|percyficmod (percyficmod) wrote in percy_ficathon,
@ 2007-09-15 14:44:00
|fic, percy/oliver, pg-13, slash
A gift for our members and watchers!
TITLE: Mayhem and the Ministry After the Quidditch World Cup
GIFTEE: Our members and watchers
WORD COUNT: 3,869
WARNINGS: a little violence.
DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to JK Rowling. No money is being made from this story.
SUMMARY: Percy and his brothers and father help the Ministry when the Death Eaters riot after the Quidditch World Cup. Percy runs into an old school crush.
AUTHOR NOTES: Thanks to emiime for the pinch-hit beta. All remaining errors and inadequacies are mine, mine, mine, all mine.
Percy is glad he’s able to claim a bottom bunk; clambering around like a monkey is so undignified. It’s fine for Charlie who corrals dragons, for heaven’s sake, or Bill who does that cursebreaking, but he and their father work for the Ministry of Magic. They have more than their own reputations to uphold, even among family.
Settling into his bunk, Percy shakes out the sheets and aligns them perfectly straight. He gets a smirk and an eye-roll from Charlie, who is climbing into his top bunk, but Percy is experienced at ignoring those sorts of things. There’s no sense in doing something unless you are going to do it properly.
It has been a great day, even with the teasing by the twins. Percy’s glad the Irish won the World Cup, not that he had taken sides, of course. That would be unprofessional for a member of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. But having the Bulgarian Minister play such a trick on Minister Fudge shouldn’t have to be borne, and the Irish winning seems like a proper comeuppance for it.
Lying down with a deep sigh, Percy closes his eyes and reviews the day with satisfaction. Having seen the match live is almost as exciting as getting to sit in the uppermost box. Him! Percy Weasley sitting with the Minister himself! Drifting off to sleep, Percy imagines his advancement through the Ministry ranks.
The next thing he knows, he is being roughly shaken awake. Percy blinks his eyes open to adjust to the blurry dark and grabs at his blankets. His father is shaking his shoulder and saying urgently, "Percy! Percy! Get dressed!"
Disoriented without his glasses, he frantically gropes around for them as he says, "What? What is it?" He finds his glasses under his pillow where he left them and he sits up and scrutinizes his father as best he can in the dim light.
With the striped shadows giving him a haunted look, his father is pale and shaken. "There are wizards rioting and attacking the Muggles. The Ministry needs our help. Get dressed and get your brothers up!" His voice rises precipitously on the last word. His father then rushes over to the younger boys’ bunks. Bill is already up.
Saying, "Charlie! Charlie! Get up! We're needed!" Percy scrambles up and shakes Charlie hard, who is always difficult to wake up. Percy's heart is pounding and his ears are straining for sound from outside the tent. He can hear shouts and crashes, although they aren’t close yet. His palms become clammy. The Ministry should have enough people to contain the disturbance. There is another loud bang.
Through the first couple of shakes, Charlie just grunts, but after a particularly hard one he finally rolls over and says, "Wha-?"
Repeating his father’s words, Percy just manages to get out of the way as Charlie swings his feet over the side and jumps off the top bunk. Percy turns to see what else needs to be done, but his father is already yelling at the younger boys to throw on a robe and get out of the tent.
Meanwhile, Charlie is half-way dressed, so Percy hurriedly begins dressing himself. His hands are stiff and uncooperative and he buttons his shirt up wrong. He starts to fix it, but at a sharp word from Charlie, he leaves it and hopes his robe hides the disarray. Normally he would have ignored Charlie-- appearance is important after all-- but the shouts and clamoring from outside are getting louder and individual voices can now be distinguished. Time is obviously critical.
Charlie is hopping around trying to get his boots on and Bill, always a quick dresser, is already throwing his robe on. Afterwards, Bill rolls up his sleeves giving him an official and in charge air. Both now dressed, Charlie and Percy look at Bill and then at each other, and immediately copy him. Finally, Percy sits on his bunk to tie his shoes, finds his wand, and rushes to follow the others out of the tent.
