Fic: The Journey to the Beginning (Oliver/Percy, NC-17) for nimrod_9 Author:midnight_birth Recipient:nimrod_9. Title: The Journey to the Beginning Rating: NC-17 Pairing(s): Oliver/Percy (mention of canon Percy/Penelope). Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older. Summary: Throughout his life, Percy has managed to push everyone he had ever known away at one point and keep them at a distance. But there is one person who kept coming back, no matter what, or perhaps he was just the one person Percy could never completely let go. Warnings: EWE, mentions of canon character-death, angst here and there, h/c, foul language, and scenes of explicit sexual nature (hand-jobs, blow-jobs, slight exhibitionism and semi-public sex). Word Count: 7,742 Author's Notes: This was challenging, somewhat, but I’ve been thinking about this pairing for a while, and I really love these two together. I tried to include the stuff you like, and I really hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. ♥ (A hearty thank you to the mods for giving extra time and being understanding).
“We are definitely going to win this year! This is just genius!”
Percy has barely even time to look up before he feels like he’s hit square in the chest by a hippogriff, and tumbles to the floor none-too-gracefully, sending all his books and papers flying. He curses inwardly. As far as things go, he can’t imagine a lot of things much worse than public humiliation, and falling flat on his face while doing his Prefect duties because he is ran over is definitely humiliating. And how dare anyone walk smack into a Prefect, anyway, and this late at night?
He is surprised when a pair of strong hands come around his shoulders and pulls him up and steadies him on his feet.
He looks up at the person who has spoken. Oliver Wood. The boy is in his year and in his house, but Percy hasn’t really ever spoken to him, which is not at all surprising, because Percy has always kept to himself. But he has definitely heard more than enough about Oliver from his brother. Charlie had passed on his Captainship to him just last year, and Percy distinctly remembered Charlie saying that he had never met anyone with such a fervour for Quidditch as Oliver had. That alone put Oliver on Percy’s list of people whom he had no interest in socializing with – he always thought that while Quidditch was a pleasant enough entertainment once in a while, taking a sport so seriously was just plain silly. What does it really matter whether they win the Quidditch Cup when there are O.W.L.s to study for and lessons to go to? He’s heard, however, that winning the Cup is one of the only things Oliver wants out of the rest of his school years, and he not only doesn’t understand it, but he simply doesn’t want to.
“Oliver.” Percy waves a wand at his things to gather them together in his hands and then gives Oliver a severe look. “Do you realize what time it is?”
“Must be about eleven!” Oliver replies cheerfully, glancing out of the window. “I didn’t hurt you there, did I? My bad – I get too caught up sometimes. Was talking to myself a little there, too.”
“And what are you doing out and about the castle alone at this hour?” Percy persists, ignoring the question about his well-being and the apology. Oliver’s sincere cheerfulness is starting to throw him off and make him nervous. George and Fred act this way around him, but it’s surprising to find someone who is not attempting to undermine him or make fun of him in the easy, non-committal, non-forced and oblivious way Oliver keeps talking to him.
“Flying?” Percy stares for a second, unsure if he’s heard wrong. He looks outside again, suddenly not even certain the time is indeed close to midnight. He doesn’t like to think about going out on the grounds when darkness falls, forget going out all the way to the Quidditch Pitch and getting on a broom.
“Oh, don’t worry about it! Professor McGonagall gave me a pass.” He pulls a piece of paper out and shows it to Percy, McGonagall’s signature evident on it. Percy nods and scowls. He doesn’t see how someone who has as much sense as Minerva McGonagall could ever even consider letting a student out on the grounds alone at this hour of the night for the sake of Quidditch, but there are a lot of things the staff of Hogwarts have been doing lately that he doesn’t really understand. “Doing Prefect duty, huh?” Oliver looks thoughtful for a second and then adds, “What a bust to do it alone, you must be bored out of your mind! Let me join you!”
Before Percy can even begin to protest, Oliver has him by the elbow and is pulling him along the corridor, chatting animatedly about the big secret weapon in the form of Harry Potter that Gryffindor now has in the upcoming Slytherin match. Oliver talks so fast, loud and excitedly that Percy eventually gives up on trying to get a word in to tell Oliver he doesn’t appreciate company. He treasures his solitude, and actually enjoys being able to stroll through the silent school during the night, unperturbed by the loud voices and laughter of its sleeping students. If Percy had a choice, he would have Hogwarts this way always.
