A/N: This chapter took me ages to edit to a point where I'm happy with it. Thanks for the support of everyone who's followed along this far!
Chapter 5
He lit the tip and Percy inhaled, and that's when all hell broke loose.
Suddenly, his insides were on fire. He gasped for breath, desperately trying to draw oxygen into his scorched airway. Eyes watering, he slammed a hand down hard on the old blue sofa. "'M dying!" he managed to scratch out.
Through his panic, he almost missed Oliver pushing a goblet into his hands. "You're not dying. Just drink this; aguamenti."
Gratefully, Percy downed the water, and his throat was soothed. Feeling quite drained, he didn't protest when Amelie leaned over him to take the bowl. "Next time don't breathe in so hard," she advised.
Warily, Percy watched the bowl go round the circle. When it was his turn again, he was cautious and managed to spare his trachea another torching. As time went on, he couldn't remember how many times he'd hit the silly little pipe, but then again, he didn't much care. A vague, comforting sense of euphoria had washed over him, and Percy's foggy mind was at ease. He stroked his fingers against the ribbed couch cushion for several minutes, fascinated by how soft it was. He needed to share this revelation with someone, so he turned to Oliver.But the other boy was busy talking animatedly with the Hufflepuffs and strangely, Percy couldn't keep up with their conversation.
A glazed look crossed the ginger's face as he looked his roommate over. How had he never before noticed how handsome Oliver was? A niggling part of his conscience told him he probably shouldn't be checking out other boys, but that voice was easily silenced as he took in Oliver's firm, masculine jaw, button nose, and large, deep-set eyes. He watched Oliver's hands—his big and powerful hands—and he gulped audibly, imagining those hands roving across his body. He wondered what those chapped, pouty lips would feel like against his own. His eyes raked over Oliver's well-toned body, concealed by a form-fitting jumper. Percy's mouth watered at the thought of running his tongue over the smooth skin and taut muscles that doubtlessly lay below it.
"Percy? ...Oi! Percy!" Amelie Bates' loud voice snapped him out of his fantasy and it took quite a bit of will power to tear his eyes off Oliver.
"Huh? What?" he muttered, annoyed. She was sharing the green sofa with Diggory now, and they were holding hands. Their intertwined fingers of alternating black and white skin looked like rather beautiful. Percy smiled vaguely.
"PERCY!" she bit out. "Focus!"
"Huh?" He lifted his gaze from their hands to her eyes. "What?"
"Why are you eye-fucking Wood over there?" she asked bluntly.
He blanched at the use of such coarse language, his face and neck heating in a furious blush. "I beg your pardon!" He drew himself up into the most dignified posture he could muster. "I—I did no such thing!"
"Hmm, I'm quite sure you did, actually," she teased, her eyes darting between the two Gryffindors.
"Well then you're clearly mad," Percy shot back lamely, stealing a glance at Oliver, who was blessedly looking elsewhere.
Awkwardly, Diggory cleared his throat, attempting to change the subject. "So Percy! How's the weed working? Enjoying your first high, are you?" he asked loudly.
The redhead looked round at him. "Who me? …No, no, I'm not high at all."
"This fool doesn't even know he's high," Amelie muttered, shaking her head in disgust.
"Well…he knows he wants you to shut the hell up," Percy said without missing a beat.
"Percy!" said Oliver. "Sorry Amelie, I think the weed has broken his filter…"
"So it seems," she said. Percy's focus had wandered. He was staring at the hovering chandelier, completely mesmerized by the thin wisps of smoke rising from the tapers. "It's funny. You get this little Kiss-Arse blazed, and suddenly he springs a backbone. You were right, Ollie. He is way more entertaining than Huxley could ever be."
"Aye," Oliver agreed. "I am never wrong. You best not forget that."
"Huxley's given name is my middle name!" Percy blurted suddenly, his eyes still fixed on the chandelier. The flames cast an owlish shadow from his glasses on his pale face. "Percy Ignatius Weasley. Percy Ignatius…Pignatius…" his sentence drifted off, forgetting where he was going with it in the first place.
"That's very interesting, Perce," Oliver said with an amused chuckle, patting him on the knee. He grinned devilishly, as if knowing his touch would drive the stoned redhead wild. Sure enough, Percy tensed at the contact and blushed. Oliver even felt his own pulse speed up, as watching his roommate squirm was far more erotic than he cared to admit. His eyes flicked from the redhead's cute face down to his trousers, where he was sporting a very obvious bulge.
