Title: How Percy Won the War
Rating: R
Word Count: 4, 210
Warnings: Fluff. Mention of het (Percy/Penelope). DH. Masturbation. Mentions of rimming and other lovely slash sex.
Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to realize what we want when everyone else wants something else. In those times, we must find support in what we need.
Disclaimers: Not mine, they are JK’s.
Notes: Much love to my beta. You’re lovely. Now, I really hope you like this! I had a lot of fun writing Percy.
Percy prided himself on the fact that he was a predictable man.
No one ever expected any more or less of him then what Percy could give. Everyone knew he would be appointed a Prefect and then promoted to Head Boy in his seventh year. Percy did not disappoint. His family expected him to go into the Ministry Of Magic after school, which he did and Percy did it well. They also knew it would be difficult for him to come home after his grave mistake, they expected him in due time. Everyone approved of his union with Penelope Clearwater and expected a long engagement between the two sensible people. Percy made sure he delivered.
The only person who did not expect these things about Percy was Oliver Wood.
Oliver was the only person who looked at Percy and saw something completely different, expected something different and wanted something different.
Oliver was the one who saved him.
~♥~♥~♥~♥~
The Great Hall was much larger than Charlie and Bill had described and Percy was terrified that Professor McGonagall was going to transfigure him into catnip and devour him in Animagus form just after she had told him he wasn’t good enough for Gryffindor and not magical enough for Hogwarts at all.
His brothers might have played a small part in his thoughts as he stood in line for the sorting.
But he wasn’t foolish enough to believe the troll story or any other cock and bull story Bill and Charlie let slip at the dinner table under the disapproving stare of his mother. Although, Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was Captain of the Quidditch team… they would know something wouldn’t they?
The boy in front of him was making Percy more nervous than any of the thoughts in his head. Percy could see his fidgeting hands and the boy in wrinkled robes was rocking back and forth on his heels at an abnormal rate in what appeared to be excitement. His brown hair was slightly out of control and Percy could not understand why anyone could leave the house looking like that on any normal occasion let alone on their sorting day.
The boy made him perspire.
How could anyone be excited? This was terrifying!
"Wood, Oliver."
The brunette boy practically bounded up the steps and onto the stool, Percy straightened his robes. Mr. Wood pulled the hat onto his head with extreme enthusiasm and Percy idly wondered if that merited a detention. Percy had a feeling that this boy was trouble; his charmingly brilliant smile was a sure sign.
He wondered what sort of family Mr. Wood came from to be this disheveled and full of raw excitement. How did one learn to be full of energy? Percy looked around the hall again, categorizing the witches and wizards that sat on benches behind him and trying desperately to avoid the gaze of his two brothers who stood out at the Gryffindor table; red hair and all. What would they say if he didn’t get into Gryffindor? Percy knew he didn’t belong there and if he was being completely honest with himself he would prefer the silver and blue Ravenclaw house. But his family expected him to be in Gryffindor! It had been centuries since a Weasley or a Prewett was sorted into any other house than Gryffindor.
And if the sorting hat was going to let him into Hogwarts at all; he would not disappoint.
"Weasley, Percy."
Dread filled Percy. Had Mr. Wood already been sorted? Percy couldn’t bother himself to note that he had missed it because his legs had carried him to the stool. The wood was warm to the touch as he sat down. Percy could hardly process the eyes from all the house tables, the majority of the first years already in their assigned houses, only a few faces looking nervously up at him, the dusty smell of the hat and the voice speaking in his ear…
"Ah! Another Weasley boy. I should have known they wouldn’t have stopped at only two. Now let’s see here, lots of talent and determination. Definitely intelligent, not a doubt about that…"
Percy didn’t have the voice or thought capacity to ask for Gryffindor.
"You would do well in Ravenclaw… but there is something more here I’m afraid. Well, off you go then. GRYFFINDOR!"
Relief pounded through him and the Gryffindor table exploded in a roar worthy of a lion, as Professor (his professor!) McGonagall took the hat off his head and he walked proudly to his seat at Gryffindor table. The smiling faces of his brother’s greeted him and he knew the goofy grin on his face should was a little embarrassing but he couldn’t be happier than sitting next to his brothers. They were respectable even if they didn’t have much respect for themselves. Bill did at least. Charlie was a tad bit wild for Percy’s personal taste.