If he’s honest with himself, though, he has to admit that there is something undeniably intriguing about the tall boy walking beside him. For one, Percy hasn’t had anyone chat with him like that for a very long time. He is known as a snobby know-it-all who knows everything (or claims to) and, thanks in large to Fred and George, has a reputation for being a bore and a self-entitled git. But it seems Oliver isn’t even aware of any of that – he seems at ease, chatting with Percy cheerfully and easily as if they’d known each other their whole lives. It’s been a long time since Percy has felt humble, but he feels so right now, suddenly flattered that Oliver is talking to him at all, and about Quidditch, too. He would give anything to be able to be as liked or as easy and pleasant to talk to, but he doesn’t have that quality. All he can do is be good at his studies so that he can be good at something. Deep inside, he constantly feels like he should live up to his brothers – older and younger alike, regardless of what his parents may say, but Oliver makes him forget about that and feel like there is nobody in the world he would rather be talking to.
Percy isn’t even listening. Oliver is going on and on about strategies, positions, fake-outs and brooms, and he may as well be speaking Chinese because Percy has no idea what the hell any of that means. With a pang of shock, he all of a sudden recognizes something behind Oliver’s eyes that is very familiar to him. He doesn’t understand Oliver’s passion, but he understands the feeling of it. He understands what it feels like to have a goal that takes center stage in one’s life and he’s surprised to see someone who he always thought completely opposite to him be so very different. He looks at Oliver and wonders what he wants to do with his life – probably something to do with Quidditch, no doubt – and whether his passion is going to get him there. He wants to believe it, because he has the same hopes for himself.
“So what is new with you?” Oliver asks suddenly, seemingly having run out of things to say.
Percy shrugs like he usually does when someone asks him those questions – people usually ask and walk on by without being very interested or wanting an actual answer, so Percy doesn’t even try to squeeze in an answer in the short time that their attention is somewhat on him. Looking over at Oliver, he is taken aback to see the other staring intently at him, expectantly. He isn’t sure if anybody has ever given him such undivided attention, and he suddenly feels nervous and flustered.
“Oh... Just same old. Studying,” he mumbles, cursing himself. What is it about Oliver that makes him become such a stuttering mess?
“Yes, that,” Oliver says, his face darkening and Percy gives him a curious look. “I always forget about the school part.”
“Yes, well, it’s kind of an important part.” The only important one, he wants to add, but bites back the words. Whatever haze had come over him a few moments ago is cleared now. They are indeed very different and Percy doesn’t want to even try to understand the reasoning behind Oliver’s decisions.
“I know.” Oliver chuckles guiltily and gives Percy an apologetic look. “I’m going to try harder with the whole studying thing. It must be so great to be so smart that you don’t even have to worry about your O.W.L.s or failing.” He shrugs and shakes his head, as if snapping out of a reverie. “Well, anyway. This was fun.” He grasps Percy’s wrist, his hands tightly clutching the books to his chest, and squeezes it. “Thanks for talking to me.”
Percy watches him walk away with shock. It must be so great to be so smart that you don’t even have to worry about your O.W.L.s or failing. Percy sighs. It’s not anything less than he would like everyone to think, but when someone puts it to words, especially Oliver in the naive way of his, it makes Percy’s insides twist uncomfortably nonetheless. He wonders what Oliver would think if he found out that it’s not easy or even natural. It’s studying and nothing else all the time, and the O.W.L.s along with the prospect of failing them is all Percy really thinks about.
He shakes his head and reprimands himself. Time to get back to reality, Perce. He lays in bed that night and thinks about how really, he would trade all his good marks and study habits for Oliver’s easy personality, his popularity, and his complete and utter confidence. He has no doubt that somehow, Oliver will get what he wants out of life – he is an amazing Quidditch player, after all, and he can’t possibly have any other plans for his future – with the help of his charm, passion and commitment.
Percy can see himself, on the other hand, getting a Ministry job, though he isn’t entirely sure he’ll be so lucky with his father’s current standing within it, working behind a desk, earning a lot but being known as the “boring over-worker” others give good cases to but nobody bothers to talk to. He sighs again and wills himself to go to sleep. He’s been more than content with his accomplishments and his way of life so far, and he’s only getting started. Besides, he wants the boring powerful desk job, and he never cared too much for not having friends.
He’s not Oliver, and he can never be like him, but he doesn’t want to be like him, he convinces himself. Before he drifts off to sleep, though, the last thought on his mind is that he sure as hell wouldn’t mind to be able to spend more time around him.
Percy groans in frustration and anger and then quickly composes himself, looking around himself nervously to make sure nobody has noticed. His eyes quickly find the small figure with the hanged head and sagged shoulders floating towards the ground, but it’s too far away for Percy to distinguish the facial expression. He gives a glance to his two brothers, floating around the hoops yelling obscenities, and frowns. It’s not that he cares that Gryffindor lost, of course, or no more so than usual, but the worst loss in three hundred years isn’t easy even for him to take.
