(January )
Oliver gave his parents the obligatory hugs, indulging his mum's need to kiss his cheeks several times, nodding distractedly when he was told to be sure to owl them weekly. After that, he darted off, jumping onto the train to find Percy.
In the pocket of his trousers was a letter composed by Bill Weasley. By now, the paper was wrinkled from being folded numerous times by Oliver re-reading it in the dead of night when no one else was around to see it. When the Weasley's owl, Errol, dropped it off he hadn't thought much of it until he started reading.
His breath was taken away just by the first line.
They knew? What did they know? His brain racked, trying to properly decipher it even though some part of him deep down was certain he was precisely aware of what Bill was referring to.
From there, Oliver hadn't known what to do. He considered writing to Percy to tell him about this, only to hesitate. It might not be necessary, he might know anyway. Than again, if he didn't and he found out that they were talking to each other behind his back, he'd be furious and that was the last thing Oliver wanted to happen.
In the end, he did nothing. He didn't even send a letter back in response. He couldn't, not in good conscience. It felt too much like he was deliberately breaking Percy's trust, and he'd worked too hard to earn it.
Oliver stopped short when he nearly bumped into somebody, a tiny first year Slytherin that shot him a dirty look.
"Sorry. Wasn't watching where I was going."
The first year did not acknowledge the apology at all as she shoved past him to get by.
'Alright, then," he mumbled to himself.
He passed by dozens of compartments before he actually found the redhead, but somewhere in the middle of the train, there he was. He sat in the corner, looking no better than when they'd last seen each other in December, but no worse either. Oliver supposed that was a win, however small it might be.
Taking in a deep breath, he plastered on a smile to hide how uneasy he felt.
"Ello," he greeted on the way in, making sure to shut the door behind him.
Percy's eyes flickered to him. "Hello."
"Good break?" Oliver plopped down across from him, slouched and exhaling deeply.
"It was fine."
Now Oliver didn't know if he was telling the truth or not. Clearly, there'd been some breakthrough moment with his eldest brothers but that didn't account for anything else that might have happened. For right now, he wouldn't push. With any luck, Percy might talk later once they were in the privacy of their dorm. He might not want anyone to overhear him here. "Ay, that's good."
"Erm, yes," Percy shifted, crossing his feet at the ankles. "I've been meaning to...thank you for the gift you gave me."
Oliver was already shaking his head to stop him from talking. "No need to thank me, told you that."
"Yes, well..." Percy was struggling to form words. "I certainly wasn't expecting a snow globe. Was there a particular reason you chose that?"
"Heh," Oliver grinned sheepishly, "not really. Just thought it would be something different, you know?" Then, it struck him that it might have been too different. "Did you like it?"
The question seemed to catch Percy off guard. "Oh, yes. I did." He was surprised enough that Oliver could hear the genuine honesty from him.
A grin spread across Oliver's face, pleased to have chosen correctly. "Brilliant."
Percy didn't have anything to add to that, so he smiled somewhat tightly, somewhat awkwardly and nodded.
He didn't want them to sit in silence until they arrived. Last time, they'd sort of had something going on, something of a proper conversation. "You ready?" Oliver licked his lips, observingly Percy's face closely for the slightest hint of change that might come.
"For what?"
"For the new term," Oliver said. "Are you ready?"
"I suppose I am," Percy's gaze fell on the window, watching as the train started to go, pulling out of the station and leaving everything behind them.
"They've probably forgotten all about it," Oliver offered his reassurance, in case his intentions for asking the question weren't completely clear.
However, as he found out, they obviously weren't as Percy stared at him rather blankly.
"What?"
"They've probably forgotten about it," Oliver repeated, but there was no sense of recognition dawning on his dormmate. "You know, about..." He let the rest of his sentence hang in the air until it did.
"I wasn't even thinking about that," Percy said stiffly.
"Oh," Oliver said. Bugger, he thought. "Well, never mind then."
