Merry Christmas!
Oliver had left Percy at the stands while he returned to the changing room. There, the rest of the team was waiting for him. Upon his arrival, Fred and the girls inquired as to where he'd been since he was always in there waiting on them. He'd tried to dodge the question, simply shrugging and attempting to get right to his pep talk but George didn't let that happen. He announced to everyone else that Oliver had been with Percy.
Now, the girls didn't say much in regard to that. They weren't completely fond of Percy, having let their opinion of him be predetermined by Fred and George and their stories. Although that wasn't the only reason; they'd had encounters with Percy, with him taking points off or in Katie's case, assigning her a detention for being out past curfew-he'd heard about that one he was sure. She'd tried to meet up with a friend of hers from Hufflepuff but that plan was thwarted when Percy caught her as he returned from Prefect petrol.
Still, despite the fact that they weren't as vocal as the twins were, George's announcement made them glance in his direction with weird expressions.
Harry blinked but otherwise didn't remark on it. Oliver wasn't certain as to how much they'd interacted thus far. It might not have been much. Or it had been more than that and the younger boy just didn't deem it necessary to remark on. Either way, Oliver was grateful he wasn't hearing anything from him as well.
Fred was a different story.
"What?" Oliver got tired of the staring from Fred.
"What are you spending so much time with Percy for?" Fred demanded. "Every time we see you, you're together."
"Really?" This came from Katie, who looked like she wanted to laugh. She stopped, eyebrows furrowing as she glanced from Fred to Oliver. "Wait, you're serious?"
Fred nodded, glaring at Oliver.
"Why?" Katie said bewildered.
"Because I want to," Oliver said shortly.
Angelina suddenly seemed like she understood. "Oh, I get it."
"What?" Alicia, Katie, Fred and George said. The two girls looked interested. Fred and George were alarmed.
"You have a thing for Percy, don't you?" Angelina said. "I guess you two are together?"
Fred whirled around. "You told us you weren't!"
"We aren't!" Oliver said loudly. Honestly, the whole thing was ridiculous. For one, he did not like blokes and two, why did everyone have to make such assumptions? Couldn't they just be around each other without them benign romantically involved? Fred and Goerge hung out with the girls-although, he was sure Fred had a thing for Angelina. Still, that wasn't the point. He and Percy could be around each other purely as friends.
"I don't believe you," Fred said daringly.
"I don't care," Oliver said in the coldest voice he'd ever used in their presence. "You believe what you want."
There was no upbeat pep talk that afternoon. The energy was lower than usual. He was getting stares and his ears caught onto poor attempts at whispers. It might have been the wrong thing to say. Percy might be upset with him but Oliver wasn't too concerned about that right now. He was just sick of it. Tired of listening to people say things about Percy like they did. What did he ever do to them? Take away a few meaningless points? Have an obnoxious moment or two? Whatever it was, Oliver didn't think it justified the way Percy was treated by practically everyone.
And where was Clearwater in all of this? Why wasn't she standing up for Percy? Lousy girlfriend, if you asked him. It was like she didn't even care. Unless they were fighting. Come to think of it, Percy hadn't mentioned her much. Or at all. He didn't speak of her until Oliver would say something and even then it was like he didn't want to.
It didn't make any sense. He remembered coming across them a couple of times, not that they'd known he'd seen them, and they were usually standing close to one another or smiling at each other, looking like they were genuinely in love. At the time, he'd wondered to himself how someone could love someone so stuck up and upright like Percy.
This year was different.
In more ways than one.
But one aspect that he'd observed was that there was a distance between Percy and Clearwater. He'd witnessed it and felt it. That morning when Clearwater had sat down at the Gryffindor table, talking to Percy just didn't seem right. He didn't smile-than again he hadn't really done so this term so far-nor did he show any sign of happiness at her being there. Even Clearwater seemed a little awkward at certain moments.
Strange. Almost like they'd-
Oliver stopped dead in the middle of the courtyard on his way back to the tower upon coming to his realization.
They'd broken up!
That was why they weren't hanging around each other and the reason Percy had barely said a word in regards to her. Because they weren't together anymore and it was probably too awkward for them to stay as friends.
And he'd only made it worse by mentioning her.
He squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing. Why did he always have to do that? He was trying his best to help Percy and all he'd done thus far was muck everything up. No wonder Percy wasn't interested in a friendship between them. He wouldn't be interested in a friendship with someone like that. He just needed to apologize. Yes, that was it. Apologize, for the umpteenth time now, and explain that he didn't know they weren't together so he was sorry for bringing her up like he did. Percy might freeze up again as he tended to do, might even try getting away from Oliver. He was used to that sort of thing. It didn't bother him anymore or sting like it used to, as it wasn't typical for him to be rejected like that.