"What are you looking at, there Wood?" Amelie asked innocently, cleaning out the bowl with her wand.
"What? Nothing!" He quickly withdrew his hand from Percy's knee, and much to his chagrin, his own face heated up. "You…eh…you like watching the fire, Perce?" he asked in a lame attempt to change the subject.
"Uh-huh," Percy managed, his palms sweating.
The odd tension between the two Gryffindors rose overtly until Amelie slammed her hand down on the table, causing Oliver and Percy to jump. "Oh for goodness sake! Why don't you just suck his cock already?"
"Merlin's balls, Amelie!" Diggory moaned, dropping his face in his hands. "You can't just say that to people!"
She stood up angrily, stowing the empty bowl back under a couch cushion and the glass jar in a fold of her garish skirt.
"I can't take it anymore!" she snapped. "We've got this one over here pining over that one all evening," she pointed an accusing finger at Percy first and then at Oliver. "And then in turn, that one starts feeling this one up! Honestly, Wood! In public? You've got to do that in public?"
"Hey!" Oliver barked sternly, ignoring Percy's look of mortification to fix Amelie with a lidded, red-eyed stare. "I'd hardly call this 'public'…"
"It's public enough!" she retorted, getting to her feet and pulling Cedric along. "Come on Ced, let's leave these two stoners alone so they can be weird in privacy, yeah?"
"Have a good holiday!" Cedric managed before he was dragged away behind the tapestry. As their voices grew fainter, they heard him say to Amelie, "Hey, at least Wood is interested in something other than Quidditch for once…"
A ringing silence filled the nook once they'd gone and Percy felt extremely embarrassed. He tried to avoid eye contact with Oliver, but that was difficult since the other boy was staring intently at him. Finally, just to break the tension, he peeked at Oliver and said, "I'm not a stoner…"
Oliver grinned, nudging Percy's arm, trying to loosen him up. "Of course you aren't Perce."
Percy folded his arms stubbornly. "That—that girl is an absolute bint!"
"Percy! Wow!" Oliver snorted, covering his mouth with his fist to hide his grin. "Don't mind her, really, Perce," he said once the shock wore off. "She's actually quite funny once you get used to her particular brand of humor."
"I suppose you could make the same argument for Snape," Percy grumbled.
"Yes, I suppose you could," Oliver agreed, laughing again. But then he leaned towards Percy, his tone and demeanor becoming suddenly serious. "But we can't dwell on senses of humor all night. There's a very important question I need you to answer."
"Me?" Percy's foggy mind became distracted and his curiosity was instantly piqued. Suddenly he forgot to be mad at Amelie. He even forgot his embarrassment. Instead, he mirrored Oliver's stance, leaning toward him conspiratorially. "And what sort of question is that?"
"The question is…Are you hungry?"
"Oh…" Percy pondered that for a moment. "You know something? As a matter of fact, I am! No, I really am. Like, I can't even express to you how hungry I really am." He hadn't even noticed it before, but suddenly, he was now starving.
Oliver snorted. "Of course you are." Getting to his feet, he snapped his fingers and Sprinkles appeared from whichever dark corner she'd been lurking in. She stood at attention as Oliver extinguished the tapers with a nox. As the room plunged into complete darkness, Percy shuffled unconsciously closer to his roommate. "So what type of food could you go for?" Oliver whispered as they snuck into the corridor behind the cat.
"Dessert." Percy answered without missing a beat.
"Ah," he said in mock-seriousness, glancing sidelong at his companion. "But you're definitely not high, though, right?"
Unable to read the sarcasm, Percy shook his head resolutely. "No, absolutely not. I'm just…so unbelievably hungry, I could clean out Honeydukes right now. Really, I could." His eyes flashed wistfully at the thought.
Oliver chuckled. "Okay, okay, I'm sure you could. Just keep your voice down, will you? You'll have Filch on our trail in no time."
Percy stiffened at the mention of Filch. An unexpected and highly acute wave of paranoia washed over him as he imagined a week's worth of sadistic detentions with the caretaker. "Oh bloody hell. We need to go back to the tower! It's late and we'll be caught and we'll be expelled and—!"
"Percy, enough!" Oliver hissed, stopping short and silencing him with a hand over the mouth. "Look! No need to go back to the tower; we're at our destination already."