He couldn't help but notice Percy was slightly quieter than he'd been when they'd left Hogwarts, and stop himself from drawing several conclusions. One of which seemed inevitable. If his brothers truly did know what happened, then it made sense for him to be withdrawn. It just meant that Oliver was going to have to figure out how to navigate this, gradually bring up the subject so Percy wouldn't feel ambushed.
Really, he wanted to bring it up now, to ask how the whole conversation had gone. He held back, though, just in case it might make Percy clam up.
"Are you ready for class again?" Oliver asked. It was a relatively safe question, better than lingering on the subject of Christmas break- for now.
"I suppose so," Percy said blandly.
Oliver didn't necessarily expect much conversation between them, not one that was back-and-forth with Percy truly engaged in it, but it was still dismaying that he was sticking to few words. "I'm not," he went on to say. "Been having a real nice lie in." He couldn't lie and say he wasn't disappointed when Percy only gave him a short nod in response. Blowing air out of his nose, Oliver's eyes shifted around the compartment. An idea was slowly coming to mind but he wasn't entirely sure his dormmate would go for it.
"Do you want to skip the feast?"
As predicted, Percy was seemingly startled by the question. "What?"
"We could skip the feast," Oliver said, keeping his voice casual. "We don't have to go if you don't want to."
In all honesty, Oliver was going to be bloody starving by the time they got to Hogwarts. His mouth was already salivating at the mere thought of all the delicious food scattered along the tables. There was nothing better than roast chicken, shepherd's pie, yorkshire pudding and oh, some chocolate eclairs- but Percy might not be up for going back to the Great Hall just yet.
Oliver could withstand not going just once, and if anything, he could always sneak down to the kitchens later on.
"That's- that's ridiculous. We can't skip," Percy frowned.
"Sure we can," Oliver said with an encouraging smile. "We'll just have to be smart about it."
"The Fat Lady will surely tell a professor."
"Then we don't go back to the tower," Oliver said with a shrug.
He was pleased to see that Percy actually seemed to be considering it, while not completely sold on the idea. "But where will we go?"
Oliver had to think quickly. Where could they go without being found? "The quidditch pitch."
At the mention of this, Percy's lips pursed. He didn't seem too impressed with Oliver's idea.
"What? It's not because I want to fly," he said defensively. "It's all I've got. Unless you have a better idea."
As it turned out, Percy didn't. "We shouldn't even be considering this," he shook his head, "If anyone finds out, we would be in a lot of trouble."
"No one will find out," Oliver assured him. Percy wasn't convinced. "Come on, Perce, it'll be fun."
It probably wouldn't be. But it would give Percy a chance to decompress without having to be in the presence of all the other students. Perhaps Oliver could get him to open up a bit. Besides, no one would likely notice they weren't there. Both of them had been sitting at the end of the table anyway.
But Percy didn't look like he agreed. His mouth was clamped shut, so Oliver gently probed, "What do you think?"
His dormmate took on an expression of constipation. For several long seconds, Oliver waited for him to say something. "We'll never get past the teachers."
It wasn't a no. Oliver grinned victoriously. "Don't worry about that, mate. I've got it covered."
/
A million little stars were littered across the dark sky. Down on the ground, it was all covered in snow that crunched underneath their shoes. There was a lot less light the further they drifted from the castle; Oliver could barely see in front of him.
As steadily as they could, he and Percy made their way towards the quidditch pitch. A simple warming charm helped take away the frigid cold that was nipping through Oliver's thick jumper. It also brought back some of the feeling into his fingers.
Luckily, he's been right in that they were able to avoid any of the professors, Snape especially. It was quite easy, actually. Their attention was on the feast and welcoming back the students. Even Filch was preoccupied. It'd hardly taken much at all. Instead of following the others inside after getting off the carriages, him and Percy snuck around, blending in with the shadows.
Oliver blew out a breath. It was much different to be out here in the dark without the roar of the crowd and thrill of excitement down his back. He'd never gone out here without the intention of practicing, without his broom in his grip.
In the time since they'd last been in the train compartment, Percy hadn't spoken a word. It could have been out of nervousness that they would get caught, or perhaps he didn't feel the need to fill the silence. Regardless, Oliver hoped that'd change once they were there.
