Entry tags:

fic, percy/oliver, r, slash

A gift for mnemosyne_1!
Author: ???
Recipient: mnemosyne_1
Title: My Brother's Keeper
Rating: R
Word Count: 4,650
Pairing/Characters: Percy/Oliver, Fred/Oliver.
Summary: After the war, Percy muses about life, changes careers and finds out a few unexpected things about himself and his brother.
Disclaimers: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Canon character death. Much love and thanks to my very competent betas.

***

Percy sat on the chair between Charlie and George. He took a look out of the corner of his eyes to his right: next to Charlie, Bill had an arm around Fleur's shoulders. Her right hand was clasped tightly with Molly's left, and the two of them were dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs in their free hands. Arthur, sitting stoically silent at the aisle seat, his head facing forward, also had his arm around his wife's shoulder. Percy knew that his mother, at least, was heavily under the effects of a Calming Potion; it rendered her a little apathetic, which made her silent crying even more poignant. He wished he could dislodge Bill and Fleur and sit next to Molly, so he could hug her and, hopefully, bring the sorrow out of her once and for all.

On his left, right next to George, who was uncharacteristically quiet, Ron and Ginny sat at the end of the family row. Harry and Hermione, in their position of almost-family, were sitting behind the two youngest Weasleys, in the same row where Aunt Muriel occupied the aisle seat.

People were coming in droves, filling up the seats. Angelina Johnson was beckoned by George to sit behind him. Percy wondered if they were finally going together; he'd sensed some attraction there when they were younger, and his brother's gesture probably meant just that. A teary-eyed girl whom Percy didn't know sat next to Angelina and he craned his neck to hear the greeting, "Hello, Verity," from George. Maybe this Verity had been Fred's girlfriend? Percy had missed a lot in the two years he was estranged from his family.

Suddenly he saw a familiar face, one he hadn't seen since leaving school, until the fateful day of the battle of Hogwarts: his former dorm mate Oliver Wood, looking somber and slightly unfocused, as if he'd taken some sort of Calming Potion, too. He was walking up the aisle, looking for a place to sit, when George suddenly stood up, and, almost tripping over his relatives' feet, walked towards Oliver and reached for his shoulder. He motioned to the empty seat next to Angelina, and, after Oliver shook his head, said something in his ear and, holding him by his arm, led him to the second row.

Percy thought it was strange. True, Oliver had been Fred and George's Quidditch captain, but he didn't think this qualified him as someone that close to his deceased brother. He was even more surprised when he heard both the girl Verity and Angelina whisper "I'm sorry, Oliver," and his strangled "Thank you," as if he was biting back a cry.

Maybe Oliver and Fred had become very close during the past couple of years, Percy shrugged. He didn't have much more time to think about it, because at that moment Minister Shacklebolt stood up and started Fred's memorial service.

***

It was a lovely service, a true tribute to one of the fallen heroes of the war. It was a little short, which was understandable, since there were several memorials to follow. As soon as the last speaker finished, there was a rush of people lining up to give their condolences to the Weasleys. In the midst of hugs and handshakes, Percy noticed Oliver just standing there, until George, again, left the line and pulled him into a tight embrace.

It was then that Oliver broke down and started crying, sorrowful sobs that somehow triggered what the Weasleys couldn't do: Molly, too broke into tears and, walking decidedly toward Oliver and George, threw her arms around them and, finally, let out the unconceivable pain that was eating her heart.

The throng of Weasleys and friends made a tight circle around them and Percy, straining his ear, heard his mother's voice, almost into Oliver's ears. "I'm so sorry, Oliver. I...I know I was horrible about it all, but...please forgive me. And thank you for making my boy happy, even if I couldn't see it then."

Curious about what she meant, Percy pulled Ron – and, automatically, Hermione and Harry – out of the group and asked his brother what their mother meant. Why was Oliver crying so much and what was she apologizing for?

Ron snorted, his eyes fixed on the sight of Molly and Oliver, now hugging each other, he tenderly drying her tears. Harry was also watching them, so it fell to Hermione to explain.

"Oliver was Fred's..." she stopped, reddening and obviously unsure of what to say next.

"Lover," Ron said curtly, not looking at Percy. "And Mum was horrible when Fred came out. That's why she's apologizing."

"His... lover?" Percy asked. "Was Fred gay?" That was the shock of his life. Not to mention that this obviously meant that Oliver was gay, too. Percy would never have guessed it, from either one of them.