They were in front of a handsome painting of a fruit basket, but Percy was far too nervous to watch what Oliver was doing. But it didn't matter because a doorknob appeared right where the pear had been, and a moment later, they were stepping into the Hogwarts kitchens.
As he entered the cavernous, high-ceilinged room proportioned exactly like the Great Hall above, Percy's mouth dropped open in shock. He was neither stunned by the veritable legion of house elves milling about, nor by the mountains of brass cookware along the walls, nor the gigantic brick oven. What got Percy into a tizzy was seeing his twin brothers accepting several dusty bottles of booze from a group of eager house elves.
"Fred and George Weasley!" He barked, all traces of hunger and paranoia forgotten. He marched over, throwing out his chest and assuming his most authoritative prefect voice. "Just what in Merlin's name do you think you're doing? You are thirteen years old! What makes you think you have permission to get drunk! You put those bottles back this instant!"
The twins watched him approach, grinning bewilderedly as if they couldn't believe their eyes. "Well hello there, big brother!" George said warmly, shrinking and pocketing another bottle despite Percy's order. "Pleasure to see you here this fine evening, and—bloody hell!" His mouth dropped open in disbelief as he looked Percy over. "Are you high?"
"What—no! Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
Fred's face cracked into a wickedly impish grin. "That's because you are high! Oh my word, this is brilliant!" He rubbed at his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. "Merlin, Oliver! Just what have you done to my dear, sweet, darling little Ickle Percykins?"
Coming up behind Percy, Oliver held up his hands innocently. "Hey, it's not my fault he kept hitting the bowl…"
"Oh hell, this is fantastic," George cackled. He gave his older brother an appreciative shake. "Just look at you! All disheveled with your eyes redder than your hair—"
"That's enough!" Percy interjected, running his hands through his curls subconsciously. "I am not high! And you lot best get to bed—and leave those bottles where you found them!—before I report you to McGonagall, or worse, to mum! Do you honestly think you're so far above the rules?"
"Well…yes, actually," Fred said, tapping a finger pensively on his lip. "But you're not exactly in a position to make demands, dear brother."
"Now you listen here—"
"Indeed," George agreed sagely, cutting across him. "After all, those who play on glass pitches shouldn't hit Bludgers."
"What?"
George smiled. "Well, you see, you and the Quidditch swot over here—"
"Watch it," Oliver growled.
"—are equally guilty of prowling about after hours. And you're more baked than mum's Christmas cobbler."
"So here's what we'll do," said Fred. "You'll keep your pie-hole shut about seeing us down here, and in turn, we'll can it about seeing you. You got that?" He smiled sweetly and slung an arm around Percy's neck. Knowing a dead end when he saw one, the prefect grudgingly nodded.
"Excellent!" the twins said in unison, faces cracked into identical grins.
"Well," George said, "we best be on our way then. Cheerio!"
"And thanks for babysitting him, Oliver," Fred added, clapping his captain on the shoulder as he passed him. "You're a bloody saint, you know that?"
Oliver inclined his head, barely able to contain his laughter. "Yes, I know. I'll be signing autographs later." He had to ignore the withering gaze Percy shot his way.
"We'll see you next year, Woody!" Fred called cheerfully, and the twins were gone.
Petulantly, Percy threw himself down onto the kitchen's counterpart to the Gryffindor table. He grumbled, drawing his legs up and resting his chin in his hands. He hated when the twins outsmarted him, but even more so, he was annoyed with himself for acting so childish. It was so far from the dignified image he wished to project and he was embarrassed that his new mate Oliver—Was he really a mate?—got to witness it.
While Percy stewed angrily, Oliver took the time to place a request with one of the house elves. Eager to please, the little fellow bustled around, and once Oliver had what he wanted, he sidled over to Percy and sat beside him.
"Cheer up there, Percy, you great lug," he teased, nudging the skinny redhead with his elbow. "Look, I've brought you a treat…"
In spite of himself, Percy looked up curiously, but wrinkled his nose at the tin Oliver was brandishing in front of his face. "Tuna fish? Blegh, Oliver, that's disgusting!"
"Huh? Oh, ah, no that one's for Sprinkles." He set the tin down on the tabletop and the calico prowled over. Percy watched her eat; a slightly offended look gracing his features. For such a stately cat, Sprinkles ate like a slob, slamming her whole face into the tin and wolfing it down. Percy rolled his eyes. He was about to make a comment about the cat's lack of table manners, but Oliver spoke first. "This one's for you, Perce."