And so, they kept walking until they were in the middle of the pitch.
He really didn't fancy laying down on the snow, so Oliver brandished his wand to use the hot air charm, melting a patch of snow that was large enough for him and Percy to lay down on.
Percy remained standing while Oliver did not. "You're going to lie down?"
"Why not?" Oliver said in response. It only took a couple of seconds for Percy to make a decision and join him. They were side-by-side, their backs against the grass and, in Oliver's case, ankles crossed over one another.
"Why are we doing this?"
"We're watching the stars," Oliver said. He had to admit, it was really nice to see. There'd never really been a time where he'd done this, simply observing in nature.
"No, I mean-" Percy paused, and it made Oliver take a closer listen to how he sounded- tired. "Why are we here? Why did we skip the feast?"
Well, at least he was speaking a bit more, Oliver thought. "No reason."
Percy turned his head to face him. "You never skip out on meals," he murmured.
"Right, well," Oliver started nonchalantly, "I'm quite full. Mum made me sandwiches before I had to leave for the train."
It wasn't a very good excuse. Percy probably didn't believe him, he was too smart for that, but chose not to argue. Silence fell over them after that, not one that was too bad, like many of the other times.
Some of the tension left Oliver's body. Ever since this morning, as the days led up to now, he'd been antsy, not knowing what he was coming back to. It hadn't been as bad as his imagination had him think, but it was somewhat disappointing to find Percy having taken a few steps backwards.
Even so, he tried to find some optimism. Now that they were back and he put more of a distance between him and his siblings, it might do him some good instead of being stuck in the same house with everyone.
"Just tell me."
Now it was his turn to roll his head to the side. "What?"
"Why did you bring me out here?" Percy's voice was a bit stronger now, a bit firmer.
"I thought...you might want to have a break," Oliver said truthfully. "You seemed stressed on the train."
Percy didn't refute it. It all but confirmed his suspicions.
"Did something happen?" Oliver said in a bit of a whisper. "Did Fred and George-"
"It wasn't them," Percy cut in. "It's got nothing to do with them."
Oliver waited for the rest, his heart thrumming.
"I got your letter-" No sooner did Percy say this that Oliver quickly interrupt him.
"I didn't tell them anything. Well, actually, I told them about the prank but I didn't tell him about- well, you know. I swear."
"I know that," Percy said quietly. "I-I expected otherwise."
"What? Percy, I'd- I wouldn't just tell them that," Oliver's stomach felt like it'd just been punched.
He wasn't saying anything in return. It wasn't doing any favors to Oliver's nerves.
Bloody hell. Couldn't he say anything-
"I can't be sure of that." It was barely audible, he wouldn't have heard it if it wasn't as quiet as it was out here.
"What do you mean you can't?" Oliver said, offended if he was being honest. Hadn't he done enough to prove that he was trustworthy?
"I just- I can't," Percy said tersely. He clearly didn't want to argue, nor did Oliver. That wasn't what they came out here for.
"Oh."
It was really all he could say. It was all that came to mind at the moment.
This time, the air was heavier between them. It was palpable. Oliver looked back up at the sky as a means of distracting himself, attempting to count the endless array of stars.
"I told them. Bill and Charlie- I told them what happened."
It came out a breathy whisper, as if he was still comprehending that it happened. Oliver's heart gave a leap, not quite daring to believe it himself.
"I don't know why I did it," Percy admitted.
"I'm glad you did," Oliver said, and he meant it.
"They're going to be quite bothersome now."
"Maybe," he said. "But that's good, isn't it?"
Percy didn't say anything.
At last, he knew he had to break the news, unable to keep it himself any longer. "Percy?"
"What?"
Mouth dry, Oliver breathed out. "I know that you told your brothers. Bill wrote to me and told me."
Percy immediately sat up, Oliver followed this and quickly murmured out Lumos. The tip of his wand shot out light, illuminating his dormmate's face, which he could now see clouding over with several emotions.
"Why-why would he tell you-"
He was confused. Panicked. Oliver didn't know how to help him.
