Archive of Our Own ^beta

Percy wasn’t sure what he was doing. 

He stared at himself in the mirror and tried to fix his hair, but it remained curly and red and unremarkable. He straightened his glasses, but all he heard was Fred and George’s voices calling him a swot. He pulled at a stray thread on his green jumper, but it didn’t create the illusion that he had his life together. Percy closed his eyes and sighed. His sad reality was that he was hiding out in the loo of The Three Broomsticks, painfully aware that he was about to come face-to-face with the man he’d spent the last three years keeping at a distance. 

Well. Oliver would tell him that the only way out was through, so Percy squared his shoulders and reentered the pub, hoping and dreading that Oliver was already there and had found them a table. 

Percy’s gaze locked in on broad shoulders that filled out a Quidditch jersey very nicely. Even from behind, he’d recognize Oliver anywhere. Percy took one more moment to steel himself, and then he slid into the chair opposite Oliver. 

“Hello,” he greeted. Without waiting for a response, he launched into the speech he’d been practicing in his head for days. “I owe you an apology. I was a fool after we graduated—well, maybe before then, but especially after—and I let my ambitions get to my head and cloud my judgement. I’m ashamed of how I acted, and I’m ashamed that I pushed you away for so long. You didn’t deserve it.” Oliver, whose brown eyes had widened at Percy’s abrupt entrance, opened his mouth to get a word in, but Percy nipped that in the bud. Not many could talk over Oliver Wood, but he’d honed that skill long ago. “No, no, let me finish. I know that the man I am today is a poor substitute for the man you knew—” Here, he faltered. He swallowed uncomfortably, unsure whether he really wanted to be so vulnerable or not. Ultimately, he decided to lay all of his cards on the table. “A poor substitute for the man you loved,” he amended.

Oliver looked gobsmacked. “You knew about that?”

“I did,” Percy admitted. He remembered how wonderfully Oliver had treated him in school. He wasn’t as oblivious as most of his family—he knew when someone was trying to impress him. In seventh year, they’d come very, very close to making something out of it… but then Percy had gotten the opportunity to work as Barty Crouch’s personal assistant. “And I returned those feelings, for the record. I should have told you that, but I became… consumed.” Percy flushed, but he resolutely did not look away from Oliver’s face. He’d taken the coward’s road far too many times in his life already, and Oliver didn’t deserve it. “I miss you. I miss you terribly. I wanted to see if we could make another go at being friends.” Real ones, he almost said, not whatever we were the years we only owled each other.

Oliver reached over the table and took Percy’s hands in his. He smiled much too warmly—much too eagerly—for someone who was being confronted by the man who, Percy was sure he wasn't conceited to say, had broken his heart. “Percy,” Oliver said, “I miss you, too.”

Percy had known that, because that’s exactly what Oliver had told him in the courtyard after the Battle of Hogwarts. That had been months ago, though, but it seemed like Oliver hadn’t just been influenced by the heat of the battle. Percy bit his lip and nodded. 

Oliver, even after all the time apart, could still read him like a book. He rolled his eyes. “Percy. You’re not the only one who was consumed by a career. Quidditch was practically all I talked about in school—still is—and when I signed on with Puddlemere, I didn’t shut up about that, either. I was just as guilty for not staying in touch after graduation.”

Percy narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t do the things that I did.”

His voice was flat and highly self-critical. Percy didn’t think he’d ever escape the shame of his choices. Supporting Dolores Umbridge, refusing to believe the signs that Voldemort had returned because he wanted to maintain his good standing in the Ministry… and worst of all, publicly turning his nose up at his own father. He hadn’t lied to Oliver; he was not nearly the man he’d been in school. 

Oliver shot him an unimpressed look. “We’ve known each other since we were fucking eleven, Weasley! If your barmy ways were going to scare me off, it’d have happened long ago. But I wasn’t turned off, was I? You just told me you knew that I’d fallen in love with those barmy ways.” Now, Oliver smiled in a way that was somehow shy and bold all at once. “Still in love with those barmy ways. I brought you flowers.”

Sure enough, he reached down to the empty seat beside him and pulled out a bouquet of hydrangeas, then handed it to Percy. Stunned, Percy took the flowers and looked back at Oliver. “Still?” he asked, hardly daring to believe it. 

That small smile was still playing on Oliver’s lips. He shrugged and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you really surprised? When I love something, I’m all in.”

