While he hadn't advanced as far as he expected, Percy was making progress. Each of his bosses told him he was dedicated and hard working. Most of them even knew his correct name.
He glanced at the clock: it wasn’t yet dinnertime, but he was feeling restless and ready to get on home. That was unusual for Percy. He rarely left the office before nightfall these days, possibly because it was easier to stay at work than in the empty house he owned. He also kept the wireless on at work, and during the Quidditch season, staying late gave him the perfect excuse to listen to the commentary. At some point during the match, the announcer would mention Oliver in passing and Percy discovered it was a good way to check up on his old acquaintance. He didn’t know why he even bothered: but he did.
Well, he decided, tonight he would leave earlier, and instead of heating something his mum had given him three days ago, he would stop and get dinner at the Leaky Cauldron.
***
The good part about being an openly gay Quidditch star was that Oliver had his pick of gorgeous men. The bad parts, however, were twofold: firstly, he couldn't go to the Leaky Cauldron for a solitary pint once in a while. And, secondly, a lot of girls thought his being gay was the cutest thing ever, and wouldn't leave him alone.
That night he dressed in a cloak that fell over his face, casting a shadow over his well-known features: he would have his solitary pint, which was the birthright of any bloke. He had a right to live his life uninterrupted either by the squeals of the girls who seemed constantly to be Apparating right behind him, or the lascivious eyes of the gorgeous blokes.
Truth was, Oliver had had it with the gorgeous blokes. He could have whoever he wanted, and he was tired of that. He needed a companion, a soul mate. He couldn’t expect to find such a person if he kept on slumming it the way he was.
He arrived at the Cauldron and sat at a corner table, his cloak half-covering his face.
***
Tom's dinners might not meet his mum's standard, but Percy liked them, and they tended not to lie on his stomach for hours afterwards, making him lethargic and useless. He picked a table in the middle of the room and, feeling rebellious, propped his feet up on the chair opposite.
Ordering a pint with his dinner, Percy leaned back in his seat and looked around the room, watching the other patrons. He liked to study the couples and wonder how they’d met, and how they found the time for a relationship. Sometimes, when he saw two blokes sitting together, Percy wondered if they were just friends, or something more.
***
Oliver was on his second pint and feeling a little hot, so he risked lowering his cloak. After all, if giggly girls or gorgeous leering blokes appeared out of nowhere, he could always leave, satisfied that he'd had at least one pint in peace.
***
Catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, Percy glanced at the table in the corner and immediately noticed the bloke sitting there with his pint.
Damn, he looks like Oliver! Shaking his head, Percy laughed at himself. Ever since his last year at Hogwarts, he had found himself wondering about other men, wanting to know if they were gay, or available. His experience with Oliver had never really faded from his mind as Percy had expected it to.
He tried to concentrate on his drink, but he couldn’t help glancing over from time to time, taking in the dark hair, the distinctive twist of the lips.
Finally, in an effort to convince himself that it wasn’t Oliver at all, Percy stood up and crossed the room to the bloke’s table. "Sorry to bother you, but you look familiar. Didn’t we attend Hogwarts together?"
Oliver's first thought was Fuck!, and he curled his fingers more tightly around his pint. Maybe he would have time to down it before the bloke got really obnoxious and started asking for his autograph or wanting to discuss replays from famous saves.
But then he did a double take: the man had not mentioned Quidditch. He'd talked about Hogwarts. Reluctantly, Oliver lifted his eyes and saw the familiar red hair and glasses.
"Percy Weasley?" he asked, incredulously. Of all the people he’d expect to see at the Cauldron, Perfect Prefect Percy wasnot one of them.
Nodding in agreement, Percy smiled at him. The man in front of him still bore vestiges of the fanatical boy who’d eaten, slept and dreamed Quidditch, when he wasn’t having it off with – what was his name? Richard Something. The treacherous half of Percy’s mind pointed out that the grown-up Oliver was even more attractive in the flesh than in photos: the other half simply stared, taking in the broad shoulders, the dark hair, the long, sexy fingers wrapped around the glass.
Percy found his voice. "That's me. How are you?"
Relaxing visibly, Oliver smiled back. His old schoolmate would provide a great cover for his third pint: the gorgeous blokes would stay away, thinking that Oliver was taken for the night. The giggly girls, if they appeared at all, would be sitting far away and trying to take pictures of Oliver and the man who was with him, hoping that the two men would at least hold hands, so they could "Awwww" in unison. With a silent chuckle, Oliver wondered what Percy would think if he knew that just about everyone who saw them together would automatically assume Percy was gay, too.
"I'm fine. You?" Oliver motioned to the chair in front of him. "Care to join me? So we can reminisce about our schooldays?" He hadn’t forgotten the fallout during their last year, but it was obvious Percy had matured: and he was certainly talking to him again.