He feels a barely noticeable squeeze on his wrist, and looks over to see Penelope standing by him, looking out at the field, seemingly beside him by chance. They have perfected public appearances and pretending they barely even know each other completely.
“What’s come over you, Percy?” she asks without looking at him. “You? At a Quidditch game?”
“Promised Fred and George,” Percy lies absent-mindedly, his eyes scanning the field again. “Listen, I have to go. Talk to you later.”
He walks off hastily, pushing his way through the crowd. He can see out of the corner of his eyes Penelope look after him with a surprised frown, and knows he’s deserving of it. But it’s not as if he tried to make it to all the Quidditch games this year. Most of the time, he was there just in case of an incident and students had to be escorted out of the stands by Prefects, and he was hiding where nobody would spot him. That excuse makes complete sense to him, at least, or so he believes it should. But this is the last game of the season, and Oliver asks him in the Common Room that morning if he’s going to come watch him play. There is something about the way he says it that makes Percy tingle all over. He knows he’s being presumptuous, but for once, he doesn’t see the harm in that. Besides, Oliver looks so desperate and tired from worrying about how they are going to play without their Seeker, that Percy just can’t bring himself to turn a cold shoulder. He says yes and even attempts a smile. He doesn’t know whether he pulls it off, but Oliver smiles weakly back, and Percy almost runs from the common room. He wishes he can figure out what is the matter with him when it comes to Oliver, though he figures it’s probably because he kind of envies him.
When he finally gets down to the field, it’s quiet and empty. It takes him quite a while, as he finds himself preventing violent fights and outbursts on the way. He stops unsurely not far from the locker rooms. He has no idea why he has come down here. To see how your brothers are doing, he suggests to himself weakly, but he’s not fool enough to even be able to convince himself of that lie. He’s been the one telling both Fred and George for years that it’s not that big a deal to lose a Quidditch game. There is always another, after all, and it’s just a game, anyway. Not like if you fail your O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, for example.
“What are you doing here?” Percy jumps and turns to find the twins glaring at him. He frowns.
“Making sure none of you are getting into fights,” he replies calmly. They measure him with a suspicious look and he scowls at them. “Are all of you out of there?” He nods at the locker rooms.
“Oliver isn’t,” Fred replies, sighing.
“Is he ok?” Percy realizes how personal he sounds when both his brothers give him a surprised look and quickly adds, “Does he need any assistance in there?”
“Assistance?” George raises a brow and Fred snickers. “No, Percy, I don’t think he needs any assistance.”
“And you just left him alone in there?” Percy presses, crossing his hands on his chest.
“Nothing we can do for him now.” Fred shrugs. “Moping in the showers about what kind of a failure he is – it’s a little sad. And then he started bringing Charlie up and it got plain awkward.”
They push past him and make for the castle.
“Might want to check on him if he doesn’t come out in a couple of hours, though!” George calls back. “We took away all the shower rods, but he can still fasten a broom somehow and hang himself on it, I imagine.”
“More likely drown himself, though,” Fred remarks, and the two walk away talking somewhat cheerfully of all the creative ways Oliver could kill himself inside a locker room.
Percy shakes his head after them and walks over to the entrance, hesitating. So he has to admit – he cares about Oliver Wood. Apparently, he cares enough to be worried that his brothers’ jokes would come true, even though he is certain Oliver is not the kind of person to do something ridiculous just over a lost Quidditch game. He thinks it over and then makes a resolve. It would be highly suspicious for him to waltz into the Quidditch locker rooms to check on Oliver, but being a Prefect does have its bonuses.
“Anybody else in there?” he calls loudly, walking briskly inside. “All the Gryffindors are asked to gather in –” He stops abruptly when he finds Oliver, completely dressed, standing under the shower, water pouring over him and steam filling the whole place. He steps forward unsurely and then gasps as a droplet of water lands on his face.
“Wood, are you bloody crazy?” he half-screams, grabbing Oliver’s hand and yanking him from under the water and then withdrawing his hand to nurse it in the other. “That water is boiling! I burned myself just from touching you!”
Oliver looks up at him with blank eyes that glide over his face and then lower to look at his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly and gives him weak smile that is almost heartbreaking. “I hadn’t realized.”
Percy rolls his eyes and waves his wand at the showers, turning off the water, and then reaches for a towel hanging on a hook on the walls. He holds it out, and Oliver takes it, as if in a trance. There is so much Percy wants to do for him, but he doesn’t know what he possibly can. He’s never been good at comforting people, and Oliver and he aren’t even that close. It’s true that they’ve been speaking here and there on a regular basis since the beginning of the year, but Percy is sure Oliver doesn’t consider him a “friend”. Oliver sinks onto a bench and observes the towel in his hands.