For the first time in years, Percy thought that he might be able to salvage a relationship. He hadn’t tried much yet with his family—well, he’d apologized and now attended Sunday dinners once more, but there was a very clear divide now that seemed insurmountable. But this? His relationship with Oliver had always been unique, and it seemed like Oliver didn’t mind the mistakes Percy had made. He admired the flowers for another moment, then conjured up a vase for them. He glanced at Oliver. “I’m going to get us some drinks. Butterbeer?”

“Please.”

It didn’t take long for Rosmerta to get the drinks to Percy. When he came back, though, Oliver was under the table, his arse sticking out. Percy paused, confused. “Why on earth are you on the floor?”

Oliver jumped, hitting his head on the underneath of the tabletop. “I, er—you didn’t tell your family you were meeting me here, did you?”

“No,” Percy said slowly. “That doesn’t explain the floor.”

Oliver climbed back up into his seat. “Right. Well, I thought I saw Ginny, for a moment. Crouched behind your chair.”

Alarmed, Percy looked around, but he didn’t see any flash of red hair. It certainly sounded like something Ginny would do, but she was too conspicuous to hide. He set the drinks down and turned back to Oliver, frowning. “Are you certain?”

“Er…” Oliver looked completely dumbfounded. “I… suppose not.”

“I haven’t much spoken with my family since… well.” Percy cleared his throat and clasped his hands together. “They don’t want to speak with me these days. So I doubt that it was Ginny.”

“Right.” Oliver looked devastated on Percy’s behalf and reached out to take hold of his hand. “Right. Must have been imagining it. So, back to business… Now that the war’s over and you’ve had your epiphany, what are you doing for work?”

Percy took a long sip of his butterbeer. That was the big question, wasn’t it? “Nothing at the moment,” he admitted, face flushing a bit from embarrassment. He followed a bit of Quidditch just so he could keep up with Oliver, and he knew that his friend would probably be a big shot in just a few years. 

“What would you like to do, then?” Oliver amended. He grinned a little. “I promise I’ll have your back, no matter what you say.”

Percy exhaled slowly. “If I could, I’d continue working in the Department of International Magical Co-operation,” he admitted.

Oliver barked out a laugh. “That’s so boring, Percy!”

Instead of being offended, like he would have been if anyone else had said those words, Percy smiled. He knew when Oliver was just poking fun. “I thought you said you’d have my back!”

Before he even finished speaking, though, Oliver’s eyes had gone wide. His gaze flitted from something over Percy’s shoulder, to Percy, then back again, and he seemed not to have heard what Percy told him, because he backtracked. “Er, I mean—you’d be brilliant at that, of course. You’re so smart. They’d be foolish not to take you!”

“Er…” Percy glanced over his shoulder; there was no one there except the other patrons. “Why are you talking so loudly?”

“Am I?” Oliver laughed awkwardly. “I think this is the normal volume for praise.”

“If you say so,” Percy said slowly. “What about you? Still planning on playing for Puddlemere?”

Oliver lit up, and they talked about that for a while. Percy’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, completely charmed by how enthusiastically Oliver was narrating one of his most recent matches. Percy propped his chin up on his hand, getting a little distracted by the light in Oliver’s eyes, the excited waving of his hands, how handsome he was when he was happy—

And then Oliver got pale and stopped mid-sentence. 

“But I’ve been talking too long! What have you been up to?”

Percy was confused. “What? You were telling me about how you blocked the goal from the Catapults—”

“I was boring you, though—Merlin, Charlie’s gotten big, hasn’t he?”

“What?” Percy was startled. “I haven’t seen him since he brought the dragons to the Triwizard Tournament, but I suppose he might have put on some muscle—wait a moment. Oliver, you aren’t boring me. If I was bored, I’d tell you—”

“But I want to hear about you!” Oliver was grinning again, but it looked almost forced. “I know your job is up in the air at the moment, but what else have you gotten up to?”

Percy narrowed his eyes, but he allowed the subject change. “Not much. I’ve been helping with some of the Hogwarts reconstruction and acting as a catch-up tutor for the students whose schooling was… put on hold last year. It’s made me enough that I’ve been able to keep up the rent.”

“Wow, Percy, that’s great!” Oliver’s smile was much more genuine. “Do you enjoy it?”

“I do. Perhaps not as a career, but I’ve enjoyed it for the summer.”

“That’s brilliant. Are you still living in London, then?”