"He wants my help, Perce."
It was the wrong thing to say. He realized that as soon as the words left his mouth. Percy looked betrayed.
"With me? He wants your help with me?"
Bugger. Bugger. Bugger!
"Yes," Oliver kept his voice calm, even though he was far from it on the inside. "But it's not what you think! He wants me to write to him and Charlie to tell him how you're doing."
"And what did you tell him?" The question came out as a hiss. Percy was tense, hands clenched, breathing coming out funny.
"Nothing," Oliver said, watching the way the redhead's anger dialed back all of a sudden.
"What?"
"I didn't write back."
Percy couldn't quite believe it. "Why didn't you?"
"I couldn't," one of Oliver's hands came to the back of his neck, rubbing it just to have something to do. "Didn't think you'd like that very much."
"It's what you would have wanted."
Oliver shrugged. "Sure. I don't think it's a bad idea."
"But you didn't."
Oliver smiled a little, hoping he'd get it now.
"I...I don't know what to say."
"Don't have to say anything," Oliver said simply. Percy tucked his feet underneath him, absentmindedly picking at the grass.
"You keep surprising me," he said, looking Oliver in the eyes.
"Is that a good thing or-" The quidditch captain trailed off jokingly.
Percy was serious, however. "I thought you'd have told somebody by now."
He'd wanted to, still did. "Don't you think-" Oliver tried to think of how he'd word this. "Don't you think you should, though?"
"Should what?" Percy asked, even though they both knew he was just stalling.
"Tell someone."
Now his dormmate was uncomfortable. "I don't think it's necessary. I've told my brothers. Isn't that enough?"
Not really, Oliver thought. Out loud, he said, "What about a professor?"
"No," Percy said instantaneously.
He'd expected it, but it was a bit crushing to hear it. "Are you sure?"
"No?" Oliver repeatedly lamely. "Why not?"
"I don't need to," Percy said, forcing a smile. "I'm fine."
Oliver looked at him sadly. No, you're not.
"Could you just think about it-"
"Oliver," Percy said, voice sharp. "We don't need to involve the professors. If I wanted them to know, I'd tell them myself."
Gaze falling down to his lap, Oliver didn't say much else. Why couldn't he accept the help? He needed it. Merlin, Oliver needed it too. This was a lot to deal with, much more than he'd realized at the start. A heavy weight that made it difficult to look at Percy sometimes. He didn't know when that happened, but it did somewhere along the way. Looking over at his dormmate doing a mundane task and he'd remember.
"Why didn't you let me die!"
There'd been nights he'd awakened abruptly, heart hammering, and glistening in a thin sheen of sweat. The nightmares occurred less than they used to be, but it still happened. Horrible, horrible dreams where he didn't reach Percy in time, leaning over the rail as a scream erupted from his throat and there'd be Percy's lifeless body at the bottom.
He didn't know what a professor could do at this point, if there was something that could be done. But Oliver thought a lot about it over break, accepting that they couldn't do this alone anymore.
Later, once they'd gone inside, seamlessly sliding into the crowd of students that left the Great Hall, they made it to Gryffindor Tower. Oliver collapsed on his bed, arms behind his head, not even bothering to unpack right now.
Percy had gone to use the loo as soon as they came up the stairs. In the end, despite trying to get his dormmate to consider the idea of telling a teacher, he refused. Not wanting to push him too much, Oliver dropped the subject. He didn't want to. But he understood that making Percy more angry than he'd already been was not the way to go. He couldn't force it. Except, Oliver was bothered by a nagging feeling that wouldn't go away.
Truth be told, he thought about telling a professor anyway.
Taking a pillow, he held it over his face, groaning. He felt just awful thinking about it. That wouldn't be right, he couldn't do that. It probably took a lot just for Percy to tell his brothers. What would he do if he was forced to talk about it with someone else?
Who would he even go to anyway? McGonagall was too busy. He didn't know Sprout well enough. There was no bloody way he was going to Burbage, plus she and McGonagall still thought those panic attacks were Oliver's. He wasn't sure about Flitwick and he'd drown himself before he'd ever go to Snape for anything.