"Sure, thanks." Sitting down, Percy hoped he hadn’t left the other table too messy. Or course, considering the clientele here, most likely no one would notice.
Unfortunately, the moment he’d sat down, Percy was unable to think of anything to say. He was sure Oliver wouldn't want to hear about how many hours he worked each week. "So, what have you been up to recently?"
Oliver answered simply, "Playing Quidditch." He had no idea what Percy had been up to. He was probably well on his way to becoming a big shot in the Ministry, but Oliver didn't follow politics. "What about you?"
"My career is going fine. I'm a year or two behind where I want to be, but I'm fond of the Ministry." Percy wasn't sure his career could be called "successful". When You-Know-Who finally lost and Scrimgeour was replaced, Percy had been removed from the post of assistant to the Minister of Magic.
"I was placed in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement after the war. I've worked for every department but Mysteries so far." He didn't mind the MLE now that his father wasn't there. It was another step up the ladder, to help him qualify to become Minister of Magic in another year or two, or three.
Oliver nodded as Percy described his career: he really couldn’t tell if it was a stellar one or not, though knowing Percy, it probably was. But he had no interest in finding out more about it. He took a big gulp of his pint and contemplated his state of well-being: two or three more and he'd be fine, not too drunk but far from sober. Just to pass the time, he asked, "And what about family? Married? Children?"
Nodding his head, Percy said, "Bill and Fleur had their second child this year. Ron, as I'm sure you know, never came back from his final mission with Harry. Charlie is gone as well. But the twins are engaged to be married soon."
After his dad died, Percy had returned home, unable to stay away once he’d seen his mum at the funeral. He hadn't repaired his ties with all of them - Ginny would never speak to him again - but he got along with his mother and Bill.
"Actually, I'm godfather to Bill's second child, Alexandrie," he said proudly.
"I'm sorry about your losses. This war took a heavy toll on many of us." Oliver noticed that Percy had not mentioned his own family, and wondered briefly if he'd gone successfully through his phase of denial.
It wouldn't hurt to ask. He still had a couple of mouthfuls of his pint left. "What about you? Are you married? Do you have children?"
"Er, no. Penny broke up with me when I wouldn't choose a side during the war, and I've just not found time to date since then - too busy with the Ministry." Percy wasn't going to mention that he wasn't sure he wanted to date birds again, but he didn't want to admit he knew nothing about dating men either. Instead of making a fool of himself, Percy had decided to avoid relationships altogether. Besides, he clearly remembered the confusion he had felt after his one encounter at Hogwarts.
"What about you? Dating anyone or married yet?"
Oliver had just taken a sip of his beer and he sputtered it out when he heard Percy's question. Coughing, he said, "Me? Married? I'm gay!"
Blushing instantly - he hated that warm feeling on his ears and neck - Percy tried to retract. "Well, you never know. I've seen enough not to assume you're still gay…" He glanced at Oliver's shocked face and tailed off.
Shaking his head, Oliver thought that was Percy, all right. All prim and proper, smart as a whip, but the most clueless person he'd ever known. He took the last gulp of his drink and started to get up, but Tom, right on cue, came over with a brand new pint. Smiling toothlessly at Oliver, he said, "On the house. For our champion." He then turned to Percy. "What do you want?"
"Whatever he has is fine. Thanks, Tom."
Glad that Oliver had sat back down, Percy asked, "Champion? So your career has gone well then?" He refused to admit that he already knew a bit about Oliver’s career.
Rolling his eyes, Oliver answered a little irritably, "You could say that." It was just too bad that he couldn’t leave a full pint unattended. The conversation with Percy, which could have been refreshing if he’d been a little less dense, was starting to get trying. Oliver hated being harassed by fans, but Percy's utter lack of knowledge about what Oliver had done for the glory of England was, well, demoralizing!
Noticing that Oliver was obviously bored already with their conversation, Percy wilted a little beneath his sarcasm. No wonder he didn't date if he couldn't even make an old school-friend want to talk to him. He considered excusing himself and going home right away, but the thought of his empty house wasn't any better than continuing to bore Oliver.
Of course, if Percy ever wanted to date anyone, here was the perfect chance to begin flirting. Oliver might forgive him that, at least. "So you won't marry, but I can't imagine you're single. You're too good-looking to be alone. I bet you have men falling over themselves to attract your attention."
Appeased by the flattery, Oliver answered with a sigh, "Not sure if it's the looks. I think it has more to do with the fame, really." He took another drink. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the reunion with his school chum, but he felt like pouring his soul out. "I have no problem getting blokes to sleep with me, but you know, Perce, I'm getting tired of it. They all want to be seen with me, but there's something missing." He studied his pint. It definitely was the alcohol. Hell, he sounded like a big girl! Soon, he'd be resting his head on Percy's shoulder and crying about his empty life. Maybe he should just leave his drink there and go home.