Percy's foul mood evaporated as soon as he laid eyes on the fresh cauldron cake in Oliver's hand. "Oh Merlin," he sighed in ecstasy, hunger returning full force as he picked it up gingerly and took a bite. "Cauldron cake's ma fav'rite. How'd 'ou know?"
Oliver was stunned a moment, but he wasn't sure if it was due to the fact that prim and proper Percy Weasley was talking through a mouthful of food—something he'd never seen in four and a half years of knowing the lad—or because the ginger in question was languidly licking acid green frosting off his finger. "It was a lucky guess," he managed.
Completely lost in his dessert, Percy ate with a far-away look in his eyes. A few quiet minutes passed before he spoke again, as he was having a difficult time selecting the right words. "Oliver?" he said finally.
"Hmm?"
Percy took a deep breath, staring down at his last bite of cake. "I don't normally like to use superlatives, but this…this was the best cauldron cake I have ever tasted." A flicker of sadness shone in his eye as he polished it off.
Oliver laughed, nodding sagely. "When you're stoned, Percy, every cauldron cake becomes the best cauldron cake."
"But I'm not stoned," Percy argued, wrinkling his nose at the word. Full and content, he lay down on the hard table top. "I'm really not." Sprinkles sat a few feet away from his head, and he watched her upside-down as she licked her chops ferociously, savoring every last morsel of tuna. "You cat's really weird. Did you know?" he blurted suddenly.
"What did you say?" Oliver barked, his voice the same gravely tone he used when shouting plays to his Quidditch team. "Insulting my cat, are you? Those are fighting words, Weasley, you know that?" He drew himself onto his knees beside Percy, his eyes glinting as he prodded the smaller boy in the stomach.
"Hey!" Percy flinched in surprise, crossing his arms protectively over his belly. He had half a mind to feel nervous—Oliver was much burlier than he was, after all—until he saw the playful look on his housemate's face. "Just what do you think you're doing?" he cried.
"Teaching you a lesson!" Oliver crowed, prodding Percy in the side, his eyes dancing mischievously. "Can't have you insulting my cat, now, can I?"
"H-hey!" Percy panted, edging away from another poke to his belly. "Stop that!" His blue-grey eyes flashed as he sat, tensed and grinning with his hands at the ready, waiting for the keeper's next attack.
"Never! Not until you apologize to my cat!" And with that, Percy dissolved into a fit of the most undignified giggles as Oliver dove at him, assaulting him with relentless tickles and pokes to his sides and belly. Howling with laughter, Percy batted futilely at Oliver's hands before scooting backwards across the table. "Hey! Just where do you think you're going?" the keeper roared, and Percy laughed, all dignity forgotten and completely beside himself as he tried in vain to escape. "I don't think so! You owe my girl an apology!" Strong hands grabbed Percy by the hips and slid him easily back to the edge of the table.
"N-n-never!" Percy gasped, flailing about with tears of laughter leaking from his eyes as Oliver's warm fingers tickled his neck.
"Oh, is that how you'd like to play?" Oliver cried, his manic eyes flashing happily. He'd somehow managed to sit on Percy's legs and pin one shoulder to the hard tabletop with a hand, leaving the other free to torture the squirming redhead. "You'll be regretting those words soon, laddie!" he promised, tickling every inch of Percy he could reach; from his neck to his chest to his sides.
Percy managed to snag Oliver's hand briefly and hold his fingers at bay, but he broke out of his grasp and continued the attack. Finally, unable to take any more, Percy curled up as best he could and yelled, "Please! Please! For the love of Merlin, stop!"
"Not until you apologize!"
"Okay! Okay! I'm sorry! Sprinkles isn't weird!"
Mercifully, Oliver took his hands away, sitting back triumphantly on his heels. "There's a good lad, Percy," he said, nodding his head. Percy stayed on his back, laughing weakly and panting for breath, his glasses askew on his nose and red curls flopping in his eyes. Oliver let him recover for a moment before reaching down and helping him into a sitting position. "Alright, up you get, there, Killer!"
His head slightly addled from the quick position change, Percy felt himself blush. He realized, with a small pang of embarrassment, as the Quidditch captain steadied him with a hand to the chest, that he quite enjoyed being manhandled by the likes of Oliver Wood.