“I am. I was thinking of moving someplace cheaper, though.” Living near the Ministry no longer seemed as important as it once had, and Percy didn’t always enjoy city life. “Dad always Flooed in or Apparated to work, so I thought a move might still be a good idea.”

Oliver hummed thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve an extra bedroom in Dorset. If it’s a change of scenery you w—uh.” Oliver was looking over Percy’s shoulder again, mouth opening and closing like he was doing his best impersonation of a goldfish. “Erm. I mean, there’s that, or you could always move closer to home? I know your family must miss you.”

Something was definitely wrong. Percy looked behind him again, but there was nothing that should elicit this kind of reaction from Oliver. But Oliver knew that Percy had always felt somewhat estranged from the rest of his family, no matter how much he cared about them. He’d be the last person telling Percy to move closer to them. 

“I already told you,” he said a bit stiffly, “that they don’t want anything to do with me since I aligned myself with the Ministry.”

Oliver shook his head. “Are you really so sure about that?” he muttered. Then he cleared his throat and said louder, “Your brothers and sister love you, Percy. They…” Oliver stopped and squinted, like he was reading something. “They want you to be healthy? Happy. Happy. They want you to be happy. And I will list all of the things that I love about you now. Oh. Merlin, I didn’t prepare for this. Ah, well, that’s simple enough—I love how passionate you are about your work, I love the little wrinkle over your brow when you frown, I love how curious you are, I love your arse—ow! Ow, fuck.”

Oliver jumped up and started rubbing his own arse, and Percy, scarlet, whipped around not to check on him, but to catch someone in the act. Sure enough, he caught a flash of red hair ducking too late behind a door. 

“Fred or George,” he growled. He didn’t know how they’d figured out where he’d be, but he was furious that they hadn’t just let him try to mend this one relationship—

But when he rounded the doorway, he came face to face with not just the twins, but the rest of the Weasley clan. Percy stopped and blinked, stunned. 

“Percy!” Charlie, whom Percy had not seen since the Triwizard Tournament and was indeed much more muscular than he’d been back then, opened his arms and grinned. “Fancy seeing you here! What’s to say we grab a pint—”

Ron, who seemed to have fallen on to the floor, rolled his eyes. “Oi, give it up, he’s not that stupid—”

George clapped a hand over Ron’s mouth while Fred jumped in front of him and mimicked Charlie’s stance. “A pint, splendid idea! We’ll let the Ministry man pay, how’s that—”

“No, no, I’ll pay!” Bill jumped in with a more convincing smile than the rest wore, but Percy was still fuming. “After all, Percy missed—well. Point is, we’ve some catching up to do!”

And just like that, Percy’s anger was replaced by shame at the reminder of how he’d been so delusional about his own importance that he’d refused to attend his brother’s wedding. Percy suddenly detested that all of his siblings were working together to spy on him—to humiliate him, to watch him fumble, it didn’t matter. He was once again on the outside, and what’s worse was that he knew that this time, he deserved it. 

He adjusted his glasses and turned away. “Have your pint,” he said. He reached into his pocket and threw a handful of coins at Ron, who was startled and missed every one. He didn’t know if what he’d given would even cover one pint, but he wasn’t exactly rolling in it. “I’ll be leaving.”

He turned around and immediately ran into Oliver, who reached out and steadied him. “Wait,” Oliver said softly. “I’m sorry I played along, but after I spotted Ginny, they sort of… made themselves known behind you.” Oliver scowled. “Bill, Charlie, Ginny, the twins—they all had very… descriptive threats. And I was definitely outnumbered.”

Percy furrowed his brow. “Played along with what?” he asked a little testily. “Their plan to spy on me? Humiliate me?”

“No!” That was George. “No, Merlin’s beard. We just didn’t want Wood there to muck it up!”

“He went on for nearly half an hour about Quidditch,” Ginny piped up, shooting Oliver a disapproving look. “You were all hunched over, bored out of your mind! That’s not what you do on a bloody date.”

Percy, who remembered what he’d actually been thinking about when he was “hunched over” flushed for an entirely new reason. “I wasn’t bored,” he spluttered just as Oliver said, “It wasn’t a date!”

Percy winced. Every Weasley turned to look at Oliver, who was clearly beginning to sweat. “What the hell do you mean it wasn’t a date?” Bill demanded. Fred and George were both standing with their arms crossed, and even Ron looked ready to throw a hex.

