|Percy I. Weasley (pl_percy) wrote in plagued_rpg,|
@ 2010-02-12 15:55:00
|Entry tags:||1999 february, hogwarts: hospital wing, oliver wood, percy weasley|
Who: Oliver and Percy
Where: The Infirmary Ward
When: backdated to Wednesday
Summary: Oliver wakes up and Percy gives him a scolding that would make Molly proud before he leaves.
Status/Rating: Complete, low
When Oliver left Monday night he had one thing stuck in his mind. One single purpose... he had to protect the people he loved by doing something other then sit around and wait to be killed. He fully expected to go into the forest and not come out alive... he hoped that he could provide some information in his death that would help the others end this, but his had definitely been a suicide mission.
Clearly he hadn't been in his right mind.
The stress of the situation had broken down his sanity temporarily.
The pain of his current situation knocked the sanity right back into him. The first time he woke, and was completely aware of his surroundings, was a few days after he'd been brought back. He couldn't remember those other times, when he woke screaming as Pomfrey attempted to fix his leg. Or screaming from remembered pain. Or screaming as his body repaired itself.
He didn't remember the screaming but he felt it, his throat ached from it.
He woke with a soft gasp, grabbing at the bed sheets but this time his waking wasn't followed by screaming. It took him a total of just a few seconds to process where he was, and while he didn't know how he got here, he knew his mission into the forest had most likely not been successful. Honestly, he couldn't remember much after stepping on the trap. It was all very dim, like an unremarkable dream after you've woken up.
Percy had only moved from his seat beside Oliver's bed when it was absolutely necessary. Pomfrey tried more than once to shoo him out, but after a day or two of stubborn resistance she seemed to understand why he was there. Why he was there to hold Oliver's hand each time he woke up, screaming or not screaming, conscious or not conscious.
That day, a little shadow of stubble was actually beginning to show along his jaw. Percy was feeling it with his fingertips when he heard Oliver make a sound. Quick as a reflex, his hand found Oliver's.
"Ol?" he murmured, uncertain if Oliver was awake or just sliding between states of consciousness. His eyes were open, but that didn't mean they were seeing or processing. He'd learned that after the first and second nights they'd brought him to the Infirmary.
Oliver blinked a few times before turning his gaze to Percy. The beauty of magical medicine is that in the time it took him to regain proper consciousness his body had mostly been healed. He stared at Percy a long moment, and then winced, "Ah shit..." he murmured.
He relaxed his hand when he registered that a warm weight, probably Percy's hand, was resting over it. "The infirmary?" he asked quietly. He knew it was but it was a neutral question... something to keep him from being yelled at for just a few seconds longer.
"Yeah," Percy answered flatly.
Now that Oliver was awake and conscious, speaking and listening, something inside him, something that had been buried, was boiling up to the surface again. As tired as he was, as eager as he was to take a blisteringly hot shower, something in him needed to explode first. When his grip on Oliver's hand began to tighten, he pulled back and saw his fingers quivering.
"Do you have even the slightest idea of what you put me through?" Percy began, his voice calm and low in a way that wasn't soothing, but frightening.
"You left without saying a word. Without even saying good bye or–" Percy couldn't bear to say I love you; his calm collection was falling to pieces, "or a single word. You just left. You left me thinking you alone could take a murderous Death Eater and a werewolf. All by yourself. Your arrogance, your selfishness, it's astounding! I should leave you. I should leave you if you think you can trounce off into the Forbidden Forest to YOUR DEATH AND LEAVE ME ON SOME BLOODY FOOL'S ERRAND TO BE A MARTYR!"
By the time he was finished, Percy was breathless and shaking with fury.
Oliver watched Percy's face closely, and he knew it was coming so he wasn't surprised when Percy started speaking, nor when Percy's calm voice changed to something very not calm. He winced a little at the first question but didn't attempt to interrupt.
"Don't leave me," was the only thing that he managed to say when it seemed Percy was done. He clung to the bedsheets. He would have sat up and tried to grab Percy except he wasn't strong enough to get up on his own yet, and he really didn't think Percy would welcome his touch.