"Yeah," Ron answered flippantly, "I suppose that's what you call someone who's attracted to his own sex. Which Fred seemed to be, yeah?"

"It was a rhetorical question, Ron," Percy answered, equally flippantly. He understood that Ron was still a teenager and had been under a lot of stress. But he, too, had been hurt beyond belief with Fred's death and wasn't in the mood to cater to his little brother's snarkiness. And he was ecstatic to be back with his family, especially with his mother, but he'd be damned if he would be mistreated again by any of his relatives. So, he continued, with arched brows. "You do know what 'rhetorical question' means, don't you?"

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but seemed to think better of it. With a grin, he walked a couple of steps and brought Percy into a hug. "Sorry, Perce," he whispered.

It was nice to be back, Percy thought.

***

Percy stayed at the Burrow for the few days following Fred's service; he had received a bereavement leave from the Ministry and he took the time to keep Molly company. He loved his mother above all members of their family, and he strongly suspected that, although she would never admit to it, he was her favorite son. In any event, his presence had a calming effect on her, and she promptly went back to her kitchen, abandoned since the last battle, to make Percy's favorite dishes.

All the other members of the household had gone back to their normal lives, believing that work was the best remedy for grief. Ron had offered to help George with the shop, which Percy thought was a fantastic idea. He himself would have gone, too, if the idea of a working in a joke shop hadn't been so incongruous with his personality.

But the idea of working for the Ministry was no longer that attractive either. Not that he didn't have much hope for the new order of things under Shacklebolt. It was because there were bad memories in that place, of a time when power and success were all that counted for him. He'd come a long way since then. He'd started changing his mind when he was under Scrimgeour and was blatantly used for the Minister's purposes. Thicknesse was a joke, and Percy knew that he wouldn't even have to think about which side he would take when the time came to take arms. Even if he didn't believe that he was doing the right thing, he would have never been able to fight against his family.

So he took the time alone with Molly to talk to her about his plans for the future and relished in his mother's wise advice. It was she who suggested that he might try another career – he was an accomplished writer and she hinted that he might like working for the media.

"The media?" Percy asked, surprised at the thought.

"Why not? You like to write and you'll be able to bring some truth to that Daily Prophet," she answered with a sneer.

It was something he'd never considered, but she might have a point. He could follow the politics of the Ministry without actually being involved in it. And he could also become more immersed in the arts, which he had always liked.

"I could give it a try, I suppose," he answered.

"Good," she said, standing up from the lounge chair in the garden. "Let's go in and you can Floo them."

"Now?" Percy asked.

"Never a better time than the present," she said, smiling fondly at him.

***

It had been extremely easy to get the job, and Percy was assigned to the main newsroom. He used his former Ministry contacts to get the latest information and was generally lauded as a very fair and honest reporter. An added benefit was getting free tickets to various art events, which he covered as well.

He prided himself that he could almost write the whole newspaper by himself, versed as he'd become in matters ranging from politics and the economy to the latest art show in town. Almost, because if there was one thing that Percy didn't cover was Quidditch. Which was very fine with him, since he couldn't understand all the excitement about the game anyway.

He lived alone in a comfortable flat near Diagon Alley. He dated occasionally, nothing serious since breaking up with Penelope Clearwater over his new choice of careers; she hadn't accepted the fact that he was leaving a promising career and told him she was hoping to marry a Minister for Magic, not a poor reporter. The break up had upset Percy, but not as much as he'd thought it would.

On Sundays he went to the Burrow for the big family dinner and on Wednesdays Molly came to London to have lunch with him. Most days he would walk over to his brother's shop in the afternoon and have a cup of tea with George and Ron. Whenever Arthur was free, he would have lunch or an ice-cream with his dad. Once a month he went to Shell Cottage to see Bill, Fleur and baby Victoire, and was planning to go to Romania on his first holiday trip to see Charlie.

Life was pleasant and easy and Percy was honing his writing skills. He thought he would eventually write a book too, and spent most of his evenings doing research for it or writing short stories to practice more.

Molly told him constantly that he should find another nice witch and get married. He answered, with half a laugh, that Charlie was first. But, when Charlie announced, at Christmas, that he was engaged to be married to a Romanian witch, Percy felt Molly's piercing gaze on him.