“Your brother was the best captain this team has ever seen, you know,” he says suddenly, and Percy shrugs awkwardly. He’s heard the same thing. “Charlie did an unheard of thing. In his last year, he handed over the captainship to me, and told the team I was one of the best, most promising players he had ever met. I could see them look doubtful – who could really be better than Charlie? – but they believed him and he believed in me, so they believed in me too. And my first year as a full-fledged captain without Charlie helping me, I not only lose the Quidditch Cup, but I lead my team to a loss the likes of which this school hasn’t seen for hundreds of years!”
“You didn’t lead them to a loss,” Percy says soothingly, the way he heard his mother speak to Ginny when she dropped and broke something and cried because she felt ashamed and at fault. “You played without a Seeker, one of your teammates has just fought You-Know-Who, and you were at a huge disadvantage to begin with.”
“I missed all those Quaffles!” Oliver says. “I envy you so much, you know.”
“What?” Percy stares down at Oliver as if he’s said something idiotic, which he kind of has. “Me?”
“Maybe all of you. I hear Bill is an incredible Curse-breaker, and Charlie was great at everything, and is now working with dragons.” He chuckles. “Fred and George may be a handful, but they’re wonderful and intelligent and creative, and Ron is a hero now, of course. I don’t know about Ginny, but she’s probably going to grow up a wonderful girl with a little bit of all her brothers in her, no doubt.”
Percy’s shoulders sag. “My siblings are the best,” he says, and is unable to hide his bitterness. He supposes there really isn’t much to say about him in contrast to them. He’s good at school. It’s nothing to marvel at, really.
“And you,” Oliver says and stands up, facing Percy, “are probably the most brilliant wizard I know. You’re at the top of all the classes.”
Percy gapes, not even capable of recovering gracefully from the unexpected compliment. Oliver is jealous of him? He’s surprised that Oliver still hasn’t caught on to the fact that he is the only one who ever really speaks to Percy in a friend-like way. Well, he and Penelope, but with Penelope, there isn’t much talking, and they go to lengths to pretend they are only civil in public.
“Quidditch is the only thing I can do,” Oliver says, watching Percy carefully. “It’s my only hope. My parents dreamed of me becoming a Healer or a Professor, but at this point if no team signs me when I graduate from Hogwarts, I’m pretty much no good at anything else.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Percy snaps. “You’re good at Quidditch, and it’s the only thing you want to do, yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only thing you can do. You did fine on your O.W.L.s, you do fine on your schoolwork, and you’re generally an intelligent enough guy to do anything you want if you put your mind to it.”
Oliver’s eyes widen, and Percy curses himself inwardly and bites his lip. Oliver has never spoken to Percy about his grades, and it’s evident now that Percy had actually looked into them because he was curious.
“You really think so?” Oliver asks, and takes a step forward. Suddenly, they’re very close, and Percy can feel the heat reverberating from his still soaked clothing. He isn’t sure whether Oliver is aware that their bodies are almost pressed together and of how close their faces are, but his eyes are big and surprised and questioning. “You really think I’m intelligent? That I can do something other than Quidditch?”
“Of course.” Percy’s voice falters and breaks, the words coming out more like a half-sigh half-gasp.
Oliver smiles and takes another step forward, and Percy stumbles back only to find himself pressed into a moist wall. He can feel his own robes getting soaked as their bodies press together. He opens his mouth and then closes it, not able to produce a sound. The way Oliver is looking at him makes Percy feel weak in the knees. He can’t describe it even if he tries. There is infinite thankfulness and sadness. It’s not a move of lust, but rather almost an intimate moment between friends. Even as Oliver leans in and Percy knows what is about to happen, it doesn’t feel like a moment between two lovers.
Oliver’s lips are hot and wet, and they press to Percy’s gently but insistently, his tongue running over his lower lip and, meeting no resistance, sliding into his mouth. Percy knows he should stop it. It feels incredible, but Oliver is sad and looking for comfort, and Percy knows it’s probably not even about him at all. The kiss is swift, however, and Oliver leans back and lets out a long sigh, pressing their foreheads together. They stand like that for what seems like eternity to Percy when he finally finds the strength inside him to step away.
“I’m sorry,” Oliver offers humbly, running his gloved hand through his wet hair. “I don’t know what came over me. You were just... so kind. I didn’t mean to...”