"You're right... I'm arrogant, and selfish... and really stupid. Really fucking stupid. I'm sorry..." he didn't know what else to say. There were no words that could possibly make this right.
In the moment though he would have given his life if it meant keeping everyone else safe. "It's just... no one was doing anything. Just talk and more talk and more fucking talk and I couldn't stand it. I've already lost Quidditch... and the thought of losing you or... Ang... or any of them... I just lost my head."
He tugged on the bed sheet, "I've never been very good at sitting on the sidelines..." he added softly. As if that explained why he'd gone on a suicide mission... as if that could make things even a little okay.
Percy buried his face in his hands. He couldn't bear to look at Oliver. If he did, he was afraid he'd cave and forgive him just like that and he didn't want to forgive him so easily.
"That doesn't excuse anything! You were charging head-first to your death. How can you be so thoughtless? What did you think you were going to accomplish?" He smeared his hand down his face and glared at the point right above Oliver's forehead.
"You're the biggest, most selfish, unthinking prat I know, Oliver Wood," Percy said every last word with feeling. "If we hadn't found you when we did.." Just the memory of the blood, all the blood, made his throat close up. He wanted to scream you would have bled to death or been found by Bole or Greyback and died an equally horrific death, but his throat felt full of cotton.
"I thought... I was going to keep you safe," Oliver said weakly, "clearly I was out of my mind..."
"Percy..." Oliver didn't know what he could do or say. This reality was far more terrifying then death. He hadn't been with Percy long, just long enough to be completely and totally head over heels in love with the guy. Just long enough to know he never wanted to lose Percy.
That's what was happening wasn't it? He was losing Percy? Right here. Right now. All because he lost his head. "This is what I'm like," he blurted out, "when I... when I focus on something I completely lose my mind. I can't think... I can't function... I just... all I see is you and I have to keep you safe. I'd die for you again and again... and again and again..." He growled and reached up to rub at his face because he knew it sounded so crazy, so unhealthy, "this is who I am, Percy..." he said, letting his hands fall onto his chest because even holding them up against his face was taking too much energy, "Impulsive, stupid, selfish, obsessive... stupid..."
A low groan escaped him, "please don't leave me..." he didn't mean to sound quite so needy, but he could handle Percy being disappointed in him, or angry with him, or anything with him as long as Percy wasn't leaving him.
Knowing that Oliver had gone on a suicide mission for him only made something sink to his stomach and curdle. Angelina was right. It was his fault. It was his fault Oliver almost died. "I don't want you to die for me or anyone else ever," Percy said, voice rough and ragged like sandpaper around the edges.
Percy was disappointed and beyond furious with Oliver Wood, but above all he was terrified. Terrified out of his wits because he loved this stupid, impulsive, selfish, obsessive man. Loved him despite every better sense and reason he had in his head. Beyond rationality.
Percy abruptly stood up despite his knees that were weak and stiff from disuse. "I.. I don't know if I'm going to leave you, but I need to go." He would get Madame Pomfrey first, and he would probably return later in the day, but right that moment Percy knew he needed to be alone.
Oliver didn't know that Percy would return, in fact he was quite sure he wouldn't. Something inside of him shut off when Percy said he was leaving. A soft noise, part sigh, part whimper escaped him and he closed his eyes. He wouldn't beg... not more then he had.
In a moment of complete idiocy he'd shown Percy who he was... who he really was. He wasn't mature or stable or intelligent or any of the things he seemed to be most of the time. He was obsessive and focused and more than a little crazy about the things he loved...
and maybe he wasn't even worthy of being loved.
The worst part was, and he knew this wasn't a normal way to think, but the worst part was that he'd lost Percy... and he didn't even have Quidditch to turn to to comfort himself with. Not really, not properly.
He wished he had better control of himself when it came to his obsessions but he just didn't. This is who he was. He was the kind of person who would risk his life for Quidditch, and for Percy.
And he'd lost them both, despite giving 100 percent of himself.