Percy didn’t notice the excited brunette boy named Oliver Wood switching places with a blonde girl to be closer to the Weasley gang, his eyes never leaving bespectacled Percy who was listening intently to Headmaster Dumbledore, back straight and eyes bright but the goofy grin of an eleven year old boy still present on his face.
Three days later, Oliver Wood insisted they would be best friends. Percy was too curious to argue.
~♥~♥~♥~♥~
The second year dormitory was silent, mostly because two occupants of Gryffindor tower had been relocated to the infirmary for the evening.
One boy was there because he had taken out while playing his first match as Gryffindor’s Keeper. The previous 7th year Keeper, Terrance Dippling had lost his leg in an unfortunate transfiguration accident just two days before the scheduled match and the nervous second year had taken the pitch for roughly two minutes before meeting a bludger in the head and promptly falling off his broom.
The other boy had been stuck to the first boy’s side from the moment the 2nd year keeper had hit the ground.
Madam Pomfrey struggled for all of five minutes before she gave up on making Percy Weasley go back to his 2nd year bed and got him an extra blanket before storming off muttering something that sounded a lot like "Blasted Weasleys, all the same… stubborn as Hippogriffs the lot of them."
But Percy paid her no mind. His attention was directed at his best friend who was unconscious and looking ruggedly cute with a bruise forming at the top of his head. But who calls their best friend cute? Percy shook his head and readjusted his blanket. It was inappropriate to have thoughts like that about a friend, let alone someone who lives in close quarters or is a boy or unconscious.
He was just his best friend.
Oliver Wood stirred and Percy leaned closer, noting the split in Oliver’s bottom lip from the fall and the way his night clothes (Percy brought them as well as slippers, he wouldn’t want Oliver to get cold) made him look younger than his 12 years. The boy turned onto his side, facing Percy and grunted in his sleep, Oliver’s nose scrunched up and he burrowed his face into the bed clothes.
Right. Just his best friend.
The night crept onto Percy and before he knew it his chair had gotten closer to Oliver’s bed, his eyes needed resting and Percy rationalized just a bit of a nap so he could help Oliver with homework tomorrow and try to keep him distracted from the embarrassment of Quidditch.
Just a nap.
The boys woke the next morning with their hands almost touching and Percy blushed all the way to his toes.
~♥~♥~♥~♥~
Percy folded the book in his lap and pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to finish this chapter in potions because then he could finally get started on his paper. It wasn’t due for another month but it never hurt to get ahead. Anything could happen in four weeks. Unfortunately, he just couldn’t read anymore.
His twin brothers had come to Hogwarts.
Which could have been nice if it hadn’t ruined Percy’s life; but it did and it was done and Percy felt like the world was caving in. Even if his thoughts were a tad bit more dramatic than usual, Percy had read that it was perfectly normal and it was something called puberty. But never mind.
The problem wasn’t with the twins; well, they were a problem but the fun kind of problem like the gnomes in the garden, extremely entertaining if not a bit annoying. The problem was that Hogwarts could only handle two Weasleys at a time. Charlie and Bill had easily been Hogwarts' favorite Weasleys and then Bill had gone and Percy had thought that maybe Hogwarts would favor Charlie and him.
And if Percy was being completely honest with himself, Hogwarts opinion rested completely on the behavior of Oliver Wood.
See, Oliver always liked Charlie. First, it was because Charlie was brilliant at Quidditch and a Gryffindor and Oliver wanted to be on the team more than he wanted to breathe or eat pudding. Then last year, Charlie was the senior team member who pushed for Oliver to play his first game. Charlie being Oliver’s Quidditch idol hadn’t bothered Percy… well, it hadn’t bothered him very much. Because in the end, Oliver always spent most of his time with Percy and it had made up for the time Oliver spent with Charlie.
But now it did bother Percy. Because it seemed like Fred and George had taken up all the room there was for any Weasley and it left Percy out in the cold. Oliver was Percy’s friend! His only friend, really, and now Oliver was spending a huge amount of time with Charlie, since he was first string Keeper now and Charlie was sure to be captain next year and Fred and George were constantly practicing with the team because they were sure to get on next year as well and…!