Yes, he would have to get married eventually, but truth was, witches weren't that interesting any more. He thought he had loved Penny, but seeing how easily he'd got over her, he had doubts now if it had really been love or maybe just a young man's infatuation.

More interesting than anything else, though, was the fact that he found himself checking men out; he'd started doing that a bit unconsciously, after the big surprise of Fred's homosexuality. More specifically, after he decided that, although a surprise, it wasn't a fact that bothered him. The more he thought about his brother and Oliver together, the more he noticed men and, finally, figured out that he wouldn't mind trying it out, just for curiosity's sake. There was a nice-looking photographer at the Daily Prophet who seemed to be giving out the right vibes. Percy found out one night that he'd both read the vibes correctly and that the resulting encounter had been more than satisfactory.

He still turned his head around when a nice witch passed by, but he also admired a nice flat chest and tight male buttocks. He wasn't sure if he would ever have the courage to publicly admit to a gay relationship – or even to his family, like Fred had done, so he remained certain that he would one day marry a witch. It was just the matter of finding the right person, he decided. And he had plenty of time for that.

***

The Quidditch World Cup was scheduled to start on the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, as homage to the fallen. It was to be held in Peru, so for Percy it would be a complete non-event; being held so far away, there would be no news to impact Britain, except for that relating to the English team, which was actually one of the favorites to win the Cup. The editor of the Prophet had already advised the staff that most of the news would be Quidditch-related, so the sports writers knew they would have to work overtime. The other reporters were split between those who were envious of the sports writers who were going to Peru to cover the matches and those who were ecstatic they would have plenty of free time.

Percy, a member of the latter group, decided it would be a good time to visit Charlie in Romania for a little brotherly get-together before Charlie's wedding in August. In a move that had touched Percy immensely, Charlie had asked him to be best man, saying it was a new Weasley tradition for the groom to ask his younger brother to stand with him. "You'll have George and George will have Ron," a beaming Charlie had announced one night over the Floo.

"And what about Ron?" Percy had asked, unable to disguise his glee. "Will he have Ginny?" he laughed.

"No, then it should go back to Bill, right? The five of us, Percy, in a big brotherly circle. Isn't that a good idea?"

Percy nodded, thinking that, had Fred been alive, there would be no way that anyone else would be George's best man. And, since Fred would never have married, Ron would have been no-one's best man. Charlie must have been thinking the same thing, because he smiled sadly and said, "This is the new order of things. We must make the best of things we can't change."

That was true – they couldn't change the fact that their brother was dead, but they could certainly develop stronger bonds among themselves. Pleased with the thought of having some quality time with Charlie before his wedding, Percy strode into his boss's office with a request for holidays during the World Cup. And was disappointed at first and then profoundly disturbed with the response.

"Sorry, Weasley, it's not possible. First of all, too many people have requested time off to go to Peru to watch the games." His boss beamed. "We have a good chance of winning this year, you know?" Upon seeing Percy's deadpan face, he continued, a little less excited, "And besides, I need you."

"What for?" Percy asked a little tersely. He doubted there would be great news to cover during the month-long competition.

"You are one of my most skilled writers. Firstly, I need you to cover the Opening Ceremony and the special homage to the victims of the war. Besides, we're doing a special on the English team and I want you to follow them, starting now, while they're preparing for the big competition, until the big day – hopefully – when they lift that Cup in Peru."

Percy's mouth fell open. "You want me to do what? Follow a Quidditch team?" His boss nodded. "But I know nothing about Quidditch. I don't even have a favorite team."

"And that's even better! You won't be biased in favor of a player, then. We want to start with a big article this Sunday, and running for the next three weekends. This first one will be about the Keeper, the second will be devoted to the Beaters, the third to the Chasers and, finally, the last will be our glorious Seeker. And then you fly with them to Peru. I have even arranged for lodgings in their hotel, so you can have the best coverage." He looked at Percy expectantly, a half-smile forming in his face.

But Percy's face showed only despair. Not only wouldn't he be able to take holidays, but he'd be with Quidditch players for two months! A very unpatriotic side of him hoped that the English team wouldn't go very far in the competition, so he could return home soon.

***

He left the Prophet with a huge pile of parchment in his arms. Per his orders, he had stopped at the Sports section and picked up information about the team, looking blankly at the eager – and obviously envious - assistant who was reciting the team rosters of all participants in the World Cup. Percy didn't even know who was playing for England, let alone any other country.