He rushed up to Gryffindor Tower, up the stairs to the dormitories. Usually, it wouldn't have been so easy for him to get away like he did after a game. But today was different. The team didn't rush towards him or insist he hang out with them or pull him into a party. Harry was the only one not giving him side stares or the silent treatment entirely. It was so stupid. Not like he'd done anything wrong!
When he opened the door to the dorm, he expected to find Percy in bed or the door to the loo shut, but what he didn't expect-and saw instead-was his dormmate pacing, hands clumsily flipping about and his breathing was heavy.
Oliver froze. He didn't know what was happening, when it started or how to fix this. This... It wasn't good. Not good at all. Percy was freaking out. But why?
The quidditch game, he realized. It had to have been that. Nothing else happened earlier that would explain it. Nothing worse than usual.
But...but what about the spells he put on the area to help? Hadn't they worked?
Suppose they didn't if he's like this
He thought maybe Percy would snap out of it when he heard the door open or Oliver's footsteps. But it was like he was in his own little world.
"Percy," Oliver said somewhat loudly. "Percy."
Right. This was bad. This was very, very bad. He wasn't responding. It was like Percy hadn't heard him, despite being so close. He rushed at his side, shaking his shoulder madly, figuring that might snap him out of his trance-like state he was in. It didn't.
And then he fell to the floor in a heap; his wobbly legs had given out on him. It happened so fast. Oliver had no time to reach his arms out to catch him. The thud sounded throughout the room in an echo.
Great. The last thing Percy would need at a time like this was a broken bone or a bruise. Oliver got down on his knees, his mind racking frantically to come up with a solution to this.
But he had none.
This was like being thrown out in front in a quidditch game without having practiced beforehand.
He was utterly clueless. Which was not a good thing to be in a situation like this.
He groaned helplessly. "Come on, Perce. It's okay. Err, calm down, yeah? Just calm down and relax. Everything will be alright."
It didn't help like he thought-hoped-it would.
Percy was rocking back and forth. Whimpering. Honest to Merlin, whimpering. His hands kept clumsily coming back up at his throat, as if clawing at it. There was nothing physically obstructing it that he could see.
Was it something on the inside?
Was he choking?
But if so, that still didn't explain the rest of his behavior.
Oliver was truly stumped.
/
Oliver was torn on whether it was wise to leave Percy alone. Perhaps he ought not to be worried, as his dormmate had fallen into a deep sleep. He was curled on his bed, body slumped as exhausted had hit him hard. He glanced at the redhead's face before departing. He still had a good hour or so until curfew would come. So he'd simply pop into the library for a quick look around and return before Percy noticed he was gone.
(Or got caught by a Slytherin or Snape).
That episode, whatever it was, frightened Oliver. And that wasn't an easy feat to do. Not a lot of things rattled his nerves. But this had done it. That and that night. It just...
He needed answers.
And he needed them now.
The problem was where he could find them. A simpler solution would likely be to find a classmate, one that smart, to ask. But he couldn't do that. They would want to know who he was speaking about, possibly even demanding that he let the professors know straight away or they would. And he couldn't risk that. Percy would feel betrayed and all the progress he might have made so far would have gone down the drain faster than he could blink.
So the library it was.
He didn't really know if they would have the answers he was seeking. But maybe it would? Maybe there was some book that could fix all his problems.
Or maybe he was being too optimistic.
He'd find out soon enough.
Oliver skimmed the shelves, shoulders slumping the more titles he read, none of which could be of use right now. He'd started on one side of the library, currently making his way through in its entirety. He'd gotten a few curious stares sent his way.
He ignored them.
Ha, ha. He was aware that basically all of the school believed he didn't read except for quidditch plays.
And alright, that might have been true for the most part. But they didn't have to look at him like that.
"Are you looking for something in particular?"
Oliver turned to see an older witch. A professor, judging by her robes. He couldn't think of her name. He knew he'd seen her before but hadn't taken her class. She must have understood his confusion.
"I'm Professor Burbage. I teach Muggle Studies," She introduced herself with a kind smile. It wasn't stern like McGonagall's or nasty like Snape's. "I couldn't help but notice you were looking for something. Is there anything I can help you with? Anything to find?"
"Sort of," Oliver admitted.
"Sort of," Burbage echoed, her eyes resting over Oliver with curiosity. "What is it on?"