It is chaos. Percy has never seen anything like it before.
There are masses of people, swarms even, fleeing one way and another, all shouting and crying out in terror and in shock. Tents are ripped apart and trampled underfoot if they are lucky, set ablaze if they aren’t. In the center of the turmoil is a teeming black mass of robed wizards.
Percy is a heartbeat behind his brothers in reacting to the scene and he has to put on an extra burst of speed to catch up to them as they race towards the mob. Hs father is right behind him. He had stayed behind to direct the younger children to safety.
All too soon their progress is thwarted by the masses trying to escape the destruction of the masked mob. Percy can hear his father shouting, “Everyone stay calm! Let us through!” but it has no effect on the fleeing wizards and witches, who don’t seem to hear him over the other shouts of the crowd. Percy takes up the cry, but he has even less luck than his father had.
As they fight their way through the crowd, Percy is separated more and more from his family. Charlie has progressed the farthest towards the masked mob; he is the most aggressive in getting through, while Bill is close by, having stopped to help an older wizard who has fallen. Percy can just make out his father waving to him from the other side of the crowd and he waves back as gamely as he can, as does Bill. His father shouts, “Charlie and I are going to join those trying to save the Muggles. You and Bill get this crowd under control!”
Percy and Bill both shout, "Okay!”
Percy is glad to have Bill with him. This isn't like being Head Boy at Hogwarts. No one listens to him as they dash around in panic and the crowd is just too large to really affect. Still he is a Ministry official; he has an obligation. At least Bill seems to have a quiet confidence about him that people respond to and maybe that will work for both of them now.
Shouting, "Move back, congregate in the woods!” Percy waves his arms to get everyone’s attention. The crowd jostles and pushes, and mostly ignores him. Biting his lip in frustration, Percy repeats his cry and finally starts getting people moving in the right direction. He’s particularly concerned with the gawkers who are staring at the mob in fascination. They are like stones in the river of frightened people flowing away from the masked mob.
In between general shouts to go to the woods, Percy pushes his way to the nearest gawker and says, “Excuse me, sir! You must let the Ministry handle this! Please move on.”
As if coming out of a trance the man gives a start and looks at Percy in shock. “Right, right. Do you know what’s going on?”
“No more than you. But there are Ministry officials going to handle it and they need all the space they can get.”
The wizard’s eyes are drawn back to the spectacle but he gives himself a shake and says, “Right you are, young man, right you are.” And with a little shrug the man hurries along with the crowd.
Percy repeats this procedure with varying success with the next four closest gawkers. Two hurry off like the first wizard, one wizard calls him a Ministry sycophant and tells him to bugger off, and the final man just pushes him away and says, “Leave me alone!”
At first, Bill is a couple yards away directing the crowd on the other side of the lane. He is also pointing everyone towards the woods and away from the mob. But before he knows it, Percy loses sight of him. He scans the crowd frantically, but soon has to give up and pay attention to the people pushing and shoving around him. Every time he seems to get one part of the crowd under control, a new surge of frightened people appears to take its place.
With a loud bang and a ripping sound, the tent behind him flies up four feet and then collapses under a pulsating spell from the masked mob which has gotten closer. With a yell, Percy ducks as a roar of cheering erupts from them.
Then with loud malicious jeering as his backdrop, Percy rushes over to see if anyone is hurt. There are two wizards and one witch in a tangle on top of the tent. Asking, “Are you all right?” Percy helps them to their feet and steadies the witch when she sways dizzily. They quickly discover that there are just some scrapes and bruises and one of the wizards has a swollen wrist. They are more than eager to rush into the woods and away from the mob.
