Chapter Text
Wales, November 1997
Dear Percy,
Recently I got myself thinking about my first love. You know who. The one that breakthrough in my mind, hijacked all my other thoughts and gave me no other choice except to love them. And I did.
It was quidditch, of course.
Just for your knowledge, I love this roll of eyes you just gave. It was you, Percy, you know it. It has always been you. Don’t let it go to your head.
I'm writing from the order's new base, in Wales. It is, very summed up, hell. Proper food and beds are rare privileges, but the worst of all, the command denied all my requests to form a temporary quidditch team. They alleged that the times are hard and no one would subscribe, considering most of people here have a missing limb. Complete bullshit if you ask me!! That's why we need a quidditch team!!!
People are stupid. I'm sure you would understand.
Amidst the scarce food, terrible beds, people's stupidity and heavy routines, thinking about you is what makes everything bearable. In how you would understand. In your stupid roll of eyes. In how you are my first love and are still, the only one. Thank you for that.
In what concerns your last letter, I talked to some guys and they also don't think ducks have ears. You owe me 5 bucks. Please send it attached in the next owl. Hope you can write back soon, I miss your perfect grammar and 19th century writting. Hope you're fine or, at least, better than me.
Yours, with love,
Oliver
. . .
London, November 1997
Dear Oliver,
About "Don’t let it go to your head." I'm afraid it's too late. It certainly went to my head and I will not let anyone live without being constantly remembered that I, Percy, am Oliver Wood's first love, not quidditch. I'm even considering got this leaked to the newspapers just to see everyone's mind blow up.
I feel deeply sorry for the lack of comfort in your accommodations, but I must say I laughed aloud at your relate about the quidditch temporary team's idea. I laughed for the simply fact that no, I absolutely don't understand your wish to run after balls in the middle of the war. Sorry to break your expectative. Hope you can find other nice things to think about me in this terrible place. May I recommend that night, in that irish hotel, when I did that thing with my tongue...?
One thing, though, I understand. People are stupid. Very stupid. Great observation, if not the greatest one ever made by anyone in this century. Due to recent events in the ministry, I can say this with much confidence. I'm sorry not be able to provide any more details, you know how letters can always be intercepted. But I can say that things here are bad. And bad doesn't seem the right word. A punctured bag of shit, throwing neverending shit all over the place, seems more accurate.
But think about you also makes things less of a bag of shit. I can't stop imagining our first meeting when this is all over. Being able to actually hear all the idiot things you have to say. Being able to complain about them out loud. Being able to say I love you out loud. Able to see, touch, kiss you. Merlin, I want to kiss you so badly, Wood. You have to hold on thight, okay? Don't give up. Be brave. And try not to do anything stupid.
Under the duck subject, I terminantly refuse to give you 5 dollars about such ridiculous question. Ducks do have ears, you idiot!!!! Go read a book once in your life and stop unfortunate my already unfortunate life with that. I don't have a 19th century writing like you said but quoting one from it "I'm not amused."
All this said, I miss you. Write back soon, if you can.
Yours,
Percy
. . .
Wales, November 1997
Dearest Percy,
Give me my 5 dollars you pompous git!!! I deserved them!!!!!
Wizard god. I miss you. I'm trying find the proper words to express the feeling but I'm incapable to do so. You quoted Queen Victoria, so I'll quote Vita Sackville-West (proving once more that I do read books) in one of her letters to Virgina Woolf
"I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary phrase as that; [...] Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become."
Missing you even more than I could've believed,
Oliver