“We were talking,” Percy cut in. “How did you even know I was here?”

The brothers all pointed to Ginny, who flushed. “I might’ve… read your mail. Only because I wanted to know who was writing to you so much! You’ve been so tight-lipped about where you’ve been going lately, so when I realized you and Wood had set up a date—”

With dawning horror, Percy realized that Ginny had mistakenly assumed that every time he’d been out to help with Hogwarts reconstruction and tutoring, he’d actually been sneaking dates with Oliver. How bloody embarrassing. 

“So you were holding up those cue cards because you thought I couldn’t have a successful date with your brother?” Oliver asked, offended, and Percy nearly facepalmed because he was focusing on the wrong bloody thing. “Well, joke’s on you, because every time I followed your script, he looked like I’d grown a third head.”

“Oi!” Ron and Bill scowled. Bill shook his head. “If you’d stuck to it from the very beginning—”

Oliver was already shaking his head. “That was some flowery poetry shit that would have put him off immediately—”

“You complimented my baby brother’s arse,” Charlie cut in crossly, and that shut Oliver up. 

He side-stepped so he was shielded by Percy. “He has a very nice arse,” he defended once he was hidden enough. Ron, Ginny, and the twins gagged.

“I have not been sneaking out to see Oliver,” Percy interrupted hotly. He could barely look anyone in the eye. “If you must know, I was assisting in the Hogwarts clean up and helping students get back on track before they do their repeat year. I reached out to Oliver last week about seeing him because we fell out of touch. I was not bored when he was discussing Quidditch—I shared a dormitory with him for seven years, I’d have died from boredom by now if that were true—and we do not need your assistance to speak with each other.”

“If it wasn’t a date, why was he looking at you like he wanted to—to—” Ron turned an unflattering shade of puce. He waved his hands around. “You know!”

“Take off your pants,” said Fred gravely. 

Percy huffed and crossed his arms. “And if he did, how is that any of your business?” he hissed. “We have a history. We’ve flirted before, you know. And we were testing the waters to see if there was still anything there, until you all interrupted.”

“We were?” Oliver asked hopefully as Percy’s siblings echoed the sentiment. 

Percy cleared his throat. “I was trying to,” he admitted. “I believe you were about to ask me to move to Dorset with you.”

His siblings squawked, but Percy looked only at Oliver. The up and coming Quidditch star grinned. “Would be nice to have the company,” he mused.

Ron’s eyes bugged out. “Isn’t that a little fast?”

Charlie, to Percy’s surprise, was the one who came to his rescue. “Merlin, Ron. Not everyone has to be best friends for seven years before they make a bloody move.”

Surprisingly, it was George who looked a little forlorn. “What,” he began hotly, “you’re just going to fuck off and leave again?”

It stung, but it wasn’t unexpected. “No,” Percy said firmly. “I’ll come to Sunday dinners, still. But I’ve made all of the apologies I can, and none of you give me much more than the time of day.” When they all opened their mouths to argue, he held up his hand. “I know. You need time. I understand that, but it doesn’t make sense for me to stay and wait. You can get that time while I’m in Dorset, figuring things out for myself.” Percy smiled very softly at Oliver. “If that’s amendable to you.”

Oliver slipped his hand into Percy’s. “Sounds brilliant,” he declared. “I’ll even help you pack.”

Bill was looking at them very strangely. “You… changed more than I realized, Percy.”

Percy frowned. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Bill started to grin. “I never knew you could be so spontaneous.”

“Then maybe you should try getting to know him,” Oliver said, a sharp edge to his voice. “I’ve known that ever since he started giving me good luck snogs before our matches at Hogwarts.”

Percy groaned as his siblings gaped. Oliver just laughed and started tugging him towards the exit. “He’ll write! He’ll see you on Sunday!” He turned and winked at Percy. “They’re all sort of idiotic about it, but they do want to make things right with you.” Then he frowned. “I may need you to look at my arse later, though—whatever that hex was, it smarts.”

Percy shook his head. “I will,” he muttered distractedly. “Were they right? Is this too fast—”

“We’re just trying things out,” Oliver promised. “No pressure. Separate beds, just like at school. Just two blokes reconnecting… and waiting to see if that spark’s still there.” His eyes twinkled. “In all honesty, I’m fairly certain it is.”

Percy released the breath he’d been holding. “So am I.”