Percy’s emotional wits were at an end. He brushed the tears from his eyes with anger and stared at his ink stained hands. They smelled like parchment and ink and were soft, with only two strange calluses from where he held his quill. His hands were not like his brother’s or Oliver’s. He didn’t play Quidditch. He watched avidly - Percy was a Weasley, for Merlin’s sake, but he just never felt quiet at home on a broom like his brothers. Percy knew he was a bit of a disappointment there, all the Weasley family had loved Quidditch and had been good at it. Even Bill was brilliant but had been too engrossed in curse breaking to play it seriously. Bill still had played pick up games in the back yard and not disappointed everyone.
The sound of boys on the stairs pulled Percy out of his thoughts. The unmistakable rumble of Oliver Wood’s laughter was rapidly getting closer and the clumsy sounds of too long arms and knobby knees entered the dormitory before Percy could get prepare himself.
Oliver practically fell into the dorm, his hands gesturing dramatically about something (probably Quidditch) while his face was lit up with animation. Percy felt a familiar tightness in his chest; he didn’t quite know what the feeling meant. But he did know that it went with the feeling he had the first moment he had met Oliver; trouble.
Oliver continued his conversation with Jack Holwick, barely acknowledging Percy’s presence on the bed. But Percy hardly reacted, simply picked his book back up and flipped to the appropriate page.
If he was going to be a prefect then he would have to keep his nerve and his reputation in check. People would expect it from an authority figure. If Percy couldn’t be the object of Hogwarts attention, then he would at least do his best to not disappoint.
~♥~♥~♥~♥~
Where third year had been the biggest disaster of his life, fourth year had been a year of surprises. While some things had indeed come true like Percy had predicted, other things most certainly had not.
Fred and George did get on the Quidditch team as beaters, though not under the captainship of their brother Charlie but under Oliver Wood. And instead of Charlie being angry about it, he simply winked and buried his head into books about dragons. Seriously, dragons.
And suddenly where Oliver’s world had been Charlie and Quidditch, there was now Quidditch and Percy.
Percy couldn’t have been more surprised or intrigued.
It seemed as if maybe things had shifted, maybe the world had shifted just a bit on its axis and now Percy was important to Oliver and maybe, just maybe… Oliver was more than just Percy’s only friend.
No matter how hard Percy tried to ignore this, it was becoming increasingly apparent.
What would become known to Percy as the "Wood Chronicles" started at the beginning of winter holiday when Oliver floo’d into the Burrow, unexpectedly. Very unexpectedly. The rest of the Weasley family had been carted off to Aunt Muriel’s and Percy had begged off complaining of a headache. He didn’t do it often and if anyone really wanted the truth he’d die before telling them.
Percy just needed a wank.
The great thing about Hogwarts (and having one friend) is most of the students would rather be anywhere but where Percy was. Mostly because he had inherited the ability to look so disapproving at any shenanigans that many students had claimed that he channeled Professor McGonagall (some claimed he looked exactly like their individual mothers) and so therefore felt guilty for continuing.
The point was, he could always find some time alone.
With himself, literally.
But for a solid week, Percy had been surrounded by his family. And to top it all off he kept having these disturbingly erotic dreams about strong hands and soft, brown hair. So when the chance presented itself to Percy, he took it. Which was why he was sprawled on his bed, having one of the best wanks of his life.
Percy had removed all of his clothes and had taken his time, moving from pinching and pulling his nipples to teasing his inner thighs with the pads on his fingers. His mind returned to the dreams he had been having, strong calloused hands that would map every inch of his skin; pulling and tugging until Percy was arching in the air on the cusp of his orgasm, his breathy moans mingling with harsh pants in his ear and the distinct feel of another man's hands on his cock…
Percy’s eyes had shot open in shock at his thoughts just as Oliver had burst through his bedroom door. Percy learned two things in the moment before and after his orgasm.
One: The person in his dreams was most definitely Oliver, and this revelation was supported by the blissful tumble off the edge into orgasm as Oliver entered the room and the shout of his name on Percy’s lips.
Two: There was nothing shameful in a wank. Oliver didn’t seem to care one bit that Percy was having one off.
His only reply was a charming smile which had made Percy’s chest tighten in a delicious if not dangerous manner and "Just popped in to see if you fancied a walk."