"I don't know."
Her eyebrows flew up to her hairline. She was understandably confused. "You don't know?"
"Well, you see-" Oliver had to think up a quick lie that wasn't a complete lie. "I have a friend back home, a muggle friend and he was acting strange."
She frowned. "Strange?"
"Yes," Oliver nodded. "Pacing back and forth, making weird noises, sounding like he was out of breath."
She nodded slowly. Her forehead wrinkled. She was looking thoughtful. "Was he sweating or dizzy? Was he shaking?"
"Yeah," Oliver recalled all those things. The images came forth so terribly vividly in his mind. "Yeah. All those."
Burbage smiled sympathetically. "I see."
"You don't think he's sick or something, do you?" Oliver dreaded to ask.
"I don't believe it's the kind of sickness you're thinking of, Mr-?"
"Wood. Oliver Wood."
She nodded. "Mr. Wood. This is different. I believe your friend was experiencing a panic attack."
Oliver stared.
"Panic attack?"
Burbage opened her mouth then decided against it at the last minute. Whatever she was going to say, she didn't. "Why don't you come to my office, hmm? We can chat without prying ears."
/
Burbage's office was deafeningly quiet.
It was empty except for the two of them. Oliver sat across from her in an uncomfortable seat that sent an ach in his back. There was a cup of tea in front of him that he'd accepted upon her offering. But he hadn't touched it since. Along the way there, his mind mulled it over.
Panic attack.
Panic attack.
Did Percy really have one of those? If so, had this happened before?
How many times had this happened and he was oblivious to it?
Burbage was observing him. "Mr. Wood," She said, "are you alright? If you want, we can talk about this another time. We don't have to discuss this today."
He shook his head. "I'm fine."
She didn't seem convinced. "Alright, then." She shuffled a few things around. "I take it by your expression in the library, you are unaware of what a panic attack is?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I suppose I'll make it simple, then," She said and explained, "it's a type of reaction. A person may react strongly as though facing impending danger when in reality there is no such thing." She saw that he still didn't fully comprehend it and continued. "Is there anything your friend has a fear of?"
"Crowds," Oliver said immediately.
"And how does he react when in a crowd?"
He thought about it. "Nervous. "
"Does he dread going places that have them?"
"Oh, yeah," Oliver nodded. "He stayed in his room a lot. Didn't go out that much."
"And was he in a crowd when the panic attack occurred?"
He thought about how he'd persuaded Percy to come, how he assured him everything would be fine because he'd had a plan, because he'd believed a few charms would fix things, make them work.
But it didn't work.
And that was how he ended up having this...this panic attack.
There was no other explanation for it. It had to be the quidditch game.
And it was all Oliver's fault.
"It was when we got back to his house," Oliver lied. "He was fidgety and stuff on the way."
"It likely started at the location of the crowd," Burbage said. She wore a sad smile. Oliver looked down. His stomach recoiled at the thought of the cold tea. He pushed it away. "I would say he must have gotten overwhelmed and the attack was the result."
Oliver's chest ached. He'd brought this on. He was the one to cause this.
His fault.
All his fault.
"Does It-" he was fidgeting with his hands, "does it normally take a bit to, you know, calm them down?"
"It can," Burbage said, sipping on her tea. "It's a difficult thing to deal with. Fortunately, your friend is a muggle which makes things much easier."
"What do you mean easier?"
Burbage was hesitant at first. "You mustn't misunderstand me, Mr. Wood. I am in no way trying to insult our world but compared to muggles, we don't have the same capabilities or expertise in that area."
"But what about St. Mungos?" Oliver didn't understand. That was the best hospital in the wizarding world. If need be, Percy could get help there. "Don't they have a whole ward for that stuff?"
"It's not quite the same," She said. "It's simply not talked about and thus, not treated. The muggle world, however, is making headway. It's more than I can say for us, unfortunately."
"So, there would be nothing to help him?" Oliver did his best to keep his voice even.
"I'm afraid not."
/
Percy was still out cold.
The candle light flickered over his face, making his freckles more pronounced. Oliver sat on his bed, watching his dormmate, observing how peaceful he seemed for the first time in...
Ever, he supposed.
He still felt awful over what happened. If he hadn't pushed and pushed and pushed for Percy to come to the game, he wouldn't have gotten upset and wouldn't have this panic attack. He would have been fine!
"M'sorry," Oliver said quietly, closing his eyes in defeat. "I'm sorry, Percy. I keep messing up. Just want you to know, I'll do better."
He was going to help Percy and fix this whole mess.
That was a promise.