Percy feels a leaden weight sink to the bottom of his stomach, but shakes it off. Of course it meant nothing! Percy knows he should be glad to hear that, but somehow he’s not. He finds himself pathetic to even suppose that Oliver may have wanted any part of him for him. “It’s alright,” he says, his voice sounding forced. “You’re distressed. Sometimes, when people are sad, they do stupid things.”
There is something behind Oliver’s eyes that seems like disappointment and hurt to Percy, but it’s almost immediately replaced with sincere warmth as a smile spreads across his face. All Percy wants to do is walk away and never think about this again. Maybe not even really talk to Oliver anymore, but Oliver outstretches his hand.
“I would love it if we could be friends,” he says. “You really are a great person, Percy. I’m sorry if I ruined all chances of that.”
Somehow, Percy doesn’t have the heart to turn him down, giving in for the third time in the same day. Again he is stricken by Oliver’s sincerity and complete lack of awkwardness over what just took place. He nods and grasps Oliver’s hand in his own, and then, with a nod, walks out. The fresh, cold air hits him unexpectedly and seems to knock his senses back into him. He decides to find Penelope. Surely her kisses are going to be much better than Oliver’s, and going to make him forget the painful, craving feeling at the bottom of his stomach. Even as he walks purposefully towards the castle with that in mind, he knows that it’s not going to happen.
Percy listens and sighs in relief when there are no whispers or giggles. The Great Hall is finally quiet, and he allows himself to close his eyes and drift off just a little, propped up again the cold wall, shivering slightly. The Great Hall is freezing, and he wishes he had the presence of mind to bring a blanket, but knows the cold is the only thing keeping him awake, and he really can’t fall asleep. He is the only person left with the students gathered in the Great Hall for the night, and he knows that if something were to happen, he has to be on full alert.
He startles out of sleep with a loud gasp when something heavy lands on him and something warm presses against his side. He scrambles for his wand, but a strong hand stills his and he can distinguish Oliver’s features right beside him. The other is sitting right beside him, his knees brought into his chest, and Percy finds a heavy blanket covering both of them up to their necks. He relaxes a little.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” he whispers. “You should be sleeping.”
“And you shouldn’t be,” Oliver whispers back, and chuckles softly when Percy frowns. “I can’t sleep on such a hard surface, and you looked so cold and lonely all the way over here.”
Percy allows his features to relax into a small smile, though he can’t will his body to relax at all. Oliver’s proximity had always made him nervous, but lately, since he’s broken up with Penelope and has no distraction from his body’s bizarre yearnings and desires, he finds it increasingly difficult to be around his friend. This is made much harder by the fact that Oliver is very open and constantly pats Percy on the back, shakes his hand, ruffles his hair, and playfully tackles him. Percy always plays it off as if he hates the playing around, but in fact looks forward to it. There is something about their bodies touching that brings back memories that he has more than once re-lived and very much expanded in his dreams.
“You know, I think this year we’re definitely going to win the Quidditch Cup,” Oliver whispers, and Percy rolls his eyes and can’t help but snort. “We will, you’ll see. You’ll come and watch me play, won’t you?”
“Because as a Head Boy and a seventh year, I really have nothing better to do,” Percy answers maliciously, but when Oliver’s face falls in disappointment, he adds resignedly, “Why do you even keep asking? You know I always do.”
“Yes. You do.”
Suddenly, Oliver leans on him and places his head on Percy’s shoulder and lets out a content sigh. Percy tenses. He can feel Oliver’s hair tickling his neck, and clenches his fists around his robes under the blanket. Oliver’s hand is lying against his side, almost on top of Percy’s leg, and he bites his lip hard when he feels a stirring and then a full-out jump to attention in his nether areas. Oliver’s hand twitches and his fingers start barely-noticeable movements right above Percy’s knee and Percy isn’t even sure if Oliver is conscious of it, but can’t hold back a soft moan.
Oliver shoots up and looks over at Percy, his eyes open wide, and Percy squeezes his eyes shut and bangs his head against the wall behind him. Stupid bloody moron with no self-control! he berates himself.
“Percy?” He can feel Oliver brush his erection and breathes out in a gasp. “Percy, you’re hard!”
Percy doesn’t know how to look his friend in the eye, so he looks away, thankful that the darkness can at least cover his furious blush. He tries to think frantically of anything he can say to make it alright again, but gives up quickly. It’s more than obvious what’s going on, and Percy is actually surprised Oliver hadn’t caught on sooner. He can hear the boy beside him swallow and then a heavy hand lands on his shoulder.
“Won’t you even look at me?” Oliver asks in a small voice.
“I think you should go back to bed,” Percy says officially. “You really shouldn’t be here.”
Oliver frowns and places his hand on the side of Percy’s face and turns it roughly towards him. Percy tries to contain another quiet moan.