The "Wood Chronicles" had begun.
Throughout fourth year the chronicles expanded…. Into a first kiss; sloppy but real after a Gryffindor win; into snogging in deserted class rooms and behind blush red curtains; into listening to each other wank at night, both knowing the other was thinking about hard lines and heat; into crash courses in blow jobs and finding out that Wood really was a suitable last name and maybe the chronicles expanded into falling in love.
The year ended too soon.
~♥~♥~♥~♥~
The stroke of disaster started with Bill.
"Oh shove off, Charlie! You’re just peeved because you can’t bring anyone home because you haven’t got the bollocks to tell them you’re a fucking pouf."
Bill had brought a girl home for the weekend, but it all ended in disaster when Charlie kept finding them doing inappropriate things all over the house. It was rare that Charlie and Bill came home for the same two weeks but Molly Weasley had insisted. Unfortunately, Charlie finally snapped at finding Bill and Charity (or maybe it was Christine?) having a go on Charlie’s bed; which led to screaming, which led to the comment from Bill just as their mum and dad had walked into the room.
Molly had cried for nearly two days before Charlie shortened his trip and headed back to Romania. Arthur didn’t say a word. Bill looked apologetic and worried. Fred and George were delighted. Ron just frowned, shrugged then asked what was for supper and Ginny had walked Charlie to his portkey, holding his hand and smiling.
Percy had begun to panic.
If his parents wouldn’t accept Charlie then they would never accept him.
Which was why by the end of the summer, Oliver Wood was about to strangle Percy for not talking to him and Percy had set out hunting for someone else. Someone else who was not male.
That someone ended up being Penelope Clearwater.
Of course the courting was slow; Percy was pants at anything but books and Oliver, let alone someone who he was making himself like.
But his family expected it. His mother wanted grandchildren and someone to knit with and all he could do when he saw Oliver’s face, so hurt and angry, was his mother’s face when Charlie left. Percy didn’t want to disappoint her like Charlie did.
Looking back, Charlie had never apologized for being himself and later in life, Percy would come to wish he had remembered that.
~♥~♥~♥~♥~
"I know what you’re doing, Perce. It’s not going to work."
He was too close.
"I’ve seen you watch her, trying to see if you could actually do it, talking to her, asking to tutor her and all that. Percy, it’s not going to work."
His voice was too nice, too rough, too loaded with emotions Percy didn’t want to acknowledge, so he picked up his book and swept out of the library before breaking into a run.
The rest of 6th year felt like eons. Where Oliver had been hurt and quiet, giving Percy his distance the previous year, Oliver had switched tactics. Percy had a dreadful feeling that Oliver had spoken to Charlie.
Percy wasn’t opening any of Charlie’s letters.
Unfortunately he couldn’t avoid Oliver. He was everywhere - around every corner with his charming smile and dangerous green eyes. Not like Harry Potter’s eyes, that seemed to glow bright green, but a deep green that sent shock waves of indescribable feelings through Percy’s body every time he found himself pressed up against cold stone walls and dusty book shelves.
The farther the year went on, the dirtier Oliver played.
"I know you still dream about me, Perce. I can hear you whimper in your sleep."
"Come to the match, Percy… I’m riding the broom for you."
"Has she sucked you off yet? Bet she isn’t as good as I am."
"Thought about her cunt lately, Percy? Because as much as you dread it, she’s going to want you there too."
"Stop it. Stop it and let me make you happy. Please. Let me fuck them all away."
Percy had never wanked so hard or so often in his life. Between Ron and Harry Potter coming to school and Oliver and Penelope Clearwater; Percy barely made it through his first year as prefect.
~♥~♥~♥~♥~
No matter how pretty or nice or intelligent Penelope was; she wasn’t enough. Or maybe it wasn’t that… maybe it was just that Oliver was everything.
Oliver was power on the Quidditch pitch and rage in the hallways. He was gorgeous in the morning sun and undeniable in the moon light. Oliver was kindness in his hands pressed against wrists and cruelty in words whispered through clenched teeth against stone. He was talent and beauty and loyalty. He was fierce.
Percy couldn’t throw him away. Oliver was everything.