Percy bends down and crawls under the listing flap to see if there is anyone unfortunate enough to have been inside. He casts a Lumos and uses his wand to lift the tent fabric but doesn’t see anyone, just broken furniture and pottery. He shouts, “Anyone here?” but only silence is returned. Wiping himself down and taking a deep breath, Percy hopes to calm himself. He was worried there would be serious injuries. He’s not a mediwizard; he only knows the most basic healing charms. Percy crawls backwards out of the tent and resumes his place in the lane. He begins directing the crowd again.
Just as Percy is settling into the rhythms of the flow of people, a violent push comes from behind. "Hey, now!" He turns around to order the crowd to move back and is confronted with a jeering, white mask in a dark hood.
"Out of the way, Muggle lover," says the man in a thick, muffled voice, and with an elbow to the face, Percy is on the ground and the man is striding over him and towards the mass of people tormenting the Muggles. Percy grips his aching nose and stares in stunned disbelief. He takes his hand away and sees the blood streaming down his hand. He still clutches his wand, but the man has disappeared from view before it even occurs to him to stun him.
Percy takes a shuddering breath and winces as his nose hurts. He doesn't know what to do. Rounding up the perpetrator is a matter for the Aurors, but there isn't much he can do to identify the wizard in the current situation. Plus a bloody nose is a minor thing in this riot. He shakes himself off and uses his robe to blot his nose. His hands are shaking. Taking a firmer grip on his wand, he says, “Move to the woods! Let the Ministry handle this!”
His voice cracks. Frowning, he shouts louder to hide his fear.
With a roar the masked mob marches closer and the crowd surges in response. Percy finds himself in the thick of a mighty mass of bodies. He can’t be heard over the screams and shouts of fright. He is pushed and shoved, turned around and disoriented. After a particularly violent jostle he stumbles full body into someone else, almost toppling them both. He looks up to apologize, and there is Oliver Wood holding them up and looking at him in surprise.
"I'm sorry!" He doesn’t know if Oliver can hear him over the crowd.
"Percy! Are you all right?" Oliver shouts back.
Percy straightens his spine and tries to look official. "I'm fine." He raises his voice and repeats, “I’m fine.”
"Your nose is bleeding." Groping in his pants pocket, Oliver takes out a hankerchief and hands it to Percy. He looks concerned. Grimacing, Percy takes it and holds it up to his nose. He’s forgotten about that. He must look like an idiot. A messy idiot.
Still, he isn’t going to let Oliver see how much he is rattled. He has always valued Oliver’s good opinion and he still does. "I’m with the Ministry directing the crowd.” Just then another surge pushes them together. Oliver grabs at Percy and Percy can feel the strength and solidity of Oliver holding him steady. Percy lets his guard down a little and commiseratingly says, “It's been rough."
Oliver, still holding Percy’s arms as he looks over the crowd of people and trashed tents, says, "I bet." Percy looks around too and his shoulders slump. He’s tried, but there has been nothing he could do to control the continuing waves of people.
Resigned he says, "The safest place is the woods. You really should go there, Oliver."
"No, that's all right, I'll help you." And Oliver rolls up his sleeves to mimic Percy and grins at him. He doesn’t act like Percy can’t handle it; just that he thinks this might be more fun. If he were the twins, Percy would lecture him on the seriousness of the situation, but Oliver is a responsible sort of fellow and Percy thinks the grin is just to make him feel like less of a failure. Percy knows he should argue, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t know where Bill is and he is tired of fighting the crowd on his own. Oliver has always been a stand-up guy, Percy has always liked him for that, and he knows he can count on him now. He nods his agreement.
And with someone standing at his back, things get easier. They can maintain some control of their placement and provide a rock of stability for the fleeing witches and wizards. Percy’s shouts grow in confidence as he directs people to the woods and he is even able to help join a lost family member or two. Oliver is always at his back, helping with the stragglers, lending his voice when Percy becomes hoarse.