What should I do? He wondered. What the bloody hell am I supposed to do?
In Bill Weasley's letter, he'd mentioned near the end that he really ought to tell somebody else. He felt that Oliver shouldn't have been carrying this for this long without intervention.
Percy needs more help than you give him, Bill had added. You can't do this alone.
Closing his eyes, Oliver let out a long exhale. I hope you can forgive me, Perce.
Slowly, he sat up in the bed. "Hey, Perce," he called out, teeth raking over his bottom lip. "I'm gonna go to the kitchens. You want anything?"
"I'm not hungry," his voice was muffled from the door in between them.
"Alright," Oliver slipped his shoes on, taking a jumper and throwing it on. "Be back soon."
Quickly, he made his descent down the stairs and out of the tower, nodding distractedly at the Fat Lady's warning that curfew was close. The castle was quiet for this time of day without even the professors wandering the corridors.
He had a plan, sort of. He just needed to figure out where to go
Down at the end of the large staircase, Oliver tripped. The laces of one of his trainers had come untied. He fell quite hard on the floor, landing face-first. Pain shot through his nose and in his knees. He groaned as he lifted himself up into a seating position. At least it hadn't happened on the stairs.
Blood trickled out of his nose, a drop falling beside him.
"Great," he muttered.
"Mr. Wood, are you alright?"
His head shot up. "Professor Lupin," he straightened up, bringing himself to his feet.
"That was quite a fall," Professor Lupin was not wearing his teaching robes. He wore a casual pair of trousers and a warm looking jumper.
"Err, I'm alright," Oliver shrugged it off.
"Are you sure? I can escort you to the infirmary," Professor Lupin said.
Oliver was shaking his head before the man even finished. "I'm fine."
"I see," Professor Lupin said. "Is there a reason you're out at his time of night?"
'Actually, there is," Oliver said, bracing himself. "I need to talk to you. Do you have a minute?"
"I do," Professor Lupin said with a nod. What is it you need?"
Oliver wiped away the last of the blood from his nose. "Err, I'd really rather say it in private, Professor."
Professor Lupin nodded. "Come along, then."
He was taken to the Defense classroom, the door shut behind them. Oliver took a seat across from Professor Lupin's desk, sinking down in it with a deep breath.
It felt wrong to do this. Especially after he'd told Percy why he hadn't written Bill back. But this was different, or at least that's what he told himself so he'd feel less guilty.
"Would you like some tea, Mr. Wood?" Professor Lupin offered.
"No, thank you," Oliver said. He couldn't handle anything on his stomach right now.
"Alright," Professor Lupin poured some for himself, taking a seat. "I take it from your nervousness that you aren't in the mood for any pleasantries this evening?"
"Not really," Oliver muttered.
"Alright," Professor Lupin said. "Then what is it you wished to discuss with me?"
Silence trickled on for a few seconds. If he was being honest, Oliver felt slightly sick. "Erm, well, I've got this problem."
"I see, and what's happened?"
He couldn't look the man in the eyes. Couldn't do much more than keep his gaze on edge of the desk. "Well, you see-"
He wrung his hands, repetitively licking his lips. He shouldn't even be doing this, not behind Percy's back. This was going to go terribly wrong. Percy would never trust him ever again-
"-breathe, Mr. Wood."
His body sagged, and he buried his face in his hands. "Sorry, Professor."
"There's no need to apologize," Professor Lupin said calmly, though there was a crease in the middle of his forehead. "Do be sure to breathe. I'm afraid Madam Pomfrey won't take too kindly should I have to levitate you to the hospital wing."
Oliver nodded, gnawing some more at his lip.
Studying him closely, Professor Lupin took a delicate sip of his tea. "Take your time, Mr. Wood."
"Right, well," Oliver knew there was no way out of this. Telling the truth meant telling everything. "Can you keep a secret?"
Professor Lupin's long fingers were wrapped around his mug. "That entirely depends on what you're asking me to keep."