He ate a quick supper and, with a deep suffering sigh, sat down at his desk and unrolled the first parchment – it was the English team roster and he scanned it quickly, not really hoping to find any recognizable name. He stopped suddenly when he saw the Keeper's name: Oliver Wood, from Puddlemere United.

Percy relaxed visibly; at least he would start this assignment writing about someone he knew well, having lived with him for seven years of his life. As he was rolling the parchment, he also remembered that it was someone who had been very important in his brother's life.

***

Oliver was looking good, if a little thinner than a year before. There was also something a little different in his demeanor, as if he'd matured too quickly during the same space of time. He seemed genuinely happy to see Percy and was very excited about the prospect of his former roommate writing about him.

The problem was that Percy didn't even know where to start. What did you ask a Quidditch player? So, lacking any openings, he just asked Oliver to talk about his career, which had started at Hogwarts in Oliver and Percy's second year. Percy sat back on the chair facing Oliver, his Quick-Quotes Quill gliding through the parchment.

It was, of course, all old news, and Percy let his mind wander. Feigning interest, nodding and humming agreements once in a while, he took in the nice lodging assigned to the players in preparation for the World Cup. It was like a hotel room, with a sitting area in the front, which they were occupying at the moment, and at the end, under a huge window, there was a nice comfortable bed with the sheets still in disarray. The maid had come for cleaning at the same time that Percy arrived, but Oliver had shooed her away.

Still humming and nodding, he fixed his thoughts on the bed. It was very messy, as if Oliver had slept fitfully. He bit back a chuckle: his mother used to call that "wrestling with the sheets." Of course, when he got older, he realized there was another reason for bed sheets to be messy like that and, with a light blush, he wondered if Oliver had had a bedmate the previous night.

He focused on the man before him: fit, famous and with a charming boyish look, Oliver probably had no trouble finding someone to share his bed with him. He looked quite good, in fact, and Percy thought that Fred had definitely had good taste. It was strange, thinking about his dead brother as a lover to the man talking animatedly about saves. He stole another glance at the bed. Maybe Oliver did have a bedmate the night before? In that case, had he forgotten Fred already? Or did he have sex with another man thinking about Fred? How deep had his love really been? Was it something that was easily forgotten in one year?

From there it was a little jump to imagining Fred and Oliver in bed. What did they like? Was Fred the top or the bottom, or did they take turns? He imagined Oliver on top, fucking Fred hard, then imagined his own brother impaled inside Oliver. Oliver's face, in his fantasy, was twisted in sheer ecstasy, and Percy had to shift a little on his chair.

Percy and Fred were as different physically as night and day, save for the hair coloring. He was tall and lanky, while his brother had been shorter and stocky. But, in that moment, in his head, Oliver was writhing under Percy. He wondered what would be like to have sex with his former roommate – his brother's what? Widower? He wasn't even sure if they had been that serious. Surely Oliver had been very distraught at the memorial service-

"Percy?" Oliver asked tentatively, snapping Percy out of his reverie. "Anything the matter? Do you have a question for me?"

"What about Fred?" Percy asked abruptly, just following his train of thought. He gasped after asking the question, but Oliver just looked at him, puzzled.

"What about Fred? Do you...do you want to write about my personal life, too?"

"No. Yes, I mean, we'll be writing about the players' families, too, if they want to, but, you, no, you don't have to-"

Oliver eyed the Quick-Quote Quill warily. "I don't mind talking to you about him, but-"

Percy waved his hand nervously at the Quill, which stopped in mid-sentence. Part of him didn't feel it was right to intrude in his dead brother's privacy, but, in the last few minutes, he'd started seeing Oliver in a new light.

Damn if he wasn't attracted to his dead brother's lover! Did things get any more complicated than that?

Taking his silence – and the fact that the Quill was turned off – as positive answer, Oliver said, "Fred and I started...fumbling during my last year, his fifth. And," he hurried to explain, "only after he turned sixteen. I'd always been attracted to red- erm, I'd been watching him for a while, but I wouldn't do anything until he was a bit older. And even then, we didn't do a whole lot. Just a bit of kissing at first – he was unsure about his sexuality and came to me – his Captain! – for a man-to-man talk and, well, we just kissed a bit. Apparently he got the answer he wanted, so we met a few times in the Quidditch changing room, but again, nothing major."