The crowd thins to a trickle and Percy starts looking for Bill again, although he never spots a tell-tale flash of red. The robed mob, which previously had been moving closer, has turned down a parallel lane before Percy can spot his father or Charlie. There are flashes and crackles from all the magic being exchanged between the Ministry officials and the robed mob, and he asks Oliver, “Do you think we should go help control the mob?”
Before Oliver can answer the Dark Mark appears overhead. Staring in astonishment, Percy says, “That’s impossible!” just as Oliver says, “You don’t really think!” There is a roar of frightened voices from the woods. Caught up in their terror, Percy and Oliver are unprepared for the sudden second wave of fleeing wizards.
At first Percy tries to tell people to slow down, but gives up with a squeak when they are violently pushed to the ground. He skids a couple of feet along the ground and his glasses are knocked clear off and his nose begins bleeding heavily again. Percy rolls so he is sitting on the ground with bent knees and arms thrown over his head as another fleeing wizard swipes at him.
Peeking out, Percy can see Oliver is rolled into a ball to protect his head and Percy is just about to call to him when the crowd thins and disappears as suddenly as it had appeared. It dawns on him that the white things he saw some of the wizards clutching were masks. It was the mob breaking up and fleeing, not more frightened bystanders.
When the sounds of the fleeing mob are distant and muffled, Oliver deftly untucks his body and rolls to his knees. Percy just slowly lifts his head and asks, “Are you all right?” He ignores the breathless quality of his voice.
Oliver says, “Yes. You?”
He squints in the direction of Oliver. He can see that Oliver is sitting up, but he can’t see if he is really all right. “I’m fine.”
“Your nose is bleeding again.”
“I’m fine, really. I’ve lost my glasses, though. “
“They’re over here.” Oliver rolls to his left and picks up Percy’s glasses. He blows the dust off them and then wipes them on his shirt before crawling between Percy’s legs and placing them on Percy’s face. He ignores Percy’s hands reaching for them. Oliver says, “Here, let me fix your nose. Quidditch is good for learning a couple of basic healing spells. I can at least staunch the flow of blood.”
Oliver waves his wand in a ‘z’ motion and murmurs a quiet spell and Percy’s nose tingles and then feels better. “Thanks.” Oliver remains kneeling between Percy’s legs to gently probe his nose. Biting his lip, Percy says, “It’s better, really." It’s at least numb now instead of throbbing like the dickens, so he assumes it is better. Oliver brushes Percy’s face one last time and then rests his hands on his knees.
He still doesn’t move from between Percy’s legs.
“Oliver?” Percy leans back slightly and looks at Oliver in concern.
“You were great tonight.”
Percy almost snorts his disbelief. He was anything but great tonight. He just needs to look around at the trashed tent-site to see that. “I did what any Ministry official would have.” He knew his father assigned him the easier job of directing the crowd, not controlling the mob as he and Charlie had tackled, and any Ministry official worth their salt would have done that anyway.
Oliver smiles crookedly. “No one could have done better.” He moved his hands to Percy’s knees to squeeze them encouragingly.
Oliver reiterates firmly, “No one.” He leans forward and brushes his lips against Percy’s. Percy responds automatically although he blinks in surprise. While he has always admired Oliver, there has never been any indication that Oliver felt the same way. Oh, sure, Oliver was always considerate of Percy’s studying and prefect or Head Boy duties, but Oliver is considerate of everybody, isn’t he?
Pulling back to smile softly, Oliver leans forward for another kiss. Not stupid enough to miss probably his only chance, Percy kisses back and opens his mouth. Oliver quickly takes advantage and slides his tongue inside. The kiss is metallic-tinged from his bloody nose, but Percy doesn’t care. It is the best kiss of his life.
Oliver’s hands slide along Percy’s thighs to the juncture of his hips, his thumbs pressing lightly. Leaning forward, Oliver pushes at Percy until Percy leans back, bracing himself with his hands, giving Oliver complete control of the kiss. Oliver doesn’t rush it and Percy follows his direction, sucking gently on Oliver’s tongue.