"Right..." Oliver repeated. "Well, I suppose I've got a confession to make, and I'd really appreciate it if you could keep it between us." The man looked intrigued so he continued. "Do you remember when Professor McGonagall told you about the panic attacks I've been having?"
Recognition crossed Professor Lupin's face. "Yes, I do remember that. Why, has something happened?"
"No..." Oliver mumbled. "It's just...It's not been me that's had them."
He was almost afraid to look up at his professor's face, wary of what he'd see.
When nothing was said, Oliver lifted his eyes to meet the warm ones of Professor Lupin. There was a hint of mild surprise, but nothing like he'd expected. "Is there a particular reason why Professor McGonagall believes otherwise?"
"Burbage misunderstood me, Professor," Oliver said, his words coming out quicker now that it was clear he wasn't in trouble - yet. "It was one of my mates."
"And why did you not correct her?"
A metallic taste in Oliver's mouth let him know that he'd bitten right through his bottom lip. Now came the hard part. "I wanted to, Professor," he started, "but I couldn't." Professor Lupin raised a brow. "He wouldn't be too happy if I did."
"That certainly sounds complicated. But I must admit, Mr. Wood, I'm not sure why you've come to me."
"Because I need help," Oliver put it out there, knowing there was no way to take it back now. "He's got...problems, you see. I don't know what's wrong with him but he's not been acting like himself. Not for a while."
"And what does that mean?" Professor Lupin asked.
"He's not eating," Oliver was clenching his hands so hard all of the blood had drained out of them. "He's sad all the time, and he-"
"And he, what?" Professor Lupin gently prompted, sensing Oliver's hesitancy.
"He tried to hurt himself," Oliver whispered.
"In what way?" Professor Lupin was serious. His voice was steady, yet held an undercurrent of urgency.
Don't tell him, came this inner voice. Percy will hate you. Is that what you want?
It wasn't. Oliver didn't have to do this, did he? He could use his original lie, say it was just a muggle friend of his that was struggling. That way, Percy's secret was safe. It made sense that way.
"And I can't just think happy thoughts . That does nothing for me. I can't be happy when I can't even pretend to be."
"He tried to jump off the Astronomy Tower. I stopped him."
There it was. It was finally out, hanging in the air between them. It didn't come as much of a relief as he might have thought, not when his stomach felt incredibly heavy, like a bludger had just been dropped inside of it.
Professor Lupin was just as affected as he was. He didn't speak for nearly a minute, processing things. "When did that happen?"
"September," Oliver said.
"Why wasn't anyone told?" Professor Lupin said incredulously.
"He didn't want anyone to know."
Professor Lupin muttered a few unintelligible words. He rubbed along his lower jaw. "And just how long were you going to keep this a secret?"
Well, Oliver had no intentions before tonight to say anything. It wasn't his place, so he'd been telling himself. Really, though, he probably would have said nothing, waiting for Percy to make the first move.
"I don't know," Oliver stared at the mug of tea that had surely gone lukewarm by now.
Professor Lupin sighed heavily. "I understand wanting to keep a secret but there are some matters that need to be confided into an adult."
"I'm of age," Oliver said immediately.
"Yes, but you're still a student," Professor Lupin reminded him. "It's our responsibility to care for you."
Oliver couldn't really refute that.
"Your friend needs help, Mr. Wood."
"But he doesn't want it," Oliver said with a sigh of his own. "I've tried. He won't do it."
"And yet you came to me anyway," Professor Lupin hummed. "Why is that?"
"I don't know, Sir."
"I think you do," the man leaned forward.
The sound of Oliver's heartbeat was nosy to his own ears. Did Professor Lupin hear it too? "I didn't want to."
"But you did. Clearly you felt it was necessary."
Their eyes stayed locked on each other. It was not intimidating, but it did give Oliver the push he needed to continue. "It's a lot. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing."
"There's no shame in that," Professor Lupin said firmly. "Nobody would expect you to know."
"But I should," Oliver said in defeat. "He's- we've known of each other for years. I've been trying, but I think I've been doing a rubbish job of it."