“This is not the kind of thing you should be all mighty and Head Boy about,” Oliver growls. “You’re hard, and you’re hard for me, and I’m not really as blind as you assume I am.” His hand finds Percy’s cock and squeezes tightly through his trousers, making Percy arch his back.
“There are first-years here!” Percy hisses, trying unsuccessfully to push Oliver’s hand away. “Children! Someone will hear!”
“Then be really quiet!”
Before Percy can protest further, he is turned to face Oliver and their lips crash together. Percy gasps, allowing Oliver’s tongue access to his mouth, and Oliver is lifting him off the floor and into his lap, making Percy straddle him, their erections touching.
“Someone’s going to see,” Percy moans while Oliver covers them both in a blanket. “We can both be expelled for this!”
“Can your dick be expelled from your pants?” Oliver whispers and busies himself with Percy’s fly.
Percy’s mind is racing a million miles a minute, and he struggles to keep his senses about him. He is the Head Boy, in charge of overlooking the whole student population, but Oliver is touching him, getting at his bare erection and grasping it so tight Percy has a feeling he doesn’t care whether Sirius Black bursts in at that exact moment; he will not be able to stop. Desperately, Percy is casting spells, unsure of which ones would work and which ones would not, and knowing perfectly well that he doesn’t know a good enough spell to make them completely invisible or mute to whoever happens to look toward where they are now sprawled on the floor.
Oliver is quick with pushing Percy on his back and kissing his way down his body, opening his robes to be able to wrap his mouth around his nipples and suck on bare skin. Percy wants to scream and writhe, but keeps it in. He can’t even recall how many times he’s dreamed about Oliver’s mouth just right there since their encounter in the locker rooms in their fifth year. He suspects that any student that is awake can hear them and quickly figure out what they are doing, but it seems to only make him harder. The truth is, he is at the point where he’s prepared to give himself up to Oliver anytime anywhere, though of course up until just a few moments ago, he was convinced he would never have to worry about that coming up.
“Tell me you want me,” Oliver whispers quietly, but Percy hears. Oliver’s lips are hovering inches above the head of his cock, and Percy can barely control himself from bucking his hips up and making the contact with Oliver’s lips. He tenses, knowing that the words would put any doubts anyone awake may have out of their minds in regards to what they were doing. “Fine. I guess I will go to bed, then!”
“No!” Percy gasps. He doesn’t care about who hears. He doesn’t even care if someone takes a picture of it and sends it to his mother at this point, or if Dumbledore walks in at that moment. All he cares about is the fact that Oliver’s lips are so close, and Percy would give anything to have them around him. “I want you!” he whispers loudly, and is sure that the echo whispers it back.
Oliver obliges, sliding his mouth down Percy’s shaft slowly and then slowly sliding it back up. Percy can feel his eyes water as Oliver increases his pace from trying to hold in his screams and moans and attempting to breathe normally and deeply. Penelope had done that a couple of times to him before, though she’d always been quite opposed to it in general, but this is nothing like that. Oliver’s lips feel better than anything he’s ever had even close to his cock, and when Oliver’s tongue dances around the head and plays with the slit opening, Percy brings up his hand and bites it hard in order to keep himself from screaming.
“I’m close,” he whispers, and when he gets an affirmative moan from Oliver he realizes that Oliver has been bringing himself off, too, which makes him almost come right then.
Oliver shifts up and lies on top of him, grasping both their erections in his palm and moving excruciatingly slowly, bringing their lips together again. Percy sinks into the kiss. He feels as if his whole body is somehow one inseparable mass of feeling and sensation, the pleasure from his cock spreading to every corner and every place on his body. He can feel his orgasm coming on strong, and bites Oliver’s lower lip hard, making the other reciprocate in a similar violent manner.
He’s not sure if he blacks out for a second when his orgasm hits, but his body shoots up and he’s biting Oliver’s shoulder, gasping loud enough he’s sure the whole castle can hear, and writhing under the weight of the other. Oliver’s orgasm seems to come only a few moments after Percy’s and he buries his face in Percy’s neck as he bites his lip and tries not to be loud.
Spent, Oliver relaxes on top of him, his breathing ragged, and Percy’s hands go around the stronger man automatically. He listens to the silence of the Great Hall, their breathing and the deep breathing of the others the only thing stirring the silence.
“What are we doing?” Percy whispers. He knows it’s not the kind of thing that’s sexy to say right after having an intimate encounter with someone, but he can’t help himself. His orgasm subsides, and he’s the same old common sense practical Percy that knows better.
“Each other,” Oliver replies lazily and yawns.
“No. I mean in general. Us. This.”