It is long, intoxicating minutes later that Percy startles in surprise as he hears Bill’s astonished voice. “Percy?”
Blushing hotly Percy breaks the kiss and says, “Bill!”
Percy doesn't know what to do and can't move with Oliver still crouching over him. Oliver seems less concerned. At Percy's frantic pushing, he slowly leans back onto his heels and says, "I'm Oliver Wood. I was helping Percy."
Bill smiles knowingly and says, "Oh, I see how helpful you are."
Crawling backwards and then to his feet, Percy brushes off his robes. He knows it is a vain gesture, but he feels compelled to at least try to look in control. "No, he was, really. We were just-. My nose was bleeding, you see, and Oliver fixed it.” Oliver also stands up, brushing himself off. He doesn’t seem concerned at being caught kissing Percy. He smiles understandingly at Percy. Percy blushes further.
Bill looks as frightful as Percy feels. His sleeve is torn and there is blood dripping down his arm from a gash. His ponytail is a mess, and he has black soot streaked everywhere. With concern, Percy asks, “Are you all right?”
“Just a little banged up.” Bill sticks his arm out and grimaces at it. He then looks around the field and says, “Your section looks much better than mine.”
“Yeah, you seemed to be handling things well enough and there were a lot of fires on my far side, so I went over there to help out.” With a grin, Oliver jabs his elbow into Percy’s side. Percy ducks his head, but smiles at Oliver. Maybe he hadn’t done too badly.
Oliver asks, “Was anyone hurt?”
“A couple of burns and a broken ankle, but nothing life-threatening.” Bill looks around once again and says, “We should head back; make sure everyone is okay.”
Nodding and fiddling with his glasses, Percy straightens his spine and says, “Right. Thanks for your help, Oliver.” He knows he sounds needlessly formal, but he doesn’t know how to react to Oliver now that Bill is watching with that stupid grin on his face.
Oliver doesn’t seem to have that problem as he ignores Bill and grabs Percy’s arm and says, “Percy! I forgot to tell you, I made the team! I’m on the reserves of Puddlemere United!”
With a beaming smile, Percy says “Oliver, that’s great! I’m so happy for you.” And he is. Quidditch is as much Oliver’s dream as the Ministry has always been his.
Suddenly looking less sure, Oliver asks, “I’ll tell you all about it over, say, dinner sometime next week?”
Not taking his eyes off Oliver’s face, and certainly not looking over at Bill, Percy says “I’d love that.”
A heartbreakingly sweet smile spreads across Oliver’s face. "Great! I’ll send you an owl. I should get back to my family's tent and see if it’s still standing."
"Anytime, Percy." Oliver starts to lean forward, but with a glance at Bill, he just squeezes Percy’s arm and with a last backwards grin, strides away. Percy looks everywhere but at Bill.
Throwing his arm around Percy as they start walking back towards their tent, Bill says, "Come on, Lothario, let's go see if the others have made it back yet."
"He really was--"
Firmly Bill says, "I believe you, Percy. I also know what I saw."
Percy has no response for that.
"Speaking of that. You might want to talk to Charlie. You might find you have more in common than you think."
"You're not going to mention it to him, are you?"
"No, no, this can stay between us. I'm not out to get you, Percy. I'm just concerned."
"I can take care of myself."
"But the point is you don't have to." Percy is silent again. He knows his family will be there for him, in their fashion, but it is stifling more often than not. He doesn't know how to diplomatically tell Bill that, so he says nothing at all.
Bill heaves a big sigh and says, "Oh, Percy. What are we going to do with you?" And that right there is why Percy doesn't want to share with his family. They treat him like an adult one moment and in the next breath act as if he is being childish and unreasonable. This is why he values his work so much. He always gets taken seriously there; gets treated like a capable adult. Just a couple of more opportunities and they’ll all see then just how much he can do when given the chance.
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