If he'd been doing a better job of it, Percy would be better.
"What makes you so sure of that?" Professor Lupin said.
"It's true," Oliver insisted. "I don't know how to get through to him."
"Did you keep trying?"
The question had Oliver's eyebrows knitting together. "Of course," he replied automatically.
"A lot of people in your position would have given up by now," Professor Lupin laced his fingers together.
"I'm not giving up on him," Oliver shook his head vigorously. "I'd never do that."
"Even if you think you're doing a rubbish job of things?"
He was starting to understand what Professor Lupin was trying to do. "Even then," Oliver said without any hesitation.
"I do believe that speaks very highly of yourself, Mr. Wood," Professor Lupin said with a warm smile. "Whoever this friend is, he's quite lucky to have you."
Oliver shrugged modestly. His cheeks flushed, lips tugging into a sheepish grin. "I suppose."
The cup of tea was set aside. Shifting slightly, his professor said, "I will need to know the name of this student."
"What?" Oliver said, alarmed. "But-"
"This is a serious matter. I need to sit down and have a chat with him."
"No, no," Oliver rambled, trying to get ahold of himself. "You can't, please. He won't forgive me."
That sick feeling was returning, worse than before.
Professor Lupin frowned, eyes crinkling in the corners. "I cannot keep this between us. By all rights, I should be informing Headmaster Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey."
"But you can't!" Oliver burst out, panicked. "You can't do that, Professor. Please. I'll do anything else, but this has to stay between us or he'll hate me."
"While I understand your worry, I would rather your friend be angry with you than to continue to leave this in your hands."
Oliver had to think fast. "What if you don't say anything but I come to you?" He suggested.
Professor Lupin seemed to consider this. He leaned back in his seat. "Meaning what?"
"I'll come talk to you and tell you how he's doing, tell you if he's having any problems," Oliver said, sounding a little desperate if he was being honest.
"I'd really like to talk to this student myself."
"I don't think he's ready for that."
Professor Lupin's stare lingered on him. "This isn't how I'd go about this." Oliver held his breath. "But I suppose I can agree to this so long as you and I are in regular communication."
"Thank you," Oliver said gratefully. "Thank you, Professor."
"However," Lupin held up a hand, abruptly putting a halt to Oliver's relief. "At some point, you will need to bring this student in for me to speak to before the end of term."
He didn't even know if that would be possible. "Yes, Professor," Oliver said with much less enthusiasm.
"I would still appreciate knowing the name of this student," he said, his tone light yet offering no room for negotiation.
I'm sorry was all Oliver could think.
"It's Percy Weasley."
/
A candle was lit on one of the nightstands. Percy was laying on his bed, fully clothed, a couple of deep breaths escaping past his lips. Every so often, Oliver would subtly look his way just to watch him for a few seconds.
Ever since he came back from speaking with Professor Lupin, Oliver was drowning in remorse. He hated himself for going through with it and betraying Percy. Worse, he just knew that once his dormmate caught word of this, there'd be no going back. There'd be nothing he could say in his own defense that would make it all better.
All of a sudden, Oliver let out a breathy laugh. Percy looked over, puzzled.
"What?"
"Did you ever think we'd be like this?" Oliver asked, not tearing his eyes off the ceiling of his bed. You trying to die, me trying to help you. "Talking?"
"No," Percy said softly.
Oliver exhaled all the way, thinking back to all the times he'd deliberately ignored his dormmate, kept quiet while Fred and George spoke badly of him, and even thought along the same lines whenever he thought Percy had been more annoying than usual. "Me neither."
A jolt in his bladder had him realizing it'd been ages since he last used the loo. Stretching his arms, Oliver sauntered over there, only stopping in his tracks when he heard Percy quietly speak up.
"Thank you...for what you did."
Turning around, Oliver said, "Which part?"
Their eyes never strayed from each other's, Percy swallowed. "All of it."
It made the guilt all that much more heavier. It hurt, a horrible, almost unbearable throb in his chest. Oliver mustered up a small, weak smile that fell as soon as he turned back around.