Oliver sighs and shifts slightly. “I always had an inkling you wanted me,” he says, running his hand up Percy’s side. “But then after that kiss you went ahead and said it was stupid, and then never mentioned it again, so I kind of figured maybe not. That and Penelope.”
“I said it was stupid because you said you didn’t mean it,” Percy remarks seriously. “And Penelope and I broke up. I’ve found I could have very little conversation with her.”
“No, I said I didn’t mean to, and then trailed off. And I didn’t mean to freak you out and make you uncomfortable. I’ve always liked you, but I never really considered the possibility of being with you, so I at least didn’t want to ruin any chance I had of your friendship.”
Percy has to smile. All those years thinking Oliver couldn’t fancy him and wondering why he bothered to even talk to him, and it turns out Oliver felt the same way all along.
“Now what?” Percy asks, tightening his grip around the other. The feeling of dependency and never wanting to let go is not familiar to him. It scares him, but in an exhilarating way. It’s the only thing Percy has ever done that isn’t him. It’s like Oliver allows him to live out some of the things he had never thought he could, being the way he is.
“Now you keep coming to my matches and help me study for my N.E.W.T.s, and when you have a free second between all your duties...”
Percy can almost feel Oliver smirk into his chest and smiles himself, too. He feels empowered somehow, and lighter. He may still be a boring pompous git whom no one really likes and who will end up exactly where everyone expects him to, but at the same time he can have Oliver. Someone to balance him and live a life Percy can never attain, but be his. Percy thinks that even his stern, picky common sense can get on board with that.
“Would you just leave me in peace?” Percy roars, throwing open the door, and looks shocked to find a frowning Oliver on the other side of it. He opens his mouth and can’t find the words, so he just steps back and watches as Oliver walks in and walks straight into the living room without a word. Snapping out of his reverie, Percy shuts the door and follows.
“Very warm welcome,” Oliver remarks coldly.
“I thought you were –”
“What? Your father? Your siblings? Your mother?”
Percy frowns and narrows his eyes. He thinks he knows what this may be about, and is already more than prepared to tell Oliver where to go. He doesn’t have the patience or the nerves to discuss the whole situation yet again, especially from someone he doesn’t even know how to classify into his life anymore. He hasn’t seen Oliver for quite a few months.
“To what do I owe this visit?” he says coolly, waving his hand at the cupboard and watching as the tea prepares itself.
For a moment, Oliver looks so sad Percy feels a pang of guilt and misery somewhere deep inside, but Percy pushes it to the back of his mind. They could only be called acquaintances now, and that’s how Percy treats acquaintances.
“I ran into your mother yesterday,” Oliver says, sitting down in one of the armchairs and leaving Percy no choice but to sit down in the other one. “What the bloody hell is the matter with you, Percy?”
Percy takes his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I’m not having this conversation with you again,” he snaps, irritated. “I know what you think – you made that perfectly clear the last time I saw you, and I don’t need a refresher. My mind is just as made up as it’s always been, though. I’m doing what I feel is right, and whoever doesn’t want to support me in that can go bugger themselves.”
Suddenly, Oliver is out of the chair and kneeling in front of Percy, grasping his hands tightly, his eyes full of pain and sincerity that Percy can’t bring himself to look at without his insides twisting in a knot.
“What happened to you, Percy? This is not who you are!”
“It’s not who I am!” Percy says, ripping his hands out of Oliver’s clutch. “This is just what I do. I’m the same person I’ve always been, except doing something nobody approves of, and as far as I’m concerned, they are free to think what they wish. And so are you.”
“Fred told me, you know,” Oliver says sadly, staring down at his now empty hands. “Your father was seriously injured, Percy. He could’ve died. Molly apparently nearly had a grief-stricken heart attack when you sent her the jumper she made for you unopened. Have you no heart, Percy? No sympathy? Don’t you care about your family?”
“Do I care?” Percy shouts, jumping up and pushing Oliver away so forcefully he tumbles to the ground, though jumps back up almost immediately. “Do I care? I worked my whole life against a lot of odds to get to where I am right now. And when I got there, all my parents could say was that the only reason I got offered the position that can change my whole career around is for them. Not because I was good, or because I deserved it, but because the Minister needed somebody to get to Dumbledore and Harry through!”
“You’ve known Harry for so long now!” Oliver rounds on him, clenching his fists. “Dumbledore had always seen your potential and allowed you to progress! Dumbledore has been the Headmaster our whole school career, and now he’s disappeared Merlin knows where, and without him you know the school is in jeopardy. And you would believe the Minister just because he’s a minister over your own brother and Harry and Dumbledore?”
“Yes!” Percy growls. “That is correct. And I don’t need you coming around here advocating for my family and Dumbledore! You have no right coming back here.”
