpits, hauling him easily to his feet as though he weighed nothing. "Ah, loosen up there, Percy, you great tight-arse!" He teased good-naturedly. Percy huffed, feeling miffed, but this only further amused Oliver. "You look cute when you're in a snit. Anyone ever tell you that?" He asked fondly, dropping a heavy hand on Percy's head and mussing up his hair.

Percy's mouth fell open and he could feel the blush rise in his cheeks. He glanced around at Diggory, who had the good grace to pretend like he hadn't heard or seen a thing. Instead, he became overly interested in repairing the broken table leg. Part of Percy's brain told him to shove Oliver's hand off. It was, after all, Oliver's fault that he'd been jumped and smashed into a table in the first place. However, the less rational part of his brain determined Oliver's large paw tangled up in his curls just felt too damned good, and since he was a sucker for having his hair played with, he couldn't summon the strength to push him off.

But then he heard a scoff as someone stepped around the tapestry, and that snapped Percy out of it. "I am not 'in a snit'!" He said petulantly, finally pushing Oliver's hand away. He glanced around for the source of the derisive sound, his eyes falling on Amelie Bates, a Hufflepuff who'd been Oliver's friend and partner in Herbology all term. She was leaning against the wall, twirling Percy's wand idly between her fingers, the other hand on her hip, her jaw set stubbornly.

"Funny. That's exactly the sort of thing a person in a snit would say," she said, a mean little grin spreading across her wide, dark face.

Percy had never before had a bad word with Amelie Bates, but he wasn't about to let her start sassing him now. He was a prefect for Merlin's sake! He drew himself up to his full height, strode across the narrow room in two steps and held out a hand to her. "I'll have that back, now, Bates," he said, nodding to his wand.

"Or what?" She shot back.

"Or I'll have you in detention every night for a week when we return from the holidays!"

She rolled her eyes, scoffing, and held out the wand. But when he made to take it, she pulled it back out of reach in the last second. His fruitless swipe at the air caused her to cackle gleefully.

"C'mon, Amelie, give it back to him," said Cedric Diggory lazily. He'd moved to the green sofa on one side of the room that clashed horribly with the rug. His eyes were downcast, and he was pulling a small glass jar out from a hole in one of the cushions.

She grumbled harshly but handed the wand back in the end. Percy snatched it lest she try to pull it away again.

"Bringing Weasley here was a bad idea, mate," she said to Oliver, stepping over Diggory to fling herself into the lone wooden chair on the far side of the alcove. "Sorry Oliver, you know I pride you on your natural intuition, but this was really poor decision making on your part." She jutted her chin stubbornly at Percy. "He's going to get us expelled."

"Oh, he will not," Oliver insisted, waving away her concern. He took Percy by the elbow and pushed him onto the small blue sofa opposite Diggory. "Will you, Perce?

Percy wasn't entirely convinced of that. Detentions, at the very least, seemed in order for everyone. But the hopeful, open expression on Oliver's face made him bite his tongue. The keeper had seated himself so close to Percy that their thighs were nearly touching, the proximity making Percy's skin feel electric. He wasn't sure of where his sudden loyalty to his athletic housemate came from, but instead of telling him off, he smiled and said, "No, of course not."

Oliver let out a whoop of glee and gripped Percy amicably by the back of the neck. "Excellent! You see Bates? Nothing to worry about!" He gave Percy a proud little shake.

But Amelie Bates looked murderous. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared daggers at the two Gryffindors. "I didn't even know you two were friends," she challenged.

"We're not," Percy said without thinking. Oliver's face fell momentarily, and he quickly took his hand off the redhead's neck. Catching the flicker of hurt on the Quidditch captain's face, Percy quickly back-pedaled. "Er—what I mean is, uh, we're becoming better friends. Like…uh, today, for instance." Images of getting clawed by Sprinkles while hurtling down a dark tunnel swam before his eyes. "We've done several…er…fun things together already."

This seemed to appease Oliver because he smiled and nodded, but Amelie didn't look so sure. "I thought you were going to bring Huxley, Oliver. Sprinkles distinctly said you were bringing a friend, and this," she jerked her head at Percy so hard that a few black curls sprang loose from the orange kerchief round her head, "is no friend."

"I'm afraid that's my doing," Cedric told her without looking up. He'd taken a small plant from the glass jar and was now carefully trimming it over a square of scrap parchment. "I told him not to bring Huxley."

Now it was Percy's turn to feel hurt, but he set his face stoically before anyone, namely Oliver, could notice. Of course it made sense that he wouldn't have been Oliver's first choice for a companion. Percy was well aware that he could be rather uptight and a killjoy—his brothers reminded him of this daily—but it still stung. A part of him really liked believing that Oliver truly wanted him along for the company.

Oliver shrugged, seemingly oblivious to Percy's internal pain. "You didn't have to tell me twice. Iggy's a great guy and all, but he's a right dolt." He reached his hand under the seat of the blue couch and pulled out a bizarre glass apparatus, which he set on the table beside Cedric's meticulously shredded plant. "Besides, this is going to be way more fun with Percy than it ever could be with Huxley."