That was definitely kinky, Percy thought, to listen to Oliver talking about fumbling with Fred and starting to get turned on. Oliver really didn't seem bothered by the revelations and Percy wondered if he would get into more detail, at the same time wishing he would and that he wouldn't.

Oblivious to Percy's discomfort, Oliver continued, looking at a point in the distance. "Then we sort of lost touch when I joined Puddlemere; we saw each other during the Quidditch World Cup, but, you know, with what happened there we didn't have time to be alone, as we had planned. I saw him again the summer following it and by then we were both surer about each other and...and we became lovers."

How? What did you do? Percy thought, picking up the parchment casually and placing it on his lap. He just knew he would go home right after this meeting and would jerk off. But he wouldn't, of course, voice the thought he was having, and Oliver continued.

"It was nice. Fred was a great man and I enjoyed his easy-going, playful personality. But we only saw each other occasionally, and it only became more serious after he and George left school. It was then that I realized I missed him immensely and...and was in love with him."

So it was love. Something in Percy had been wishing that it was not so, and, at the same time, he was glad his brother had had some happiness in his short life. Had Fred loved Oliver, too?

As if he were reading Percy's mind, Oliver said, "Fred was feeling the same, and we decided that, once this whole madness of war was over, we would move in together. We came out first to George, who, at first, was appalled that one of his brothers could be gay." Percy shifted a little more uncomfortably, but Oliver didn't notice anything. "Then, as the war raged on, we started worrying about mortality and decided not to put anything off any more, life being short and all that. We rented a flat next to the one he was sharing with George and came out to the whole family during one of Molly's Sunday dinners. Needless to say, our revelation spoiled the meal. Your mother definitely took the news very badly, and it created a somewhat uncomfortable situation. Fred didn't want to go home any more, but, since-" Oliver stopped and looked at Percy, just as if seeing him for the first time. He thought for a minute and, shrugging, continued, "Since you were already estranged from the family, he didn't want to do the same to her. It was fine. He went home for the Sunday dinners and I usually had a match to play or watch on Sundays anyway, so we kept on like that. We felt that one day she would accept it and we would all be happy. And then, life thought otherwise, as you know." He sighed deeply.

Percy was feeling like a dog. Oliver's sorrowful story – about his own brother - was doing nothing to diminish the lust he was feeling for the man sitting in front of him. The mixed feelings were eating at him, so he asked, just to say something, "And how are you faring?"

"Better now. It still hurts, not to have him around, you know? But life must go on – I'd hate for him to be pining for me forever, if I had died and I know he felt the same - we discussed it during the war. So I've been trying to move on. I have dated a few blokes here and there, nothing serious. I'm...I'm not looking for another relationship right now, you know?"

"But if you find someone else you like as much as him?" Percy asked, hoping he could hide his anxiety at Oliver's response.

"Then I'll be happy," Oliver answered with a smile. "I'm not saying that I won't have another relationship, I'm just saying that I'm not actively pursuing one. If it happens, it happens." He smiled more broadly at Percy. "What about you? Still with Penny?"

"Oh, no," Percy retorted. "We broke up when I decided to be a reporter rather than a future Minister for Magic," he laughed.

"Well, at least you know what she was interested in," Oliver answered matter-of-factly. "So, are you free or dating another pretty witch these days?"

In years to come, Percy would wonder what made him answer Oliver the way he did. Without a moment's hesitation, he said, a little too brazenly for him, "No. No pretty witches. I found out that, like my brother, I like hunky wizards better."

A glint of surprise shone in Oliver's eyes. Looking at Percy carefully, he asked, "So you're gay, too? I could never tell..."

At that instant, Percy forgot all about his resolution to find a nice witch and settle down. It had always been a case of finding the right person, and he had just found this person. Who happened to be a man. Who happened to be – or have been – in love with his brother. It didn't come much stranger than that, he figured. But life was made of strange things sometimes. It wouldn't be the first time that someone was attracted to one's sibling's partner. Oliver had the right to another chance at love and, if it could be Percy, he thought mischievously, it would all stay in the family.

And hadn't Oliver all but admitted that he was attracted to red hair? Maybe he would like to try tall and lanky this time. Percy would certainly do his best to make sure that Oliver liked it just as much.

Boldly he answered, "Yes, I am gay," and was pleased to see the interested look in Oliver's face.

All of a sudden, the assignment to Peru was looking rather promising.