But, by the same token, he probably wouldn't see Percy again, so there was no harm in opening up to him.
Tilting his head to the side, Percy considered what to say to him for a minute. "Maybe you should try for the less attractive blokes, or the ones who aren't Quidditch fanatics. I think that's the only way you'll find someone who likes you for yourself, and not your fame. I bet the good-looking guys only want to be seen with someone who's as good-looking as they are."
He hoped he wasn't blushing, because it felt like he was hitting on Oliver.
Slurring his words a little, Oliver nodded somberly. "You're right, Percy. But again, you were always smart. The thing is, where will I find someone who likes me for what I am, and not for what I’ve accomplished? And I don't know any bloke who's not drop-dead gorgeous."
Percy just looked at him, debating his answer. He couldn’t volunteer himself - how would that sound? Hey, Oliver, what about me? I know I turned you down all those years ago, but I've had time to reconsider since then.
No, that wouldn't work. Besides, Oliver had made it clear he'd never hit on Percy again after that fiasco. Of course, Percy had said he'd never talk to Oliver again, and look where he was sitting.
Maybe it was time for a change after all.
Opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, Percy discovered he couldn't force the words out. He continued to try and speak, watching Oliver, who was looking at him like he was a complete fool.
"I… maybe… I'm sure you know someone," Percy finished lamely.
Oliver eyed Percy carefully for a few seconds. His friend was acting strangely, but Oliver thought that might have to do with his own drunken state.
He pondered Percy's statement and finally shook his head. "I really don't, Percy. I mean, everyone knows that England won the World Cup and I was the hero of the final – except maybe for you. But I guess you don't follow sports anyway, right?"
"No, I don't. Not really at all," Percy lied, looking up quickly to catch Oliver's eye. And I'm not that attractive either.
Oliver burst out laughing. "And you also have the worst case of denial in the world!" He would never forget Percy's extreme reaction to their encounter so long ago.
He stood up, begrudgingly leaving his pint half drunk. He wanted to get home and have a wank and he needed to be sober to Apparate safely. "You staying?"
"I wouldn't mind going with you," Percy said. "I don't have anywhere I need to be, if you want some company."
Swallowing hard, he waited for Oliver's answer, expecting him to tell him to go away.
"I'm just going home, Percy." Oliver looked him directly in the eye. "To wank alone, because I can't stand another pretty boy telling me how wonderful I am. If you want to come on over and watch, be my guest. But I imagine you still think that being gay will be a deterrent to a happy, successful life, yeah? That I’m abnormal and all that?" He snorted and spoke in an angrier tone. "Except for the fact that I haven't found a true soul mate, you were all wrong, Weasley. Dead wrong. But I guess you haven't found a soul mate yet, have you? Why is that? Because you're working too hard to be successful? Or because you may be looking at the wrong gender?"
Well, if Percy wanted to find out, this would be the best option he’d ever have. Swallowing his pride, he stared at the table again and muttered, "I may be looking at the wrong gender."
Oliver said nothing, but he didn’t leave either. Screwing his courage in place, Percy stood up and dropped a Galleon on the table. Secretly, he was very proud of the fact that, as an adult, he could afford to leave such a big tip. Looking at Oliver, he said, "I want to go with you."
Oliver pondered that for a second before nodding. "All right. Let's go."
***
In the end, Percy found out that there was nothing to fear. Oliver was gentle and considerate, being older and more mature than the horny teenager who had unsettled Percy so much.
Percy also discovered that he had indeed been looking at the wrong gender all along. He wasn’t ready to spread the news to the world, but he knew he could count on Oliver's discretion after several discussions about it, during which Oliver rolled his eyes and laughed, and Percy pleaded for silence.
Oliver was discreet, but he couldn't deter the paparazzi, who had shot a picture of the two of them together that first night at the Cauldron. Percy complained about it, insisting, "We weren't together then!" But when he entered his office the next day and was welcomed by a round of applause from his sports-fixated co-workers, he decided he could live with it.
It was refreshing for Oliver to be with someone who wasn't with him because of what he'd accomplished in life. Months later, when they finally moved in together, Percy looked at the medal Oliver had received as World Champion and asked Oliver what it was. In response, he received a chuckle and a loving kiss and the words, "Nothing really important."
***
The following World Cup, Percy sat in the best seats, with the dignitaries and the families of the players. He still didn't know the finer details of a Quidditch match, but he knew more than enough to cheer whenever England scored or Oliver made a fantastic save. It was easy: he was sitting among the English supporters, so all he had to do was follow their lead.
And Oliver had promised him a true celebration that night if England won.