Oliver’s eyes widen in hurt, but Percy steels himself. He will not allow Oliver to hold sway over him anymore. “I understand –”
“What the fuck do you understand?” Percy screams so loudly Oliver jumps in shock. Suddenly, Percy’s voice breaks. “You left too. I loved you and you left. Just like the rest of them. They turned away and you went right with them! You left, too!”
Oliver’s face crumples, but he holds himself together. His features soften and he takes a tentative step towards Percy and stops, as if weary to come too close.
“I never left you, Percy. Nobody has ever left you. The people that love you have been trying to get back to you with all their might, but you just keep pushing away with such strength that sometimes it seems there is no way back to you. There is no way to get through this wall.” He takes another step, and they’re face to face. Percy thinks of their first kiss. It seems lifetimes away now. “But your family will never give up on you, and neither will I. You’re wrong, Percy. I can’t be with you when you continue doing the things you do and believing the things you believe, even though people who deserve your trust the most are trying to tell you that you’ve made a big mistake, and they’re the people who don’t have ulterior selfish motives. They care about you and love you. I care about you and love you.”
Oliver presses their lips together softly, and Percy can feel his eyes burning. Oliver pulls back and gives Percy a questioning – pleading – look, but Percy just shakes his head. He’s afraid to open his mouth and have his voice betray him. All he wants to do is collapse on the floor and sob until he has no strength left, and have Oliver hold him. But Oliver sighs and turns around, walking to the door.
“Don’t leave me!” The scream seems torn forcefully from his lungs, his desperation way beyond his control now. He stumbles after Oliver into the hallway, tears streaming freely down his face now. “You’re leaving me! You’re leaving again!”
Oliver turns around, and Percy can see what tremendous self control it takes for the other man to keep his resolve.
“I’m not leaving you,” he says firmly, his gaze determined. “You know where to find me and you know how to get me back in your life. I’ve always been there and I will always be there, just like the rest of your friends and family. There’s nobody else for me. You know that.”
He turns around and is gone. Percy stares into the empty hall in front of him and then collapses to his knees, sobs wracking his body.
The wind howls around him and he pulls his cloak tighter around himself. He knows it’s time to go, but he always has a tough time leaving the place. It always seems that there is just so much more that he can – that he should – say.
Two strong arms come around his shoulder and turn him away from the tombstone gently. Oliver’s brown eyes meet his, and he falters and bows his head. Oliver brings him into a tight hug.
“Do you think he can ever forgive me?” Percy whispers, pulling back and glancing back at the tombstone with a photograph of a freckled, red-haired, laughing face making faces at them.
Oliver sighs. “I think he will forgive you when you forgive yourself. He has nothing to forgive you for.”
“I was there!” Percy almost shouts, clenching his fists. “I was there and I couldn’t protect him! Not only that, but I’ve been absent from his life. The things I’ve said to him...”
“You apologized and he forgave you,” Oliver says sadly. “You had the strength to admit your mistakes and try and atone for them.” Oliver gently takes Percy by the arm and starts to lead him away. “You can’t blame yourself for his death. The people responsible have paid the price. It will take more time still to build up the trust with your family, but there is nothing they want more than to have their whole family together now. It’s important that you try.”
Percy stops and turns around to face his lover.
“Have you ever forgiven me?” he asks tensely.
“Your transgressions weren’t against me, and in the end, aren’t mine to forgive.”
“I pushed you away and said horrible things to you. I betrayed and hurt you. I meant to hurt you when I had that public affair. And yet you returned, you stood by my side, you helped me get through everything. I don’t think I’m worth the effort.”
Oliver brings his arms around him again and gives him a small smile. “You don’t get to decide this. Sometimes we put up walls, you see. And it’s not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to tear them down.* I’ve wanted you since that first time I smashed into you in the hallway. You were worth the wait and the effort.”
“You love it. Now come on. We have to be at dinner’s at your mum’s house in three hours, and I promised we’d bring guacamole.”
Oliver pulls him in for another kiss, deepening it and pulling back only when Percy is gasping. “Come. I’ll show you. If you stop stalling, maybe I’ll be able to show you some other things, too.”
Oliver grabs his hand and drags him forward, and Percy throws back his head and enjoys the feeling of the wind on his face. He feels like he’s come an incredibly long way to just reach the beginning. He still doesn’t know how to face his family or Harry after all this time. He still isn’t sure that everything will fall into place and work out. But with Oliver, he thinks, just perhaps he’ll be able to make it work.
*This quote is not mine, and while it’s a famous one, it’s not properly cited or accredited anywhere. Let’s just make it clear that it’s not mine.