But Percy found a way to keep all sides not disappointed. He yielded to Oliver in ways that mattered only between the two of them; Percy slipped into Oliver’s bed at night to tangle limbs without sweat, he went to every Quidditch game, he made sure his discussion with Penelope was heard about holding off on the physical aspect of their relationship was best for the both of them, he let Oliver hold him as he fell apart about his sister and he wrote Charlie back.
Yes, Oliver was everything; including a dirty secret.
~♥~♥~♥~♥~
But suddenly secrets weren’t enough for Oliver and no matter how much Percy wanted him, tried to make Oliver see, it wasn’t enough.
When Oliver signed his contract for Quidditch, Percy slept with Penelope.
He knew Oliver could tell, could taste her on his lips and Percy pushed down tears and hot burning shame. Because anger was there, yes, anger was present in Oliver’s touch and taste and eyes. But there was also pity and hope and what looked a lot like love.
Percy couldn’t erase the way Oliver felt against him and maybe that was his down fall. Percy couldn’t erase what Oliver represented inside of himself.
Nothing much changed in Percy’s seventh year, progressive destruction. Except maybe Percy forgot himself.
He couldn’t recall.
~♥~♥~♥~♥~
The years at the Ministry were a blur. Percy was a robot of perfection for everyone… everyone except Oliver. Oliver who was away all the time for Quidditch but came back for tea and biscuits and the briefest of kisses before longing looks were exchanged between floo powder and behind Penelope’s back.
Percy could hardly tell the years apart. Or the lies. He had lost himself in the expectations of his family, of his co-workers, of his government and of his Oliver.
Before long it was darker but Percy just kept on going, doing what was expected of him. Until Quidditch was cancelled and Oliver moved in with Percy and Penelope moved out.
Some part of Percy wished Penelope had shouted but she had just left, packed up her things while he was at work and left a note by the engagement ring he had given her.
"It’s okay."
The first night Oliver moved in, Percy woke up.
Dinner was dim and Percy spent the night realizing just how bad things had turned. He couldn’t remember if his family was still alive… or if they had gone into hiding or whether or not anyone who really mattered had been seen alive in a long time or if they had lost or won the war. What war? Whose war?
Oliver opened his eyes that night.
Percy had left Oliver in the sitting room looking at what looked to be letters, he found himself too tired to care. But perked up significantly when he walked into his bedroom to find it a disaster.
Someone had moved into his bedroom.
Picture’s tacked to his walls, of Quitach players and maps of distant lands with coded words in familiar writing. Boxes of clothes and files marked with OTP seemed to be everywhere. It was chaos. It was Oliver, who stood in the middle of the room whispering to a patronus that was probably headed off to a fugitive. To an Order member.
And suddenly, Oliver wasn’t talking to a silvery bear but touching Percy’s hands.
Color exploded everywhere.
Percy hadn’t realized just how cold he was until Oliver touched his skin, his rough hands moving up Percy’s forearms to curl around his thin chest, his warm breath on his neck, lighting a fire Percy hadn’t realized had gone out.
"Yes."
Clothes were shed and skin was rediscovered. Oliver was mountains of muscle and tanned skin, and Percy thought his freckled skin looked perfect against it. He’d never tasted anything so sweet or felt any feeling so deep.
Neither spoke; it wasn’t necessary. Because Percy learned that when someone comes home, they don’t have to explain why they were gone, just how they plan to make everything right.
Percy found the right path through the curve of Oliver’s smile, as Percy kissed his way over the planes of Oliver’s body. He found the courage to breathe in the dip of Oliver’s hips as he arched and pleaded under Percy’s hands. Percy found the loyalty in the salt of Oliver’s thigh and the pucker of his entrance against his tongue. He found his way home when he slid so deep inside Oliver that it made the years melt away, all the lies and mistakes and expectations disappear to just Oliver and hoarse cries, deep moans and love and wetslickheat and the moment when everything seemed to unravel and fall into place.
Silence and perfection did not last long between the twisted sheets and the gasping breaths. And maybe, Percy thought, he didn’t deserve a break anymore.
"It’s going to happen soon, Percy."
Although Percy knew exactly what Oliver meant, war and battle and a final stand for goodness in a world of evil. It had already happened for Percy.
Oliver had happened, the battle was won and it was good enough for him.