Though Percy was immediately curious and suspicious about both the glass device and the mysterious plant, Oliver's words made him feel like he was floating on a cloud. Suddenly, he felt very wanted; a nice feeling that Percy rarely experienced. He grinned broadly and forced himself to store away those kind words to reflect upon later when he had some privacy.

Amelie sighed, consenting, though her sharp eyes still shone with mistrust. "Well, if you're sure, then…"

"I am," Oliver smiled, patting Percy on the knee. Percy straightened up at the contact, Oliver's touch sending tingly jolts of pleasure down his spine. Amelie watched the interaction intently, and she must have suspected something because her calculating black eyes narrowed.

"Fine then," she said as Cedric gathered up the square of parchment, tipping the plant into the small depression in the glass apparatus. "Please forgive my suspicions, Weasley. As our esteemed guest, I think I speak for all of us when I say we would be honored if you took the first hit." She took the glass from Cedric and placed it in Percy's hand.

The redhead stared down at it, clueless. "Er…" He said, a blush rising on his cheeks. Amelie was watching him expectantly, but he had no idea what he was supposed to do with it. The plant didn't even look like anything he'd ever seen in 1,000 Magical Herbs and Fungi. The smell, however, was distantly reminiscent of the skunk that had once sprayed his brother Bill when he was de-gnoming the garden.

The Hufflepuff girl rolled her eyes. "Please, tell me you've smoked a bowl before."

"Smoked a what?" He repeated.

"Smoked a bowl," she said impatiently. "You know, cannabis. Pot. Grass. Reefer. Weed. Maryjane…No? Nothing's ringing a bell?"

Percy averted his eyes, feeling quite foolish. Oliver, he decided, was probably kicking himself for not ditching him in the common room when he'd had the chance. Percy had no idea what Amelie was talking about, and he wondered vaguely if this was some kind of Muggle thing, and if so, why his father—who knew everything there was to know about Muggles—hadn't shared it with him.

"Easy there, Amelie, play nice." Oliver chastised gently, pulling Percy out of his brief reverie. "Surely you can't expect him to know what to do with it if he's never even seen it before?"

"Of course he's never seen it before," she said derisively, slumping in her seat and dangling a leg over the armrest. "He's nothing but a swot."

Hackles raised, Percy was ready to retort, or at the very least dock Hufflepuff a few points when he felt Oliver's hand atop his own. He almost spluttered at the absurd idea of Oliver holding his hand until he realized his roommate was merely trying to take the glass instrument from him. Embarrassed, he passed it over.

"This, Perce, is a bowl," he held up the small glass piece. "It's a pipe of sorts for smoking marijuana."

"Smoke it? But why?" Percy had spent eleven years under the great homemaker Molly Weasley and four and a half years as a Herbology student, and he could only count a handful of occasions during which he'd seen a plant smoked to release its magical properties.

"To get high, of course."

The phrase reminded Percy of something one great uncle or another of his had told him not to do, for in some parts of the world, it was quite illegal. The idea of rule-breaking on a near criminal level was too much for Percy. He shook his head, his eyes never leaving the small pipe clasped in Oliver's large fingers. "Isn't…isn't it criminal?" He asked, hating how his voice sounded small and fearful.

Cedric smirked. "In the Muggle world, maybe. Here, we have much riskier forms of law-breaking. The use of Unforgivable Curses, coercion by love potion, harboring dragons, unlawful possession of unicorn blood—to name a few—are crimes much more fit for Ministry investigation than having a little vial of what even Muggles consider to be an innocent drug."

Percy shook his head. This is an awful idea and you're better than this, he chastised himself internally, but the thought didn't stop him from asking, "So, how does it work?"

"Good lad," Oliver said with a curt nod, as if he'd been privy to Percy's conversation with his own conscience. "Just watch me closely."

Percy, who normally had no difficulties paying attention, suddenly found himself very distracted by the oddly erotic display of Oliver putting his lips on the mouthpiece. Oliver mentioned something about where to put his finger before burning the plant with the flaming tip of his wand, but Percy wasn't listening. As he watched Oliver inhale deeply, hold it, and sensuously exhale a stream of smoke, Percy felt himself blush, as his cock had definitely and unmistakably twitched in response to such a wonderful sight.

"Think you got all that?" Amelie asked, grinning infuriatingly as Oliver pressed the bowl back into his hands.

"Yes, yes, of course…" He said distractedly as he held the pipe to his mouth. His cock had noted that his mouth was now exactly where Oliver's had just been—meaning this was akin to kissing, of course—and as such, the tightness in his jeans had grown quite uncomfortable. Percy was mortified, praying that nobody would notice his state. He'd never really felt this turned on by anyone before, least of all another boy of all people, and he wasn't really sure how he should feel about it all.

"Here, let me light it for you," Oliver said indulgently, clearly amused that Percy, the great know-it-all that he was, knew absolutely nothing about pot smoking.

He lit the tip and Percy inhaled, and that's when all hell broke loose.

A/N: Thanks Fire the Canon for inspiring my girl Amelie.